A/N: OKAY GUYS I AM SORRY. This is the longest I've gone without an update. Here's why!

I have a few projects going on. I may have a comic book up and running soon.

I've been working on A WIKI for this rewrite. That being said, if there are any non-native English speakers that want to help me just let me know (A lot of people read this fanfiction in Germany, France, Portugal and there is even a small Chinese minority)

I've been stuck on how to get to the end. I've gone through many interpretations but I haven't been satisfied with them. I want to give you guys the very best.

That being said, I just want to get Eldest DONE lol. We're so close and I picked a horrible time to take hiatus. Although I am SO happy no one unliked or unfavorited. That being said . . . once Eldest is done I'm going to need time to work on the wiki. I believe the Wiki will attract new readers, and it will let people refresh themselves for brisingr. I feel like I have very special project, and I'm not giving up on this, I just had to take a small break lol.

ELDEST * CHAPTER * 2 4

Nasuada felt her stomach tremble. To her left and right, massive iron walls stood, with gigantic cathedral-like windows that were interposed between the metal at regular intervals, leading to Galbatorix's throne room. Beside her, Nasuadon stood, his face grim. He was betraying everyone he loved, Orrin foremost among them, all due to her. All because of Murtagh. But where else could they go? If the Varden found out she carried a son who had Morzan for a grandsire . . . She could not let herself think of that thought. It was here that she felt like she could feel the world change, as if she stood on shifting tectonic plates that constantly maneuvered beneath her small feet. They had gained an audience with the King after waiting for nearly two weeks, and now at the worst time she felt her weakest. Two guards stood at the colossal twin doors, the only thing separating them from Galbatorix. Nasuadon stepped forward finally, and Nasuada followed in his wake. Each step placed another brick forming the tomb that would forever bind herself in darkness. She knew that if they spared her, Murtagh would force her to feel the same pain that which was put upon him. She cursed them then: the Elves, the Varden, and most of all herself. Why didn't she speak on his behalf? She couldn't save him from death. Only the traitorous Twins had been able to do that. She was powerless, a woman trapped in the foibles and wars of men. She longed for the carefree life she had as a child, back when her father was alive . . . .

"Nasuada."

Nasuadon's voice broke her daydream of the halcyon, before the war that gripped the realm in bloodshed.

She then realized that Nasuadon had walked far ahead of her, nearly to the doors themselves. She gathered her dirty dress around her and walked forward with suppressed fear and a hint of feeble dignity. Nasuadon's dark skin gleamed in the glare of the midday sun, discolored by the hues of cool blues and reds that painted the window he stood under. Finally she joined with him, and together they walked forward as the iron doors were pulled open. A long maroon carpet lead to a raised stand, where Galbatorix himself sat. Nasuada was surprised to see a man who looked to be in his early thirties, with a kind face and pale skin. He had green eyes and wavy blonde locks, while a bright crown rested on his head.

"My Grace, I present to you Jex and Haruna from the Southlands." A shrill namesayer stood at the foot of the throne, wearing bright green garments that made him look almost comical.

"Welcome to Uru'baen. I assume you speak Ulnar." Galbatorix began. Nasuada was silent as she swallowed her heart. Her brother spoke for her.

"Yes, Your Grace." He said plainly. Nasuada could see silvery droplets of sweat on his muscular arms and back.

"What is it you have come for? I attempt to make time for all beings, even those far away from the capital." Galbatorix stated kindly.

"Your Grace . . . we have been dishonest with you. Our names are not Jex and Haruna." Nasuadon began.

"Nasuada."

Murtagh.

Nasuada's eyes saw him then. But then her face turned when she saw two of him. But then she realized Murtagh walked with his father. The Forsworn Morzan. They came from behind the Throne, each one bearing long black locks and bright green eyes. Murtagh's face was rounder than Morzan's, but they both were almost mirror images of each other. Murtagh wore a black doublet over a gray tunic, with ebony jerkins and high boots fringed with metal locks around the mouth of them. A long sword hung at his waist, and around his neck two gauntlets hung from a chained necklace. Morzan was dressed in battle array- dark-colored armor contrasting with his white skin while a cape as black as his hair wavered behind his stride.

"Nasuada of the Varden?" Galbatorix said with a raised eyebrow. Murtagh approached Galbatorix's side, his eyes glaring.

"Yes. The one that disowned me. The one that had me scoured and left me at the mercy of Orrin." Murtagh spat. Galbatorix's eyes rested on Nasuada, the kindness in them all but evaporated.

