Eragon sighed as he meditated on the top most peak of Du Fells Nágoröth, the rising sun setting the sandy dunes to a brimming gold that sparkled with a brilliance of rich color.

He was currently channeling most if not all of his energy into the brilliant sapphire that made up the pommel of his surrogate father's sword. Every day he did this, knowing his life he would need it sooner or later. Either in a fight or hollowing out Utgard.

Faintly he could hear the sounds of Ronan coming towards him, his footsteps seeming to echo on the warmed and weathered sandstone.

"We're ready to leave, master." Ronan told the older and more experienced Rider, looking rather somber compared to his normal boisterous personality. "You know, I think I'm going to miss this place." Ronan lamented as he looked upon the desert horizon wistfully. "After Bjartkoü hatched for me, before I met you, well the real you, and Saphira, I always knew that one day sooner or later I'd have to leave my village. Leave my family." Ronan's smile turned somewhat bitter, not at Eragon but how much fate had played with his destiny, changing it from a life of a normal blacksmith apprentice into a fabled Rider. "I thought that I'd be on the run till the end of my days, afraid that Galbatorix would be right behind me or your brother would be in the shadows waiting to catch us. I never thought I'd have another place to call home…"

Eragon smiled wistfully, understanding where the young man was coming from. "You probably wouldn't believe me, but I know exactly how you feel." Eragon stated softly as he thought of the events that have happen in the course of a around two years or so ago, from the hatching of Saphira's egg, the discovery of Oromis and Glader, his self imposed exile due to the betrayal of the Varden command, and meeting Ronan and then Bjartkoü. "From all that's happened to Saphira and I, from the beginning to where we are now… We've never really found a place to call home either. Since the very beginning I noticed changes to my life, aside the fact that the other half of my soul and heart is a dragon, mind you. Those changes changed and altered me, forming not Eragon the farm boy but to Eragon the Rider. It's rather overwhelming, isn't it?"

Ronan nodded his head, sometimes when he was alone to just his and Bjartkoü's thoughts, his mind would still reel that his old life was gone and never could he return to it, he couldn't and wouldn't. Despite living a sheltered life compared to Eragon's adventures when he had just become a Rider, Ronan knew that even if they somehow won the war, defeated Galbatorix, he wouldn't return to Ursür, to the forge. It scared and somewhat saddened him when he realized that the village he had been born and grown up in no longer felt like home, if anything it seemed to be detached to the newest of the Riders. Almost alienish and out worldly. Like a vague memory from a dream that no matter how much he tried to recall it, the vision would slip through his hands like the swirling sand surrounding him.

The closest thing he had to a home at the moment was Du Fells Nágoröth. Sure it was in the middle of the gods' damned desert where if you dozed off during meditation training you'd be burnt to a crisp (Ronan knew from experience), or that the only way to get water was to summon it via magic, or that the mountains itself seemed to be a memory by itself. He could vividly remember each scratch on the floor and walls from newborn hatchlings itching to try out their claws, scorch marks left from sneezing dragons or ill tempered ones, or the fact that there were visible spots where dragons had used their fiery breath to melt the rock into a comfortable nest for hatchlings.

"What made you think of turning Utgard into our new home?" Ronan asked Eragon curiously. "It's something I'd never think of."

Eragon gave his a wry grin, "And that's why." He explained. "No one would expect it. And for where I got the idea…." He trailed off his eyes set on the horizon, but Ronan knew he was in a different time and place. "I guess you could say I thought of it when I thought of Fathern Dûr." Eragon could vividly remember the crown jewel of the dwarven cities, the greatest yet most empty of the stronghold. He had seen many things in his life, the great palace of the elves being one of them, the Menoa Tree, and the great cathedral in Dres Leona. But in his opinion Fathern Dûr seemed the most mystical and grand out of them all.

In all honesty Farthen Dûr was the grandest city he had been in, Dres Leona and Teirm didn't cross his mind seeing as both were rather dull and less ornate when compared to Fathern Dûr was carved from the very mountain itself, despite its rather simple upbringing the whole place seemed to have its own special grandeur in the carvings.

Ronan nodded his head, "I wish I could see Fathern Dûr," the young teenager said wistfully, thinking of all the tales the storytellers had spun images of the dwarven cities in his mind.

Eragon clasped Ronan's shoulder, "Perhaps one day Ronan… When we can I promise you that I'll show you Farthen Dûr. Perhaps I could be your tour guide," he joked, remembering when he had first entered the dwarven stronghold and Orik had been given the task of showing him around.

"I'd like that." Ronan said with a grin, already eager.

"Just remember this, my young student." Eragon said seriously, "Home is always where the giant fire breathing reptile is."

Ronan raised a brow, "Who said that?" The newest of the Riders asked curiously, having never heard of that saying before in his life, perhaps some wise and noble leader of the Riders of Old had said it?

Eragon grinned, "I did."

The two couldn't help but laugh at that.

