Today is Sunday! And I've decided to post this for anyone of you who have to return to school the following Monday. What a bummer! Anways, I couldn't wait to post this chapter, but the one after it I'm going to revise and edit for some time to make it seem right and nice.

It was an excruciating task to wake next morning but seeing as it was his cousin's wedding, he had an obligation to him to attend. And it would no doubt hearten his friends and families to see him out and about. Shaking off the ache in his bones, he made his way towards the clearing where the wedding was to take place. Murtagh had asked that he come to assist and get to know the people that he'd grown up with. He begrudgingly accepted the offer for his mother was observing him with such a keen eye it was impossible to deny it.

He and Saphira walked towards Murtagh and Thorn where they waited beside Elain, one of the women from Carvahall who was also with a child. His eyes searched for Blodhgarm and the other elves but he couldn't see them. It didn't bother him for he knew that they were hidden somewhere close in case Murtagh was in any danger.

"Looks like you've made it brother," Murtagh said, Eragon regarded him with a tired expression before sighing. What was he doing here? No one in this village welcomed him and it made it harder to try to manage a polite attitude with them. "We've to be put to work and cook."

"Cook?" He frowned, he didn't like cooking not on a regular basis though. "I'll call Rosalie and Desdemona, they can do it."

Murtagh shook his head, "No, we'll have to do it ourselves. Besides, those two are with mother. You wouldn't want to leave her unguarded would you?"

He stared at Murtagh for a moment with a frown but didn't refute him. He was right, he thought reluctantly. He gestured at Elain. She regarded Eragon with cautious eyes as she stood with both of her hands pressed into the small of her back trying to relieve the weight of her pregnancy and for a moment she reminded him so much of his mother. "It's not good for your condition to be up and about so much. You should rest more." Eragon caught himself and fell silent. How embarrassing…

She glanced at him partly amused her caution fading slightly, before she gestured towards a line of planks set on stumps that six women were using as a counter, "There are still twenty loaves of bread dough that have to be kneaded. Will you see to it, please?"

After a nudge by Saphira, Eragon followed Murtagh towards the women who promptly fell silent when they approached. Murtagh introduced him to the six however awkward the moment was. He tried to memorize all of their names and faces. There was Birgit, Felda, Isold, and three others whom he couldn't remember. Ignoring their conversations, Eragon was intent on making the bread to the best of his abilities. As he worked, he felt a memory tug at him.

His mother was roughly kneading a bowl of flour, often times pouring water into the bowl to keep the dough at a right state. Not too stick, not too dry. He barely reached her waist at the time and it was a challenge to even try to look over the counter. She was very beautiful, Eragon thought as he stared up at his mother. Her eyes were bright and a smile played on her lips as she continued to work.

"Mother," he tugged at her apron.

She paused glancing down at him, her brown eyes—his eyes—filled with warmth. "What is it, Eragon?"

He pointed at the tabletop, "Can I try?"

"Don't you want to play with the other children?"

He shook his head. He didn't care for the other children within in Uru'baen. He only cared for his mother. He never wanted to leave her. His mother glanced at him for a moment before bending down and lifting him up so he sat on the tabletop. Though the white flour stained his clothing, he didn't care. "Watch me do it, Eragon and then you can try."

He nodded and sat with his legs crossed, his hands in his lap as he leaned forward slightly to watch her hands knead the dough. His mother laughed at his intensity to the task but resumed her kneading. Her hands were very graceful as she concentrated on kneading, after a moment she placed another bowl on top of the table and made another small dough ball. This one she placed before him.

"Now you try, Eragon."

He nodded, and began to knead the dough intently. It was harder than it looked. The dough was sticky and when he kneaded it too roughly or for too long it became too dry. After a moment, his mother went to check on his progress, a smile on her lips as she took in his dough or what was left of it. "It's not the best but you'll get better Eragon.

He frowned causing his mother's smile to widen as she bent down to peck him on the forehead. "I'll teach you again. And then maybe you can cook me bread to eat one day."

"Okay."

"You seem to be doing really well," it was Birgit who spoke to him as she checked his kneading.

His reply was quiet, "Thank you." He didn't know how to act around them and preferred silence over conversation. Nearby Saphira and Thorn were relaxing as the children from Carvahall ran about them playing and shouting with joy. To be so young and happy…As he worked, he observed Murtagh as he spoke freely with those in the clearing for he knew everyone from his time in Carvahall. That was his home. Where was his? Murtagh had grown up with all of these people in the clearing. He knew each one some on a more personal level than others.

