Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls or The Inheritance Cycle.


While they rode, Eragon tried to remember what he knew about elves. They had long lives—that fact was oft repeated—although he knew not how long. They spoke the ancient language, and many could use magic. After the Riders' fall, elves had retreated into seclusion. None of them had been seen in the Empire since. So why is one here now? And how did the Empire manage to capture her? If she can use magic, she's probably drugged as I was.

They traveled through the night, not stopping even when their flagging strength began to slow them. They continued onward despite burning eyes and clumsy movements. Behind them, lines of torch-bearing horsemen searched around Gil'ead for their trail.

After many bleary hours, dawn lightened the sky. By unspoken consent they stopped the horses. "We have to make camp," said Eragon wearily. "I must sleep—whether they catch us or not."

"Agreed," said Daemon, rubbing his eyes. "Have Saphira land. We'll meet her."

They followed Saphira's directions and found her drinking from a stream at the base of a small cliff, the elf still slouched on her back. Saphira greeted them with a soft bugle as they dismounted their horses.

Daemon and Murtagh helped Eragon remove the elf from Saphira's saddle and lower her to the ground. Then they sagged against the rock face, exhausted. Saphira happily kept Eragon and Daemon to her side and nuzzled them before she examined the elf curiously. I wonder why she hasn't woken. It's been hours since we left Gil'ead.

We don't know what they did to her there. Daemon said grimly as he leaned against her warm side. Saphira hummed in reply and curled her tail around him. she never told him, but she was very much impressed with what he did back at Gil'ead, the way he took on hordes of soldiers without exhausting himself and looked ready for more. Seeing him prove his strength and power like that... it stirred something within Saphira related to the feelings she had for him. When it comes to male dragons, they always showed off their strength in battle in order to impress a nearby female, and Daemon had unknowingly done the same thing, which is why Saphira's heart was skipping a few beats.

Murtagh followed their gaze. "As far as I know, she's the first elf the king has captured. Ever since they went into hiding, he's been looking for them without success—until now. So he's either found their sanctuary, or she was captured by chance. I think it was chance. If he had found the elf haven, he would have declared war and sent his army after the elves. Since that hasn't happened, the question is, Were Galbatorix's men able to extract the elves' location before we rescued her?"

"We won't know until she regains consciousness. Tell me what happened after I was captured. How did I end up in Gil'ead?"

"The Urgals are working for the Empire," said Rahgol shortly, pushing his long hair back. "And, it seems, the Shade as well. We saw the Urgals give you to him—though I didn't know who it was at the time—and a group of soldiers. They were the ones who took you to Gil'ead."

It's true. Saphira said, confirming his words.

Eragon's mind flashed back to the Urgals he had spoken with at Teirm and the "master" they had mentioned. They meant the king! I insulted the most powerful man in Alagaësia! he realized with dread. Then he remembered the horror of the slaughtered villagers in Yazuac. A sick, angry feeling welled in his stomach. The Urgals were under Galbatorix's orders! Why would he commit such an atrocity on his own subjects?

Glowering, Eragon exclaimed, "This will mean war! Once the people of the Empire learn of it, they will rebel and support the Varden."

"Perhaps this is Galbatorix finally deciding to gather allies that will help him destroy the rebels." Daemon said grimly. "With the Urgals under his command, the king has enough warriors to close the Empire's borders and remain in control, no matter how disruptive people are. With such a rule of terror, he will be able to shape the Empire however he wants. And though he is hated, people could be galvanized into joining him if they had a common enemy."

"Who would that be?" asked Eragon, confused.

"The elves and the Varden. With the right rumors they can be portrayed as the most despicable monsters in Alagaësia—fiends who are waiting to seize your land and wealth. The Empire could even say that the Urgals have been misunderstood all this time and that they are really friends and allies against such terrible enemies. I only wonder what the king promised them in return for their services." Murtagh said.

"It wouldn't work," said Eragon, shaking his head. "No one could be deceived that easily about Galbatorix and the Urgals. Besides, why would he want to do that? He's already in power."

"What do all men with power want? More power." Daemon scoffed.

Thinking about recent events, Eragon warmly thanked Murtagh and the others for what they had done to save him. He and Daemon both agreed that Murtagh had become an important friend to them; the bond between the three had been welded in the brotherhood of battle and tempered by the loyalty Murtagh had shown them. The dark-haired young man faltered and brushed the praise away, stating that Saphira was the real reason they managed to escape. She hummed in gratitude.