Eragon stood besides Saphira as the two heart and souls looked at the now empty caves they had called their home, if only for half a year or so. The Eldunarí were already in both Eragon and Ronan's pocket dimension as was Saphira's armor.

I shall miss this place, little one. Saphira told her Rider as her brilliant sapphire eyes looked upon her ancestral home with slight melancholy.

And I. But we must move on, it is our way. Eragon said, for he spoke the truth. Ever since their adventure had first been born, they had forever been on the run, neither finding a safe haven until now. Eragon prayed to the gods, both the dwarves and humans that they could finally stop running and hiding, to stand up and rise.

Arya walked towards them, Sloan trailing behind her. His hands were spread out as he struggled to move through the unknown cave, he had yet to give Eragon his answer, but Eragon would wait until he would do so.

"We're ready to go, Eragon." Arya stated simply, while Sloan merely huffed.

Eragon nodded at the beautiful elf, "Let us be off." He decided as he got onto Saphira's back, his hand outstretched to the love of his immortal life.

Arya grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, Ronan and Bjartkoü were already waiting outside for the others to join them for one final journey through the dunes of the Hadarac.

Sloan crossed his arms stubbornly, a scowl already marring his facial features, "If you think I'm going to take yer hand than you have another thing comin'- gah!" Sloan yelled as his body suddenly left the ground and hovered right behind Saphira's reptilian backside.

Eragon grinned internally as he continued to channel the magical energy to keep Sloan levitating near them, "Sorry Sloan. I'm afraid there isn't much room on Saphira." And I don't think Ronan and Bjartkoü would welcome your presence so much, he internally mused.

"By the gods! Put me down you blasted son of a Kull!" Sloan roared, the fact that he couldn't see and was currently high above the floor not suiting the former butcher very well.

"Would you rather walk through the entire desert and all the way back to the northern parts of the Empire? I'd be happy to set you on your merry way, I'm afraid you wouldn't get that far. I haven't gotten your answer and I won't be able to heal you until we get to our new home," Eragon said rather cheerfully, just because he had become a different person didn't mean that he had to stop annoying Sloan, he had a whole year to make up.

"And here I thought you'd had grown, Eragon," Arya said with a small hint of amusement in her tinkling tone, her feline green eyes looking at the exchange with good humor.

Eragon shrugged, "Well we can't all be as mature as you, eh?" He teased the elf, which merely rolled her eyes that made him beam even more.

Saphira shook her wings before launching herself off the great mountains of the Hadarac Desert, Bjartkoü quickly following her. The two dragons roared as loud as they could, sending the desolate amount of prey and predators scurrying for cover as the two dragons bade their former home goodbye.

Little one, Saphira said softly as she glided alongside Bjartkoü, his brilliant golden eyes the same color as the setting sun and the blazing dunes, she coiled her neck to look at him in the corner of her eye. Why had you not told Arya of the Eldunarí?

Eragon frowned when he heard this, this was a topic he'd much rather avoid until they had settled into their new home and didn't have to fear of Galbatorix discovering them. There hasn't been any time, Saphira.

Saphira snorted, smoke erupting from her nostrils. You and I know that's not true, the dragoness retorted. You told Ronan and Bjartkoü, yet not Arya, why is that?

Eragon sighed and exhaled slowly though his nose, trying to calm his heartbeat and to cool his thoughts, I know why I have to tell her, it's just….

His other half of his heart immediately understood where Eragon was going with this, and how could she not? Eragon was Eragon and she would always know him, but sometimes his thoughts were a complete and utter mystery. She snorted and shook her head. Human males were weird. Even though she was bonded to one. You are afraid of her reaction, aren't you? She asked softly, not judging him on his protectiveness of the elven princess. You do realize that she can handle the truth of the egg-breaker's power? Arya is a capable warrior and an even greater friend.

I know that Saphira but… Eragon trailed off as all of her Rider's memories came flooding through their connection. Arya joining them, Arya smiling, Arya trusting the two of them with no hesitance, Arya being the happiest they had ever seen.

How can I tell her that Galbatorix's sins are far darker than we ever realized? Eragon asked torn. That his power comes from dragons long ago passed?... She was born right before the Fall, she could have known or heard of someone who had died during it, family members, friends of her mother, anyone, and to know that their deaths had given Galbatorix the power he needed to rule the Empire with an iron fist? Eragon internally shook his head mournfully, You've seen how attached the elves are to the dragons, hell they practically worshiped you when we were in Du Weldenvarden, how would they react to this?

It would be terrible, Saphira warily agreed, knowing full well how much the elves had respected the dragons, but you still must tell her.

I know, Saphira. I know.

"It's so weird to see snow again," Ronan exclaimed as he scurried up the mountainside, neither knee-deep snow nor narrow nooks in the hardened stone seemed to stop the eager boy from reaching the top.

