Author's note: Prepare for the feels.

With thanks to my Patrons:

Regal Eagle, Drake Razgriz

In response to reviews:

d8rkforcen1ght7: Yeah, although Vanir isn't a full dick. Once he realises there's hope, he gets redeemed. And honestly, my least favourite character is Elva. She made me stop reading Eldest halfway through, and not touch the series for three years. Sure, taking the comics and combining them with those shows will be fine.
Blaze1992: Yeah, Vanir deserves an honourable mention for a Darwin for that. Still, Cade didn't really see him as a threat, which is why he just let him go.
HeadlessHessian: Thank you very much! And your questions about Null will be answered, don't worry.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle.
Thanks to the Betas for checking everything, and thanks to Wizz for helping with the snapshot arc.

Chapter 19: Duty, Unity, Destiny.

The evening of the Agaetí Blödhren- the Blood-Oath Celebration- was comfortingly warm. A slight breeze blew, gently rustling the leaves of the trees. Arya led us, Saphira, Eragon, Amara, and Orik towards the Menoa tree, where hundreds of elves had gathered. The tree itself was a massive pine, as big as a booster rocket, with a web of roots spreading out from it. In the gaps where we could see the sky, the dark sky twinkled with a nebula of stars.

Islanzadí stood on a knolly root near the base of the tree's trunk, and politely nodded to us all as we approached. Glaedr and Oromis were here, the Rider wearing white and red robes while his partner slowly tapped the claws of his replacement limb on the earthy ground. The elves simply waited, talking in soft, hushed tones as they waited for the Celebration to begin.

There was an ethereal feeling to it all, and we caught a faint scent on the breeze that made us feel energised enough to party for three days straight. The Knight we had here stood at the very back, engine shut off and ready to record as much as possible, for as long as its battery lasted. We knew that the next three days would be perhaps the most important of our time in Alagaësia, and we didn't want to miss any of it.

"Wait here." Arya said softly, then disappeared into the crowd.

"This will be something to remember for as long as we all live." Saphira commented.

"Aye." Orik agreed, then shot us a not-quite-hostile glance.

We knew that he didn't exactly like us for existing, as us simply being here was a 'screw you' to dwarvish religion, but we cut him some slack. After all, the gods of Alagaёsia might very well exist, and not just be legend. Infinite multiverse, infinite possibilities. Although we hadn't been smited for intruding upon their lands, so if they did exist, then at least they were turning a blind eye towards us.

Arya returned, leading an elf who seemed much older than any other we'd met. "Kevin, Driscol, Sparta, this is Rhunön. She is a master smith; the greatest of our age."

"Sup." we said, nodding down at her.

Rhunön didn't address us at first, instead choosing to shortly greet Eragon, Saphira and Amara. "Well met, Brightscales, Shadeslayer, and Red Empress." Then she looked up at us. "Golden Guardian."

"That'd be us." Driscol confirmed.

"I hear that you have a rather remarkable sword with you, and your own set of armour. After this gathering is done with, I would see them. I am curious to see how the craft of your people compares to mine."

"Sure thing." Sparta agreed, which seemed to satisfy Rhunön. She nodded in satisfaction and turned to Orik, starting a conversation in the harsh, blunt tones of Dwarfish.

"So, how long are you betting before you-know-who turns up with her friends?" Kevin privately asked Amara.

Islingr had found Amara yesterday and had practically ordered our cousin to bring her and the other two dragons here so that they could participate in the celebrations too. That had made us ask Amara when the other two pilots had their Eldunarí retrieved. Apparently, our cousin had got Islingr into Alagaesia in the dead of night, and she'd flown to the Vault of Souls herself- faster than we could, as her mech could reach speeds of over mach 1.

There, she'd collected the Eldunarí of the other two dragons, and gloated a little over Cuaroc. Apparently he was pissed, for understandable reasons, and made it very well known that he was more than interested in getting his own mech.

Anyway, Islingr got back to near the edge of the border of Ellesméra, where Amara was waiting. Together, they went back to Locostral, with nobody knowing what had happened. We weren't sure exactly how long ago that was, or how accustomed the other dragons would be to their new, mechanical bodies, but our cousin had given them a lift earlier today as she'd rifted in from Locostral. Now the three re-embodied dragons were hiding somewhere in the woods, ready to make a dramatic entrance.

"I'm not sure." Amara replied. "They'll come when they're ready, and not before."

We nodded, and began the long wait for the stroke of midnight.

