*I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, puppies.*

Nothingness

He could feel nothing…See nothing…Hear nothing. It was just a black chasm of nothingness. Faint memories struggled to surface, to show their faces, to be free of the constricting bonds that held them down, but it was all for naught. Flashes of nightmares that were not his, passed before his eyes, some with such suddenness, he could not tell what was happening, only that the agonizing screaming would not stop. Others came slow; showing torture items that hung on the sides…walls splattered with blood, and a disfigured creature moaning on the grime-ridden floor.

He could hear someone screaming, screaming in harmony with the creature, sharing its pain and hopelessness. When would this suffering, this torment, end? What felt like hours, days, weeks of pain and anguish were only minutes, seconds even. A sense of time was lost, he did not think, he did not feel. His eyes; once so bright and cheerful were now a darker more sinister brown; black almost. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut off. The carefully constructed barrier around his mind shattered, letting the full blast of all the horrors consume him into nothingness.

All he wanted to do was curl into a ball, hide under some sheet covers, and hope that the entire affliction would go away. He wished that he was just a simple farm boy again, rising with the sun, and setting with it as the day came and went.

But no, he couldn't. He had to be strong. Strong for all the people who suffered from this cruel war. Strong for the future generation who could live without the fear of death with every step they took. Strong for the whole of Alagaesia and the creatures that resigned within it. He couldn't give up now, just when things were looking brighter, when it looked like the Varden actually had a chance to win this war of destruction.

But he felt so tired, so weak. What was the point in living anymore? He could just let go and be done with the world. There would be no more worries, mistakes, or regrets. It sounded wonderful to him; a fluffy pillow to jump on to without a care in the world. It was so easy, just to let go. To float and be lighter than a feather, freer than a bird, but something held him back from that blissful world, chaining him.

He could faintly see a light, just beyond his reach. He walked slowly towards it, but a whisper stopped him. He listened intently-there it was again! A faint roar, yes that was it! But his mind was in a jumble, unable to think clearly. His face scrunched up in confusion, trying to decipher what the noise was. He tried to recall what it was when it hit him. It was a dragon! A beautiful sapphire dragon, with all the grace of a wild cat, and the speed of a hawk. And it was his dragon: Saphira. How he wished he could see her. To hug her warm scales, and scratch her under the chin, just how she liked it. To fly and be one again, to feel the rush of cold air stinging his face, how divine that would be! Eragon grinned widely, already feeling the sensation of flying.

So, there was joy in the world after all; he just had to find it and enjoy it to its fullest. Saphira, Roran, Katrina, Arya, Nasuada, and even Angela had a place in his heart. He tried to regain consciousness, he tried so hard, but even opening an eyelid took almost all the energy he had, yet he knew he had to do it. A sliver of a russet eye appeared, but quickly shut because of the blinding white light. Slowly, he tried again, a slight stream of tears running down either side of his head. Finally, after a few painful minutes, he realized he was in Arya's tent still, but on the ground covered with blankets.

He swiveled his eyes left, right, up, down; any way to see what was happening. Then he noticed a blue muzzle sticking out of the flap of the tent.

S-Saphira? He asked a little shakily.

Eragon! What happened to you? Are you alright? Does anything hurt? Is-

Eragon stopped the flow of questions as he firmly, but gently said, Please, Saphira, I am still partially confused as to what exactly happened. Now, if you could please explain to me what happened, I may be able to answer your questions.

Saphira's eyes softened as she started to explain.

You completely blocked me off as you went into Arya's mind. I tried to break through your barrier, but I just hit a concrete fortification of the likes I have never seen before. It-it was frightening; you just stood there with a blank face.

He interrupted her as he said, You, frightened? This is not the Saphira I know. My Saphira would be fearless, beautiful, and majestic in battle; ready to tear apart anyone who got in her way. Eragon had a playful glint in his eyes.

Eragon, this is a serious matter! You could have died! How could you think this is even slightly funny? Saphira said in a sorrowful voice. Where would that leave me?

I am so sorry Saphira. He said truthfully. I was not thinking straight. I had just wanted to get rid of the poison so bad, I had forgotten the risks and almost killed myself. I am not worthy of the title Dragon Rider. I was being selfish and did not think how it would affect others, and for that I apologize once again. He had looked away in shame, not wanting to meet Saphira's eyes.

She shuffled closer to him and laid her head down next to him, ruffling his hair with her hot breaths.

There is no need to apologize, little one, I understand how it feels. Your heart is pure, and the need to protect your loved ones is strong. That is why I chose you; never doubt that. She said fiercely, nuzzling his head.

Eragon turned to look into her blue orbs, seeing that they swirled with love and affection.

Thank you, Saphira. He stroked her gleaming scales as she rumbled softly, purring deeply in her throat.

When Eragon decided he had rested enough, he tried to stand up; first rolling onto his stomach, then arching his back while on all fours in an attempt to stretch his cramped muscles. He finally got up as he pushed himself off the ground with one final stretch. Eragon looked around and realized that he had forgotten all about Arya. She was still lying on her bed, but looking less pale than before. He quietly made his way over to her and looked down with a loving gaze. Her face was still sunken in, but to Eragon, she looked like a sleeping angel. Her delicate eyelashes were long and thick, while her lush red lips contrasted with her alabaster skin.