Eragon paid him no mind, his gaze was fixated on the north. He could see the vague and fuzzy shape of the Anora River, his brown eyes fixed upon the rushing current, his eyes trailed upwards… somewhere, hidden by trees as ancient as the land itself and the mountains that made up the Spine was Carvahall.

There was a flash of pain in his chest as he quickly amended, of what was left of Caravhall.

He never realized how much it hurt to think of his home, where he had been born and raised, where he had grown to become the man he was now, was nothing more than emptiness. The only thing left would be the burnt outlines of burned down houses and… gods have mercy upon their souls, the bodies of those who couldn't escape the Empire's wrath.

He then noticed that Ronan had stopped as well, his gaze set slightly to the west, his human eyes couldn't make out the small village of Ursür but he knew that Ronan somehow knew exactly where it was.

"I never thought I'd have another place to call home…"

Eragon felt pity for the boy, he knew that Ronan was strong, both in mind and spirit. But he was just a teenager, he was younger than Eragon had been when Saphira had hatched for him, his sixteenth birthday had come and gone when they had been in the Hadarac.

He knew that Ronan put up a strong face, able to bring up anyone's spirit with just a quick quip, seeing as he was a teenager Eragon wasn't really surprised. But Eragon was afraid that the pressure would get to him, and wouldn't tell his mentor about it.

Saphira snorted lightly in amusement, You're a teenager too, Eragon.

I think I've passed that milestone in my life, Saphira.

"It's going to take a lot of magic and energy to do this, Eragon." Arya reminded the young human Rider, her green eyes fixated on the towering peak of Utgard. While compared to the Beor Mountains, Utgard was definitely much more smaller, but it was the largest mountain in the entire Spine, not to mention how strategically placed it was.

Ronan decided to reply with a small grin, "Ah but that's where the concern ends, princess. You see we have the small favor of having two dragons on our side, not to mention the Eldunar- mmph!" Eragon's hand had shot out and clasped around Ronan's mouth before he could finish.

"Err, don't listen to Ronan. I think he may have been dropped on the head as a child," Eragon said hastily while Arya looked at him with narrowed eyes, finally after a moment or so of tension Arya decided that whatever Ronan was about to say didn't warrant enough for an argument. She knew that sooner or later Eragon would tell her.

"Have you thought on exactly how we're going to make the mountain hollow? You're not a dwarf, Eragon. I highly doubt mining or excavating rock, even with magic, is your strong suit." The elven princess pointed out.

Eragon nodded his head, "True. But I know enough to tell on where to burrow in, we have to be careful or the mountain could collapse upon itself. I've thought of this long and hard, Arya." Eragon turned his attention back to the towering mountain also known as the Place of Sorrow, both a glorious and infamous place for the history of the Riders.

"There will be multiple entrances, the largest will be at the peak seeing as only someone with a dragon could reach it. Seeing as how our soldiers will have to move in and out, we will have a main entrance and several lesser known and smaller entrances as ways to escape. The inside, or at least what I call the Outer Layer, will be a labyrinth. Only those trusted with the way through will know, we don't want someone to accidently walk in and discover us, can we?" Eragon said while everyone else listened, it sounded like a good idea both strategically and realistically. "The Inner Layer will be completely hollow, like Farthen Dûr is. Easily several miles or so wide with enough room for Saphira and Bjartkoü to fly around, though it will be somewhat cramped."

"What will be on the inside? In this Inner Layer?" Ronan asked.

Eragon shrugged his shoulders, "What else is in the middle of a city? A fortress." The young Rider gave the others a wry grin, "though I must admit it wont be as beautiful as Farthen Dûr's or even some of the Empire's fortresses, but then again we aren't going for looks. Merely a place of protection. As more people join we will form houses, or barracks, for them. They won't be the most lavish of places, but it will serve its purpose. I call this part, the Core."

"We can do that?" Ronan asked in awe, suddenly realizing the full extent a magician could use magic in.

Arya spoke, but she had the same message that Eragon would have said to the youngest of them. "Not all spells are created for destruction, Ronan." The raven-haired elf told the teenager, her eyes showing the wisdom only an immortal could hope to have.

"Like the elves sung to the trees of Du Weldenvarden, we shall sing to the rock of the mountain to shape as we please. As long as we have the will and the energy, we can accomplish anything." Eragon announced, his brown eyes gleaming in this belief, nobody spoke against him, for both had the utmost confidence of the Blue Rider.

"We shall make two tunnels for now, one here and the other at the top. Ronan, Bjartkoü, you two shall work here. Just continue to move the stone until you've reached the core, use your senses and magic. You will know when you've hit he heart of the mountain. I, Saphira, and Arya shall work on the peak where we can easily fly out and land in." Eragon spoke to the group.

Ronan nodded his head in agreement, his hazel eyes burning in determination to help his mentors and masters achieve their goal of building what would be their permanent home, perhaps for the next generation of Riders if they did truly defeat Galbatorix. Besides him Bjartkoü nodded his head as well, his thoughts nearly identical to that of his Riders.

