Disclaimer: I own nothing, Jon Snow.

Okay, this chapter has been finished for at least three days or so, but the storm (that apparently made it to international news if you believe tabloids) pretty much killed our electricity these past few days. Okay, it fluctuated in the morning and only worked properly at night.

Anyway, on with the show!

Chapter 44: The Beginning of a Metamorphosis

The next few weeks were a blur. Aesyr and Vanir learned everything that they could from Brom, while Ash and Serylda assisted whenever they were not busy with their senior pupils. Oromis sometimes even joined them to explain some important Rider lore that they had to remember. Vanir struggled to stay civil, though he always acted like he was smelling something vile and unpleasant when he talked to her.

The dragons departed together, as always, and Aesyr was still amazed by the speed of her partner's growth. Within four weeks, the small dragon grew so explosively that his shoulder was already level with his Rider's elbow. Despite still being smaller than the others, he was quite formidable in his own way already.

Aesyr was still uncomfortable with the strange link that formed and strengthened between her mind and her dragon's, but she used it to learn more about the dragon's lessons, and also to share what she knew – though she was not sure how much he really understood.

Some nights she spent with the company of the Riders, more often than not her brothers and their cousin. They roamed the forest city and introduced her to some interesting elves, like the blunt blacksmith Rhunon and the odd but very nice lady, Niduen. If Arya were to believe, Niduen and Faolin were in love. Or something similar.

Excitement seemed to hang in the air whenever the Riders and their dragons were in sight. Arya once explained that it was because of some celebration that was held once every century to remember the pact between dragons and Riders.

The city bustled with activity day and night as the elves began to prepare for this Agaeti Blodhren. They decorated the entire forest with vivid buntings and colorful flameless lanterns. A massive tree that Eragon called the Menoa was adorned with lanterns on every branch, like multicolored, glowing teardrops of a god long forgotten. Flowers bloomed on every plant, probably aided by elf magic. Hundreds of elves began to flood in Ellesmera from various other cities scattered around Du Weldenvarden, many of them coming to meet the dragons and the Riders.

A week before the celebration, Oromis met all eight dragon and Rider pairs, reminding them to think of what creation they must bring to the celebration, warning them against products of spells and advising to create something with their own hands. Even the younger dragons seemed to understand what their teacher meant.

That night, Aesyr set to work in her new home. She wasn't so sure that she was as skilled with words as Eragon, or an eye for art like Murtagh. She couldn't even sing, much less compose a song. But she remembered her foster father teaching her how to whittle a flute, and when she chanced across an exceptionally large fallen branch in the clearing, she decided to take it to her home.

She was already done with the rough product when her dragon padded up to her, charcoal-gray eyes staring up at his Rider. Aesyr, he said softly.

The young Rider's eyes widened. Her hand reached out to touch her dragon. "You can now speak," she said in wonder.

I do not.

"What do you mean, you do not?" Aesyr crossed her arms. "I've heard some interesting names from Brom, like Umaroth, or Eridor, or Vanilor…"

No.

"What do you mean, no? We're going to get you a good name before this night is over, even if I have to drag you all the way to Tialdari Hall and face Brom! So tell me! Are you Valdr? Cuaroc? Fundor? Enurfala?

Those names are not… good.

"Will you please shut up? I am thinking here."

But it is my name.

"So now you have a sense of humor?" Aesyr brandished her flute irritably. "What about Belgabad? He was big and black… or how about Raugmar? Like Raugmar the Black?"

Aesyr…

"What?"

I am Sardonis. I thought maybe you would like to know.

"Sardonis. It sounds… fitting," Aesyr said slowly.

Sardonis' eyes glittered in amusement. Very well, Aesyr. Go back to your work. I shall just watch and observe as we always did. Apparently meaning what he said, he curled up beside his Rider, eyes half-closed.

For the fifteenth time that day, Vanir reviewed the poem he wrote for the Agaeti Blodhren. It was difficult to compose a piece as long and intricate as the one he wrote, and he was quite proud of his work. He doubted that the other Riders – aside from Arya Drottning, he must admit – could do something half as good to present for the celebration.

You put too much trust on yourself, a high, clear voice said in his head.

Alarmed, he looked around for the source of his voice. He was so sure that he protected his mind all the time. "Where are you?" he yelled, preparing to hurl bolts of fire. "Show yourself!"

His dragon padded toward him, a knowing look in her eyes. Not just proud, but also a fool. Sometimes you make me wonder why I even chose you, but I believe in your potential.

