Veyna's POV

The door creaked open. Kyra glanced at Veyna, Stardom rasping out of its sheath. The short, broad blade held out in front of her, Kyra cautiously entered the room. Deciding that it was empty, the girls walked forward, only to hear a distinct thok! as a dart whizzed past Veyna's pointed ear and buried itself in the wooden plaque on the wall.

Eragon, Kyra warned him, there are dart traps.

Understood. We have seen no sign of the Shade.

Neither have we.

Kyra cut off the connection. Swiftly and silently, the twins made their way to the next room. They darted back as the bronze braziers at the entrance flared to life as they approached, but then realized it was the young man in the room who had caused the fire to ignite.

He was kneeling before a roughly cut sandstone altar, adorned with a simple but elegant royal purple tablecloth draped over it. A few feet away the true library started—row after row of books, all stacked neatly in alphabetical order. Humans and their books. Didn't they realize scrolls were much more organized?

"Rasib," Kyra said softly. The Dark Rider turned, seeming unsurprised at the two girls facing him, swords drawn. Veyna's blade, Esterni, glowed faintly. Its golden tip became white hot. Rasib, however, made no move to draw the weapon at his side. He just rose slowly, turning to face them tranquilly.

"Riders are supposed to be carriers of the Light," Rasib told them, backing slowly into the shadows of the shelves, forcing the girls to follow him. "So why do you serve evil?"

"We—" Veyna began, coming to a halt as the bookshelves around her toppled toward them.

"Magic!" Kyra shouted, diving out of the way and pulling her twin with her.

"Riders are supposed to bring peace," Rasib taunted, voice low and menacing. "Didn't bring peace to Shruikan, did you?"

"He has entered the void," Veyna called, picking herself up from the rubble-covered ground. "There is no greater peace!"

"The void?" Rasib laughed, "You elves are so foolish." Another bookshelf teetered. "There are no gods," Rasib mocked, "There are things we can't explain, but we are just ignorant!" The shelf fell, the Shadow Menace Rasib still prowling. "Come out, come out little Riders," Rasib called sinisterly. "Void? There is only Light and Darkness."

"Everyone has their own beliefs," Veyna tried, "there is no right answer."

"He was not at peace so he descended into Darkness!" Rasib screamed. The chandelier above them came crashing down, fire from the candles setting the books alight. The blaze swelled uncontrollably, snagging the untoppled volumes into the inferno.

Before the Dark Rider knew what was happening, Kyra's sword was across his throat, Veyna's digging into his back. Rasib's two captors walked cautiously into the long hallway and into another room, keeping both their eyes trained on him but moving away from the fire.

"Against the wall," Veyna ordered.

Rasib acquiesced, hands clasped unthreateningly in front of him. "Are you going to kill me?" Rasib whispered, for once sounding his age. His eyes, though red, looked imploringly into theirs, the young man who had done so much evil.

Kyra and Veyna glanced at each other.

What do we do?

We can't take him to Eragon; he's too dangerous. We need to finish this, soon.

But killing him seems wrong. His intentions were noble. Misguided, but noble.

His lies convinced me to split with Nuaen, Kyra replied. Even death cannot atone for what he has done.

And you saw firsthand how real the idea of dragon slavery seemed to be, how he could believe it so strongly.

Kyra was silent.

"Will you let the dragons go free, after I am gone?" Rasib interrupted.

"No," Veyna answered. "They are happy where they are."

"Then free me." He looked at both of them. "Or I'll kill myself."

"More power to you," Kyra muttered.

"No, stop," Veyna commanded. We can't allow him to access magic! she hissed at Kyra. "You can't kill yourself," Veyna returned to Rasib.

"But I have to. It has to be me. I will be at peace!" Rasib answered urgently.

"We can't do that," Kyra responded. "The spirits within would stop you."

"Then I will not reach the Light!" Rasib howled. Before they realized what was happening, he pulled at the air with a clawed hand. Their breath went cold as he sucked the energy from him, building a mountain of power inside his body. The twins, having him present in their consciousnesses, could feel him reach into the torrent, and caress the magic one last time.

"Deyja." Die. His head was thrown back, energy shooting off his body in waves of heat, but it did not explode as Veyna expected him to. The spirits in his body had turned him, so he was no longer completely human. His hair and eyes were reverting to the traditional maroon. There was no doubt that Rasib was gone; whatever disguising spell he had placed on himself had ended.