Saphira launched herself off of the ground with Arya and Eragon seated upon her back, "Saphira, land there." Eragon told his greatest companion.

Saphira nodded her head and the three slowly flew into what appeared to be an enormous stone tower that seemed to emerge from the very mountain itself. It was obviously of elven make, the way the buttresses seemed more thinner yet more elegant had Eragon wondering if the tower had been here since the time of King Palancar.

The air turned somber as both Rider and dragon stepped onto the aged and cracked stone of what had once been a shining beacon of the Riders and their work, once it had been known as a place of hope and glory that showed the prowess of the Riders.

Eragon now felt as though he was walking through a tomb.

The elements had not been kind to the inside of Ristvak'baen, a place that had once been taken care of by the Riders. The once gleaming floor and walls were so cracked it reminded Eragon of intricate spider webs intersecting with one another. What had once appeared to be bookshelves filled to the brim with countless information containing the Ancient Language, of all the cultures in Alagaesia, of everything that there was to know, it was just a collapsed heap of rotted wood and moldy scraps of parchment that not even the strongest of restoring spells could fix.

"This is where it all ended," Arya said softly as she looked around the ruins of the once glorious tower of the Riders with saddened eyes, "And where it all began."

Ristvak'baen…. A fitting name, Saphira said grimly as her brilliant sapphire eyes looked around, before becoming fixated on something on the floor, her even greater eyesight than Arya and Eragon saw something they had yet to see. Look.

Arya and Eragon looked and they saw what she had seen. Blood, dried and blackened, stained the once polished marble in a random pattern, the mold and dirt hiding it from the two until they specifically looked for it.

"It must have been leftover from the battle between Vrael and Galbatorix," Eragon said in awe, he looked around the spacious lower level of the tower with wide eyes and he saw what he had previously not noticed, maybe a part of him had noticed but blocked it out to spare his heart further damage.

Eragon had thought wrong, while some of the mess could have been caused by the elements over decades of neglect, but his sharpened eyesight noticed fragments of stone that could have been from a statue or a bust of some important figure, while it could have slowly shattered from the freezing and warming elements, the magician side of him urged him to realize that it was magic that had destroyed it.

Arya trailed her hand softly against an aged pillar, her hand feeling the parts where pieces of the enchanted marble had been chipped off, the soldier part of her recognizing the fact that a long time, near a century ago, a sword had missed its target and sliced through the enchanted stone with greater enchantments on the great Rider's blade.

Eragon noticed that against the stained marble, scorch marks were evident even after a century of mold and grim growing alongside it. Claw marks that could only belong to a dragon were near an entrance where Vrael's dragon, his or her name unknown after so long of Galbatorix ridding the world of any mentions of the Dragon Riders of Old, had ascended the skies to fight against Galbatorix's slave and not his half or heart and soul, the mad Shurikan to a death match in the frigid air at the edge of the Spine.

Eragon felt the world slowly started to bear down upon him with the fury of a thousand dragons, he dimly recognized slowly falling to the ground but managing to catch himself with his knee and steading himself with his right hand. The Rider was dimly aware of Arya hurrying to him, the faint smell of the scent of crushed pine needles and rainwater hitting his senses every so faintly, but he made no movement to acknowledge the elven princess. His head was throbbing painfully, he could feel his heart beat slowly pulsing through his paralyzed body, sending shivers down his spine. His breathing went erratic as he felt continued to feel the force forcing him down, as though to make him sink in the marble itself, he could barely breath at all.

"-gon. Eragon. Eragon!" Arya's voice slowly brought the Rider to his attention, he made contact with her eyes, Arya was looking at him with worry in her burning green eyes.

He slowly felt the force that was pushing him down slowly ebb away, the rushing pulses ramming in his head slowly ebbed away, he could breath once again. "S-Sorry," Eragon gasped, still out of breath. "I-It just hit me then," He said as he shook his head, as though to shake out the problems right out of his skull.

Are you okay, little one? Saphira nuzzled him with worry in her brilliant blue eyes, being his other heart and soul she could feel the roaring emotions rushing into their connection, she was more than a little affected. Not that she could blame her Rider, being in this tower which seemed to be more fitting to be a tomb, was getting to her, the fact that this was where Vrael had been defeated and Galbatorix had won. It greatly troubled her and Eragon.

"I'm fine, Saphira… Can we leave this place? I feel as though I'm stepping on my own grave." Arya helped the man to his feet, with the air of a drunken man Eragon slowly managed to walk out of Ristvak'baen without the need of assistance.

The cool and frigid air lashed against Eragon's tanned features, rejuvenating the brown-eyed Rider greatly. Saphira, do you believe in ghosts? He asked the dragoness with utmost seriousness.

Smoke curled out of Saphira's nostrils as she pondered his question. Perhaps. We've seen many strange things in our lives, little one. Perhaps ghosts and wraiths are evident in this world, hidden behind a curtain that none can see but those who have already passed on to the Void.