It just made Eragon realize just how small his world was before he'd left Uru'baen. Could I have been like Murtagh? Ignoring that thought, he nearly wanted to leave when the six women about him began to share bawdy jokes about the groom, who was his cousin even though Eragon barely knew him. The tip of his ears burned and he fought not to think of Arya whenever a joke came up. It was disrespectful. Beside him, Murtagh's face was flushed with heat and he was staring intently down at his dough.

A single horn rang out across the land, unnaturally loud.

Then again.

And again.

As everyone froze in place, Eragon turned as Saphira made to stand on her feet the children always scampering away for their parents. He jumped onto Saphira as she surged into the air. He knew it was just too calm. If Jeremiah attacked, he was going to make sure that he had what was coming to him. Fly to the north entrance, Saphira.

What about your armor?

He thought about it for a moment before scowling. Forget it. We need to hurry to Nasuada. She complied and flew north, alighting upon the crest of one of the embankments that ringed the camp. Nasuada was already there, sitting upon her charger. Beside her was Jormundur, also mounted; Arya atop of Eridor, his servants and countless others. And from what he could tell they had hastily donned their armor. Soon enough Murtagh joined them, tugging on his bracers.

"Who challenges?" Eragon asked as he closed upon them.

"Look." Nasuada pointed.

Roughly two miles away, five sleek boats had landed upon the near bank of the Jiet River. From the boats there issued a swarm of men. He recognized the armor as Galbatorix's. Arya shaded her eyes with a hand and squinted at the soldiers. "I put their number between two hundred seventy and three hundred."

Something was wrong, Eragon thought as he gazed at the soldiers that had formed orderly ranks before marching towards the Varden's camp. Why would Galbatorix send so few? He thought about it for a moment. He had learned underneath the dark king, he knew his mind and he knew what he sought. He must have another plan. This was merely a diversion.

"He does not plan to overwhelm us," Eragon said after a moment. "That force is just merely to divert the attentions of our warriors for a moment. We must be careful."

"Why is that?" King Orrin regarded him with driving eyes. "Do you believe us too weak to hold off such a small force?"

"No, I'm merely stating that Galbatorix has made an underhanded move to make sure that he can hold the Varden long enough for him to accomplish his goal. I've served him and I would know how great of a magician he is. He had given those soldiers magical enchantments for he would never risk the lives of his men for a worthless end."

"Then we must take great care not to let ourselves become too overly confident," said Nasuada.

The horn sounded again, so loudly that Eragon, Arya, Murtagh, and the rest of the elves covered their ears. He frowned, how unneeded. A movement in the sky caught his eyes. Glancing at it, he felt his anger well up within him as he saw that ebony beast flying towards the Varden, and atop of him in his polished armor was Jeremiah and from what Eragon saw he was not missing his arm that he had severed in their last battle. My revenge…

As they closed, Eragon ignored everything else that went on about him as he stared intently at Jeremiah. He felt it again, the feeling of another force drawing him in. His soul. He had to take it back from him. It was his only chance to do so now. Saphira, let's—he grunted when he felt his heart give out slightly in his chest before regaining its tempo beating at such a fast rate it felt ready to give out. Not now. Slumping forward slightly in Saphira's saddle, he tried to take in a deep breath.

"Eragon?" Alarm was in Murtagh's voice as he watched him. "What's wrong?"

Eragon shook his head, "I'm fine. I'll fight—"

His heart gave another painful thud. His vision flashed red as he felt the tugging sensation at his heart and soul grow stronger. "No, Arya and I will fight off Jeremiah. The two of us are more than enough. You fight on feet with King Orrin, least of all he'll get himself killed."

King Orrin? He glanced about, the king was missing as well as Garzhvog and his Urgals. He turned his head and saw them confronting the soldiers that had come by ships. He gazed at Murtagh and Arya for a moment, "Fly safely then, Arya…Brother."

Murtagh's face was hard and set while Arya's was alerted. They held each other's gazes for a moment before Thorn and Eridor took to the sky flying towards Jeremiah. Let's go support King Orrin, Saphira.

Are you sure?

I'm fine. Let's go.

She bounded forward with great leaps towards the place where King Orrin's cavalry and Garzhvog and his Urgals had intercepted the king's men. From what Eragon saw they were holding their own rather well. Every soldier they came into contact with fell underneath their weapons. He watched them for a moment, then a chill came down his spine as he watched one soldier a spear protruding from his chest rise back to his feet. There was no spell to bring back the dead, which he knew for sure. And a wound like that would incapacitate any normal person with agonizing pain.

Pain!

What is it Saphira? Eragon asked as he watched the man grab his sword, he strung his bow and aimed for the man's heart and unleashed the arrow watching as it pierced the man in the heart sending him toppling to the ground. This time he did not rise.

Galbatorix must have used magic to block their ability to feel pain. Who else would it explain that they can rise back up after being pierce in the chest by the spear? The only way to kill them is to make sure that their body will be unable to rise again.

