A/N: if you're inclined, check out my short horror story "Rusalka" on v0 c al ! It's free, and you'll find it if you just search "Rusalka" on the site.

BRISINGR.

ELVA felt as if she stood upon the precipice leading to the end-

Of everything.

Cruel sounds met her next: the clattering of machines built for war, swords- the sounds of priests murmuring last-minute prayers to the warriors of men who still, despite everything, sought the guidance of gods.

Orrin's entire army, the remaining Impori, and dwarib stragglers made up this final force. They were arrayed before Angela, while the witch herself sat within a circle of her most skilled casters-

Elva had wanted to participate. But Angela refused her.

You will be needed within the ruins of the Laen, Elva. Now don't fret-Your constant worrying...It's annoying.

Elva furrowed her brows, green eyes closing against another punch of chilled wind.

Orrin's mages had found an Eldunari. With it.. Angela surmised they would be able to effectively transport all of their forces to Gillendel- and perhaps forstall the God that waited there for them.

Eragon.. do not forget he still lives, Elva. Until the day of his death, no God can truly threaten this world.

Elva felt a tear begin to form between taught eyelids.

This magic.. even with the Eludunari, it won't be enough. She.. intends to use her own life force, as well as those she's chosen.

Elva's thoughts echoed along with the sound of a desperate, almost manic war trumpet.

Orrin's cavalry, with the King at the head, marched across the assembled beings who made up the last vestiges of the Varden.

Orrin's stance was slouched- not out of laziness, but from the wounds of constant warfare for nearly two years.

Elva looked up at Orrin directly, the King passing by before Elva's impori ranks.

Orrin's gaze still held that almost naive determination that had somehow galvanized a force that resisted Galbatorix's Empire-

But to what end? It was almost ironic.

Solembum, lying down amongst standing Impori, chuckled-

as if he could sense Elva's cynical grin.

"Don't laugh." Elva whispered.

"I would've preferred Galbatorix upon that horse- well, his dragon, rather than Orrin." Solembum replied, bright eyes nearly glowing as they gave Elva a wink.

Me too- but there's nothing we can do about that now.

Elva curled cold fingers into a fist.

Angela..

The trumpets blared once more.

This time, the wall of knights stopped, horses nickering following the silence of bustling armors.

Orrin slowly directed his horse back around.

He straightened, the crown upon him almost losing its golden luster due to the overbearing sheen of Angela's magic just ahead.

Orrin began to speak. Immediately, Elva could tell that some hidden mage was projecting the King's voice far beyond natural limits.

"It has been.. a painful trek."

Orrin bowed his head- the royal cape that dressed square shoulders fell across the man's body, then draped over the round belly of his warhorse.

"Some of you have been here since the beginning."

Orrin urged the warhorse forward then.

"Since the screaming caverns of Tronjheim. Since the campaigns in the north. Since the Fires of the Forsworn."

"We face something unimaginable. I was urged to speak by Angela.. I had wanted her to. But here I am." Orrin said almost hopelessly.

Silence took the assembled army then.

"We will survive. This will not be the end. We've gone through too much, lost too much- so we will fight with our very last breath. We will give everything. We will not falter at the gates of our freedom." Orrin said with a bite of finality- it was as if he was speaking not only to them, nor just himself. He was speaking to the fates of circumstances- the cruelty of chance that gave them all this shared moment in time.

Elva narrowed her eyes at the faraway movement that came from Angela's ritual circle. Screams filled the air- Angela's included.

Blood began to pool within the circle of witches.

Elva steeled a shock of emotion that rattled through cold bones. A tear fled from green eyes, dark hair falling across pale skin.

Elva could feel it.

Angela-

A thundering roar filled the decimated city's outskirts. It sounded almost like a Dragon-

But Elva knew it was rather the last gasp of their stolen Eldunari.

The ancient Dragon's power seemed to thrum through the ground beneath them. A heat licked the air, causing Elva to sweat as the hair on her arms curled.

Despite all of this-

Elva remained focused on Angela's ritual.

