When Hal awoke, she vaguely registered that it was barely light out, unsure if something had woken her. She had not dreamt in some time, so she doubted it was that. Contentedness maybe? Or perhaps just eagerness.

Pulling the sheet with her to keep her nakedness covered, she rolled over to press herself against Murtagh's back. She could not help but smile at the all too pleasant ache that still sat between her legs. Last night had been a whirlwind of pleasure. After catching their breaths, they had come together twice more, each time with more urgency than the last. The slow, tension-building manner in which they had started out with had quickly been cast aside, hunger and greed replacing it. They had kept their minds melded together almost the entire time, and it had been euphoric. After finally learning and sharing her True Name, Hal felt impossibly closer to Murtagh than she would've thought possible.

The noise of the forest having calmed down tremendously since this time yesterday morning, Hal rose gingerly to her feet, slowly stretching out her muscles as she pulled on her robe. For the first time in what felt like months, she felt alert and present. Perhaps more clear-headed, like a fog she hadn't even realized she'd been sitting in had been lifted. She grabbed a few small pieces of fruit from the full bowl on the far table, munching quietly as she moved to the other side of the bed. She studied Murtagh's face for a moment, the usual lines between his brows smoothed with content. He wore such peace well, and Hal felt her heart stir at the sight. She wanted to preserve this moment, last night, forever. She never wanted to forget how she felt in this moment, the peace and happiness she thought she had lost time and time again. The look in his eyes as she revealed her name to him. She shivered at the memory of it alone.

Then she had an idea.

Hal padded over to her bag, carefully removing her sketchbook and the charcoal she had kept from Carvahall. She quietly moved one of the wooden chairs, settling down at a spot by the bed that gave her a proper view of Murtagh's face, her eyes able to take in his features even in the weak lighting of early dawn. His lips, still swollen from all their kissing, were slightly parted with each easy breath. Strands of his dark brown hair had fallen into his closed eyes. His arms were tucked under his pillow. For a moment, she was torn between letting him sleep so that she could attempt to sketch him, or waking him up so that she could look into his soulful and searching grey eyes, hear the sleep in his voice as he looked at her and told her good morning.

She turned instead to a clean page, her gaze shifting slightly to look not just at the beauty of his form and face, but at the curves and shapes that made it so. The sharp angle of his nose, the bows of his lips, the cuts of his cheeks and jaw. And, like almost every sketch, her first few attempts were horrendous. She always found that her sketches of people had felt hollow in comparison to the real thing, even if the technical skill and look of it were there.

But Hal felt determined to get this right. Or at least to try. Soon she had a nice pace going, starting with his eyes (which were a tad easier since they were closed) then his sharp nose and full mouth. As his face came together in front of her, Hal felt her movements become second nature, her hand moving on its own with familiarity as she scratched her coal across the page. Her eyes would glance up at him every so often, the curve of a smile on her lips as she just watched him sleep, her sketch momentarily forgotten. And then she would drop her gaze and continue.

She was just about done when Murtagh finally began to stir. Hal worked quickly, feeling her face begin to burn as Murtagh groaned with exhaustion, turning his head away to look for her on his other side, only to realize she wasn't there. As he registered the sound of her chalk he turned back around, looking adorable as he raised his head, opening his eyes and blinking in confusion.

"Hal?"

"Hmm."

His head fell back down on the pillow as he rubbed his eyes. "How long have you been awake, my love?"

Was she mad to wish she could bottle his morning voice? Her memory never did it justice. "A few hours," she admitted. "I figured I would let you rest after last night."

He chuckled. "Have you at least eaten?"

"I had some fruit to hold me over."

Hearing her distracted responses, Murtagh grabbed her knee. "Wait, are you sketching?"

"Mmhmm."

This seemed to awaken him because he shot up in surprise, his eyes wide. "Really? What did you decide to draw? May I see it?"

Hal stared at her piece, eyes darting between the two different Murtagh's, one now waiting with a hopeful and expectant gaze. How could she ever say no to that face?

"It's not…the subject matter was a little different than what I'm used to," she hedged, suddenly feeling very shy as she passed him the book.

"I've yet to see you unable to master anything you put your mind to —"

He glanced down at her sketch and fell quiet. Hal shifted nervously, her fingers picking at her robe as she watched him for some kind of reaction. His silence dragged on, her nerves getting worse as she tried to gauge what he was thinking or feeling.

"I saw you and couldn't help myself," she told him, her voice barely above a whisper.

At this, his eyes looked up and found hers. He cautiously set the book aside and grabbed her wrist, pulling her out of her seat and back into bed. Hal began to laugh, but the kiss was quick to cut her off, one hand gently caressing the sides of her neck. His lips moved against hers with precision, his teeth occasionally biting down on her lips to tease her.

She felt the shift as subtle as air changing directions. How quickly their desire spilled to the forefront of their emotions as if last night hadn't happened at all. As if it had been months, years even. The intensity of it all would have been frightening if it wasn't so damn arousing. Love and lust so carefully woven together.