Eventually, Islanzadí raised her left arm towards the sky, pointing it towards the moon as the crowd stopped their small talk and waited with baited breath. An orb of cloudy, white light collected itself in her palm as she walked along the gnarly root, towards the trunk. We could see a hollow in the bark of the Menoa tree that lit up a fraction of a second before the light met it and began to pulse, resting in a spot that might have been grown for it.

The elves all cheered as Eragon asked Arya "Has the celebration started?"

"It is begun!" Arya laughing, which was a rare event for her. "And it will end when the werelight expends itself."

From there on out, things got a little hazy, but we're pretty sure that we remembered most stuff properly, even if they weren't quite all in the right order.

The elves brought out dozens of different meals on thick tables of wood, their hundreds of scents and smells threatening to disorient us, even without the aid of the magic that began to run through the forest as the elves began to sing. Thankfully, Oromis' wards held, and we didn't hear any disembodied voices in our heads. Time seemed to warp into a perpetual twilight, and if it weren't for our Knight's internal clock, we would have been completely and utterly lost.

We remembered hearing three sets of jet engines howling, making us lift our heads to the sky to watch as Islingr came in to land; another draconic mech on either side of her. All three robotic bodies were very impressive, and we could tell that Spanners had declared the dragon mechs to be a passion project.

The chassis were a little smaller than Glaedr, sleek and organic looking. Islingr's model was painted a metallic green, while the others were purple and silver. Small details were picked out in yellow, making them pop from the rest of the frame. The mech's wings had some fairly chunky jet engines near where they attached to the body, which looked awesome, and there were dozens of blue lights shining all over the robot.

"Islingr-ebrithil." we smiled as everything went silent, bowing our heads in respect.

"Ebrithil." Amara added, bowing her heads too.

"Rise, my students." Islingr said, pride in her voice as her optics analysed Amara before flicking over to us. "I see that you have both done well in my absence."

That was debatable for us, but true for Amara, although we didn't voice that thought.

"H… how…" Oromis choked out, gobsmacked.

"This… isn't possible." Glaedr added. "You are dead, Islingr! You passed alongside Visseren during the Fall! Unless..."

"We live on, in our hearts." The dragon in the silver mech confirmed, dropping the obvious hint about the trio being Eldunarí. His voice was male, but not as deep as Glaedr's. "I am Fundor, Slayer of the Great Sea Snake."

"And I am Lenora, partner of Naeridana." The purple mech's pilot added. Her voice was lighthearted and full of joy, and parts of her unit twitched around from excitement. "We are three of the dragons of old, restored in bodies of oil and steel by the Plainswalkers of Locostral to once again challenge the Black King."

Eragon fell to his knees, and we thought that we might have seen tears of joy in Saphira's eyes as she turned her head towards us. "Why did you not tell us?"

"Cade-finiarel was bound to keep our existence secret by an oath that he swore to us in the Ancient Language before he met Eragon-finiarel and yourself, Saphira Bjartskular." Islingr explained. "When Amara arrived in Alagaësia, I had her swear the same oath. My kin and I had not deemed it right for any others to know of our continued existence until now. Your friends are not at fault for keeping the information from you."

Fundor looked Oromis and Glaedr in the eyes. "It is time for them to know. After this commemoration is complete, explain how we continue to exist, even when our flesh and blood is buried under earth and stone. None but them shall know."

"We understand." the golden dragon and elven Rider said in unison, bowing their heads in confirmation.

"It is good to be back at my hatching-place." Islingr said, raising her head and taking in air through a metallic snout to be processed by some kind of sensor. "I will not say how we have defied death, as that is a secret among our race, but know this; it was only through the doings of the Plainswalkers that we are re-embodied. We owe this turn in our fates to them, and them alone."

Looking down at Islanzadí, Lenora shifted around a little out of embarrassment and sheepishly said. "I'm sorry, your Majesty, but we don't really have any gifts to give."

"That is by no means true." the elven queen countered with a perhaps the most natural smile we'd seen on your face. "Your presence alone is the greatest gift that any of us can think of, and from the bottom of our hearts, we are all immeasurably glad for it."

And from that moment, the shocked and stunned elves erupted into cheers, applause, and even magical bursts of joy, for three of the dragons of old had returned, and we were indirectly responsible for it.

We remembered hearing the various poems and songs that the elves had written for the Celebration, appreciating the tunes and rhythms, even if we didn't properly understand them.

We remembered tasting the various meals that the cooks had prepared, feeling flavours explode on our tongues; some sweet, others sour, more of them salty, and a few that were bitter. We particularly enjoyed a fruit that was extremely similar to popping candy, our brains going into brief sugar highs because of them.