Vanir's eyes widened, realizing what just happened. Yes, he was a fool. A powerful and special one, but still a fool. You can finally speak in my mind, he said in wonder. Master Brom said that you may want to choose a suitable name. Without pausing to let his dragon speak, he began to speak of dragon names that he heard in elf songs and stories.

His dragon dismissed them all boredly. No, I do not think that those are suitable.

Then what do you think is?

Diamanda, the dragon said smugly. I think that sounds about right.

Vanir pondered for a moment, uncomfortable that his dragon chose a name similar to a gemstone, like Eragon's Saphira. It was fitting, though. It is suitable, I suppose.

Of course it is. A dragon would never dare choose a name that does not fit him or her. Diamanda watched him smugly. And like I said before, my Rider, you should not think yourself above your seniors. The other dragons have been more than kind to me and have taught me everything they knew. You know nothing.

Vanir glared at her. "Know nothing?"

Diamanda closed her eyes, curling up right beside her Rider. You will learn, she said idly. You wil learn.

Arya and a grudging Vanir casted the nine wards carefully woven around the human Riders and even Orik to prevent them from being swept away by the currents of magic during the Agaeti Blodhren. Sufficiently prepared, they headed to the Menoa tree, joining a host of elves that arrived before them all in their best garb. Faolin motioned for them to join him as Queen Islanzadi stood atop a raised root at the base of the massive Menoa tree. She seemed to glow in anticipation, and even the odd white Bladgen did not spoil it. Maud lurked nearby, casting knowing glances toward the Riders' group. The elder Riders were also there, garbed in their best clothing, and Niduen soon arrived to join Faolin. There were many familiar faces, such as Lifaen and Nari, the elves who met them when they first arrived in Du Weldenvarden.

A disgruntled Rhunon joined the Riders a few minutes later, greeting them quickly and grumbling about pushy elf princes. Then, she spotted Orik and began to address him in Dwarvish. A pleased Orik responded, obviously excited to meet someone knowledgeable about his race.

"What did she say?" Eragon asked curiously.

Orik grinned, a look of awe in his eyes. "She actually invited me to visit her and view her work. She wants to discuss metal working. "Brother, she learned her craft from Futhark himself, one of the most legendary grimstborithn to grace Durgrimst Ingeitum! I would give anything – anything! – to have met him."

"That is amazing," Murtagh said in agreement. "Meeting legends would be something, right?"

As midnight struck, Islanzadi raised her bare left arm, like a marble spear pointing to the new moon. A soft white orb formed on her palm, forming from the light emitted by the lanterns dotting the Menoa tree's multitude of branches. She headed to the tree, treading the branch carefully until she placed the pulsing orb on a hollow in the back.

"It is begun," Arya said with a breathless laugh, grabbing Eragon's hand. "It will end only when the werelight expends itself."

The elves headed for different informal camps all around the forest and clearing that surrounded the Menoa tree. They laid out tables laden high with amazing dishes that looked unusual not just because the cooks were good, but because of magic.

Before Eragon could point a fish-shaped piece of bread that seemed to splash around in an odd sauce to Murtagh, the elves began to sing in their beautiful voices, singing many songs that were part of a greater melody, weaving magic in the air, heightening senses, removing inhibitions, and making the revelry burn brighter with theirmagic.

A warm embrace enveloped Eragon, feeling a wild abandon take hold of him. He just wanted to let go of everything and dance through the forest forever and beyond. The dragons' eyes were glazed, humming along with the tune.

Eragon seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, unable to remember most of what happened yet those that he did seemed unusually sharp and too defined. He could not even remember in which order anything ocurred, and could not even note if it was day or night. It seemed to always be dusk. He could not even recall whether he slept or bathed or ate during the celebration, though he remembered the faint taste of mushrooms on his tongue.

He recalled dancing with a lovely elf-maid, not someone that he knew. She had cherry lips and dark hair. They spun in circles around the glade until they let go of each other and Eragon found Arya in his arms instead.

Singing elves were perched on the massive branches of the Menoa tree, strumming golden harps idly and shouting riddles to the elder dragons below. They pointed their fingers to the sky every now and then, creating a burst of colorful embers taking various shapes.

He remembered sitting side-by-side with Murtagh, Aesyr, and Roran, propped up against their dragons. They watched a swaying elf maid sing a lovely song. He remembered poems, songs, dances. Arya, Vanir, and Faolin read their own poems, but he thought Arya's was the best. Islanzadi also read her own, which was lovely in its own way.