So that means either by severing their heads or stabbing them in the heart. He slung his bow across his back again as he drew his sword. Dismounting Saphira he ran towards to the fray, watching as fallen soldiers rise again to attack the Varden's warriors after they'd turned their backs.

Dispatching one by cleanly severing his head, Eragon raised his voice with the use of magic. "Behead them! Stab them in the heart! Do not leave them with your back turns!" Hearing his advice, they took to it and the amount of confusion seemed to be reduced as they fought. Moving forward, Eragon kicked up a spear and with another kick sent it flying into a soldier's head.

As he did so, he felt his heart give a tug again as the scent of blood made its way to his nose. His vision flashed red and his hand moved of its own accord as it pierced another soldier through the heart with his sword. A demented laugh rose up from the fighting around him while another erupted in his mind. He grimaced at the pain his mind was experiencing. Regaining control of his body, he sidestepped a slash to his chest and effectively snapped the neck of his enemy.

Above them bellows tore through the air with such force it made him pause in his attacks for a moment. Eridor and Thorn were flying about the beast with such skill it was impressive and every time they bit the beast, a chunk of rotting meat fell from the sky. Moving forward, he brought his sword down upon every person within his way, not taking into mind who they were as long as his blade severed their head from the neck.

Thump.

He grunted clutching at his chest as his heart gave an agonizing thump in his chest. He tried to shrug it off as he grabbed a dagger from the ground to stab a man to his side in the heart. But it kept persisting, his vision fading into red, the lines becoming slightly blurry. His hands shook slightly. Eragon coughed lightly. Falling into place besides King Orrin, Eragon ignored the ache in his body and the red in his vision as he waited for the king's orders.

"Eragon, show these blasted soldiers our might!" King Orrin had lost all of his bearings. His face was flushed and his eyes wild. Saphira roared to the side crushing a soldier with the strength of her jaws. He nodded and started forward, his blade flashing in the sunlight. Overhead the battle between Arya and Murtagh against Jeremiah was still going strong but he could tell who the clear winner was. Jeremiah's beast was barely holding it together against the might of Eridor and Thorn.

As he fought, he heard a pained bellow overhead. Arya had managed to stab Jeremiah through the gut, his eyes drifted upwards and he watched as she caught an item that sparkled in the sunlight. Was that a mirror? Before he could think of it more, a demented laugh rose up from the man standing forty feet away from him. He was injured greatly but he didn't show signs of falling. Eragon stared at him as his vision blurred again. The sound of his laugh angered him.

He stared at the man, slightly stumbling as he felt his heart give out again before resuming to beat at an erratic speed. The demented laugh rang in his ears paining his mind. "What's so funny?" Eragon asked the man as he stared at him.

The man just continued to laugh, "You, lord Gabranth."

"What did you say?"

"Your pitiful existence is amusing."

Within the blink of an eye, Eragon was upon the man. Instead of using his sword to pierce the man's heart, his left hand came up and like a dagger tore through his armor and though his skin into the other side of his chest. He withdrew his hand, blood dripping from his forearm and down. A wave of humor seized him and he couldn't understand why it was so funny but it made him laugh. It started off as a small chuckle before it grew into a laugh more demented then the ones that erupted from the soldiers.

Why was he laughing? He didn't know anymore. Death was funny. Living was funny. Stifling his laughter he jumped to the side landing on a soldier, standing he crushed the man's head with his boot. He laughed again. As he stood there, his vision tinted red and fading, a sharp piece of metal pierced his side. Vaguely he thought about the fact that it was his own fault for not wearing armor.

He laughed, not feeling the pain.

Grabbing the soldier who had pierce him in his side he crushed his head between his hands and with a squelch pulled the spear coated in a dark liquid from his side. When he stared down at the red liquid pouring out from his side, he couldn't register the fact that he was actually wounded. Instead he watched the torrent of crimson pour onto the ground. His heart gave a thump, his vision began to fade.

That was when he heard the shrieking laugh that nearly tore his head apart. Dropping his sword, he gripped his head trying to stop the noise. Eragon! Hearing Saphira, he shook his head, pushing her thoughts out and blocking her from his mind. Whatever was happening to him he couldn't get her involved in. His head seared again.

"Make the noise stop." He growled. His bones seared with pain as if a fire had imploded inside him, traveling through his veins and ready to consume his entire being. His right eye burned wildly.

He was standing in the same place as before. Standing on the surface of blue water and facing a matching sky. What was going on? The sound of dripping water caught his attention. Eragon frowned when he took in the white tomb before him. The chains had become so rusted that it looked like as useless as a string of twine. And cracks outlined the white stone in more places than one and from those crack dripped red liquid: blood.