Some of the witches had fallen over- their blood joining the growing pool. Among the armies of men, murmurs were heard within the ranks-

They were fearful. Elva heard whispers of demons, of dark magics that would hasten the end of the World, not help them prevent it.

It was Orrin who calmed their fears.

"There is only one demon, one dark God. It is the one that threatens both you and I, the one that will gnash your wives, your daughters, your sons between its teeth!" Orrin bellowed, his own voice joining the panoply of screams and hissing magic.

Only two witches still sat beside Angela- the rest were dead.

The blood that the fallen witches gave- and the summoned pool with it- began to rise in the air. The final witch alongside Angela cried out with a shaking, dying scream. Angela's stance lurched forward, blood freely falling from a strained mouth.

The blood of the witches coalesced into a floating eye, brown pupil blinking obliviously back at the remnants of the Varden.

Orrin raised his sword.

"Look into the eye!" He bellowed-

But at that point, his command was unnecessary.

The moment Elva saw the eye, she knew the spell Angela used was active.

Her vision shifted- her surroundings changed while Elva's mind seemed to isolate itself into terrifyingly small and disparate thoughts and concepts, as if she was faced with a.. force of time and sound that her mind couldn't comprehend.

A heat, contrasting with Feinster's cold, met her. She saw, with little fanfare, rows upon rows of crucified Elves that swayed above fields of green and white flowers. Smoke rose from the once great city of Gillendel, and further Elva could see the faraway banners of Sealed stream into the city's gates.

Behind her, the rest of the Varden came to, silently appearing within space with almost no sound.

Despite this, they had lost their formation. While it seemed they were more or less together, Elva could tell that they were spread across a massive space of surviving forest that bravely stood in the face of the fires that ate away at proud bark.

But it was then she saw the tree.

It had an almost fleshly appearance, a pale and pallid white. The leaves of it were similarly colored- and seemed to move independently of the wind that fled the air itself.

MORZAN FOLLOWED KILLIAN through a surprisingly well supplied camp that was strewn about a humid jungle. Morzan could see that they had been here for some time-

Soldiers bussed strange looking stone and basins of water upon carts lead by donkeys, while others were hastily at work repairing fortifications that seemed to have been burned by heat hotter than fire.

"We are not sure how long we've been here. The tables of the moons, the stars.. they're different here." Killian explained. Morzan followed closely behind, eyes falling upon rows of men training with sword and shield.

Most of them still bore Varden colors, while others held Southling and Langfeld banners.

He's retained most of his men.

Killian then turned to Morzan.

"Before I bring you to Murtaghen, there is something else you must see. This is where I have been leading you." Killian said softly. His eyes seemed to glow within that fearsome iron mask.

"Even now I wonder if this is the right decision. Though it may provide us with the answers we need." The Rider spoke as he walked further ahead of Morzan.

A singular tent stood within a circle of bustling activity.

"I was told my presence may kill him, as the connection is tenuous at best. Though the power and skill required to maintain it, and for this long.." Killian turned back to gaze at Morzan.

Morzan understood.

a trap? No. He's purposely lowered his own defenses. I don't sense anything around me.. and there's no mage here as skilled as I am.

Morzan narrowed his eyes as he walked towards the tent.

Though perhaps my powers are affected within this realm? Killian has been here longer- perhaps-

Morzan's eyes shot open. He broke into a short, frantic run-

Morzan ripped the tent's entrance aside, eyes flying onto the frail, nearly skeletal figure that laid on a simple bed.

Its skin was scaly, bandaged and bled profusely. It was a man, and his skin was dark, heavily tanned by some southern sun. His eyes… seemed to bear no pupils.

But despite this- Morzan knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this..

Was Galbatorix.

Morzan stepped forward- cautiously. Fear, unbecoming to him, swam through his mind.

Killian was right. Galbatorix's power was immense, but it was that very same power that resulted in the pitiful figure before him.

Morzan widened his eyes-

Galbatorix didn't speak- no doubt he had no ability to. But Morzan could feel his thoughts-

Place your hand upon my forehead, Morzan.

Morzan did so-

Then saw nothing but an explosion of light.