Murtagh broke the kiss to turn her over and ease Hal onto her stomach. His movements were slow enough to give her time to react, to say no if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

Standing behind her, Hal went ahead and propped herself up as well. Murtagh gripped her waist and pulled her back into him with aggressive force. Heat unlike anything she had felt before enthralled her, the space between her legs throbbing at the thought of being taken from behind. It was how the animals did it. She had seen it all her life and had grown to think very little of it. It was simply nature. This, however, was more. The eager way his hands pushed up her robe and dug into her hips, her backside pressed against his cock. Heavens, she thought she would come just with anticipation. It felt wild, perhaps because it was how beasts did it. And the thought that they were so desperate for each other in this manner…it was so far from polite and Hal was thrilled.

His lips pressed down on the small curve of her neck, his hand sliding lazily down her back until his fingers slipped between her legs. Hal gasped, her hips rolling as he set a slow pace for her to follow, his fingers pressing down on her opening — still somewhat slick from before — with enough pressure to make her head spin, but not enough to come too fast. But she didn't want his fingers. She wanted him.

"Murtagh," she gasped, feeling embarrassed even by her own blatant desperation. There was something raw and commanding in his touch that riled her up more than she would've expected. The way he firmly pressed the pads of his fingers against her, using her own wetness to trace a path between her lower lips and her clitoris. "Murtagh!"

Her orgasm was abrupt as she came against his hand moaning. His fingers moved even faster then and she swore and was hit by another wave of pleasure. He didn't even give her a second to recover before he pressed his hips against hers and Hal hissed at the mounting heat between his legs, the feel of his sex pressing against hers before, somewhat roughly, he finally gave her what she wanted. She couldn't get enough of this. Feeling this…connection that ran so deep between them. To make it real each time they joined at the hips, cementing their bond. To know this belonged to her and her alone. She felt possessive in that moment. Mentally marking him as hers. He was hers. This was hers.

Her head fell forward, her eyes closed and her breathing hoarse, the sound of his hips hitting her cheeks burning in her ears. At this angle, she felt like she was taking on more of him. Hal reached for the wall for support, her arms already heavy and her legs already shaking. But fuck if she didn't feel good. His fingers gripped her so tightly she almost wondered if she might bruise. She bit her lip, hiding a smile at the thought. Usually they were always so careful, almost too aware and afraid of doing anything that might hurt the other. But the thought of their sex leaving evidence on her body thrilled her. There was nothing sweet or appropriate about what they were doing right now, and she took more pleasure from it than she imagined possible.

"Halen," he breathed. She shuddered at the way her name fell off his tongue. Like she was driving him mad despite him being the one in control. "Halen," he said again. He deftly twisted his hips and she let out a cry of pleasure. His breathing was hitched, as was hers, but again he managed to say just her name, and the sound alone made her want to come.

Her body felt heavier like this, her arms shaking as she tried to keep herself from putting all her weight on them. And yet the pleasure racing through her felt heightened. Her toes curled as a familiar burn began to descend between her legs, her stomach tightening in anticipation.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, suddenly.

And without stopping to think, she did exactly as he said. Her hand dove between her legs, finding her clitoris, still slick and sensitive from his ministration moments ago. She cried out as her own touch, her body reacting by squeezing around Murtagh's cock tighter, tense.

"Harder," she gasped. "Fuck, harder, please."

Gripping her hips, Murtagh put one foot up on the bed, his hold on Hal keeping them together. But he had stopped, even if for a split second, and she felt her growing release temper off just a bit.

"You ass," Hal hissed out between her teeth.

Murtagh chuckled, clearly not very sorry for her distress. He was soon moving his hips once more, and they both let out a low groan as the burn quickly returned. He began to pick up the pace just like she wanted. Hal's body felt heavy with the thrill of it, her heart racing like she was running. "Yes!" she cried out, her legs beginning to shake. "Yes, oh gods, yes! I'm gonna come. Please, Murtagh. Please." She was so close. So close, she felt as though she might burst. She said his name again and again and again, begging him for her release.

And the sound of her voice crying out to him, echoing around them, did her in. Murtagh's continued thrust made it feel like one long climax, hitting her in earth-shattering wave after wave. Her breath was swept up in the rush that rendered her speechless, but Murtagh didn't stop, knowing better by now. And as Hal slipped into quiet contentedness, Murtagh roared at the intensity of his own orgasm, and Hal found herself smiling as his grip on her tightened with something akin to feral desperation, like she was the only thing keeping him present even if her very body had been his undoing.

She lowered herself back onto the bed, Murtagh falling on top of her. Knowing he would move if he thought she couldn't handle his weight, Hal wrapped an arm around his neck to keep him to her. She liked the feel of his chest against her back, a thin sheen of sweat on him. He kissed her jaw and cheek before she turned her head so that he could kiss her lips.

When they finally caught their breaths, Hal asked, "Was my drawing really that good?"