Wondrous creations were presented by elves, things he thought impossible before even with the aid of magic. Puzzles, toys, arts, weapons, odd contraptions that he did not fully understand were presented one by one… an enchanted glass ball where a different flower bloomed every few seconds… a white lily enchanted to recreate the sounds of the elements in Du Weldenvarden… Rhunon's unique armor… a tiered puzzle pyramid by Orik… He recalled Brom presenting a pipe whose smoke changed colors and took fantastical shapes.

Eragon even remembered Ash pulling him aside to try clearing his mind.

Katrina moved through the celebration in a haze. Creatures strange and dark semeed to lurk around – mostly animals altered by the magic lingering in the air of Du Weldenvarden, drawn to the Agaeti Blodhren and its similar magic. Most were just eyes in the periphery, but there was a she-wolf that took the form of a white-robed woman that lurked nearby, dagger-sized teeth bared in a feral smile.

Not all of the odd creatures were animals. Some were elves that changed their forms permanently to achieve some function or to meet their own ideal of beauty. There was an elf covered in fine white fur, running around often on all fours. He resembled a cat, and his arms hung to his knees. She even saw two identical elf-women approach the dragons and utter the traditional greeting. Their fingers were joined by translucent webbing and three rows of gills peeked from the sides of their slender necks. Their skin seemed to glisten with oil.

There was even an elf covered in scales like a dragon, though of course not as beautiful. He even had a line of spikes down his back, and faint flames flickered in his nostrils. Luneria seemed offended by him and considered stomping on him.

She remembered Eragon crying out once or twice though she was too busy joining in the revelry to really notice what transpired…

She remembered standing in front of the elves, singing the song she composed with a bit of help from Nasuada and Arya. The elves seemed mesmerized, watching her with attentive eyes and praising her for her lovely voice and the unique, meaningful composition she had created – a story of how four Riders rose from a village in a secluded land.

There was Roran's creation too – a marble carving of dragons encircling the Menoa tree. The dragons were enchanted to take the colors of the eleven dragons currently residing in Ellesmera. He muttered something about needing help and using a bit of magic, but that was ignored by the praises of the elves.

Then there was Eragon's dark piece about a man traveling in a strange land – a land of shadows – where he must slay a fearsome foe, the joys that followed, and finally passing into the void. He seemed tired and sad when he read it, but Brom nodded in approval.

There was Murtagh's colorful fairth of the sky lit up by dragonfire, and the eight young Riders assembled beneath a starry glade. It was a s big as half one side of the walls of a decent-sized house, everything rendered in amazing detail and quality.

Nasuada also presented a lovely tale of love, adventure and disappointment, an allegory of the Riders' adventures and their struggles with elves who belittled them because of their race. A lot of the younger elves looked horrified, but the older elves absolutely loved it.

Lastly among the humans, Aesyr presented a row of eight interconnected bracelets made of woven metallic threads that seemed to shift and dance in the lights.

The elves praised their work and Queen Islanzadi offered to put them all in the great library and display rooms of Tialdari Hall for anyone who wished to view them once more, and also read the songs, stories, and poems wrought by the younger Riders.

The six senior dragons presented an odd piece together, stunning everyone since it was the first time that something of the sort happened. They presented a massive black stone that seemed to have been melted and molted into intricate curves, like massive, frozen waves. As one, the dragons opened their mouths and breathed fire upon the stone. Flames of differing colors danced on the hollows and recesses of the rock as its thin edges glowed red. The rock seemed to move and dance in the flickering light.

The elves cheered and applauded them.

More presentations passed her awareness in a dim blur, and before she knew it, Arya pulled them aside. "The werelight is dimming. We just have a few hours left to us."

Katrina groaned visibly. "Just when I was enjoying it…"

They all gathered around the Menoa tree, and Islanzadi stood on a rooth as large as a pathway. "As is our custom, and as per the agreement at the end of The Dragon War by Queen Tarmunora, the first Eragon, and the wite dragon whose name cannot be uttered in any language, when they bound the fates of our races together, we are here to honor the blood-oath with song, dance, and the fruits of our labor." She paused, a sad look in her eyes. "The last this celebration occurred, so many years ago, our situation was so dire and desperate. Thanks to our efforts, and those of the dwarves' and the Varden's, our situation has improved greatly, though Alagaesia is still oppressed by the Wyrdfell and we must live with our shame of how we have failed the dragons."

A hush fell upon the congregation. Elves began to murmur sadly to each other, eyeing the dragons in the clearing. "Of the Riders of eld," Islanzadi continued, "Only three remain with their dragons, and one, Brom, outlived his partner. However, new hope has been granted to us in the form of eight promising new Riders and their dragons, and it is only fitting that they should be here now as we reaffirm our oath between our races three."