The currents of cooling air seemed to howl as though in agreement to Saphira's somber words. The winds sounding like harsh whispers that screeched in the half elf's pointed ears. Eragon shivered and it wasn't because of the cold.

"Let's begin," Eragon announced, eager to leave the subject of ghosts and wraiths for another time, where the sight of the once known tower called Edoc'sil was nowhere near the trio.

Eragon strode forward, the snow crunching under his boots. He didn't stop until he was a couple lengths as long as a dragon or so away from Ristvak'baen, he ran his palm that was forever marked with the Gedwëy Ignasia against the dark stone that made up Utgard.

Eragon slowly closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration, with great experience of doing this countless times Eragon felt the fire hidden deep within him, the fuel that made magic possible. He grasped at the energy which has once been beyond his reach like tendrils of smoke and with it held.

"Deloi moi!"

Immediately he felt the as though a channel had been created, between him and the frozen and immovable mountainside. It was like a dam had been destroyed and all of the magical energy that was stored inside him came pouring out like a flood of swirling energies.

The dark grey rock seemed to ripple, reminding Eragon idly of how the crimson blade of Zar'roc had rippled like water when Saphira had touched it with her snout. Slowly but surely the hardened rock seemed to collapse upon itself, a large circle easily larger than Saphira's grand form slowly appeared amidst the stone and snow. The rock continued to slowly form a perfectly circular tunnel, Eragon wiped a small bead of sweat from his forehead as his store of energy was burning up faster than dry grass against Saphira's fiery breath.

Allow me to help, little one. Saphira's strong voice said as their connection was fully formed, the strength of a near full grown dragoness rushed through the bond between Rider and dragon, nearly dwarfing the stores of energy Eragon had stored from within his body.

The stone continued to collapse upon itself, yet no fragment or even a piece of dust appeared from the structure, it was as though the disappearing rock was never there in the first place.

"Machtig deloi stenr du fell, ser moi kan gata," Arya sang to the mountain, her voice would have made any bard, both elven or human, jealous of her honeyed and tinkling tone. Her own energy sparking to life and combined with Eragon and Saphira's energies. Dark forest green meeting with mesmerizing blue. The tunnel got longer, until shadows reached into the smoothed entrance so that without their enhanced eyesight they wouldn't have been able to see.

Eragon felt rather than saw as the tunnel slowly snaked its way downwards, as though a giant snake or worm had snaked its way through the hardened stone as easily as fresh soil. He could faintly recognize the magical signatures of Ronan and Bjartkoü as their combined magical energies formed their own tunnel, their signature was the color of endless white against the darkness of the world, easily recognizable. Eragon could see the faint various colors of the Eldunarí that were with the other two, he recognized Uznov's stormy grey and Draken's vibrant green easily though they weren't as bright as the living dragon and Rider.

He slowly wrapped his consciousness over the pommel of Undbitr, the stored energy was like a raging ocean and finally glad to be unleashed as he opened it up to their combined connection.

He felt everything at that moment, from every small flaw on the stone that made up Utgard to the tiniest worm digging its own trail in the softer patches of earth, he felt it all. He had never felt more connected to nature than he had then, even the many times spent meditating outside of Oromis's hut couldn't compare to the feeling of being a connected to a mountain. It was like a silent sentinel, a monstrous rock structure that held life that he doubted he would have been able to see even with his enhanced eyesight. He could feel it all, everything.

He didn't know how the time passed, for all he knew it could have been going as fast as an man stuck in morasses and desperately trying to get out, or decades could have flown by them. But he knew it deep within him when they hit the middle, the very heart, of the mountain that was Utgard.

It was then Eragon could feel every vibration, from either a tumbling pebble or the footsteps of an ant. He could feel it all.

Eragon fell to the ground completely out of breath, his face had a visible sheen of sweat to it as he finished doing the impossible, he had tunneled into a mountain without the aid of tools, merely with magic and energy. And judging by the setting sun they had been there the entire afternoon.

Funny how time flies when your tunneling into the very heart of a mountain that could compete in size with one of the smaller mountains that made up the Beor Mountains.

"W-We did it," Eragon finally said as he continued to gasp for breath, all of the energy he had stored within himself and half of Unbitr had been burned to do the impossible task. "We just tunneled straight into the very heart of Utgard in a whole afternoon."

"It took the dwarves years to hollow out Farthen Dür, several months to get to the heart of the mountain," Arya said with a small grin directed at the beaming Rider. "Orik won't be happy when he finds out a single human and an elf beat their record."

Eragon couldn't help but laugh at that, "No, I don't think he will!" He chortled thinking of how red in the face Orik would get and would probably moan about 'stupid humans and elves thinking they could beat the dwarves in anything to do about mining', "In their defense Farthen Dûr's a bit bigger than Utgard."

Arya gave him a faint smile, obviously amused, she then stood at the foot of the monstrous tunnel entrance, her pale hand sliding against the smooth stone that seemed to gleam in the sunlight, it felt as though it was but polished rock, the edges and flaws made for naught under the power that was magic and those who could wield the power.