Murtagh grinned at her. "My ego certainly seems to think so. Although…"

"Although, what?"

He brushed her hair back from her face, his smile small yet powerful as he gazed at her. "I don't mean to say this to put pressure on you or anything. But it also made me happy to see you sketching again. I know you commented before on how you feared that you were a different person now than you were in the past. And I stand by my comment that I think there's nothing wrong with that. But sketching, your boundless curiosity, your sweeping intelligence — those facets of you are ones that I think are more central to who you are because they make you happy. I never want you to lose what makes you happy. Hobbies, passions, whatever you may call them, you would not be Halen without them."

He was impeccably close, his fingers still stroking her hair and cheeks as he spoke. His cadence was soft, and yet he spoke so assuredly. Just as he had when he commented on how she hadn't worn her hair up. Combined with the gruff in his voice she adored so much and the newfound thrill she felt at their expanded intimacy…well…

"Heavens, rider, you're going to be the absolute death of me."

His expression actually shifted in genuine confusion — the fool still had no idea the effect he had on her at any given moment. But that was fine, truly. Because Hal would certainly take pleasure in showing him. She lunged forward and kissed him, quick to push him on his back as she moved to straddle his hips. She wanted the satisfaction of pleasuring him, biting and sucking on his neck, his chest, driven by this beast called lust and the sound of Murtagh panting in anticipating, trying to keep up with her seemingly boundless energy.

"Was my commentary really that good?" he asked teasingly, his fingers already in her hair as she neared his hips.

She grinned, glancing up at him as she began to stroke his burgeoning erection with painstakingly slow strokes. "My ego certainly seems to think so." She bit down on her lip, patient as she worked him over carefully with her hand. "Have I ever told you that you're mine, rider."

He swallowed thickly, his eyes hard as he watched her. "No, I don't think you have."

She grinned possessively. "Well now you know. And I want to make sure you never forget it." Then she lowered her head and preoccupied her mouth with something other than talk.

By the time they were both satiated, they were a tangled mess of arms and legs sprawled out on the floor, too tired to even move to get onto the bed. Hal's eyes were half-closed, her mind drifting in and out. Behind her lids swam visions of his touch. He had left an imprint of himself all over her, especially between her legs where she was blissfully sore. Her fingers absentmindedly ran across her lips, the taste of him still on her tongue. She laughed quietly to herself.

"What's so funny?"

He sounded exhausted and Hal turned over on her side, propping her head up in her hand. "Did you know it could be that good? Like, I knew it could be good. Don't get me wrong, it was good. But heavens, rider, last night? This morning? I didn't think it could be that good."

He bared his teeth as he laughed. "I admit, no. And my standards were already pretty high. But it's even more amazing when it's not just me finishing anymore."

"Normally, I would say, no, don't worry about it. But I would be lying." He burst out laughing and Hal joined him. "I'm serious, Murtagh! You laugh, but you've ruined me. At one point I swear I forgot everything I knew about myself."

"Was that when I…" He mimed a crude gesture with his hands.

Hal shook her head. "No, but I did like that —"

"Noted."

"No, it was when you did that thing with your tongue, but like…" She gestured to a part of her body, her face heating up as she did so and his eyes widened knowingly.

"Oh, that."

She nodded. "Yes, that. Definitely feel free to do that again."

"I'll add it to my list." He rolled towards her, laying his arm out so that Hal could rest her head on it. "Anything else you'd like me to keep in mind?"

She scooted even closer, pretending to think. "Well, there is just one more thing you could do for me."

"Anything," he responded in a breathy voice, leaning in even closer.

She didn't meet his eyes at first, gazing at his chest as her fingers caressed the familiar scars. It had been a while since she felt shy. Vulnerable even. At least like this, anyway. "Tell me you're mine." She looked up at him as she said this, expectant.

"I'm yours, iet dunei."

She smiled. "Now…tell me I'm yours."

His face was close now, his gaze boring into hers, the truth of each statement he said absolute. "You're mine."

She had to turn away for a second, hiding her delighted smile behind her hand. At one point in her life, she would have blanched at the very idea of belonging to a man. But Murtagh wasn't just anyone, and he hadn't been for far too long now. She turned back. "Say it again."

"You're mine."

"Again."

Their lips were breadths apart now, Hal's vision made up of nothing but him. His nose nudged hers with affection, heat rolling off of him with his body practically on top of hers. Then, in a low voice, practically a hiss, he uttered: "Mine."

She kissed him hard, Murtagh happy to reciprocate in turn. However, before they could decide if they would dare risk another round, a familiar presence interrupted, Thorn huffing with annoyance as he said, I hate to break up this darling union so early in the morning, but Irindriel has been patiently standing outside with your breakfast for half-an-hour. So please, I am begging you both, take a break so he can leave me alone!

…

"I don't think I ever properly responded to you," Murtagh said suddenly, lowering the cup of tea he cradled in his hands back to the table where they ate their late breakfast.