We remembered helping Amara recover from a slight sensory overload, her five heads having magnified everything she was seeing, hearing, tasting and smelling until it reached a near-unbearable point. Oromis had come over and applied an extra ward that seemed to reduce, but not cut off what Amara was experiencing, merely lowering it to manageable levels.

We remembered a poem in English that went something like:

Once t'was a questing Rider,
With brightsteel in her hand,
She set forth on noble dragonback,
Mighty magicks, hers to command,
For she was the Lady of the Storm.

Setting foot in a far-off land,
Mistress of wind and rain,
The noble dragon said to her,
'This quest will only bring you pain,
Lady of the Storm.'

'This journey is filled with danger,
I know that all too well,
But on I shall quest, my friend,
Fighting with sword, shield and spell,
For I am the Lady of the Storm.'

The dragon shook it's great head then,
Smoke streaming from his snout,
'This is greater than you or I,
For dread evil is about,
Lady of the Storm.'

We listened through the entire rest of that recital.

We remembered wondrous gifts of magic and material; works of art, stories of great heroes, simple and complex puzzles, stupidly hard riddles that almost always left us stumped, mighty weapons, intriguing gadgets, and the occasional toy.

Orik contributed the interlocking wooden pyramid that he had in the book, and was highly praised for it. Rhunön also kept to how things had been written, presenting heatproof gloves and what she claimed was an unbreakable shield. We didn't really want to put that to the test, but we were tempted to.

One elf had created drawings and a tiny model of what vaguely looked like a hot air balloon, while another had grown a kind of bioluminescent plant that shone an electric blue in the night. Still others had come up with things that we couldn't even think of.

We remembered a multitude of weird and wonderful creatures finding us and Amara as we sat at the edge of the clearing of the Menoa tree. All of the ones that had clustered around us had at least two heads, with one snake-like thing that clung to the darkness having at least six. All of them warily kept their distance, with most staying only long enough to give us a glance or a cautious sniff before moving on.

And then there were the elves themselves. We weren't repulsed by the ones who'd changed their appearances to become more animalistic to align with their concepts of beauty, but we were slightly weirded out by some. Like the duo who'd made themselves look like fish. Odd, but compared to some Plainswalkers we'd met, not too strange. However, the ones who looked like… like a concept of something, like a mirage, or rippling water, or looked like trees, or acted like ghosts… they legitimately scared us.

We remembered the poems that were recited by Islanzadí, Arya and Eragon. The young Rider's recital was very different from what it had been in the book, but why wouldn't it? We'd done and changed so much that if we looked back at our time here, and what had been written in the Inheritance Cycle, we could only see the worlds as being the same, with the events of the plot being massively different.

However, all the talk of 'In the land of shadows' in the poem remained, and it set us on edge. For there was a foe in Durza, In the land of Shadows. And his name was Void.

Our Rinjai subconsciously started to flare as Eragon finished, although we shut it off before anyone could notice more than a slight glowing pulse emanating from our chest. We were safe and secure here, and until the Celebration ended, we had nothing to fear.

We remembered shrinking to Saphira's size and rearing up to stand vertically, supporting Saphira as she did the same with a little difficulty. The music flowed like water as we supported each other; claws intertwined with taloned fingers. And then, free from embarrassment, we did our best to dance along with the elves. There were no thoughts of 'why', but instead of 'why not?' And all four of us couldn't help but smile as we did an utterly crap job of dancing, but enjoyed ourselves nonetheless.

We remembered Oromis and Glaedr presenting their gifts; a red slab of wood, carved into an aerial shot of Ellesméra, and a beautifully illustrated scroll, lined with words that we could not read.

We remembered Saphira flew off into the twilight, and returned minutes later with a massive monolith of black stone. It had been melted in places, with long, flowing curves guiding the eyes through its complex dance. Then Saphira took a deep breath in before releasing it in a torrent of blazing fire that entwined themselves around her creation before shooting up, towards the stars.

As she let the flames die, we watched the stone glow red, small flickers of flame still working their way through the sculpture with the occasional puff of heat as everyone applauded.

"It's amazing…" Driscol breathed.

"Well wrought, Brightscales!" an elf cried

"Far better than our idea." Sparta admitted.

"Thank you," Saphira smiled, "although we must all see yours to judge them against each other."