Eragon gazed at the elf's face, captivated. Reluctantly, he dragged himself upright. "We should make a bed for her."

Daemon got to his feet and stretched out a blanket for the elf. When they lifted her onto it, the cuff of her sleeve tore on a branch. Eragon began to pinch the fabric together, then gasped.

The elf's arm was mottled with a layer of bruises and cuts; some were half healed, while others were fresh and oozing. Eragon shook his head with anger and pulled the sleeve up higher. The injuries continued to her shoulder. With trembling fingers, he unlaced the back of her shirt, dreading what might be under it.

As the leather slipped off, Daemon cursed. The elf's back was strong and muscled, but it was covered with scabs that made her skin look like dry, cracked mud. She had been whipped mercilessly and branded with hot irons in the shape of claws. Where her skin was still intact, it was purple and black from numerous beatings. On her left shoulder was a tattoo inscribed with indigo ink. It was the same symbol that had been on the sapphire of Brom's ring. Eragon silently swore an oath that he would kill whoever was responsible for torturing the elf.

"Can you heal this?" asked Murtagh.

"I can." Daemon said, already creating healing magic in his hands. He knelt next to the elf and held his hands over her bruises and cuts and the sound of healing magic filled the air. Eragon, Saphira and Murtagh watched as the bruises and cuts healed and disappeared like they were never there. Daemon kept it up until the elf no longer had cuts, bruises or signs of beatings and whips on her. It looked as if she had been untouched.

"How did you do that? You didn't even say a word in the ancient language!" Murtagh said, amazed.

"Let's just say I'm not from around here." Daemon said, putting away his healing magic. He leaned back against Saphira who nuzzled him warmly. "She'll live."

Eragon looked around. "We'd better start riding again."

"No! You and Daemon must sleep," protested Murtagh.

"We can sleep in the saddle. But we can't afford to stay here, not with the soldiers closing on us." Daemon pointed out.

Murtagh reluctantly gave in. "In that case I'll lead Snowfire while you two rest." They resaddled the horses, strapped the elf onto Saphira, and departed the camp. Eragon ate while he rode, trying to replace his depleted energy before he leaned forward against Snowfire and closed his eyes.


When they stopped for the evening, Eragon felt no better and his temper had worsened. Daemon was a bit better, but he too shared Eragon's dark mood. Most of the day had been spent on long detours to avoid detection by soldiers with hunting dogs. Eragon dismounted Snowfire and asked Saphira, How is she?

She stirred a few times, but nothing more. She crouched low to the ground so he and Daemon could lift her off while Murtagh prepared a small dinner. I am worried, little ones. Her condition may be more grave than we thought.

They made a small dinner. It was difficult for them to fight off the urge to sleep. When they had eaten, Murtagh said, "We can't keep up this pace; we aren't gaining any ground on the soldiers. Another day or two of this and they'll be sure to overtake us."

"What else can we do?" snapped Eragon. "If it were just the three of us and you were willing to leave Tornac behind, Saphira could fly us out of here. But with the elf, too? Impossible."

Murtagh looked at Eragon carefully. "If you want to go your own way, I won't stop you. I can't expect you three to stay and risk imprisonment."

Daemon started to say something, but Eragon cut him off hotly. "Don't insult us. The only reason we survived the Ra'zac is because of you. And you risked your life to help Daemon and Saphira rescue me. I'm not going to abandon you to the Empire. Some gratitude!"

Murtagh bowed his head. "Your words hearten me." He paused. "But they don't solve our problem."

"What can?" Eragon asked. He gestured at the elf. "I wish she could tell us where the elves are; perhaps we could seek sanctuary with them."

"Considering how they've protected themselves, I doubt she'd reveal their location. Even if she did, the others of her kind might not welcome us. Why would they want to shelter us anyway? The last Riders they had contact with were Galbatorix and the Forsworn. I doubt that left them with pleasant memories. And neither Rahgol or I don't even have the dubious honor of being a Rider like you. No, they would not want me at all."

They would accept us, said Saphira confidently as she shifted her wings to a more comfortable position.

Eragon shrugged. "Even if they would protect us, we can't find them, and it's impossible to ask the elf until she regains consciousness."

"Then we do that." Daemon suddenly said, gaining their attention.

"What?" Eragon frowned.

"We ask her." Daemon gestured to the elf. "Elves can use magic, and so can communicate mentally. Why don't we try to do so with her?"