Hal, famished from earlier and last night, had a mouthful of fruit that she struggled to chew over, and a small chunk of fresh baked bread in hand as she spread a rich jam over it. Hiding her mouth behind her arm so as not to appear rude, she asked, "Responded to what?"

"Your true name. I admit I was so caught off guard that I didn't tell you what I wanted in that moment."

She swallowed, then grinned teasingly. "Come now, rider. I think it's safe to say that actions spoke louder than words in this instance."

To her surprise, however, he shook his head, and she realized how serious he was. She ran her tongue along her gums and teeth, capturing the excess bits of food as she shifted in her seat. Putting down her bread, she nodded to him to show that she was listening. He took a deep breath.

"First and foremost, you have a good name, iet dunei. A strong name that I will always protect and cherish. It was important to tell you as much properly." She gave him an encouraging smile, knowing this but not wanting to interrupt him. He smiled in return, emboldened by her response so far. "I know it might seem obvious, but last night meant more to me than I could fully explain. It was one thing for me to be in a position of sharing my name with you, but to receive your name in turn is an act I will never take for granted. I will never take you for granted. And I will continue to earn your love and your trust."

Hal leaned forward, reaching for his hand and slipping her fingers through his. "I do not doubt you at all. I love you, Murtagh."

His shoulders dropped, completely disarmed by her words. "I love you too, Halen." She couldn't quite explain it, but as they pulled apart, smiles on their faces, she felt like something had finally and properly settled into place. Perhaps it was mere appreciation, but something told her it also had to do with the fact that not only did she learn her true name — even if it was completely unexpected and on accident — but that she was able to share it with him in turn. It did not slip her mind how much he had given her in their fledgling marriage that she had not been able to reciprocate in kind. And while she knew it was not a competition, she did not want to feel too unbalanced either.

"How do you feel?" Murtagh asked, catching her thoughtful expression.

"It was as you said. Telling you my name was much easier than I would have expected. But I'm happy I could tell you. Things feel more complete this way. Although, now I realize I don't actually know how to find my name on my own. I want to be able to tell you if it changes. But how do you know when it does?"

"I admit I don't know how often they do change. Only that it happens in more extreme conditions. Like I had one name that Galbatorix used to enslave me, which changed because of my then-feelings for Nasuada. It changed again because of my relationship with you and the Tenari as well. It's not so much that you just know, but based on what has happened to you, one can more or less assume."

She thought quietly for a moment about what he was saying. She was positive Denu's death would've changed her name. In fact, the entire ordeal on Uden culminating in his murder had been like a shock to her system. She could confidently say that the Hal she had been before had practically ceased to exist after that. But would her name have changed because of things like her marriage to Murtagh, or did it simply add to it?

"I'm very curious about the nature of names now," she admitted. "But I'm sure they are hard to study since they vary for almost every single individual in Alagaësia."

"I would think so."

At this, another thought struck her. "Would the True Name of the ancient language change if we manage to restore it?"

Murtagh opened his mouth, then closed it almost immediately as a look of wonder crossed his face. "I never considered it, but that's possible." He seemed to slump in his seat. "We would likely have to find the name of the language all over again if so."

"But if Thea didn't get rid of magic to land beyond Alagaësia, would that mean two systems of magic would exist?"

Murtagh rubbed his temples. "I admit…I hadn't thought of that either."

Hal shot him an apologetic smile. "I guess I hadn't really considered the ramifications until now. Like what of the country itself? Is it still Alagaësia if the language that named it no longer exists? If names truly hold power, do True Names like ours even exist anymore?"

"I had started to forget why I struggled in philosophical debates with you."

She raised her brows in a taunting manner before taking a bite of the bread in her hand. It was still warm and she let her eyes roll in exaggerated delight. She had never had a meal without meat, but she was grateful that elven food more than compensated for this.

"But you, as always, ask good questions," Murtagh continued, watching her with amusement. "Perhaps we can ask Arya what she thinks. It would certainly be smart of us to prepare for the worst-case scenario in advance."

"And what, pray tell, is the worst-case scenario in all of this?

He gave a deep sigh, looking almost conflicted as he sat back in his seat. "This is just my opinion, and it's impossible to know for sure, but I'd rather we have no magic system in Alagaësia at all than two warring ones. It would mean all new rules to learn and understand, not to mention that dragon riders would be training in one system, and then coming back to a country and having to protect and enforce in another. And that's just if we assume that their magic wouldn't still hold up if they came here."

Hal could feel the pressure building, crossing her legs nervously. "There's certainly a lot to brace ourselves for."

"Nothing is certain," Murtagh reminded her. "We honestly don't have enough evidence to prove that this is the future we face. Don't forget, we could still very much get magic back. If we find Thea, she may be able to tell us how."

Hal, however, was already shaking her head. "She was too steadfast in her belief that what she did was the right thing. I do not know what her motivation was, but she is beyond negotiations. And she is beyond saving."