We remembered Fundor challenging our Knight to an arm-wrestle, and we gladly accepted. Servos whined, gears ground, and hydraulics protested against the treatment that we both put them through, neither of us letting up unless the other one did first.

We remembered exiting the rift in a flash of orange light alongside Amara. We held a massive cardboard box, while she carried a much smaller one. She knew what we were bringing because of its massive size, but we could only guess at what she had. Anyway, the elves- now accustomed to multiversal portals popping up around us- quickly gathered around as we gently set our things down, careful not to break anything.

"So, do you want to go first, or shall we?" Kevin asked.

"You, then me, then what we have from everyone." Amara said.

Nodding, we nervously moved our box to the centre of the empty space and started talking as we began to open it up. "Back on Earth, people discovered that when lightning struck the ground in deserts and stuff, it would rapidly superheat the sand in the channels that the lightning flowed through. Then it would cool down, and you get a rock called a fulgurite, in the shape of the bolt. So we just thought 'what can we do with that?'"

That was when we finally removed our creation from the box. It was an absolutely massive, orange fulgurite that was big enough to pass for a tree. Numerous tributaries of charge branched off from it, making the whole thing seem even more like a tree of stone, without any leaves, but the core speared into the sky as if the trapped bolt was trying to get back to its home in the clouds.

The elves gasped as we went on to say, "The coloration of the fulgurite depends on what colour sand you fire a bolt into. We tried quite a few colours, but the red one bleached to pink, and we didn't have enough blue, so it's orange. Oh, and it's safe to touch. We've added a few layers of transparent resin to protect it from breaking and from eroding away, so as long as you don't whack it with a weapon, it should stay whole."

We did get a good chunk of praise for what we'd managed to create, even though it really wasn't as good as what anyone else had made.

"It's beautiful." Saphira said, moving her head around to get a better look.

"It's still not as good as what you did." Driscol replied dismissively as we stepped back to give everyone room.

"Well… maybe." Saphira smirked, making us chuckle. We knew she was proud of what she'd done. And why wouldn't she be?

"Okay, so, um…" Amara started as the noise of the crowd dimmed. "Err, I didn't create this myself, but what it allows for near-infinite creativity to come from it, and I thought I'd just pass on the manuals and teach everyone how to play it."

Opening her box, our cousin pulled out six hardback books and laid them on the table. "These are the Player's Handbook, the Monster Manual, the Dungeon Master's Guide, Volo's Guide to Monsters, Xanathar's Guide to Everything, and Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes. Everything you'll need to start playing Dungeons and Dragons, fifth edition!"

We started chuckling good-naturedly, shaking our heads in amusement. Only you, cuz. Only you would try to teach elves to play DnD.

"Right, so DnD is a tabletop, role playing, fantasy game." Amara explained excitedly. "To start playing, you'll need a Dungeon Master to create the world, invent the story of the campaign, and play as the enemies, while the players make characters with weapons, gear, and backstories. Then the players start adventuring through the world and discover the mysteries and revelations of the story. I've also modified these copies of the rulebooks a little by adding a few of my own notes to them like tips on how to min/max your characters, and homebrew Shur'tugal subraces for dragons, elves and humans if anyone wants to play as a Rider."

"Will you begin a game now?" some random elf asked.

"I was hoping someone would ask that." Amara smiled. "I've got ten pre-prepared character sheets, so I'll need ten interested people, and we'll do a quick oneshot campaign so that I can rotate through several groups of people. Those of you who like it and want to do a longer campaign, talk to me after the Celebration is over, and I'll see about putting together a group."

And so, our cuz started a DnD session on one of the tables at the side of the clearing with ten eager, although confused, elves.

There were far more wonders in those mere three days than we can to describe, much less explain, but all good things had to come to an end sooner or later.

It was near the end of the third day, and the magical light was beginning to flicker. The elves gathered around the Menoa tree, their faces bright with eager anticipation. Saphira and Eragon stood on our right, Amara stood on our left, and we all watched as Islanzadí from the crowd and walked up one of the tree's many roots before turning back towards us.

She spoke in the Ancient Language, although Amara translated into English as best she could for us. "As is our tradition, and as was agreed upon at the end of The Dragon War by Queen Tarmunora, the first Eragon, and the white dragon who represented his kind- the one whose name cannot be spoken in any language- when they bound the fates of elves and dragons together, we have met to honour our blood-pact with song and dance, and wonders of our creation.

"Last time this celebration occurred, many years ago, we were desperate. It has improved since with the combined might of our efforts, the dwarves', and the Varden's, although Alagaësia still lies under the shadow of the…" Amara's eyes narrowed as she tried to remember the right word. "Forsworn- I think- and we have lived with shame of how we have failed the dragons.

