He lingered in the doorway of death, plotting.
Plotting against the young boy who had killed him twice, plotting against the weakling that had proved him weaker, plotting against revenge. His plan was almost ready. All he needed was one young woman, the ghost of a young woman, to accidentally set him free.
And now she was approaching him, in the whiteness of death.
His heart would be pounding in the thrill of the hunt, had he been alive. His spirit rose slightly off the floor, the gray smoke that was a Shade when all else was lost.
"Who are you?" the spirit of the woman asked.
"I am Eragon, first and last Dragon Rider."
"Who am I?"
"You are Selena, mother of the first and last Dragon Rider."
The spirit paused. "Why have you summoned me?"
"I need to be set free, mother."
There was a moment of silence, when the Shade's dead breath seemed to hang, and then the whirling wind started, and he felt himself take form.
When the wind stopped, he rose, unsteady on his feet. He looked around, in the forest that he so loved, his old black cloak rippling round his feet.
"Durza rises," he whispered to himself, and smiled a cruel smile before disappearing into the shadow.