Eragon then gave his two companions, one who was half of his heart and soul and one who held the other half, and beckoned them forward with a wave of his hand. "Well, what are we waiting for? Our home is yet to be complete," he spoke jovially, hope and pride burning in his dark brown eyes. For so long he had been weary of his already turbulent life becoming even more conflicted, always made aware of the threat of both Empire and Varden, of the Mad King and the idiotic King of Surda, one who wished to enslave him with shackles that could never be broken and the other wishing for his death.

Eragon would have preferred death than the fate that his older brother was cursed to carry, though he'd gladly take Orrin and his band of merry fools down with him.

Now as he looked down upon their creation birthed from the strongest of magic and earth, he felt peace. Perhaps because of the fact that not even a hundred miles to the north was Carvahall. His home. Even though it was nothing but soot and ash and broken buildings, it was where he had been born and raised. Even though Carvahall no longer lived on, its people still survived like they had done for countless generations. The village may be nothing more than ghostly memories, always set in the past and never in the future nor even the present, the memories were what made Carvahall his home, and the home of his family and comrades.

This mountain was his home now. With the eleven armies amassing up north and conquering the northern parts of the Empire. Ceunon having already fallen, and from what Eragon had heard thorough the rumors of the people, utterly destroyed by the fair warriors and magicians who had descended upon the Empire like a firestorm against dry kinder, Galbatorix had more than enough worries of being boxed in by both the Varden and the elven armies boxing the Empire, what significance was one lone mountain hidden amongst the haunted forest where he had lost half his men?

Eragon stopped his thoughts from wondering as he slowly descended the tunnel, adjusting his pace as the tunnel got steadily steeper in descent, Arya fell into step besides him while Saphira crawled behind them, her wings close to her back in order to not scratch the tender and important scaly flesh against the rock.

"Brisingr," Eragon muttered softly, the sound echoing slightly in the spacious tunnel. Immediately flames sparked to life at his fingertips, the fire a great magnificent blue against the darkness, the azul flames licked at his fingertips but they did not burn.

Eragon lifted the palm that held the flickering blue flames high, no shadows were visible due to the smoothed tunnel where there were no obstruction nor ridges, the shadows of Eragon, Arya, and Saphira came to life, their dark figures flickering in the blue light, making their forms appear rather stretched out against the darkened stone.

The only sounds that came from the three were the soft barely noticeable footsteps of Arya, so soft it was as though she were a hunter tracking a stag, barely a sound came from her despite her wearing some of her chainmail armor. Eragon's footsteps were much more audible and apparent, the occasional jostle of his chainmail becoming apparent as he did not have the same grace as Arya, who even amongst the fair elves was a princess amongst them. Saphira's booming footsteps seemed to echo around the tunnel like a thunderstorm, her sharp claws clicking and clacking against the hardened stone.

It was only when Eragon paused, as did the others, did they realize they had finished their slow descent into the heart of the mountain, their obstruction being the end of the tunnel, just pure rock and other hardened minerals that stood before them.

Eragon half expected to hear the heartbeat of a giant booming through the rock, making the whole structure shudder with each heartbeat, but instead he only heard silence. Pure and utter silence. Eragon closed his eyes in concentration, his consciousness searching for his pupils and those long dead who taught them everything he never had time to learn. He found them easily, being so deep into the mountain meant much less life, or at least larger life that held more energy and thus larger magical signatures. If he focused hard enough he could see and feel the small glimpses of the glinting life blood embedded into the mountain, barely noticeable to the unassuming mind but if one were to know where to look, it humbled Eragon somewhat to know that even a mile or so down in frozen rock, life still existed in a place so dark and desolate.

Eragon and the others backed up as the side of the tunnel to their left suddenly shuddered and wavered, as though it was merely a mirage made up by the delusional and dehydrated mind that had been stuck in the Hadarac Desert. Slowly but surely the rock retreated itself into the sides, the rock forming a hole just like theirs that slowly enlarged. A head poked in from the hole, looking at the trio, his palm alight with fire the most purest of white, masking his face in soft shadows. Behind him the large gleaming golden eye of Bjartkoü glowed in the darkness.

"Glad to see we caught up to you," Ronan stated as he slowly edged forward towards his mentors and Arya, he wiped his sweaty brow the end of tunic as he looked at the trio, his hazel eyes burning in both excitement and pride.

Pride because he proved himself capable of doing what his mentor and an elf who had been practicing with magic since before his father was born was able to do, not as good obviously. But it still please him to know how much he was improving, had Eragon never discovered him to be a Rider he probably still wouldn't have even known of the Ancient Language nor magic itself.

"Glad to see you made it, Ronan." Eragon greeted his student with a raised him –not the one alight with magical fire- before locking gazes with Bjartkoü. He raised a single brow, "Was there any trouble?"