Wordlessly, in one fluid movement, Kyra slew him through the heart.

Istalri's POV

Red-ally-Thorn dove out of the clouds, ricocheting powerfully off of the black energy shield surrounding Rasib's castle. Above them, Fírnen swooped majestically around Shuke, diamond-hard tail skating across the enemy dragon's foreleg. He snapped at Fírnen's tail as Arya's dragon slammed his strong body into the black one.

Tearing herself away from the battle exponentially escalating above them, Istalri hurled herself at the Rider and dragon emerging from the castle now. Fiery-betrayer-Chinr rocketed up, Istalri slashing at him with her sharp teeth. Caught by surprise, Chinr let out a sharp cry of pain and spread his wings, being carried along by the wind. On his back, Soetrí's hands choked the saddle grip, red eyes narrowing. He shouted something she couldn't catch to Chinr, who promptly rolled over in midair to avoid Istalri's next onslaught.

Another bulk slammed into her. Istalri spiraled dangerously close to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. Her talons skimmed the grass as she gained altitude, turning to face her new attacker. Former group-partner Tierre grinned wickedly atop Okkan, palm glowing with swirling magic. Letting out a savage roar coupled with a stream of fire that flowed harmlessly around the two, Istalri angled upward and shot into the clouds. She could hear wise-master-Mort's voice in her head, pointing out to her useless information as her training kicked in, like the fact that the fluffy white clouds indicated a storm wasn't likely. Useful. Not.

She turned to face her attacker, only a few tail-lengths behind her. He spewed a just-as-futile jet of fire at her tail. She reflexively jerked it out of harm's way, smacking him across the face with the armor-plated, spiked end. The pearly white dragon shrieked, writhing and falling backward out of the air. He landed in a crumpled broken heap on the ground. Istalri landed heavily, tail aching with every heartbeat. She wished Veyna was there—for her love and support, not her healing abilities, of course. Although those would be a perk.

Shaking off her pain, she gently flipped the dead dragon over, the sizzling blood of her kind staining her nose. Legs still twisted in the saddle straps, a dark red liquid trickled out of corner of Tierre's lips. She leaned close and sniffed the dragon's corpse, detected from smell that he still contained his Eldunarí inside of him, consciousness untransferred. He had died a true death. His heart of hearts would dissolve along with his body.

Istalri soared back into the sky. Above her, Fírnen, Thorn, and Saphira grappled with Shuke, but whenever they inflicted any kind of physical damage—tooth, claw, scales—it seemed to heal a few seconds later with no fatigue to the beast. Below her, there were at least ten pairs of fighting dragons. Regaining her energy with a slow flight, wings extended, she watched as an orange one suddenly turned in midair. His attacker slammed into the sharp spikes on his back. Blood seeped from the wounds as the dragon fell, Rider screaming in anguish. Over to the left, a small purple dragon was almost obscured by the two larger ones subduing it. The flat edge of one of their tails smacked the Rider out of her saddle. A piercing shriek of terror split the air. The enemy Shur'tugal fell out of the sky, narrowly missing colliding with another two battling dragons.

With a snort of impatience, Istalri remembered Saphira's words: I know you thirst for their blood, those who have killed Twi and Gom, as I do, but remember these are our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, our daughters and sons. We are a family, and we must forgive each other.

At the time, Istalri had responded with a 'You are most wise, Saphira,' but now, in the heat of battle, she yearned to do nothing and watch the traitor go splat against the ground.

Pressing her wings into her body, she sped downward, catching the two-legged in her claws. The girl was still screaming as Istalri set her down less than gently. She finally stopped when Istalri pressed her against the ground, talons digging into her chest, warning her it would be useless to run—Istalri would be back to nab her.

Veyna's POV

All at once, two large spirits rose reluctantly from Rasib's limp body, hanging over like black clouds. Tendrils seemed to cling to his skin and clothing, as if they were seeking some form of reentry.

"Be gone!" Kyra commanded. The spirits seemed to recoil from her voice, zooming up through the ceiling and out into the sky. The short, broad blade Stardom's front half was coated completely as Kyra yanked it out of Rasib's lifeless body.

Breathing heavily, the two girls looked at each other. Had they really done it? It was all over?