Sitting atop of the tomb with ease was his shadow. He was smiling at Eragon showing his strong pointed teeth. "You should have worn your armor Eragon or that man wouldn't have been able to pierce you."

"You've done enough," Eragon said with a scowl. "Let me back into my body."

His shadow sat there for a moment, a rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He glanced at him with a thoughtful expression as if he was seriously considering his demand. Then a peal of laughter rose from him. "After being stuck in your body for all of these years, I don't think I will. It's my turn to have fun."

His smile widened. "It was your own carelessness that you're succumbing to my madness, Eragon. If only you had worn your armor. Or better, if you hadn't left Uru'baen you would never be in this situation."

Eragon frowned, staring at his shadow. "It doesn't matter. Even if you did take over my body, my servants will be there to stop you."

"I don't think so." He grinned before slipping off of the tomb he sat on, straightening. He turned back to the chains. "Ever since you accepted my help to fight Jeremiah, you used my power. And as such it was able to render that seal in your right eye useless with every thirst for blood that you felt. Good thing it did for how else would these bothersome chains corrode so easily?"

He bent forward and easily snapped one off. The drips of blood into the water below grew stronger. Then with a yell of happiness the shadow gripped the remaining chains in both hands before tugging them apart, easily breaking them. The metal snapped, flying in different directions. Eragon made to run forward stopping as a heavy gust of wind slammed into him. He flexed his knees bringing up his arms to deflect block it. What was happening?

The white tomb had fallen into pieces as a dark mist rose up from its confines twisting into the air, the laughter of his shadow grew louder. "You've lost, Eragon!"

"Not yet!" He sprang forward, but as soon as he did he felt his feet sink an inch into the water beneath him. His eyes widened in alarm as the tranquil blue water had suddenly became a sea of blood, its crimson color making him dizzy. The sky had also changed with the water. Instead of azure it was a deep gray. "What the—?"

"Welcome to the depths of my mind, Eragon." His shadow grinned at him again. Struggling forward, he barely moved a few feet before something sprang up from underneath the surface of the blood. Black tentacles that wrapped themselves around his wrist, waist, and torso.

It gave a tug pulling him deeper into the red liquid. And no matter how hard he struggled, it was to no avail. "You shouldn't put up too much of a fight or you might damage your soul."

"Let me go!" he shouted. It only seemed to invoke more laughter from his shadow. The tentacles gave another tug, pulling him waist deep. Don't give up, Eragon. Don't give up. He gave a tug. But as he did so his heart gave an agonizing thump in his chest.

"Eragon, what's wrong?" Murtagh, that was Murtagh's voice. "Let us help you! Eragon!" He saw him reaching forward, his face panicked and alarmed.

He gave another tug, I'm trying Murtagh. But he was sinking slowly into the depths of the blood and the spirits maddening mind.

A bellow of anguish sounded through the air. Saphira was before him her sapphire eyes deep with pain.

The hold the tentacles had on him tightened. I'm sorry Saphira. His heart gave another agonizing thump in his chest. This was the end…

"Eragon, look at me!" though beautiful as it was, her voice was filled with pain and worry. "Control it Eragon! Do not surrender to it! Eragon!" He saw Arya standing before him, Tamerlein drawn but limp in her hands as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Eragon, stay with me!"

His heart gave another agonizing beat.

"Ah, it seems as if they've figured out what's happened here." His shadow smiled. "Since there's such a warm and welcoming crowd awaiting me, I'll take my leave."

"No, wait!" He was neck deep in the crimson sea now, struggling despite the fact that he was unable to pull himself out. "Stop!" There was one final tug, pulling him below the red sea. The surface above was blurred by the liquid and soon enough he found himself falling into a dark abyss as wide as he could see. There was no exit. There was no escape.

He'd lost.

It was an odd fact to thing but it was true for his mind and body had fallen prey to the spirit. Was this the end? Was this where he was to spend the rest of eternity? He'd often thought of dying fighting against Galbatorix or trying to free Alagaesia but this was a reality that was different from his own thoughts.

The tentacles pulled him deeper until his eyes could not see any more light. It was like having them closed for surrounding him was just pitch darkness. He hated the dark especially when he was alone. But this was where he was to spend the rest of his life, consumed by the spirit's bloodlust. Fulfill your promise to me Bard, Desdemona, Finny, and Rosalie. He'd no doubt that they would be able to free him from his prison with death. His heart gave a thump in his chest. This was goodbye. He wasn't going to see family again, Saphira, or Arya.

I wish I told her how I felt…

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift downwards to be entirely engulfed by the darkness.

And this is my rather agonizing cliffhanger for you all because I want to save the real drama for the next chapter. I hoped you all enjoyed it and please do review!