Chapter 6

"Hurry Eragon, make your decision," the king said.

Eragon watched in terror as Arya's feet lost their will to kick and her grip on the king's arm loosened. Galbatorix's hand around her throat remained clenched and unyielding. He felt helpless and it nearly made him sick.

It wasn't just Arya that was slipping away from him but everything in Alagaesia that he fought for. He was watching Galbatorix slowly squeeze the life out of all he cared for. He wanted to give in, to make it stop. But if he surrendered, he knew she would never forgive him. But if he let her die, Eragon was not sure he would be able to endure. It wasn't fair. It was not supposed to be this way.

Arya made soft raspy sounds as her lunges desperately tried to get air. Her lips were a slight shade of blue, and her face was red. Her hands dropped limp to her sides, and her feet no longer moved. But it was her eyes, those entrancing emeralds that Eragon could not look away from. Once wild with defiance, they began to close, as the life within her slipped away.

He shut his eyes. Seeing her choked to death was destroying him. The pain was too much. His stomach felt on fire, and his head wanted to explode.

"Give in, Eragon," Galbatorix whispered.

He looked back up and saw Arya's eyes were closed. All he could hear were the sounds of small, raspy attempts at breathing.

"Stop," Eragon murmured, shaking in anguish.

Eragon hunched over in frustration and anger, clenching his fists until his nails drew blood from his hands. Arya had been through it all with him. She couldn't leave him, not now, not like this. He cared for her too much.

No, no, NO!

He could not take it any longer; the pain was too great. He threw his head back and yelled out to the world around him. He yelled to whatever forces were responsible for a tyrant like Galbatorix coming to power. He yelled out for all those who had suffered, all who had been lost, and he yelled for Arya.

He allowed his anger, grief, and all other feelings tearing at him to overwhelm his senses, to envelope him. His emotions swarmed over him and he retreated into his mind. He shot past all his memories, seeing each one as a clip of a life he once knew, and pressed on. He fled deep into his subconscious, pushing himself farther then he had ever before.

His raging emotions forced him far into the darkest parts of the void until he again came across the mysterious infinite mass he discovered before. Through his anguish he felt like it was beckoning him. As he moved closer to the mass, he encountered an incredible resistance, like a massive barrier. However, his tormented state compelled him to press on. As he pushed against the barrier, he felt an energy coming through the other side. It grew and grew as he neared the mass. It was an energy greater than anything he had ever felt before, greater than even the king, and yet he was still separated from it.

Eragon continued to push himself against the barrier, but it became impossible to make any more progress. He pressed as hard as he could, but it just wouldn't give way. He broke down. He was so close, so close to breaking through and reaching the other side. He felt with every part of his being that he needed to get to the other side, that it would end all of his suffering. He thought of Arya, and the pain of losing her.

No.

He could not let her die at the hands of Galbatorix. He could not let that tyrant hurt anyone else. He could not bear the thought of any more pain. He let himself go. He released all the emotions and feelings that were swarming around him and threw himself at the barrier like a loosed arrow. He pushed on it until he could feel it budging, and then he pushed even harder. At last, with a final surge, it broke away and he was through.

Immediately, Eragon was swept away on a tidal wave of energy. It was as if he had been dropped in the middle of the ocean during a colossal storm. He could feel the chaotic power of the energy churning around him. He concentrated on the chaos and allowed his being to become a part of the madness. Immediately, the energy poured through him as if he was a vessel through which it operated. He slowly began to feel a sense of control over the chaotic torrents and focused to make them swirl about him. He was aware that if he slipped, he would be swept away by its immense power and lost forever, but he held strong.

Soon, it was no longer pandemonium, but instead a controlled storm that raced around him, as if he was standing in the eye of a vortex. The energy was now a part of him and he had control. If he wanted, he could calm the raging storm into tranquil waters, but he didn't. Instead, he fed the fury and made it swirl faster and stronger, amplified by the rage he felt at Galbatorix. He pushed the storm harder and harder until it was on the very edge of overpowering him, and then he compelled it upwards through his consciousness.

It immediately shot up through the path he had taken and flooded the rest of his mind. He held onto the tidal wave of power and rode it back to his body where it engulfed him from his head down to his toes. His eyes snapped open when he came screaming back his full consciousness and a tremor of energy was sent reverberating through the square. His vision focused in and locked on Galbatorix. Instantly, his fury boiled over.

"Let her GO!" he roared at the king.