Eragon gently stroked her cheek, smelling the faint scent of crushed pine needles that emitted from her. Suddenly her eyes snapped open in fright, looking around in terror. Abruptly, her gaze stopped on the Dragon Rider's face.

Said rider now looked directly into her blazing gemstone eyes. "Arya?" Eragon questioned softly.

"Er-Eragon?" She asked back, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Arya looked on in confusion. Could this actually be real? Or was she just in another nightmare where she was about to pull her sword out of its sheath?

Slowly, Arya turned her head to look precisely at the Rider. Then, with a touch of hesitation, sat up and sluggishly swung her legs so they hung off the edge of her bed.

Eragon watched her, wondering if he, too, was dreaming. After all these months of worrying, waiting, and fighting, could she really be awake?

And as if in slow motion, Arya's hand weakly made its way up to Eragon's face where it rested and gingerly caressed his cheek, her fingers still feather soft.

"Is-is that really you Eragon?" The look of fear and hope battled for dominance as her eyes shook in anticipation.

He slowly nodded, leaning forward to hold her shaking frame, and sitting beside her, murmured words of comfort. But Arya sat rigidly, not accepting the fact that this was real. It was too good to be real. But she could feel Eragon's soothing presence and earthy smell. She leaned into him slightly, holding back tears as she let his scent wash over her. Finally she could hold them no longer, and as one spilled over, more soon followed.

Eragon caught some words she mumbled out through her sobs. "Killed…over…days…everybody…"

"Arya," he said firmly, catching her attention. "What you saw was not real; it was just the poison making you hallucinate. Everybody is still here…I am still here." He held her at the shoulders and tugged her gently towards him, giving her a bear hug. Arya gasped at the closeness of him, but gripped his shirt tighter, making sure he was still there.

"I…I saw what happened at Gil'ead," Eragon said in a quiet voice. Arya quickly looked up, then back down.

"How much?" She barely whispered in a desperate voice. "How much did you see?"

Eragon paused before he gave his answer, "All of it; I saw it all, and no one should have that kind of experience. I watched through your eyes, went through the same pain." Arya felt so exposed, hanging her head, anger and sadness coursed through her. "But no one deserved to go through that, let alone survive it again. Your will to live burned strong, with determination that I have never seen before made it impossible to crack your defenses." He praised her in a soft voice, encouraging her to look up at his proud face.

"No one was supposed to know what happened in Gil'ead. I failed in transporting Saphira's egg safely, only then to get captured and tortured for information." She started shaking again, memories clouding her mind. Eragon's hand went to her chin gently capturing it to make Arya look him in the eyes.

"You did not fail. That egg got transported to me, and hatched into a superb and beautiful dragon. If anything, you were more than successful. And you know what I believe?" Arya shook her head. "I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that Fate is on our side. We will be victorious in this war, and Galbatorix's reign will finally end," Eragon said all this with fierce vigor, and a blinding smile.

"That is why, Arya," he said, finally releasing her jaw. "We must win the war. For the future generation to live in peace; for their fathers and brothers to be home every night; to tuck their children into bed, and love them for all they are worth for. We must fight for those who are dear to us. Do you not see? It is that which gives me and all of the Varden strength to defend what is right and just."

"Do you not think that I already know that?" Arya said, getting slightly angry. "That is the reason that I fight also; to protect my home and people. Do not forget that I have been opposing Galbatorix much longer than you have, Rider." She hissed.

Eragon had no time to answer as the tent flap opened up to reveal Nasuada and Angela. By this time, they had separated and were sitting on opposite sides of her bed.

"Thank Gûntera you are both alright! We thought we had lost you." Nasuada walked towards Eragon and gave a sisterly hug. She then looked towards Arya and said uneasily, "Do you realize just how long you have been in a coma for? Half a year, Arya! The Varden have suffered a serious blow, and that is not all. Eragon here, has been at your side since you fell." Arya could tell Nasuada was a little disappointed by the tone of her voice. But then she looked to Eragon with his eyes focused on the ground in reproach, not believing that he would stay at her side all this time. Perhaps…Just this once, she was wrong about Eragon.

Angela interrupted her train of thought with a boastful statement, "I had to force him to even take a bath, let alone eat. Would you look at him, for the gods' sakes. He looks even worse than you, my dear friend." Arya looked closer at Eragon this time, seeing dark rings under his eyes which had a haunted aurora swirling about. She lowered her eyes to his unshaven face; it looked like he had been through Hell and back. Finally, Arya did a whole sweep of his body, taking in his haggard and gaunt appearance. What has he done to himself, the elf thought in dismay.

"Is this true Eragon?" Her words barely a whisper of despair. "You would stop fighting, just for the sake of one life?" She lowered her head, and gently shook it "How many lives have been lost because of me?"

Eragon looked up at her, then back down to the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat seemed to close up and strangle his words.

"How many?" Arya repeated sternly, glaring at Nasuada, then back to Eragon, only to be met by silence.

Finally, the Rider managed to choke out a couple words in a broken voice. "One…one thousand deaths."

*Keep on reading.*