Eragon, Staria, and Evelyn sprinted into the room, taking in the fire across the hall and Kyra wiping her blade clean on the tablecloth over the obsolete altar.

"You were forced to kill him?" asked Eragon. It was neither an accusation nor inquiry, but a question.

"The Shade," Veyna answered. It was all she needed to say. Eragon nodded, frowning down at Rasib's corpse.

"I will contact Arya. Well done, Kyra, Veyna. You saved many lives today."

"Is it safe to reach out to our dragons?" Veyna asked hopefully.

"It should be, yes," Eragon answered, "if you are sure this is him."

"It is," Veyna replied firmly. Istalri!

Istalri's POV

The daughter-of-the-wind soared back into the crisp air. With the arrival of evil-elf-Soetrí and his minions, the barrage on the energy bubble had almost completely ceased. It was time to restart the action. After doing a quick flip to avoid a burst of flame, Istalri tucked in her wings and flew rapidly toward the looming blackness. Behind it, she could just make out the running forms of a man, a young woman, and a girl. She braced herself for the jelly-like experience of bouncing off. Flicking her tail, she sped up, resisting the urge to close her eyes as the shield sprawled larger and larger before her.

Just as she was about to hit it, it flickered, shimmering in the morning sunlight. The dark energy collapsed in on itself, but Istalri was already moving too fast to stop. She collided with the solid stone wall of the castle with a sickening thud, sliding down the sizzling stone now wet with her blood to crash on the ground, wing tangled at odd angles. The world above her was fading fast, but the last thing she thought she heard before unconsciousness was Veyna: Istalri!

Nuaen's POV

Hard-scaled-Shuke barreled toward her, snarling in frustration as she executed a quick loop around him, running her talons down his leg. Forest-fire-Fírnen and Saphira-Brightscales bolted after him, subduing him in a tight circle once again. Seeming to dance in midair, Nuaen taunted him with nips to his thrashing tail, struggling to break free of the massive dragons attempting to restrain him. A bloodcurdling shriek emanated from his maw, spewing torrents of fire everywhere, but the green and blue hung on tight, clamping down on his wings and neck. On Fírnen's back sat elf-queen-Arya, calm and calculating, directing all of the dragons' efforts simultaneously. The way she trusted her dragon completely—letting him take over while she commanded others within her own mind—astounded Nuaen. Did it ever go the other way around as well? Would a dragon trust their Rider enough to control their body? Would I?

Shaking her head to clear it, Nuaen swept forward to bring her small but muscular body to almost a standstill. Diving and weaving gracefully was always Istalri's thing, Nuaen thought, this is what I was meant for.

The pink beast hurled herself at Shuke's head, punching him with the full force of her body. The spikes on the top of his head pierced her belly scales, but the black dragon appeared confused and disoriented as Nuaen flew a safe distance away to gauge the intensity of her wounds.

Good move, hatchling, Fírnen's deep voice permeated every fiber of her being. My Rider is preoccupied, but she would like to tell you that we are going to try an ASA attack maneuver. We were both impressed by your battle-fire.

Understood. Thank you, Fírnen.

Deciding that he had judged her wounds to be not serious, she followed the large green dragon back up into the air, positioning herself to strike. Fírnen continued past her until he had reached Saphira's height. Dark-fire-Shuke didn't seem to anticipate what they were doing. He turned suspiciously around, searching for his former assailants. Nuaen came in from the side, as the "bait," although she greatly disliked the term "bait" in reference to her.

Shuke braced himself for her impact, savagely twisting to the side to make Nuaen scramble not to be skewered on one of his diamond-sharp back spikes. She scuffled, attempting to scratch the dragon's eyes. Saphira and Fírnen angled down toward Shuke, giving the startled beast no time to react. Nuaen pulled away as the two slammed into him, knocking them all out of the air. There was a loud snap—splitter-Shruikan's-son-Shuke's wing was bent at the wrong angle. Even from this height, Nuaen could tell that the vital artery in the wing had been ruptured accidentally. Blood poured freely from the gash, but Shuke struggled to gain altitude once more. He attempted to extend his wings, but flopped lopsidedly, still falling through the air at an ever-increasing rate. Just before they hit the ground, Saphira and Fírnen let go and tilted upwards to land with no more than a strong jolt.

Shuke collapsed on the ground amid the roars of triumph from the surrounding dragons.

Dead.

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