I'm not sure that is wise, Saphira said slowly. Even if it should work, she may see it as an invasion of privacy, if not a hostile act.

Eragon paced as he considered it. "Perhaps, but we could get some answers. Maybe she'd show us the way to the Varden and learn why she has not awoken."

"Can it be done?" Murtagh asked warily as he looked between the two.

"If Eragon and I join our minds together as we enter hers. We should be strong enough to enter and speak to her." Daemon said. "I don't like breaching another's mind without their knowledge or permission, but at this rate... we have no other choice unless you two want to keep arguing like a bunch of brats."

"He's right," Eragon admitted. "It's the best way to determine where to go from here." Murtagh nodded, and Saphira snorted her acceptance. They were in agreement.

Daemon and Eragon knelt on either side of the elf and Eragon felt Daemon's mind join his. He felt comforted at Daemon's presence, much like he did with Saphira. Nearby, Murtagh and Saphira watched them closely.

You should initiate the contact. Daemon told him.

Why me? This was YOUR idea.

You dreamed about her for months, so there's a connection between the two of you already. Daemon pointed out. Eragon had to admit, he did have a good point. Sighing, he started to begin the first sign of contact in the elf's mind, extending a tendril towards her mind. He found it without difficulty. It was not fuzzy and filled with pain like he expected, but lucid and clear, like a note from a crystal bell.

Suddenly an icy dagger drove into his mind, and Daemon's by extension. Pain exploded behind his eyes with splashes of color and he could sense Daemon flinching in pain. They recoiled from the attack but found himself held in an iron grip, unable to retreat. They fought as hard as they could and used every defense they could think of. The dagger stabbed into Eragon's mind again, and they found their defences being crushed. A stifling blanket pressed down on them from all directions, smothering their thoughts. The overpowering force slowly contracted, squeezing the life out of them bit by bit, though they held on, unwilling to give up.

Eragon desperately cried in the ancient language, "Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal!" I am a Rider and friend! The deadly embrace did not loosen its hold, but its constriction halted and surprise emanated from her. He had said he was a friend, but she did not know if the two minds invading hers meant no harm. Accepting Eragon's words as true, she poked an iron-hard thought at Daemon's mind, demanding his identity.

Daemon knew he had to give something for her to trust him, so instead of using words... he showed her bits of his past as best as he can. which was him finding out he was Dragonborn and what that means, though he felt a brief bit of anger when she learned he was a dragonslayer, he showed her his trust with Odahviing and Paarthurnax, as well as his eventual change into a dragon and now she was far more curious of him than distrusting.

The pressure lifted, and the barriers guarding her mind fell away. The elf warily let her thoughts though theirs, like wild animals meeting for the first time. A cold shiver ran down Eragon's spine; her mind was alien, vast and powerful, and contained the memories and experiences of an entire lifetime. Yet through all the sensations shimmered a wild, haunting melody that was her identity.

What are your names? she asked, speaking in the ancient language. Her voice was weary and filled with quiet despair.

I am Eragon, the young Rider began. And this is my frie- ...brother, Daemon. Daemon, while surprised at what Eragon called him, took this new development in stride, and introduced himself to the elf, also speaking in the ancient language. For the first time, they understood the fey attraction of elves; the lyric strains of her consciousness drew them closer. They were as different from humans as dragons were from other animals.

...Arya. Why have you contacted me in this manner? Am I still a captive of the Empire?

No, you are free! said Eragon. Though he knew only scattered words in the ancient language, he managed to convey: I was imprisoned in Gil'ead, like you, but Daemon and two others rescued me and helped me rescue you.

It's been a day since we did. You've not stirred nor said a word in all that time. Daemon said.

Ah... so it was Gil'ead. She paused. I know that my wounds were greatly healed as if... as if they hadn't been inflicted on me at all.

That was me. Daemon said. I used healing magic from my land to heal your physical wounds.

Then you have my gratitude, Daemon the Dragonborn. Arya said, and her tone indicated she meant it. Even so, I have not risen, and you are puzzled.

Yes. Eragon said.

During my captivity, a rare poison, the Skilna Bragh, was given to me, along with the drug to suppress my power. Every morning the antidote for the previous day's poison was administered to me, by force if I refused to take it. Without it I will die within a few hours. That is why I lie in this trance—it slows the Skilna Bragh's progress, though does not stop it... I contemplated waking for the purpose of ending my life and denying Galbatorix, but I refrained from doing so out of hope that you might be an ally... Her voice dwindled off weakly.