She said this last part quietly, and Murtagh's expression dropped in sympathy. "Hal —"

"It's okay," she interrupted with a sad smile. "I'm okay, too. Part of me always knew it would come to this. Perhaps, before Ilirea, I had held on to a small hope that Thea could be saved. That her misfortune could be reversed. I do not want to perpetuate this cycle of violence that has haunted my people. But Thea made her choice, and now so must I. I don't like it but…if anyone should do it, it will be me at the end of the day. She is still Sani. She is still my little sister. It's only right that I end this. That is what my mother told me when they were forced into my body after all. I can't say I didn't know."

"You do not have to hide how you really feel from me," Murtagh reminded her gently. "No one would be happy to stand in your shoes. You can acknowledge Thea's crimes and still mourn the girl she once was. But you are not perpetuating violence by stopping Thea. Thea's motivation in the context of what Galbatorix and his soldiers did to your people might feel understandable, but you remain proof that she could have lived differently. She still made choices. And as you said, you must now make yours."

Hal felt unsettled. Perhaps even a little frightened. It was slowly dawning on her that this could actually be it. If their hunch was, indeed, right and they found Thea up north…this extended nightmare could finally end. She could put her sister to rest, avenge Denu and the many Tenari and Xani people who had been killed. Avenge the people of Ilirea. And yet…

"Do you think Eragon felt like this when he realized he was close to defeating Galbatorix?" she asked.

"Felt like what?"

"This…empty. All Thea's done, and yet I can't find any satisfaction in what I must do. We always hear stories about good versus evil, and there's always such joy when the villain is defeated. When good triumphs again in the end. But I do not feel that. Her defeat will not bring back the people she killed. It will not erase the horrors I have witnessed in the past year. I know I should be happy, at least relieved. Instead, I just feel tired."

"I don't think you are wrong for feeling that way. And I can't say for certain, but I think Eragon felt as you did. The weight you both carry is not a burden for the weak. I think to idolize such a journey is a disservice to the hardships you and he faced. But neither of you are in this alone. You know I would not leave your side for anything. We will finish this, my love. When we are done, you can finally rest."

Such a simple phrase, yet the weight and hope it carried was heavy. "Yes. I would like that very much."

Murtagh rose to his feet, walking to stand beside her chair. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder and Hal let her head fall onto his stomach. She breathed him in, burying her face in his warmth. It felt sad, these conversations of late where they spoke only of wanting an uneventful life. Hal had always craved something, even if she didn't know what it was. Perhaps an adventure. Perhaps just a change of scenery every once in a while. She had been whittled down slowly over the last few months. She did not know if she would ever fully feel like herself again. But the time to rest and reclaim her energy and peace would not hurt the process, she was sure.

Hal closed her eyes and let out a whine of protest. "Ah, and I was having such a good morning too. Why did I have to go and ruin it with such serious talk."

Murtagh chuckled. "You clearly have a lot on your mind."

"Doesn't mean I can't learn to shut up every once and a while. Why did you let me carry on with such a depressing topic of conversation? This is your fault."

"My fault?"

"Yes, your fault. Before I met you, I was actually capable of keeping such feelings and concerns to myself. And then you had to come along and make me open up to you. So yes, rider, this is your fault."

"And I accept full responsibility." He kissed the top of her head. "Are you going to be all right by yourself for a bit while I'm with Thorn."

Hal waved her hand dismissively, not wanting to give him further cause to worry. "Aye, rider, I'll be fine. I might go for a walk though, just to get out and see the city more."

"Fair enough. If you don't mind though —"

"I do not intend to leave the city limits so I will let Baldor and Albriech rest." She looked up at him and shot him an assured smile. "Promise."

He smiled back, leaning down to kiss her chastely on the lips. "Thank you, iet dunei."

Indeed, not long after Murtagh and Thorn departed did Hal decide to make good on her rather spur-of-the-moment idea and take a walk on her own, wanting to spend some time alone with her thoughts. Much like when the elf had appeared unexpectedly in Carvahall, their conversation had reminded Hal of why they were here. She had been swept up in the, admittedly distracting, last two days since arriving. But something in her gut told her that they were about to make their final stand, and it felt surreal to think that after everything that had happened, it could soon all be over. A few months ago, she could not imagine that this was what her life would have become. Yet now, she could not imagine herself going back to something as normal and mundane as a life on Illium, despite how badly she wanted it. Maybe for a little while, like Murtagh had said. To rest and be with her people again. To be with her husband before he got pulled away for work.

But then what?

As she walked, no obvious destination in mind, she would notice that a few elves out and about, tending to their usual duties or hobbies. Although there was still much sadness in their movements, it seemed to lift slightly as Hal walked past. Hal could tell everyone's memories of yesterday were fresh because the elves they passed stopped to observe her with curious glances. When she remembered what Murtagh had taught her and touched her lips in shy greeting, they seemed to glow with happiness before returning the gesture in kind.