None that couldn't be fixed, Bjartkoü's deep voice rumbled inside Eragon's head, his thoughts also projected to the minds and consciousness of both Saphira and Arya. We may be tired in the morning, but I'm sure we all agree that it was well worth it, Eragon-elda.

"I'm glad to hear that," Eragon said with a small smile, "And I'm sure a couple days of rest after this day of toil is over would be just. I'm sure you and Saphira can hunt without fear of unneeded eyes, as long as you stick to the Spine." Eragon turned nostalgic, "There are many large mammals in the Spine," the Rider winced as he remembered one of his hunting trips that turned sour quite fast. "The bears are quite large and deadly as well."

Saphira rumbled in pleasure at the prospect of the hunt. To a human perhaps, but not to a dragon. Especially when there are two of us on the hunt.

Eragon chuckled, knowing that Saphira's boast was well founded and very true. He pitied the animals who found themselves in the predator gazes of a dragon. "Shall we begin?" He asked where every nodded their heads in agreement, Saphira and Bjartkoü trying to not bump their heads against the stone.

Eragon closed his eyes in concentration, holding to his leftover stores of energy with an iron grip, the energy trapped under his grasp, with a slow inhale of breath Eragon readied himself for the spell that was to come, the hardest and most complicated of spells that would make this unhallowed mountain the exact opposite, hallow.

Together the human, the half human elf hybrid, and elf spoke strong and swift, their voices mixing with one another's with startling accuracy, their voice bounced off of the caves adding in to the mystical effect. They then spoke the spell, the three spoke of rock moving and shifting, of it expanding and hallowing, of ores long rooted in its rocky prison to disappear, of rock to simply disappear within itself. Had anyone else been there not familiar with the Ancient Language their heads would have spun at the fast paced spell casters, their hearts pumping as some hidden instinctive sense told them of power well above their knowledge was unleashed upon the land, forever changing and shifting it to the musings of mortals and immortals alike.

A few words were common in the long spell, "Deloi. Ethgri. Fell. Fram. Moi. Stenr. Thrysta."

As they spoke and channeled every piece of energy they had left within their bodies, Saphira and Bjartkoü channeling their great strength to that of their Riders, the Eldunarí pouring countless decades of compressed energy into the two Riders as though life depended on it. Slowly but surely the entire surrounding stone shifted and wavering, the stone started to expand and move away from the group of intelligent beings that made up three of the five great races of Alagaesia.

Eragon knew not how long they stood there, with the spell that seemed nearly endless being spoken through their lips, their hands raised upwards as they continued to feed the burning fire that was the spell with their life force. A bead of sweat trickled down Eragon's brow and unto the ground, Ronan's cheeks were reddened as he continued to feed his energy to the all consuming fire, even Arya looked somewhat exhausted as her brilliant jade eyes dulled ever so slightly.

The wall of surrounding earth continued to move backwards upon itself, expanding and expanding until the sight of the wall went past their vision, impossible to see in the darkness. The only way they knew were the walls continued to expand and move forward was because of their spell. The only sounds audible was the faint sound of stone shifting and moving, and the soft quickened breath of the three magicians who had never before done such a large or expansive spell in their lives, not ever Arya could claim to hallow out a mountain, nor could she think of any notable elven magicians who could claim the same.

And then the three magicians and the dragons felt it, the shifting rock beating against the thick outer layer of the mountain. They could tell that the small bubble of nothing had reached where they wanted it, where the ceiling was still half a mile or so thick, with only the two tunnels connecting them to the outside world. Immediately the three spoke another spell, a spell that halted the magical energy that fueled the moving rock and mineral, commanding it to stop. After several minutes of chanting they felt the moving solid come to a grinding halt, having been stopped near the thick crust of Utgard.

The trio of spell casters fought the urge to let their legs and knees give way, instead opting to fall upon their hands and knees as they struggled to claim breath. Even Saphira and Bjartkoü's heads drooped to the ground, their nostrils flaring as they greedily sucked in air as though they were about to suffocate. Neither of the few remaining dragons had ever used so much energy, they found it near impossible to even lift their wings, much less stand up and walk around.

"Did we…" Ronan suddenly hacked a violent stream of coughs, exhaustion set on his face clear as day. "Did we do it?" He asked weakly after the fits subsided enough for him to draw breath and speak what was on everyone's minds.

Eragon slowly nodded his drooping head, a small smile gracing his haggard face, "Aye. We did it."

Ronan groaned as he fell unto his back, his arms and legs splayed out before him eagle-spread. His broad chest heaving for air, his cheeks of dark and reddened vermillion slowly disappearing back into tanned flesh. His eyelids were drooping ever so slightly, his gaze glazy as though he had just awoken from a deep slumber. His exhausted features were the same upon Eragon's face, though Arya was only slightly red in the cheeks.

"Can we not do that again, Eragon-elda? I don't think my energy or lungs could take another mountain. Mayhap we can just stick to a small hill next time please?" The newest addition to the Riders pleaded to the elder Rider.