Without mouthing a spell or even raising his hand, energy released from within Eragon and raced outwards. The king's eyes grew large as he was shot backwards, like he had been hit by a boulder, dropping Arya. Eragon quickly reached out with his arm, and compelled the energy to catch her. She was instantly suspended in the air, a few feet above the ground. Eragon could hear her gasping full breaths of air. Slowly, Eragon lowered his arm, while across from him Arya was placed on the ground. She was rubbing her neck, still taking big breaths of air, but she was transfixed on him. Her expression was confused, as if she didn't recognize him.

Eragon slowly got up and immediately felt how all of the pains he experienced before were gone. He closed his eyes and took a long deep breath of warm air. He focused his attention on his body and could sense that all of his cuts and bruises were healed. Even the large gash across his chest was gone and his broken ribs were mended. He felt hot from the energy that churned inside of him, almost as if he were on fire. As he was taking everything in, he felt a presence brush across his thoughts.

Saphira, he said.

Little one, she responded. Through their mental connection, he realized that his energy had also affected her. Her legs were healed and she seemed to positively vibrate with power just as he did.

What is this power, Eragon? she asked him. I feel like I could soar to the top of the Beors with one flap of my wings.

I don't know, he told her. It feels like it's going to tear me apart from the inside out, yet I've never felt better.

Tread carefully little one, she cautioned.

Eragon looked down at his body. It seemed to glow with the energy racing through him. He turned his gaze out to where Galbatorix had landed on the ground and was amazed that he had done that without a second thought. He never imagined he would have that kind of power.

He looked back down and located his sword a few feet to his left and walked over to it. As soon as his hands wrapped around the handle, the blue blade grew brighter and even seemed to pulse with energy.

He turned and started walking towards Arya. She was kneeling but looked up as he put a hand on her shoulder. Her face was bloodied and bruises had already formed on her neck, but her eyes locked on his and he could see the fire that was still within her. Eragon thought that he would never get used to how fierce she was. She tried to say something to him but only a hoarse sound escaped her. He realized that her throat was damaged. He put his hand over her neck and released the energy needed to heal her. When he was finished, he helped her to her feet.

She stared strongly into his eyes and he got the feeling that she was trying to decipher him. He smiled and put his hand on her cheek. Her eyes closed at his touch and she put her hand around his. There was no need for words, he knew she was thankful and she knew he was happy she was safe. He pulled back his hand and looked back into her eyes, entranced at how the deep green seemed to dance in the light. Then, he looked past her at Galbatorix getting back to his feet and all at once the anger came flooding back to him. He looked back at Arya and she understood without him having to say a word. She nodded and he watched as she headed back to where Saphira and some of the elves were standing.

He heard him before he saw him. Quick footsteps headed in his direction. He turned just in time to see Galbatorix leap into the air and raise his sword high above his head. Eragon raised his sword to block as the king descended upon him. Eragon was waiting for a mighty blow but was surprised at how weak the king's attack felt. He disengaged from Galbatorix's blade and then parried another strike as the king went on the offensive.

Eragon deflected each strike with ease. It was as if Galbatorix was moving in slow motion. Galbatorix would swing his blade around, and Brisingr would materialize in its path. The king would spin his blade around for another strike, and Eragon's arm would move faster, bringing Brisingr flying around to block. Eragon seemed to watch himself from a distance, as if in a dream, as he blocked every single one of Galbatorix's attacks in a blur of motion. He was amazed to see how fast he moved, and even more amazed at how effortlessly it felt. As Eragon continued to repel each blow, the king's expression turned from a scowl, to frustration, to flat out infuriation. He attacked Eragon harder and harder, backing him up, but never getting past his sword.

Galbatorix swung at his chest and Brisingr appeared right in his path. The king spun around a slashed at Eragon's thigh. With a flash of blue, Eragon brought his blade around and blocked the king. Galbatorix shouted and tried to hack at his shoulder. Eragon deflected the blow casually before the blade got anywhere close to him. The king continued his mad attack, slashing wildly in an attempt to break through Eragon's defenses.

Finally, Eragon planted his feet and stopped his backward progression. He blocked a swing at his ribs, and then a stab at his chest. Galbatorix brought his blade around for a third hit, but Eragon was ready. He swung Brisingr upward at the king's sword, knocking it out of the way and exposing Galbatorix. Eragon then spun around, slicing the king across his chest. He felt Brisingr bite into flesh and could hear the king gasp from the pain. Galbatorix backed up, his hand instinctively covering up the wound. Muttering a quick spell, the king healed himself and then looked at Eragon with despise.