How long can you remain like this? asked Eragon.

For weeks, but I'm afraid I haven't that much time. This dormancy cannot restrain death forever . . . I can feel it in my veins even now. Unless I receive the antidote, I will succumb to the poison in three or four days.

Where can the antidote be found?

It exists in only two places outside of the Empire: with my own people and with the Varden. However, my home is beyond the reach of dragonback.

What about the Varden? We would have taken you straight to them, but we don't know where they are.

She paused, and they could sense her thinking it over. I will tell you – but only if you give me your word you will never reveal their location to Galbatorix or anyone who serves him. In addition, you must swear you have not deceived me in some manner, and that you intend no harm to the elves, dwarves, Varden or the race of dragons.

What Arya asked would have been simple enough – had they not been speaking in the ancient language. An oath sworn while speaking it was a pact more binding than life itself. Once made, a promise like this could never be broken. This was foremost in the two boy's minds as they pledged their word in agreement. It is understood...Eragon spoke slowly.

Aye, Daemon promised. After all, I am a dragon, he added lightly.

A series of vertigo-inducing images suddenly flashed through their minds. They felt like they were riding along the Beor Mountain range, traveling eastward many leagues. Eragon and Daemon did their best to remember the route as craggy mountains and hills flashed past. They were heading south now, still following the mountains. Then everything wheeled abruptly, and they entered a narrow, winding valley. It snaked through the mountains to the base of a frothy waterfall that pounded into a deep lake.

The images stopped. It is far, said Arya, but do not let the distance dissuade you. When you arrive at the lake Kóstha-mérna at the end of the Beartooth River, take a rock, bang on the cliff next to the waterfall, and cry, Aí varden abr du Shur'tugals gata vanta. You will be admitted. You will be challenged, but do not falter no matter how perilous it seems.

What should they give you for the poison? he asked.

Her voice quavered, but then she regained her strength. Tell them—to give me Túnivor's Nectar. You must leave me now... I have expended too much energy already. Do not talk with me again unless there is no hope of reaching the Varden. If that is the case, there is information I must impart to you so the Varden will survive. Farewell, Rider and Dragonborn . . . my life is in your hands.

Arya withdrew from their contact. The unearthly strains that had echoed across their link were gone. Eragon and Daemon took shuddering breaths and forced their eyes open. Murtagh and Saphira stood on either side of them, watching with concern. "Are you all right?" asked Murtagh. "You've been kneeling here for almost fifteen minutes."

"We have?" asked Eragon, blinking. He and Daemon shared a look at that.

Yes, and grimacing like pained gargoyles, commented Saphira dryly as she helped Daemon sit upright.

Eragon stood, wincing as his cramped knees stretched. "We talked with Arya!" Murtagh frowned quizzically, as if to inquire if he had gone mad. Eragon explained, "The elf—that's her name."

And what is it that ails her? asked Saphira impatiently.

Eragon swiftly told them of their entire discussion. "How far away are the Varden?" asked Murtagh.

"Far," admitted Eragon. "Across the Hadarac Desert and deep into the Beors."

"And you expect us to cover this distance in less than four days?" the response from Murtagh was understandably harsh.

"But if we do nothing, she'll die!"

"I understand that, but think about this, Eragon. There is no way we can cover that distance in such a short time! She'd be basically dead by the time we get there! Not to mention, food and water won't last us that long unless we are careful. And what about the horses? We'd end up killing them in the process!"

Daemon, who had been silent and contemplating mentally to himself, spoke. "There is a way." He said seriously, stopping the argument as all eyes turned to him. "There's always been a way." They looked at him, puzzled. After a moment or two, he could see the realization dawn in Eragon and Saphira's eyes.

No, don't even follow that train of thought! Saphira quickly said.

I must. Daemon told her privately. Eragon won't leave Murtagh behind, we both know this, something I support him on. And I know you will not leave Eragon's side for anything. this is the only way to save Arya's life.

She hated to accept it, but she knew he was right. Saphira felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as she tied to contemplate Daemon leaving them. She looked away into the distance to distract herself from her raging emotions...and so they couldn't see the sadness in her eyes.