"Of the Riders of old, we believed Oromis and Glaedr to be the only ones remaining. Many of them have died this past century. However, with the arrival of Islingr, Fundor and Lenora, the embers of the Riders' Order have reignited. New hope has also been granted to us in the form of Eragon and Saphira, as well as from our otherworldly allies, Amara and Cade. And it is only right and proper that they should all be here now, as we reaffirm the oath between our races."

The elves cleared a wide circle at the base of the Menoa tree, leaving us, Amara, Saphira, Eragon, Oromis, Glaedr, Fundor, Lenora and Islingr standing at the very edge of it.

"Watch," Islingr said, "for what will happen here is of great importance to our race."

We knew what would happen in general, of course, but we were slightly worried about what would happen to Eragon. Rosa had cured his infirmity, so would he still be enhanced to elf-level speed and strength?

It was too late to speculate. The Caretakers, Iduna and Nëya were already in the centre of the clearing, their combined tattoo of an iridescent dragon that shone every colour that we could name already visible.

We shifted our weight slightly, and sniffed the air as we felt power begin to build. The two elves each raised a foot, then brought it down to the ground with a thump. They did it twice more; musicians hitting their drums with the latter stomp. The next thump, and the string and wind instruments kicked in, building up the moment.

The Caretakers slowly began to dance, every beat of the drums marking when their next step would land. As the music and the dancers sped up, the dragon tattoo that encircled them seemed to fly in endless circles over their skin. The two elves added their own voices to the mix after that, singing in the Ancient Language.

We didn't understand what they said, even as the other elves joined in the chanting, but we felt power course through the air in a tempest of magic. Saphira, Glaedr, Islingr, Lenora and Fundor joined in with the melody, deep humming noises reverberating from all of them, regardless of whether flesh or metal was creating it. And soon enough, we felt our own voices join in with our fellow dragons, thrumming with enough power for tiny flickers of charge to pass over us. We didn't know how the tune went, but we somehow kept in harmony with everyone else.

Only Amara didn't join in. She wistfully looked around, wanting to join in with everything she had, but unlike us, she didn't know how to begin. A problem that we'd hopefully be able to fix. Connecting our minds to hers, we shared the flow and tempo of the song, it's rhythm and subtle tones, and it's theme. Mourning, penance, and eventually, as it wore on, hope.

Amara gasped as she understood, then awkwardly tried to hum and sing at the same time, which… kind of worked? Five heads, we guessed, despite only having one set of lungs.

Iduna and Nëya danced faster and faster, as did the music, eventually reaching an inhuman speed. Then there were was a flare of light from the dragon tattoo, and it moved. The creature blinked, stretched his wings wide, and burst free from the elves' skin with a flare of flame. His wings flapped, and he grew to a monstrous size, the tip of his ethereal tail keeping him anchored to the Caretakers.

Letting loose a roar that we couldn't help but answer with three of our own before wrestling our instincts back under control, the ghostly dragon looked down upon us with predatory eyes. As his gaze locked with ours, we could tell that he wasn't just the product of some spell, but a sentient being, sustained by magic itself.

The ghostly dragon's gaze passed from us without a word, only to fix upon Eragon. The spectre lowered his head towards the young Rider, who raised his right arm in a trance-like state. We didn't hear either of them say anything, but the dragon touched Eragon's gedwëy ignasia, and the young Rider went rigid.

Saphira shot us feelings of alarm and panic as Eragon collapsed against her, but we sent back ones of calm and safety as we continued the song. "We have a feeling that this guy knew what he was doing more than we do. What's done is done, and he won't have harmed Eragon. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

The blue dragoness seemed to relax a little at our words as the ethereal dragon flew a circuit of the clearing and roared to the sky one last time before heading back towards the two Caretakers, shrinking smaller and smaller until it grafted back onto their bodies, shook a little, and then lay still as their dancing and, the music, and our humming slowed to a halt.

The elves gasped as they realised that Eragon had passed out, but they didn't have much time to focus on him.

Suddenly, the entire clearing was flooded with radiant, orange light, almost blinding everyone after nearly three whole days of twilight. Holding up a wing to shield our eyes as they adjusted to the change in brightness. Squinting, Sparta poked his head over our wing and tried to make out what we were seeing.

It was a portal into the rift, but far more intense than any we'd ever created. The light was still nearly blinding, and the thing was churning with power, gently tugging everything in the clearing towards it. Not entirely sure what to do, we cautiously made our way over towards it, motioning for everyone to stay well back.