"I do not know what has happened to you, but do not mistake this newfound strength as your saving grace," Galbatorix said. "You will never defeat me, Eragon. I have spent years casting wards that prevent me from suffering a mortal wound."

"I'd like to test that," Eragon said sternly.

Galbatorix brought his sword in front of him, waiting for Eragon's next move. He didn't have to wait long. Eragon stabbed out quickly towards his chest, which the king parried as expected. Eragon then swung in a wide but swift arc at Galbatorix's shoulder. The king brought his sword up to block, but as soon as steel touch steel, Eragon quickly spun around bringing Brisingr towards the king's side in a flash of blue. Galbatorix hadn't even moved his sword from the first block, when Eragon's blade bit into his flesh. He released a hiss and backed up, but Eragon pressed him. In a blur barely noticeable, he swung at Galbatorix's non-sword arm, cutting into his shoulder. Grimacing, the king countered with a swing at Eragon's ribs. Eragon dodged around to Galbatorix's back, and then swiftly slashed upwards, tearing at the king's muscles. Galbatorix let out a roar of pain and dropped to his knees.

Looking at the wound, Eragon realized the king was right. His slash should have opened up the king's back, but he seemed to have only sustained a shallow cut.

"You see, Eragon," Galbatorix said through a labored breath, "your attacks cannot kill me."

The king stood to his full height and turned to face Eragon. Eragon didn't reply, but glared at the king.

"This little game you're playing at is over!" Galbatorix yelled.

With a snarl, he stabbed out at Eragon's throat. Sidestepping quicker than the king's blade, Eragon dodged the assault. Then, fueled by the power within him, Eragon pressed his own attack. With blinding speed, Eragon attacked Galbatorix with three successive strikes. The first directed at the king's neck was blocked, but the second was too quick. Eragon connected with the king's hip. He swiftly followed with a long slash from Galbatorix's shoulder down to his other hip. Galbatorix released a howl and staggered.

The king twirled his sword around and went for Eragon's head. Eragon swung his own sword at the king's incoming one. He hit the king's blade just as it was nearing him with such power that it was knocked right out of Galbatorix's hand. The king watched in shock as his sword flipped through the air, landing blade first into the ground behind him.

Eragon gave him no time to recover. He allowed the power churning within him to swell and he hit Galbatorix in the chest with an open palm while releasing a powerful spell. A flash of blue erupted from Eragon's hand with a loud crack and the king was blasted through the air. He hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop after leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.

After a moment, Galbatorix pushed himself up to his hands and knees while slowly looking up at Eragon. He had a look of fiery malice in his eyes and the blood from his mouth gave him a menacing appearance. Galbatorix spat blood on the ground and then pointed at his sword, making it fly towards his open palm. Then, in one fluid motion, Galbatorix stood up, threw his other arm out towards Eragon, and yelled out while releasing an enormous blast of dark energy. Eragon planted his feet firmly on the ground and squared up his shoulders at the oncoming blast. He whipped his hand across his body when the blast reached him, knocking it sideways into an abandoned shop. The shop exploded in flames, sending pieces of wood and debris everywhere. As the people in the square screamed and attempted to shield themselves, Eragon reached out with his mind and caught all the shrapnel in midair. He released his hold letting all the pieces of debris fall harmlessly to the ground.

When Eragon looked back at the king, his breath caught in his throat. The king was leaning forward with an evil grin split across his face, and racing ahead of him was his gleaming white sword flipping through the air towards Eragon.

It was a distraction.

The sword was mere feet away when Eragon snapped out of his trance and let instinct take over. He took a step to his right and twisted his body so that he was sideways just as the sword sliced through the air where he had been. Eragon could see all the tiny details along the white blade as it flew by him, every contour of the metal and curve of the handle. He could feel the air in front of him reverberate as the white blade sliced through it. Then, the sword continued on and away from him.

Arya was looking off to her side at the building that had just exploded, completely oblivious to the oncoming sword. Eragon's eyes grew large with fear and he yelled out to her. Arya turned to look back at him just as the sword flipped around once more and sunk deep into her stomach.