Every so often, she would nervously approach an elf mid-craft, and they embraced her quiet curiosity with open arms, letting her watch or ask questions. Admittedly, she felt slightly more emboldened when they would wave her over rather than making her be the first to make a move. She was sure she would have just watched from afar otherwise. But she was grateful for the opportunity nonetheless, and her curiosity was enflamed by their generosity.

She never stayed in one place too long, mindful of their time and not wanting to intrude. Plus, she was driven by wanting to see as much as she could, their time in the city unclear until they received word from Nasuada. She crossed over bridges made from the roots of nearby trees, sturdy and well-kept. The air smelled of the deep, rich loam surrounding her as she inhaled, awash with calm as her thoughts moved from Thea to deep appreciation for the forest around her.

As she continued to walk, she saw the afternoon light sparkling up ahead. She followed it, delighted to find a small stream. The trees grew around it, following its snake-like pattern so that she could see more of the bright sky above. Just beyond them was a rather stout elf who had his back to her. He was seated on a bit of rock protruding from the ground. His hair was white and she noticed that he, like her, had scars covering his hands. Although these looked much older, and he had much more than she did. It was rather surprising, as almost no elf appeared to have such physical attributes. There was a beautiful yet unworldly perfection about their features, including little to no sign of ever suffering from such injuries.

"Hello," she greeted politely, raising her fingers to her mouth once more.

The man looked up, clearly startled since not having paid his surroundings any attention; a testament to how the elves lived here so deep within the forest. "Dammit all. You gave me a fright. You think you get used to the suddenness of elves after living amongst them for six years." He eyed her closely, his brows furrowed as he looked her over briefly. "Although, you are not an elf. Nor have I seen you before."

Something about his face and words made Hal glance up towards his ears, the tops of which were as round as hers. "Nor are you," she commented, equally surprised. She didn't think any humans lived in Du Weldenvarden, let alone Ellesméra "I'm passing through. I'm a guest of her majesty. I only arrived a couple of days ago."

"Ah, yes, yes, yes. I heard something about that. You are with the Dragon Rider, correct?"

"I am."

"Well then, let me be the first human to welcome you to the city. How are you liking it so far?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Hal sat down on the ground beside him, taking his question for invitation. She felt less hesitation around him than she did the allusive elves "I'm just here exploring a bit more. To take it all in."

"Where are you from?"

"Illium, one of the coastal islands off the mainland."

"Then you are very far from home. What brings you all the way here?"

She glanced out, past the stream and towards the open valley beyond. "It's a rather long story, I'm afraid. Murtagh — the dragon rider and my husband — we're here on official business for her majesty, Nasuada. We're also taking a bit of a break while we can." She looked back at the man. "You said you've only been here six years. Where was home for you originally?"

The man waved his hand. "A small, insignificant place. I doubt you would know it. It is called Carvahall —"

"Carvahall!" Hal rounded on him in surprise. "I do know it, actually! We actually stopped there first to visit family — Murtagh's mother was from there, you see, and we'd never been. We stayed with his cousin, Roran Garrowsson while we were there. Actually, two men have accompanied us here as well. Albriech and Baldor Horstsson. Do you know them?"

The man didn't respond. Not at first. His eyes were closed, like he was struggling with something. Slowly, he opened his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I know them. You said they are with you?"

She could hear it in his voice, see it in his face: the regret. The bitter regret that haunted him. And Hal knew better than to pry. "Just the brothers."

"Do they know I'm here?"

Hal swallowed nervously. "Uh…not that I'm aware of. They haven't mentioned anything to me at least."

"If I may ask of you, although I know we only just met…please, do not speak of my existence here. It is for the best."

Hal found herself nodding, almost unable to reject the man's request when something about his sudden demeanor made her so sad. "Yes, of course. I'll not say a word."

"Thank you."

Fearing perhaps she had somehow meddled in something she should not have, she pressed on like nothing unusual had happened and politely changed the subject. "May I ask what you are doing out here?"

"I like to come here to think," he offered. "Sometimes I think about nothing. Sometimes I think about everything. Sometimes I think about what I would like to have for dinner."

Hal chuckled at that. "A man of great, philosophical wisdom," she teased. He cracked a small smile. But it did not reach his eyes. In fact, there were no wrinkles around them, as if he barely smiled or laughed at all. Or, at least, had not done so in a long time. "What do you hope to accomplish, thinking so much?"

"Peace of mind," he said, freely offering his truth to her yet again. "I did things I was not proud of before I was exiled here. And for a while, I raged against the notion I had done anything wrong. I refused to believe I had not acted as any sensible man would have to defend what was his." He sighed. "And now I have nothing, and no one to blame for that but myself. These days are better than the ones before, though."

She was momentarily stunned. Exiled? "So then…have you found your peace of mind?"

He was quiet a moment. "No. And I do not think I ever will. You see, my peace of mind is far from me now. Safe and loved, where she belongs. After what I did, that is how it should be. So, I supposed you could say I have found acceptance. Acceptance of my fate, my role, and my choices that shaped it. Being sent here was more than I deserved. But it has done wonders for me."

