Sorry it took so long for me to update. I had to rewrite this chapter like four times…and well…other things distracted me. Sorry it's so short, but I promise to update soon. I promise. Really, I do. And yes, I did write a spell out in the Ancient Language. Yeah, it took forever and it barely makes sense, but it works. Read and review, por favor!

Eka ethgri du súndavar abr hel;
losna thornessa Shur'tugal fra thornessa freohr.
Atra blödh hlaupa un hjarta taka,
vindr gánga un sharjalví tauthr.
Reisa fra onr slytha Edoc'sil,
waíse heill abr onr wyrda.

I invoke the shadows of hell;
release this Dragon Rider from this death.
Let blood run and heart take,
air go and movement follow.
Raise from your sleep Unconquerable,
be healed of your fate.

A man chanted a spell over and over again, steadily. He didn't pause, nor did he stop to rest. He sounded like a drone, unattached, unemotional. That's when it registered…I could hear him.

I felt my body jerk and winced as air flooded my lungs harshly. Suddenly I could feel everything, the throbbing pain in my head, bruises, scars, everything. Every sound echoed loudly in my ears and I found my headache growing steadily worse.

Make it stop!

I pleaded with myself silently, the ringing in my ears becoming unbearable. Pain coursed freely throughout my body, feeling as if I were being killed all over again, this time with small pointed needles.

Then, just as it had started, it all stopped. Everything stopped, and all I could hear was the slow rhythm of a beating heart…My beating heart.

My eyes popped open and I inhaled sharply, staring blankly at the ceiling above me. I was alive.

But how?…the spell?

But who said it? Who had that amount of power besides Galbatorix? No one.

I blinked blindly for a few minutes until things came into focus, and I tried to move, starting with my fingers. They twitched slightly, one more than the other because, I realized one was behind held. I turned my head slowly, but as quickly as I could manage, and laid my eyes upon the beautiful Nasuada. She looked drained of energy, but she managed a weak smile.

"Welcome back, my love," she whispered. I moved my lips to speak but she touched two fingers to them, silencing me. "Save your strength." She ran her hand along my cheek lovingly and I smiled, closing my eyes, physically exhausted.

I could feel myself drifting in and out, as I did someone spoke, the same voice that had recited the spell.

"He won't be entirely the same, you realize. He'll be stronger, more powerful, more dangerous…my lady."

"I don't care…"

* * * * *

"Relax, Nasuada, leader of the Varden. He will recover. He has always been strong."

That voice…it sounded very familiar now. I had heard it before, but not for years.

Morzan.

I choked with the realization and my eyes shot open again. Nasuada was at my side in a second, holding my hand, her fingers entwined with mine. I kept coughing, and she held out a small rag, wiping red liquid from my lips. Blood.

I swallowed, the taste of blood potent on my tongue, and sat up slowly.

"Careful, Murtagh," Nasuada cautioned. She motioned towards the bandaging across my chest right over my heart.

"What's this?" I said softly, my voice raspy from lack of use.

"It's why you're still here," she said defensively, "Now please, be careful."

I nodded, sitting up in the bed and for once taking a look around. I was in my old room, the room I'd been given as a child and again when Galbatorix took me in. It didn't hold many memories aside from studies, and private tutors. My eyes landed on the man to my left and I remembered about my realization.

"Morzan," I hissed.

"Son…" he replied, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Don't call me that," I snapped back.

"Murtagh…" Nasuada interrupted, touching my arm lightly.

"What?" I asked, not taking my glare from the man.

"Morzan is—I mean, he did—" she sighed, unable to form a coherent sentence explaining what she needed to say.

"I'm the reason you're not dead right now," Morzan finished, a smirk plastered across his face that all too resembled my own.

There was no denying I was his son, anyone with eyes could tell we were related. But I couldn't stand the man, I hated him, and Nasuada brought him into this. I looked over at her, a little angry,

"How could you bring him into this?"

"Would you have preferred I left you for dead?" she asked, surprised I wasn't at least a little more grateful.

"Yes! Then I wouldn't owe a debt to him!" I growled, anger shining through my voice. The temper I had inherited from the very man I was now in debt to.

Morzan cleared his throat, "I ask you for nothing in return, Murtagh…"

"Now…" I replied, looking back at him. He looked exhausted, almost too exhausted to keep this conversation going. I thought about how much the spell must have taken out of him.

Nasuada cleared her throat now, and stood. "I'll give you two a few minutes." I didn't let go of her hand, and I gave her a look that might as well say,

'Don't leave me alone with him, or one of us is going to kill the other.'

"You'll be fine," she whispered in my ear, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling her hand free and leaving the bedroom.

"Why aren't you dead?" I blurted. Subtle, yes, but I had to know. I had thought him dead for years now. What made him show his face now?

He had no weapons on him that I could see, which was rare. The Morzan I remembered never went anywhere without his sword, two daggers, and at least three other unique weapons.

My hand gripped the hilt of the dagger in my pocket and held it there. If it came to it, I could protect myself. Where was Zar'roc, anyways?

Morzan sat on the edge of the bed, and my automatic reflex was to back away, but I didn't. I wasn't afraid of him, I just hated him with every fiber of my being.

"Galbatorix didn't kill me," he replied, and I could tell that I was about to hear the whole story behind it. "He got paranoid, thought that everyone was betraying him. He started killing workers, and when it finally came to me, he hesitated. I had betrayed him, your mother and I had. He hesitated because I was the only person he trusted, but his paranoia won in the end. Instead of killing me, he banished me from being seen or heard. I lived on, but only in spirit really. No one could see or hear me, but I could see them. I've been trapped in this castle for over a decade."

"That seems like it would be worse than death," I said, my hand loosening on the dagger.

"It was, but you—" he smiled, "You broke the spell by killing him."

You win some and you lose some, I guess.

"I simply returned the favor. My powers grew over time, even though my dragon died long ago. I had the power, and you needed it."

"You should have—"

He cut me off, "…left you for dead, I know. You've mentioned that." He smirked a little bit. This wasn't Morzan…not the Morzan I remembered. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

I saw Nasuada peek in the doorway and nodded, "Thank you…"

This didn't make up for everything he had done, all the pain he had caused me over the years, but it kind of made me hate him a bit less…if that was possible.

"Now, Murtagh—if you don't mind, I'm going to rest. You should do the same. You've been through quite the ordeal."

He stood up slowly, grunting a little. He looked exhausted.

"Wait…" I heard myself say, before I had time to think it through.

"Yes, son—I mean, Murtagh."

"I thought that this was impossible…bringing the dead back to life. I learned that it was impossible without giving your own life."

"You learned correctly," Morzan smirked, winking as he left the room.

That…made…no sense…

Nasuada re-entered the room and smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "How did it go?" she asked with a sweet smile.

"He's still alive, isn't he?" I smirked. She laughed and planted a loving kiss on my lips.

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