As if by a secret signal, the elves cleared a big space around the base of the Menoa tree. They staked a ring of glowing, jewel-bright lanterns on carved poles. Musicians brought out their flutes, harps, and drums before assembling themselves along the ridge of a long root. Arya motioned for the Riders to follow her, and an excited Vanir emerged from the crowd. They took their places beside Brom and their other teachers. The dragons stood behind them like mounds of gems.

Oromis regarded the young Riders solemnly. "You must all watch this carefully. It is an important part of your heritage as Riders."

A pair of elf-maids headed to the center of the cleared space as all elves finally settled down. They were so beautiful that they made Katrina green with envy, and were identical in every respect aside from their hair. One's hair was as black as an empty night sky, while the other one was so silver, it shone like the moon.

"Those are the Caretakers," Ash said. "Iduna and Neya."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Murtagh asked with a frown.

The half-elf's lips twitched in an excited grin. "You will see."

The white raven, Bladgen, ruffled its feathers from Islanzadi's shoulder. "Wyrda!" he cried out.

The two elves moved in unison, unclasping their brooches and letting their white robes fall away, revealing their naked bodies. A vivid tatoo of a dragon wrapped around them, its tail beginning on Iduna's left ankle, wrapping up her body, continuing across Neya's back and ending with its head on her scale was inked in a different color and hue, like a vivid rainbow.

The elf-maids wrapped their hands and arms together, standing close to each other and making the dragon appear like a seamless work of art. They each lifted a bare foot and moved forward with a soft thump. On the third step, the musicians began to play, one instrument striking up the rhythm with every step, until all drums, harps, and flutes combined to form a throbbing melody. Iduna and Neya began to gather speed as they began to dance. They flowed so gracefully that they seemed to become a background to a rainbow dragon brought to life. They spun around the cleared space, and the dragon seemed to rise and fly in endless circles.

The twins began to sing – a spell that sounded so timeless and ethereal, its meaning was lost to the air. The elves began to join in the incantation, singing as one. Katrina did not know the words, but she found herself joining, along with her friends. It was like the magic being woven imbued them with the knowledge of what to do. The dragons hummed behind them, though Diamanda and Sardonis sounded more like they were squeaking.

As the speed began to pick up, Iduna and Neya seemed more like a blur, their hair fanning behind them as sweat began to glisten on their skin. They reached a terrifyingly inhuman speed, and the music turned into a breathless frenzy of phrases in the ancient language. Light seemed to dance on the spinning dragon tatoo, and the painted creature seemed to stir. Katrina blinked, wondering if she was hallucinating from exhaustion. She glanced at the others, who were staring at the blinking dragon with wide eyes.

The tatoo raised his wings and clenched his talons.

A rainbow flame flew from the dragon's mouth, and he pulled himself free from the elve's skin with a powerful thrust of his wings. He fluttered into the air, the tip of its tail staying with the twins below like a glowing link. It pointed its head to the moon and roared – a feral roar that seemed to contain the thousands of years in the dragons' history. Satisfied, it turned to survey the elves and Riders.

It wasn't just an apparition. It was not just a trick of magic. It was a leaving, breathing creature sustained by magic. The dragons' humming and squeaks seemed to resonate, drowning out all sounds as the spectral dragon flew low, brushing all elves with its ethereal wing. It came to a stop before the Riders, its eyes changing colors every split human Riders raised their hands, their gedwey ignasia tingling.

Our gift, so you may all do what you must, a voice of fire uttered in Katrina's mind.

One by one, the dragon touched the heart of their gedwey ignasia, sparks jumping between them. Katrina couldn't tear her eyes from the creature before her. The dragon touched her after Nasuada, and she went rigid. Burning, bright heat surged through her body, consuming her and searing all thought.

Our gift to you, the fiery voice whsipered.

Everything went black.

Agaeti Blodhren and new and improved not-so-human Riders. We all know the drill. But what's in store next chapter? *grins*

Okay, I changed my mind due to an awesome reviewer. Eragon's going to be a Professor X-like guy. And barrier piercing skills? Hell yes. Oh, and Aesyr will be an empath, I think.

If you look closely, the Starry Glade chapter is the next big thing here, but what do you guys think will happen? Will Arya still dump Eragon? Or will something else come up? Hurr hurr.

Hope you guys like the little dragons' names! XD Sardonis' name took dozens of revisions.

The Forsworn smashing chapters are coming closer, and our Riders are going to meet Morzan soon. What revelations are in store for Selena's brood?

Stay tuned, folks!

Read and review, as always!