Had Eragon had the energy to laugh or at least chuckle he would have, understanding the young boy's perspective on their latest project, something that he agreed wholeheartedly. Hallowing out a mountain had taken all of the energy stored within Undbitr and his own stores in both body and Beloth the Wise. He could scarcely feel the faint magical signatures of Unzov, Drakan, or the other Eldunarí. Their normally energy stores which had once appeared to be blazing and vibrant suns had been reduced to a mere bonfire with light flickers of dull colors, the fact that they still had enough energy to still burn with the power only a dragon could hope to hold was not lost to Eragon. No wonder Galbatorix was so powerful, if he and his friends with their small assortment of Eldunarí could hollow out a mountain, it sent shivers and chills down Eragon's spine at the mere thought of the hundreds of Eldunarí that was in the possession of the Mad King was capable of, it was rather unnerving and unsettling to the young Rider.

"Are we all alive, nobody a dried up husk from magical depletion?" Ronan asked as he looked around, counting the different heads with a slightly dazed look, as though he had drunken from one of the rather toxic cacti in the Hadarac Desert that sent hallucinations to the mind. Once he counted the heads and saw that nobody had perished at the rather taxing spell that had just taken place, he laid his head back against the dark and cold mountain rock, opting to get in some well deserved rest after losing so much of his energy to create their home.

"We should rest," Arya said softly, soft barely noticeable bags had appeared under her vibrant eyes that clashed against her snow white skin. Even to her, an elf, the spell had been one of the most taxing and energy consuming in her hundred years of life. The only thing that could compare to that was when she had sent Saphira's egg across the world to the Spine, where it appeared before Eragon, where it all started.

Eragon had already slowly sat against the cold stone, he leaned back against Saphira's scaly hind leg, her large wing covering him up like a blanket while her body heat warmed his cooling body with ease. He noticed Ronan doing the same, Bjartkoü's stark white wing seemed to glow in the darkness. He gestured to Arya to sit next to him, he saw her hesitance at sleeping so close to him and scooted further down so not to create discomfort. He had just gotten her back, there was no need to make a complete fool of himself and possibly ruin their friendship, again.

Arya slid down Saphira's hind leg, even when sitting down her actions and grace reminded Eragon of something feline and exotic, something alienish but still beautiful. As the weight of his eyelids grew to the weight of several full grown dragons, Eragon slowly drifted off into sleep.

A small soft smile graced his lips as he listened to the booming heartbeat of Saphira and her breathing, acting like the soothing lullabies his aunt had used to sing to him and Roran when they had been young. He glanced to his right and saw Ronan already asleep and snoring the night away, Bjartkoü 's tail shifting in his sleep peacefully. He focused on Arya the last.

Eragon had never truly seen her asleep, as he did not count the time she had been forced to stay asleep to slow down the poison that burned into her veins made by the Shade Durza to count. She looked younger, despite her immortal appearance. Years of worry, conflict and above all, grief, seemed to wash away as she slept. A small barely noticeable content smile quirked her perfect lips, making them open slightly as she breathed softly.

Eragon had never thought her to be more beautiful than at that moment, despite himself he scooted closer and brushed away a stray lock of her raven dark hair that rested against her pale cheek. "Stydia mor'ranrer, Arya Dröttingu."

Eragon leaned his head against Saphira's warm hind leg, as he closed his eyes he couldn't help but smile contently. For the first time in what must been years –it certainly felt that way to Eragon- he felt content. But more of all he felt one thing more…

He felt safe.

Ancient Language

Ristvak'baen – Place of Sorrow

Deloi moi – Earth change.

Machtig deloi stenr du fell, ser moi kan gata – Mighty stone of the mountain, move to form a path.

Brakkla – Eeduce

Brisingr – Fire

Ethgri – Invoke

Fell – Mountain

Fram – Forward

Stenr – Stone

Thrysta – Thrust, compress

Stydia mor'ranrer, Arya Dröttingu – Rest peacefully, Princess Arya.

I felt like this chapter was a bit of trouble to write. Before people go off saying that Utgard in the books cant possibly be that big enough to house an army and still be that big for dragons to somewhat fly around in… Have you realized what site you're on? For my story Utgard is around the size of the smallest mountain in the Beor Mountains, for the sake of the plot it's pretty damn big.

Sorry for those wishing for a bit of action, seeing as this was just a stepping stone for the story to progress I just had to show how their base was made, call me a perfectionist but I always have to make sure I've done everything to the last detail. I liked writing chapter with action, but I also see the reason to explain things and help make my story more real to you guys, the readers. I already know what's going on and what's going to happen (I'm the writer) and I want you guys to get it too. I did leave a good ol' Arya/Eragon moment there at the end though, what do ya think of that? Again sorry for the lack of action but I personally hate it when there is a dramatic change of setting and the author never really tells us, they're like "oh yeah we're now in a giant hollow lobster shell under water with sea snakes protecting us' and we didn't know that till now.