"I'll take Shadowmere." Daemon said to Eragon and Murtagh. "He's the fastest horse here and has gotten me to places quicker than I expected. He'll get me to the Varden, if he can't... then I have other ways. I'll take Arya with me. You two can continue at your own pace and I'll meet you there."

"We shouldn't split up!" Eragon protested. He, like Saphira, knew what Daemon was meaning through his words and didn't like him going through uncharted danger.

Daemon sighed. "You forget, Eragon." He lowered his voice to a whisper so Murtagh didn't hear. "I've braved through many dangers. this is no different to what I've faced before, trust me. I can get Arya to the Varden quickly and she can be healed. If we went the way we did know... her condition would get worse."

Eragon's mind screamed at him to argue. He could not let the boy he had come to see as family leave like this, but his instincts told him to accept it. Daemon stood then and began gathering his things into Shadowmere's saddle. Murtagh moved a little ways away to tend the fire, and the three remaining companions were left to talk privately.

"You shouldn't have to do this." Eragon said in a low voice.

"But I will." Daemon said as he looked at him seriously. "When I make my mind up on something, it's impossible to change it. Have faith, we will see each other again." Eragon reluctantly nodded before pulling him into a rough, brotherly embrace that Daemon returned before they broke it as Saphira approached. They placed Arya's limp form over Shadowmere's saddle and made sure she was secured to it.

Take this with you. Saphira said and gestured to the leather saddle she wore. So Arya is protected from rubbing against your scales. Eragon removed it and gave it to Daemon.

I'll be sure to have it in good condition when I give it back. Daemon said with a small smile.

Saphira looked at Eragon. Little one, may I have a moment of privacy with Daemon before he leaves? Eragon nodded, hugged Daemon one more time and walked off to join Murtagh at the fire, leaving Daemon and Saphira alone. Without hesitation, the dragoness placed her head against his chest and he hugged her. Don't go.

I have to. Daemon whispered.

But I don't want you to go. Saphira whimpered as a tear leaked from her eye. They had just started to become closer after their talk at Leona-Lake, and now they were separating without any inkling that they'll see each other again. Saphira felt like she was losing a part of herself. Daemon had come to mean so much to her as Eragon did, and she couldn't stand the thought of losing either of them.

Daemon kissed the top of her snout, causing more tears to fall from Saphira's eyes. I will see you again, Saphira. Nothing will stop that. This isn't a goodbye. We will be together again soon. I swear it and a dragon always keeps their word.

You better.

He released her and mounted Shadowmere who took off upon command. Daemon did not look back... for fear he may turn around and go back to them.


It was silent between Eragon and Murtagh that night, Eragon and Saphira still reeling from watching Daemon ride away from them. "there's something we need to address." Murtagh said after too much silence. "Water. Bought supplies for us and the horses while I was in Gil'ead. But how can we get enough water? The roving tribes who live in the Hadarac usually disguise their wells and oases so no one can steal their water. And carrying enough for more than a day is impractical. Just think about how much Saphira drinks! She and the horses consume more water at one time than we do in a week. Unless you can make it rain whenever we need, I don't see how we can go the direction you propose."

Eragon rocked back on his heels. Making rain was well beyond his power. He suspected that not even the strongest Rider could have done it. Moving that much air was like trying to lift a mountain. He needed a solution that would not drain all of his strength. I wonder if it's possible to convert sand into water? That would solve our problem, but only if it doesn't take too much energy.

"I have an idea," he said. "Let me experiment, then I'll give you an answer." Eragon strode out of the camp, asking Saphira to follow him. the dragoness had been silent, staring out into the distance as if expecting a certain someone to come riding back or flying back. Eragon could feel her despair and sadness, so he wanted to distract her from it, as well as distract himself.

What are you going to try? she asked, getting up to follow him.

"I don't know," he muttered. Saphira, could you carry enough water for us?

She shook her enormous head. No, I wouldn't even be able to lift that much weight, let alone fly with it.

Too bad. He knelt and picked up a stone with a cavity large enough for a mouthful of water. He pressed a clump of dirt into the hollow and studied it thoughtfully. Now came the hard part. Somehow he had to convert the dirt into water. But what words should I use? He puzzled over it for a moment, then picked two he hoped would work. The icy magic rushed through him as he breached the familiar barrier in his mind and commanded, "Deloi moi!"

Immediately the dirt began to absorb his strength at a prodigious rate. Eragon's mind flashed back to Brom's warning that certain tasks could consume all of his power and take his life. Panic blossomed in his chest. He tried to release the magic but could not. It was linked to him until the task was complete or he was dead. All he could do was remain motionless, growing weaker every moment.