"Why should I not kill you now? The audacity of you to come here . . . ."

Nasuadon was the one who answered him.

"My sister carries the son of Murtagh. We had nowhere else to go." Nasuadon spoke. Beneath his strong voice, however, Nasuada heard his speech tremble. Even he was afraid.

The Throne room was silent for what seemed like ages. All three of the men simply regarded Nasuada and her brother, their faces unreadable. Galbatorix lowered his head torwards Murtagh.

"This is your decision." He said silently. Murtagh, as if he had been waiting for Galbatorix to grant him that honor, made his way towards Nasuada. He bore a cynical grin, handsome and evil at equal intervals. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, walking with the same cocksureness that had enraged Orrin in what seemed like a millennia ago.

"You say you carry my child." Murtagh said as he stood a few mere feet away from her. Nasuada simply looked at him with wide eyes.

"Do you believe her, Murtagh?" Galbatorix called from his throne. Murtagh responded, but kept his eyes locked on Nasuada's.

"Yes. She was still a maiden when we took each other." He reached out with his hand as he walked closer to Nasuada. She was still as he got closer to her, and shivered when he ran a hand down the side of her cheek.

"A son." He smiled then, and Nasuada let herself calm.

Perhaps the child will still his rage. Perhaps he will forgive me . . .

Blood splattered against the floor as Nasuada blinked in disbelief. Murtagh's sword was unsheathed, a terrible weapon of white malice. Nasuadon gasped as blood seeped from the wound that gashed from his shoulder to the edge of his waist. Murtagh then spun and impaled Nasuadon from behind, the sword jutting from Nasuadon's abdomen. Nasuada's brother let out a feeble cry as blood poured from him, while Nasuada screamed. She attempted to move towards her brother; to help him, to curse Murtagh, but her feet were locked in place. Murtagh spun from Nasuadon's body, his sword leaving her brother as he fell to the ground.

"I cannot kill you, and I cannot harm you as long as you carry our son. But once he is born . . . I promise you, you will die." Murtagh's voice seemed to be drowned out from the sound of her own gasps of horror, tears streaming down her face while the blood of her beloved brother dripped onto the stone, the curved blade that he held shining with red.

(line break)

Aerion had almost forgotten he was in Du Weldenvarden. The place was eerily peaceful, and the war seemed far away. However, he knew that battle would soon take place here, and across the land, at the faraway fortress of Feinster. He stood atop the battlements of fort Kel'am. With him were Arya, Orik, and Cambion, who had taken a new Elven body at the behest of Arya herself. They watched as Orik's personal army of Dwarfbane warriors marched, nearly three thousand strong.

"Prince Orik, you never cease to amaze me." Arya said with a slight smile. Orik returned the grin as he folded muscular arms over his chest.

"The Sealed Elves will stand no chance against these warriors. They are the best in the realm."

Cambion stood by Aerion, his eyes counting every dwarf that passed underneath them. They made a loud sound that echoed through the forest, the heavy armor they wore clinking with every shift of weight. They each carried greatswords half the size of them, and a massive shield on their backs besides. They were, in truth, banes of life.

"This will not be enough." Cambion said softly, so only Aerion could hear. Aerion turned his head towards the Shade.

"Surely this army, combined with the Eragon and Oromis once they return will be able to defeat The Sealed . . . "

"It is not them I speak of. Golhlobor has nearly awoken. I hear the woe of the world, Aerion. The pain of the trees. The cries of the wind. The mutterings of a thousand rivers gone mad. The animals leave this place, because like all natural things, they sense what will befall here. Absolute destruction. "

Aerion was silent. He allowed his eyes to pass over the towering trees that surrounded Kel'am, and for the first time noticed the lack of birds.

No wonder it is so silent . . .

"But there must be some hope? Surely Golhlobor will not win." Aerion said, reassuring himself.

"When a rabbit comes across a hunter, does the creature entertain the thought of victory? No, Aerion. It flees. If you humans and Elves were wise, you would do the same. But it would be futile. As long as life persists, Golhlobor will destroy it. He is the god of destruction. There will be nothing left, except the ashes of a world that foolishly tried to defeat him."

To Aerion, the soldiers that funneled into Du Weldenvarden suddenly seemed useless. With a grim smile, he closed his eyes.

"Cambion, is there any way to destroy a God?" He asked. The Shade's answer echoed in his mind as they rode their way back to Gillendel.

No. It would be better for you to take your life now, rather than face the fury that Golhlobor has saved for you.