Hal listened with rapt attention, staring at the water as it moved, flowing towards some river, into perhaps a lake or an ocean. His words reminded her greatly of Selena. But also of herself, in a twisted way. "How do you find acceptance for things you have done but cannot change? Especially if they were at the expense of someone else, regardless of intent."

The man looked at her then, his eyes searching her face. "It takes times. But until you can confront your truth as I did mine, you will never find what you are looking for. The elves are very good with introspection. Of sitting quietly with just your thoughts to keep you company. Perhaps it would work for you."

Hal remembered Blödhgarm teaching her as much in her lessons. How to connect with herself and the world around her. Admittedly, she had not done as much since she was turned. And she probably needed the meditation now more than she did then.

"I have to go soon. But until then, do you mind if I sit with you and try it?"

"I admit I can't remember the last time I had such company. But I suppose it would not hurt. Very well, you may join me."

"Thank you…" she trailed off, realizing she did not know his name.

"Sloan," he finished, holding out his hand. "Sloan Aldensson."

She took it, shaking it firmly. "Halen Morzansson. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sloan."

…

All right, Thorn, we are far from any prying ears. What was so important that we could not talk in the city?

Murtagh was removing his saddle from Thorn's back as he relayed his thoughts. They were high up on the mountain where Thorn had dropped them, the cold having already pierced Murtagh's coat during the flight over. Flexing his gloved fingers to get the blood moving, he then crossed his arms over his chest, walking to where he could look Thorn in the eyes as the dragon glanced over at him.

Before I say what I must, I need to know that you are in the right state of mind to hear me, young one. What I wish to discuss will…it will not be a lighthearted conversation.

Murtagh frowned, his heart tripping over its own beat in a flutter of panic. Trying to ease the tension, he forced a chuckle. Come now, Thorn. I know Hal and I have been rather preoccupied, but we truly have not forgotten you.

Thorn snapped at him, cutting his attempt at humor short abruptly. However, after a few moments passed, Thorn's voice was calm again when he spoke next. I do not say this out of alarm or to cause panic. I do not even know if my theory is founded on truth or simply paranoid guesswork. But I need you to listen to me because this matter is urgent all the same.

Murtagh couldn't find it in him to speak. Because he knew, without knowing, what — or who — would leave Thorn in such distress.

It is Halen…I do not fully know how to explain it. All I know is that had I not created the bond between us, I would not feel what I do. Ever since the encounter with the Menoa Tree, Hal's mind has felt fragmented. Like a cracked glass. It is minor, hardly even noticeable to the untrained eye. I don't even think Hal is aware. But it is there, Murtagh. And I am frightened.

Frightened? Of what, exactly?

Thorn sighed. Of her capacity to withhold all that is being thrust upon her. Physically, I mean.

She is strong —

Yes, but she is still human. And what she has endured would be too much for anyone. The souls in her body were bad enough. Hundreds, Murtagh. I think it is only because of their efforts, as Hal described it to us, to protect her that she woke up as coherent as she did. However, something has changed in her mind now. It is too loud. Too full. Her magic is pushing against her body and her mind with enormous threat. And I'm afraid…I'm afraid of what will happen if it gets out. Yes, she is strong, but to me, humans are still soft. Something like this could tear her body apart from the inside out if we do not act fast.

Murtagh had to step back, dropping to sit down on a nearby boulder before he tripped over his own two feet. And you say Hal does not know?

I do not think so, no. Even to you, has she not seemed relatively the same?

She has. But then, why —?

It is like I said: a small, subtle crack. But a crack all the same. I was thinking…when the tree entered Hal's mind, it seemed to connect Hal to the innate part of her magic. The proper magic of her ancestors. But the souls in her body are also part of the lineage.

You think the Menoa Tree did the same thing to all the souls within Hal as well?

I do. It seems far-fetched to say it aloud, but then again, none of this is exactly precedented. Hal's magic is described as magic in its most natural state. Raw and untamable. And yet we have trapped it all within a singular vessel. A human vessel.

Murtagh finally understood what Thorn was saying. For a moment, he felt utterly lightheaded.

If I'm right, I think there's still time, Thorn said gently.

"To do what?!" Murtagh snapped, blinking back tears he chose to believe were the cause of the sharp wind that had just blown into his face. "What more could we possibly have to deal with? As if circumstances at the moment weren't bad enough. Now you're telling me that Hal could very well…combust from the inside out? What in the bloody fuck am I supposed to do with that information, Thorn? Huh?! What do you expect me to do?"

Thorn didn't say anything, his head dropping as Murtagh's anguish echoed across their bond. The rider dropped to his knees, unsure of when he had even gotten to his feet. His breathing was strained as he fought the growing wave of panic rising in his throat.

He could not help his rage. Could not help but wish that Thorn had kept his information to himself, even if it was just for a little while longer. Murtagh covered his eyes with his hand, fighting back sobs. "It's too much, Thorn," he panted. "It's all too much."