Just as he became convinced that he would die kneeling there, the dirt shimmered and morphed into a thimbleful of water. Relieved, Eragon sat back, breathing hard. His heart pounded painfully and hunger gnawed at his innards.

What happened? asked Saphira.

Eragon shook his head, still in shock from the drain on his body's reserves. He was glad that he had not tried to transmute anything larger. This... this won't work, he said. I don't even have the strength to give myself a drink.

You should have been more careful, she chided. Magic can yield unexpected results when the ancient words are combined in new ways.

He glared at her. I know that, but this was the only way I could test my idea. I wasn't going to wait until we were in the desert! He reminded himself that she was only trying to help. How did you turn Brom's grave into diamond without killing yourself? I can barely handle a bit of dirt, much less all that sandstone.

I don't know how I did it, she stated calmly. It just happened.

Could you do it again, but this time make water?

Eragon, she said, looking him squarely in the face. I've no more control over my abilities than a spider does. Things like that occur whether I will them or not. Brom told you that unusual events happen around dragons. He spoke truly. He gave no explanation for it, nor do I have one. Sometimes I can work changes just by feel, almost without thought. The rest of the time—like right now—I'm as powerless as Snowfire.

You're never powerless, he said softly, putting a hand on her neck.

I couldn't stop Daemon from leaving. She said softly, her voice wavering at mentioning his name as a tear fell down her cheek.

I don't think any of us could. For a long period they were both quiet. Almost against his will, his eyes flicked back to where he had gouged the earth. He straightened, surprised. Though the ground was dry, the furrow he had made was lined with moisture. Curious, he scraped away more dirt and found a damp layer a few inches under the surface. "Look at this!" he said excitedly.

Saphira lowered her nose to his discovery, using anything happening to distract her from the thought of Daemon and how his absence affected her. How does this help us? Water in the desert is sure to be buried so deeply we would have to dig for weeks to find it.

Yes, said Eragon delightedly, but as long as it's there, I can get it. Watch! He deepened the hole, then mentally accessed the magic. Instead of changing the dirt into water, he simply summoned forth the moisture that was already in the earth. With a faint trickle, water rushed into the hole. He smiled and sipped from it. The liquid was cool and pure, perfect for drinking. See! We can get all we need.

Saphira sniffed the pool. Here, yes. But in the desert? There may not be enough water in the ground for you to bring to the surface.

It will work, Eragon assured her. All I'm doing is lifting the water, an easy enough task. As long as it's done slowly, my strength will hold. Even if I have to draw the water from fifty paces down, it won't be a problem. Especially if you help me.

Saphira looked at him dubiously. Are you sure? Think carefully upon your answer, for it will mean our lives if you are wrong.

Eragon hesitated, then said firmly, I'm sure.

Then go tell Murtagh. I will keep watch while you sleep.

But you've stayed up all night like us, he objected. You should rest.

I'll be fine—I'm stronger than you know, she said gently. Her scales rustled as she curled up with a watchful eye turned northward, toward their pursuers. Eragon hugged her, and she hummed deeply, sides vibrating. Go.

She watched him leave to go back to Murtagh, then returned her gaze in the direction Daemon had left in, a tear leaked from her eye and down her cheek and onto the ground. She tried not to picture him, but maybe he would be the strength she needed to go on.

Be safe...


Wandering through the wilderness was not a new thing for Daemon. the number of times he's journeyed through the wilds of Skyrim to get to certain places, the amount of creatures he's came across in the wild and had to kill like bears, tigers, wolves, spiders, trolls, even dragons.

He passed a small village and wandered into the wilds, where he commanded Shadowmere to return to the shadow realm where he came from. The shadow horse had not been happy and refused until Daemon told him that he won't be in there for very long, just until he reached where he needed to go. Shadowmere eventually caved and did as Daemon commanded.

Daemon then shifted into his dragon form and carefully got the saddle strapped to him, then he picked up Arya with his teeth and gently secured her as best as he could. He secured her enough so she wouldn't fall off him at anything he did.

Once he was all set, he let out a brief roar as he took to the skies, feeling that sense of freedom once again at being back into the sky... though there as a piece missing and he knew what it was but ignored it to focus on his current task.

A few leagues away, a dragoness lifted her head upon hearing his roar...


And that's it for this chapter.