She sighed, slumping in her chair. "Milady," her handmaiden said with amusement, "that was the last of them." Nasuada chuckled tiredly. "Thank you, Farica," she said. The woman bowed before exiting, leaving her alone. Not alone, she thought, reaching up her sleeve. The cold blade comforted her, although in reality dangers lying out of it's reach were more common.

Suddenly an alien presence brushed against her mind. No… it wasn't alien. She recognized it, and hurried onto the balcony, heedless of danger. "Saphira!" she said with surprise. The dragon huffed, balanced precariously on her thankfully very sturdy balcony. Nasuada, she heard. "But I… Why are you here?" the woman said, still shocked. Only a mere seven months ago Eragon had left.

The dragon bowed her head. It was not to be, came the words, along with a vast feeling of sorrow that nearly had Nasuada in tears. "Where's Eragon?" she asked tentatively. "What happened? Why did you need to return?" The dragon turned her head to gaze at Nasuada. Her next words were full of grief. Eragon is… gone. Nasuada's eyes widened.

Gone? she questioned. She reverted to mental conversation, for fear of who might be watching, listening. Saphira bowed her head. Nasuada's eyes widened. But why - how? she asked, her mind reeling. She had never heard of such a thing happening to a Rider.

Saphira bared her teeth, her gaze boring into Nasuada's. I cannot say. I must speak to Arya - but remember, though you are a huntress, others yet hunt you. The dragon launched herself into the sky, leaving Nasuada to stare after Saphira. Then she gathered herself.

"Farica! Jörmundur!" she called.

I gasped, leaning down to rest my hands on my knees. The dragon had given up, flying off into the distance. I hadn't relaxed until I could no longer see or sense it. "What was that?" I wondered aloud. I stood too quickly and winced. The run had torn some wounds I hadn't been aware of until then, stinging fiercely. Slowly I exhaled, concentrating, trying to heal myself.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt wary of this power - but if I was injured, I could not run or fight well. So I breathed, letting energy knit my skin, bolster my bruises. It left me exhausted, but the relief was sweet as I stood once more, trying to get my bearings. The sky was latticed with branches and leaves, but enough was visible that I could see clouds.

"What are you doing here? I looked all over for you, you know! What happened to the Eldunarí? And the dragon eggs are missing!" I turned to see a boy - a man - a person stepping out of the brush. Another dragon followed him, this one covered in red scales. He scowled at me. "Eragon? Hello?" I smiled helplessly. "I'm sorry," I apologized, holding my hands to him, palms up.

I intended to apologize because I didn't know who he was or what he was talking about, but his gaze locked on my hands. He grabbed my right hand roughly, pulling it to him. "What happened to you?" he demanded. I noticed a silvery mark on his left hand.

Slowly I pulled away, tilting my head. Dropping my smile, I repeated, "I'm sorry… What are you talking about?" He stared at me now. "Eragon," he said firmly, "what do you mean?" I didn't reply, my mind whirling in circles. Eragon. He kept calling me Eragon. Was that my name? I wanted to ask him, but couldn't, still unsure of who the person was. "Nothing," I lied.

His eyes hardened, proving he knew I was lying, but I backed away anyway. Then the person glanced at his dragon, his expression growing bewildered. His eyes returned to me, now worried as he asked, "Eragon. Do you know who I am? Who this is?" Assuming he was referring to himself and the dragon, I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I apologized again.

"Stop apologising," he reprimanded me. "Where's Saphira?" The name didn't ring a bell, although for some reason I thought of the blue dragon I had run from. In response, I remained silent. The person sighed. His worry was now replaced by frustration and fear, the fluctuations of emotion shifting. It was like an ocean - rising and falling with every ripple.

"I'm Murtagh," he introduced himself to me. "And this is Thorn." He gestured to the red dragon behind him. I nodded, and he exhaled. "Okay," he said softly to himself. Then he spoke to me. "Will you come with me?" Slowly I shook my head. His posture went rigid. His mouth formed sounds, but they echoed in my head, making it hurt. Wincing, I stepped back.

Even when he stopped speaking, the noise didn't. With every echo they grew louder until it felt as if my mind would burst. I felt that shattering sensation as I screamed from the pain. Energy left me in a flash, exhausting me to the point where my knees buckled. Slowly the agony faded, leaving me on my hands and knees in the dirt. Slowly, I lifted my head, looking up.

It was as if there had been an explosion - maybe there had been. Trees leaned away from me, roots torn out of the ground. Black scorch marks streaked away from my feet, coating everything in my vision. My breathing was ragged in the sudden silence.

I looked towards Murtagh and Thorn. To my surprise, the dragon had flown high in the air while Murtagh remained on the ground. The scorch marks curved evenly around him as he stood, untouched in the carnage. But his eyes were horrified.

Without a word, the dragon swooped down, taking the boy away.