"Cuzes," Amara said in a rather worried tone as we tapped the kaleidoscopic surface of the vortex, "what's happening?"

"We're not sure…" Sparta said slowly as we brainstormed ideas.

As far as we knew, only Plainswalkers and Rift herself could open portals into the rift. If we assumed that we were the limit how how strong a Plainswalker's portal could be… then Rift must want us for something.

"Wait here." Driscol decided as we prepared to leave the realm.

"What?!" Amara protested. "That thing comes out of nowhere, and you three think that it's a good idea to walk through it?! It could be unstable for all we know!"

"We'll be back." Kevin said, twisting to look over our shoulder and lock eyes with our cousin before shifting our gaze to Saphira. "We promise."

"No, wait-" Amara said as we stepped into the portal, the sounds, sights and smells of Alagaësia cutting off as it closed behind us, and we blocked anything from reaching the Eldunarí in our Knights. Although Amara was just concerned for us, we should be safe, and we didn't want her to keep on worrying in the back of our mind.

Then the rift morphed from its regular appearance to a beach on a world where the sea, and outer space had decided to take each other's jobs. Sunlight filtered through a layer of clear, blue water to rest upon us, whereas a velvety cosmos hissed in and out, tiny stars and nebulae swirling as the tides manipulated their home. We scooped a little of it up, watching in awe as pitch black liquid trickled over the brim of our hand, small flecks of suns and planets occasionally being swept over by the current.

"Don't drink that, whatever you do."

"Hi Rift." Kevin said as we turned to see the Primordial standing on the sand next to us.

"Hello Kevin." Rift nodded back before throwing a reasonably flat, circular stone out into the ocean of outer space. It skipped once… twice… thrice… then it flipped over with a splash of darkness and disappeared beneath the cosmic waves.

"Why do you need us so bad that you needed to yank us out of Alagaësia?" Sparta asked.

"Will Void be able to detect that?" Driscol added.

"No." Rift said, creating a new stone in her hand before skimming it like the one before. "Your own energy signature will mask a tiny thing like that. And this isn't about something that I need, but something I want to offer. I only pulled you out because I've finally figured out how to merge your minds to make you one entity again without irreparably breaking you."

We stumbled from shock at that and fell into the space-sea with a massive splash. It felt the same as when we'd been to space ourself, but it lapped up and down like water, which was weird.

Pushing ourselves upright as Rift chuckled quietly, all three of us stared at her, and whispered;

"Us…"

"Becoming…"

"One…"

Rift nodded as we planted our feet back on the sand and stared down at her. "It's your choice. All of yours. Just know that this'll make it a one-way trip if you decide to make it. Once you're one again, you won't be able to separate."

Our minds were going a million miles an hour, thoughts, feelings and sensations rushing through us. Shock, elation, excitement, relief, and… and fear? Driscol and Sparta both looked over at Kevin, who was rapidly disappearing down a mental rabbit hole of panic and worry.

"Hey, are you okay, Kev?" Driscol asked, gently pulling Kevin out of his pit of worry.

Our left head pressed himself against Driscol and mumbled a small, tear-stained "N- n- no" as he hid his thoughts from us.

Sparta shot Driscol a look that clearly said 'what the hell', but reached our right arm over to try and comfort Kevin.

"Shh, shh. It's alright, Kev." Driscol said gently, taking control of our arm from Sparta and doing his best to comfort our openly weeping left head.

"What's got into him?" Sparta asked Rift.

The Primordial looked rather disturbed by Kevin's level of grief, but she sadly explained "Kevin understands what will happen if you choose to reunite. All three of you will lose your independent thoughts and feelings, although your memories will remain."

"So, in short, we'll lose ourselves to bring back Cade?" Sparta summarised.

Rift just nodded as Kevin let the rest of us understand what he was feeling. The memory of what it was like to die the first time, and how scared we'd been. The terror of just being lost to history, with nothing to be remembered by. The pure fear that the rest of us would force the change, whether he wanted it or not. And at the end of it, the horrifying knowledge that we all felt that something was missing from us, and that he wanted it back, even though it would kill all three of us.

"Oh, Kev…" Sparta and Driscol said, doing their best to wrap Kevin in a neck-hug.

"We'd never do that to you if you didn't want it." Driscol promised. "Never, buddy. Never."