The world around Eragon seemed to fall away. The background faded into a blur and the sounds around him became muffled. All he could focus on was Arya's shocked expression. She coughed up some blood and with shaky hands reached at the sword handle now sticking out of her mid section. She drew a quick, sharp breath and dropped to her knees. The elves nearby rushed over to her and carefully laid her on the ground. She was placed on her side facing Eragon and her eyes slowly found his. They struggled to focus at first, but then they locked on firm. Eragon couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even think. All that was going on in his head was a profound sense of disbelief. Her eyes stayed on his and he could see a single tear slide down her cheek. Then, slowly, they lost their focus and her lids came to a close. Eragon watched the elves frantically chant with their arms outstretched over her body. They began to slowly remove the sword with magic, but he could no longer focus on any one of them. All his eyes could see was Arya's face, peaceful and beautiful, with a single tear streak catching a slight glint from the sun. She could be sleeping if he didn't know any better. And then his eyes shifted and he saw the puddle of blood forming around her stomach and his entire world shattered.

Eragon's vision went red and a loud pounding filled his ears. His hands trembled and his breathing quickened. His entire body appeared to be on the verge of exploding and yet, through it all he was able to bring into focus a single thought. Galbatorix.

He turned back to the evil king and at the mere sight of him with his arms folded and a grin on his face, he lost it. He urged the energy raging within him into a chaotic frenzy. It began surging throughout him with unchecked ferocity. He gripped his sword tighter and the handle grew white hot, while blue flames erupted along the blade. Little rocks and pebbles were lifted off the ground and into the air around him as his body shook with infuriated power.

The energy raging within him urged him to take action, so he took off towards the king in a dead sprint. He covered the distance in a second and when he reached Galbatorix, Eragon slammed his shoulder into him with all the force he could. Eragon felt bones cracking from the impact and the king went sailing. Eragon didn't waste any time. He took off after the king, coming up on him just as he was getting back to his feet. Using the momentum from his sprint, Eragon slid on his knees past Galbatorix while slashing at his legs with Brisingr. Because of the wards, his blade didn't slice through the king's legs, but instead flipped him forward, where he landed face down in the dirt.

Cursing, Galbatorix pushed himself up to his knees. He looked at Eragon while wiping dirt from his mouth.

"You're wasting your time."

Eragon roared and swung at Galbatorix as he was getting to his feet. The blade sliced through the air leaving a fiery blur in its wake as it raced for the king's exposed neck. Galbatorix didn't even have time to react. Brisingr hit the king's neck with enough force to decapitate him. However, as soon as Eragon felt it bite into flesh, unseen forces stopped the blade. The energy from the strike knocked Galbatorix to the ground but only a flesh wound remained from the attack.

Galbatorix groaned, but slowly sat up. Turning back to Eragon, he spat blood at his feet.

"You fool," the king said with spite. "You will never end me. I am far superior to you, even with your new power."

Eragon could feel his hands shaking.

"The war is over, Eragon. You lost." The king then looked past him and smiled with bloody teeth. "Don't send anymore to their graves."

Focusing his rage, Eragon stepped back and kicked Galbatorix directly in the sternum. The torrents of power within him made his strike break the king's ribs and launched him in the air. Before he could hit the ground, Eragon reached out with his arm and used the energy to suspend him in midair. Galbatorix worked at keeping his expression impassive, but Eragon could sense him struggling against his hold.

"This isn't over," Eragon said slowly, working to keep hang on to the fury. He opened his outstretched hand, causing Galbatorix's body to open up as well. "You have to pay for what you've done." Galbatorix was completely stretched out as if his limbs were all being pulled in different directions. The strain on his face was plainly visible. "Do you understand?" Eragon shouted. "This… isn't… over!"

Furiously, Eragon whipped his arm sideways and sent the king speeding into the shop that had exploded. He crashed forcefully into the rubble, breaking the remaining support beams and sending up a cloud of debris. Before he could recover, Eragon used another spell to grab hold of Galbatorix from a far and ripped the king through the air back to him, as if he was tied to a rope. As the king flew towards Eragon, he pulled his arm back and then shot it forward releasing an enormous sapphire blast of energy. The thunderclap from the spell echoed throughout the market square. It hit the king, exploding in midair. Galbatorix was sent straight to the ground with his clothes singed smoking.

Eragon let out a deep breath as he watched the king's body lie smoldering on the ground. After a few tense moments of silence, he heard the king let out a long groan and slowly clenched and unclench his fists. Eragon watched as he warily rolled over to his hands and knees and slowly pushed his charred body back up to its full height. He took a few wheezing breaths, looked Eragon in the eye, and then smiled.