I'm sorry, young one.

Murtagh mentally kicked himself. Thorn's guilt was palpable, and Murtagh's emotions had neglected to consider how the dragon must also be feeling. No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you.

Thorn nudged Murtagh's cheek with his nose. It's all right. I understand.

It's not all right, but thank you. Murtagh sniffed. You say that otherwise she seems fine?

Aye. Like I said, I truly do not think she has noticed. And we may still have time to counter these effects. We may not even notice any changes in Hal for years, decades even. However, I fear they will be more severe when they do begin to show, and I want to buy her as much time as possible.

Murtagh nodded. We have to tell, Halen. I don't want to frighten her but…it's her body. I can't leave her ignorant when it is she who will ultimately be impacted.

At this, Thorn took a deep breath. I know. I simply wanted to tell you first.

Thank you, Thorn. For telling me, of course. But also, for watching over Halen.

You will live a long life, my rider. I intend to be there for every moment. But for the moments I cannot be, Hal is the only person I trust to stay by your side.

Murtagh nodded, palming Thorn's jaw with affection. Hal's life, her very existence, since Thea turned her into a Shade felt tenuous. It felt like Death itself was toying with them, the thread keeping Hal alive growing thinner, more frayed with the passage of time. For so long, Hal had felt that something like her shouldn't exist. Perhaps…perhaps, this was nature's way of saying she was right. He wondered if being a Shade had been almost an imitation of what Hal had been capable of magically. The Menoa Tree had somehow unlocked the real thing. Thorn's theory would then make sense that Hal's body would begin to strain under the pressure of such powerful magic. He thought of how reactive she had seemed immediately afterwards: sensitive to all light, sounds, and touches. Was that just the beginning?

Our travels to the north may prove helpful in providing us with more information, Thorn offered. Like I said, we still have time.

That trip has not yet been approved though.

If you thought for a second there would be something in our findings that would save her, you and I both know you would not listen to reason, let alone orders.

Murtagh snorted, but he did not outright deny that Thorn had a point.

Besides, Nasuada would have to be mad to deny this. It is the best lead we've had since Hal realized that all of Alagaësia may not have been impacted.

Yes, but she's still in a tight spot of trying to maintain order in this country and plan an offensive. I would not like it, but if she denied us, I would understand why.

But then we would still go north anyway, right?

Thorn's question was so genuine that Murtagh actually laughed. Are you actively trying to get us arrested for going against orders? We are on thin ice already with Nasuada. She might actually behead me herself if I screw up again.

None of your "transgressions" were screw-ups. They were done in the protection of someone you love. You and I knew how they viewed Shades. Soldiers even under Galbatorix were ordered to kill them on sight if they were not under his command. That fear has not abetted. No, under normal circumstances, we may not have chosen to lie to Nasuada as directly as we did. However, these are not normal circumstances. We would be careless to place Hal's life in the hands of others before they earn our trust.

Yes, you're right. That was a poor choice of words.

It's quite all right. No one exactly knows you for being articulate.

Murtagh stared at him, indignation washing over him. What's that supposed to mean?

We should head back.

Don't change the subject: what did you mean by that?

Best not keep Hal waiting, young one.

Irritated and frigid, Murtagh returned Thorn's saddle to his back before climbing up. As they passed the scenery underneath, a herd of deer caught Murtagh's eye and he asked, Have you been able to eat all right while we've been here?

Aye. Fírnen has taken great care to show me the best places to hunt that are away from elven cities.

Murtagh nodded, his stomach pinching a bit at the thought of warm meat. He was eating well enough, but nothing could replace the longing for the searing lamb they'd had back in Ilirea, or even the fragrant beef in Carvahall. Or, what he really craved, was Hal's seasoned boar meat from back home. He couldn't remember the last time it had even come up, but he missed her cooking dearly.

Thorn brought him to the top of their accommodations, and Murtagh slid down smoothly as the dragon folded his wings in, just able to fit in the space. As he once again began the process of removing the saddle, Hal appeared from around the corner, carefully brushing out knots in her hair. She had changed while they had been away, dressed in a tunic and trousers that had to have been elven-made and provided, as Murtagh had not seen the material before today.

"Oh good, you're back," she began without any other greeting. "I have to tell you something, although you have to promise not to say anything to Baldor and Albriech. I promised not to tell them, but obviously said nothing about not telling you. But I met this man today in the woods. A human man, not an elf. And if you can believe it, he's from Carvahall. He didn't say much, but he had the most fascinating story…"

Murtagh grinned as he listened to her speak. He studied her carefully, his eyes looking for any sign of what Thorn had mentioned. But no, it was as the dragon had said: she seemed perfectly normal. At least by Hal's standards, anyway. Right now, she even looked happy. Animated. He shook his head, not wanting to miss what she was saying.

Tomorrow. They'll tell her tomorrow. For now, they would let her be.