"Kev…" Sparta said, warring between wanting us to be whole, and wanting Kevin to just be happy. For this to happen… it was just wrong. "Kev, it's not like we'd… die… if we did this. We'd still be alive. Just one person. Not three."

"B-but I don't wanna lose you two!" Kevin sobbed. "I don't want to live as one if I can't be with you! You're two of the best people we've ever known!"

"Because we're you, and you're us." Driscol said sadly. "But… we're all Cade. It's the bond between us that comes from his sacrifice, and if we come back together, we'll remember ourselves as we are now. We will never be forgotten by Cade. And he'll make sure that we're remembered. And he's the key to get back what we've been missing all this time."

"And w-what's that?" Kevin sniffed.

"Each other." Driscol declared.

"That doesn't make any sense." Sparta said, his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure it out.

"Sorry, bad wording there." Driscol said, then paused to think how he could put it into words. "Even though we all stem from one person, we aren't the same. We each think slightly differently, and feel slightly differently. And that's because each of us has something that the others lack. Sparta has lost parts of compassion and empathy, something that you're better at than either of us. You're missing the piece of us that we need to make the tough calls, based on logic, which is what I got landed with. And to do that, I'm not good at taking the little guy into account."

"Are we really like that?" Kevin asked.

Driscol nodded. "We haven't permanently lost those things, mind you. It's just harder for us to connect with them. But… say, if we had to save Amara, Eragon and Saphira, or the world, what would we do?"

"Fight as hard as I can to try and get both, even if I can't." Sparta said instantly.

"I'd save our friends." Kevin said sadly.

"And I'd save the world." Driscol finished. "You see my point, right?"

Both Kevin and Sparta nodded.

"So we are in agreement? Will we become one and reclaim what we've been missing all this time."

"Yes." Sparta said firmly. "Cade became us three for a while, and we've had one hell of a run. But now it's time for us to return our body to its rightful owner."

"I…" Kevin said slowly, before looking up at Rift. "It won't hurt, will it?"

"No." Rift said gently. "The most you'll feel is very disoriented, and perhaps a little nauseous. However, I can make you fall unconscious before I do it, if you three want. You'd go to sleep as three people, and wake up as one person."

"Then… yes." Kevin said, trying his best to not tense up yet. "Yes. I'll do it like that. But I want one last thing, to make sure that Cade will remember us. All of us."

"Yes?" Driscol said gently.

"That we'll each pick our favourite breakfast, and every morning that we wake up in Locostral, each of us will have that." Our left head decided, then winced. "It sounds stupid when I say it out loud, but-"

"Eggs and bacon." Sparta interrupted.

"What?" Kevin asked.

"Eggs and bacon." Sparta repeated with a smile. "With that spicy 'Blood of our Enemies' sauce that I like. It's a good idea, Kev. I don't want to be forgotten either."

Driscol snorted with amusement, but said "I'd just take buttered toast or something. I like the simple things, I guess. What about you, Kev?"

"Pain au Chocolat." Kevin sighed, before quickly adding on "With a chocolate milkshake."

Driscol and Sparta exchanged a look and chuckled sadly. "Naturally."

"Shall I start, then?" Rift asked gently.

"...Yes." we all said, even though we were now having massive second thoughts. But as Rift nodded, and her hands began to glow, we knew it was too late for that.

"It's been an honour flying with you boys." Sparta said stoically, although we could see a tear trickling down the side of his face, even as he smirked in the face of death. "See you both on the other side."

"I… I don't wanna go." Kevin whispered before desperately looking at the rest of us. "I don't wanna go! Driscol, Sparta... please. I don't… I don't want to go."

Driscol gave him one last, sad smile. "It'll be okay, Kev. We fall asleep, we leave, and Cade returns."

"But... I'm scared…"

"Me too." Our center head confessed as all three sets of vision we had began to go blurry. "But being brave isn't not being scared. It's acknowledging that you're scared, and pressing on, regardless."

"I… understand." Kevin nodded, letting out a long, shaky breath and choking back a sob. "I… I'm ready."

"Let's go gentle into that good night." Driscol said, feeling muddled as sleep started to tug at all three of us, but wanting to put on one last bit of bravado.

"And when we wake up, we'll rage." Sparta added as darkness closed in on us, no matter how much we wanted to keep our eyes open. "We'll rage against Shadows, and the dying of the light."

"And… we'll be together." Kevin added.

"Together forever." Driscol and Sparta confirmed. And then… we knew no more.