The storm inside of Eragon was pushed to a dangerous level. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the man before him. He focused on his body, and how it was shaking, barely holding back a raging inferno of power. He focused on his fury and anger and how they seemed to grow in intensity. He felt the air around him heating up, charged with power. He urged the energy inside him on, pushing it into a hurricane of fury swirling through him with deadly force.

Then his thoughts suddenly went to Arya. How she was lying on the ground not too far from where he was standing, yet how she may never be with him again. How her beautiful green eyes may never again captivate him, or how her soothing voice may never again tease his ears. And how that single tear fell from her eye right before she left him…

His eyes snapped open and honed in on the king. He was watching Eragon with the same cracked and bloody grin he had after his sword sunk into Arya. It was just the trigger he needed. He took off at the king. His mind was focused on Galbatorix and Galbatorix only. Everything else no longer existed.

As he neared the king, Galbatorix only smiled more. He knew the many spells he had woven around himself over the years to protect him were impossible to break. Eragon knew this too, but he didn't care. He charged him anyway. The power within him was building up to an unstable level and Eragon could feel it taking over his senses. He was no longer in control of his body, but merely guided the cyclone of power in a direction.

When he reached the king, he brought the flaming sword back behind him and he felt a single word form on his lips. He brought his sword around at Galbatorix in a forward lunge while releasing all the energy contained in him at once. It felt as though a dam had broken as the energy rushed from his arm, into his sword, and raced towards Galbatorix's chest. The surge of power in the blade allowed it to break every ward protecting the king, and then finally penetrated his chest. The king's eyes widened in shock and his breath caught in his throat.

"No," Galbatorix managed to croak out in disbelief.

The word took shape and Eragon could feel the sound of his voice welling up from deep within him. As the sword blade sank the rest of the way into Galbatorix's chest, Eragon's voice rang out across the market square.

"BRISINGR!"

Galbatorix let out a wild scream filled with terror. As if the sword could no longer contain the energy, a massive explosion erupted from the blade, engulfing Galbatorix in a giant sapphire inferno. The blast sent a shockwave throughout the square, knocking people down, but Eragon stayed where he was, rooted in a perfect lunge stance with his sword extended forward in the firestorm.

When the flames finally burned up, Eragon took a step back out of his stance, bringing his smoking sword back to his side. The ground in front of him was charred black and the taste of iron was on his tongue. The edges of his clothes were singed from the flames. All around him, the air was filled with little bits of ash with blue embers glowing on them. It seemed out of place but oddly beautiful. The embers blinked and twinkled as they fell softly to the ground. It reminded Eragon of the first snow of the winter season. He stuck a hand out and watched a piece land on it, burn for a moment, and then go out. Ironic how the mighty king could be reduced to something so picturesque.

Eragon looked up and noticed that his vision was slightly blurry with tears. A profound silence hung over the square as the people around him stared, not making any moves. He knew that this was the moment they had all dreamed about, the one they had fought for so long, but they remained silent, waiting to see what he would do. He barely noticed them.

Arya.

It seemed to take all his will power, but he slowly turned around and looked back at where she was lying. The sword was now out of her stomach and lying on the ground in front of her but her eyes were still closed. He felt a knot form in his chest. He finally defeated Galbatorix, a feat said to be impossible, and yet, the girl lying peacefully on the ground ahead of him, with blood covering her stomach, made it a hollow victory. His throat seemed to constrict as he neared her and tears started to well up in his eyes. The elves that were around her backed up to give him space. Saphira looked at him with a big eye and he could tell without words that her heart ached with his. He knelt down next to Arya and became entranced at how stunning she was. The way her hair shimmered and flowed around her. Her eyelashes, long and curved, accented by her high cheekbones, and that single line from her last tear running across her face. By extending his mind, he could sense her heart still beating. It was little consolation. She was fighting, but losing the battle. Each beat came a little bit later then the one before it. One glance at the elves around her, and he understood that she was beyond saving.

The energy that once raged throughout him was mostly gone, used up in his final attack against the king. All that remained was a small trickle that was receding into the void. Try as he might, he could not get it to stop leaving. He sat there helplessly, unable to save Arya as death's cold grip took her away from him.

Somewhere behind him one of the elves came forward and started to sing. It was a soft melody that seemed to give shape to the sadness he was feeling. The elves near the first one began to pick up the song adding their own harmonies to the ballot. Then, one by one, all the elves in the square sang out with their entrancing voices for their fallen family member. The song rose and fell seeming to take on a life of its own, a being that was filled with sadness and grief.