Snapshot 29C:

Snorri could only stare, petrified in shock and fear, as the receiving end of endless horror stories and companions deaths stood in front of him. A Shadow, but not any Shadow. Perhaps the most mad, vicious, and unhinged Shadow that the Plainswalkers had ever encountered. The survivors of his attacks barely managed to cling onto their life or sanity for long enough to tell of his horrific deeds. To the Plainswalkers he was The Last Darkness, Hope's End, The Shadow of Fear. But he simply called himself Happ-

"Ah, you've finally arrived. We thought you got lost in the woods for a moment." The Shadow said casually. "Come on in, there's still some hot chocolate remaining. It's a bit cold but it can be heated up again in no time."

Bracing himself for a blade as dark as the night to cut through his body, Snorri closed his eyes and prepared himself to meet with Odin in Valhalla before processing what the Shadow had said. He opened his eyes and blinked in surprise when he saw that the Shadow hadn't moved. He was even more surprised when something seemed to have pushed it aside with little to no effort.

"-I knew that I should have opened the door, now we're going to need a water bucket to snap him out of it-" a new voice said, revealing itself to be a sort of strange automaton. One thing was obvious though, this new being was a Plainswalker. And that didn't exactly comfort him much.

Snorri glanced from the Plainswalker to the Shadow and back. One of them would obliterate him in a heartbeat. The other would have him captured and sent back to the Elders for a trial and judgement. And they weren't killing each other. Why?

"I… don't understand." Snorri whispered, almost afraid to speak. "You aren't fighting each other."

The automaton crossed her arms and looked at him. "-Because we have no reason too, duh.-"

"But… why?" Snorri asked again, his confusion rising. "It is our duty to stop Shadows, as decreed by Rift. And it is their duty to assimilate the realms, as decreed by Void. There is no middle ground."

Null's voice emerged from inside the house. "Heart, Arianne, would you mind actually letting Snorri in before we explain who and what we are?"

The automaton looked slightly embarrassed, which was quite the feat considering that she had no facial emotions, but was also quick to move on the side together with the now named Heart to let Snorri pass. "-Sorry Null, it's Heart's fault in the first place though.-"

The horror, now named Heart, facepalmed at the accusation at first, before realizing. "A former Shadow meeting a former Plainswalker would be problematic, wouldn't it?"

"That's what I was thinking." Null agreed as Snorri warily slithered inside.

Tearing his eyes from the threats, he looked around the room. It was very homely. A warm, orange flame crackled in a stone fireplace, with two young girls heating some kind of food in front of it. Another Shadow, a more bestial one, lounged by the fire next to them, making sure that they weren't burned by the flames. Oddly, he sported colour in his form; a lustrous red, as well as little bits of yellow. However, he didn't hide the glowing red eyes that were distinctive to Shadows, making it easy for Snorri to identify him.

Two more Plainswalkers sat at a table, playing cards with a being that gave off such power that Snorri knew that it wasn't a Plainswalker or a Shadow, so it must be Null. The Plainswalkers were some kind of knight that had a pitch black hole bored through his chest with a fiery ring bordering it, while the other was a feminime, blond figure, likely an elf judging from the long ears, and covered in what looked like an incredibly light form of armor.

Null himself was a being of black fire and white light within it. His form was humanoid, although his 'hair' was black fire, and he had no face apart from a single eye of white light where the bridge of the nose would be on a normal person. The light and dark within him flickered in perfect harmony, neither one acting to consume the other, but just... existing.

Finally, on the porch that looked over the lake, another Shadow stood, taking in the view. This one was cloaked in partially tattered darkness with a hood pulled up over it's head. It had its arms resting on the porch railing, and it seemed content to just listen rather than contribute to the conversations that were going on around it.

Snorri just looked around the room and stared. This didn't make any sense! Plainswalkers and Shadows in the same room, not killing each other? This was like if Thor and a group of Jötnar weren't attempting to smite each other into oblivion! It just wasn't right!

Just as Snorri was facing his current existential crisis, the pair of young girls took notice of him. They slowly crept closer to him until the younger, black haired one dared to touch him.

"Woah, your scales are so smooth Mr. Snek" she said, slowly moving back and forth her hand on Snorri's back. "Sis, you have to try this, it's so strange!"

Snorri froze in place. He was large enough to encircle the world he guarded, strong enough to crack it if he tried, and his venom was potent enough to kill gods. And he couldn't help but be immobilised as something as simple as a touch. It… it had been too long since he'd had contact with other sentient beings. At least a millennia. Since he'd settled down and stopped running… he'd grown lonely, and he'd forgotten how to to reach out to people.