Eragon could not bear it anymore. He collapsed beside her and began to weep freely. The anguish and torment he felt seemed to fill his entire body until he was sure he would lose himself to it forever. Then, from somewhere deep within him, he felt the trickled stop, and begin flowing back towards him. It was like a gleam of light in a dark cave. He reached for it desperately, grabbing a hold and pulling more of it to him. Soon he could feel the energy returning to him, not in a furious surge like before, but softer and slower, carefully spreading throughout his body while exuding a warm sensation that he never thought he could feel again. The power flowed into him pushing all the darkness away and filling him with a sense of hope that seemed to permeate his entire being.

He looked back at Arya lying quietly in death's embrace and knew that this was not meant to be. That she was not supposed to leave him like this. He sat up and spread both his hands over her. He allowed the energy to build on itself and then pushed it into his arms and down to his fingers. He could feel the warmth leaving him and entering Arya's cold body. It spread throughout her, giving her body a delicate glow somehow making her even more beautiful. The energy continued to flow through him from a source deep within his mind. He closed his eyes in concentration and could feel Arya's entire body, the large amount of blood she had lost, the wounds the sword inflicted upon her internal organs, and her heart which was barely beating. He focused all his attention on her heart, guiding the energy into it. It soaked it up like a sponge, but remained unchanged. He poured even more energy into it, determined not to give up on her. Despite the amount that he was giving her, her heart continued to slow, its beats barely audible and too far apart.

Eragon was starting to lose hope. He was beginning to think that no amount of energy could bring her back to him when all of the sudden her heart gave a strong thump. To Eragon it was like the pound of a war drum. His spirits soared and he focused with a renewed intensity. Very slowly, beat by beat, her heart came back, taking in everything he had to offer. Her heart began to pump fresh blood throughout her and he could feel her body coming alive again. When he felt confident her heart would sustain itself, he shifted his focus on the wounds from the sword. He cast spells to heal them from the inside out and let the energy flowing into her take care of it. With the last part of her organs flowing together and becoming whole again, she took in a breath. It was weak, but it was the most amazing thing Eragon had ever heard. Several of the elves around him gasped when they noticed it too. He mended the skin around her stomach completing her healing process and severed the flow of energy to her.

Immediately, the energy receded far back into the depths of his mind from wherever it came from. He made a last attempt at holding on to it, but it was no use. It was long gone. Although a little disheartened, he had a small hope that someday he would feel that power once more.

He stayed where he was, watching Arya's chest rise and fall when her eyes slowly began to open. He leaned over and brushed a piece of her raven hair out of her face and watched as her eyes slowly took in her surroundings. She looked around until she saw him and then she tried to focus in. She looked confused at first, but then she smiled. The site sent butterflies fluttering around his stomach. She carefully sat up and then Eragon helped her to her feet. She gazed at him, enchanting him with her beauty. He was faintly aware that it was still dead silent around the market square, but he couldn't look away from Arya. She took a step forward, and then let out a joyous, singing laugh as she wrapped her arms around him in a strong embrace. Eragon couldn't help himself, he broke out in laughter too as he hugged her back.

At that moment, the world seemed to explode all around him. Elves sang out and everyone cheered. He could hear the crowds letting go all the emotions they had been holding back. Saphira released a roar to which Thorn answered from the side of the square and they both loosed giant blasts of fire into the air. Eragon looked around and saw people hugging each other while crying for joy. Others were dancing around with the Elves as they sang their celebration songs. Green grass and small flowers sprouted from the magic of their music across the square. The Varden soldiers were yelling out with their fists in the air, while the dwarves and urgals beat their chests.

Eragon was watching two little girls twirl each other around when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see that it was Murtagh, still beat up but smiling from ear to ear. He clasped Eragon's shoulder and started to laugh. Walking up behind him was Nasuada with tears in her eyes. She hugged Eragon and began to cry and laugh at the same time. Eragon held her and then pulled away giving her a chance to catch her breath. He felt a warm breath on the back of his neck and then Saphira rested her head on his shoulder. Eragon reached up and rubbed her cheek as she hummed her content. He then looked out over the square and saw that everyone was looking at him, some with tears in their eyes, others just smiling. He felt something stir inside of him at the sight, something that he never thought he would ever be able to feel again. In that single moment, surrounded by the ones he loved and the ones he had fought for, he felt truly happy. It was such a simple feeling that seemed to capture the essence of his proudest moment, and let him fully know that this was how it was meant to be.