"What will you tell the others when they realize we're gone?"

Hal didn't quite meet Baldor's gaze when she answered, nervously studying the wall he and his brother would soon walk through.

"I will simply say that I have sent you both to send word to Murtagh. I'll let them all fill in the gaps on what they think the specificities of the message to be, and I'm confident as to what they'll assume — hopefully, that means it will keep them from asking too many follow-up questions."

"Ah."

She recognized the discomfort in his tone and turned to him and Albriech, walking back towards them with a soft smile. "I'm all right. At least for now."

Baldor nodded solemnly but still seemed rather pressed. Hal knew she hadn't really talked to them ever since the miscarriage. And as men with no children of their own, they had a very small window into the experience. But they were kind and gentle, and above all else, she knew how deeply they cared about her.

"Right now, I'm more worried about you both. So please, you will help me by letting me know that your focus for your travels will be on your safety and livelihoods. Gentlemen, please know that if I think for a moment you should've chosen to protect yourselves and instead chose your mission, I will never forgive myself nor you."

Albriech chuckled, his smile taunting at his mouth. "Yes ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Halen."

"Good." Then, without warning, Hal threw herself at the brothers, hooking one arm around each neck and pulling them down. She held on to them tightly, willing herself not to cry. "Please be careful. Neither of you are expendable. I'm only sending you two because I trust you to make the journey and look out for each other."

"We'll see to it that help arrives," Albriech stated. "We won't let you down."

"Thank you."

She stepped back, forcing calm onto her features as they all turned towards the barrier that separated them from the outside world. "Before I forget." Hal reached into her pocket and pulled out a small letter, folded into a square with a thin bit of rope tied around it. On it was the intended recipient, but Hal still felt the need to say, "I am not giving you this in bad faith. However, I would be remiss to not be cautious. If anything happens to me, please make sure Murtagh receives this."

She held it out in the palm of her hand and Albriech slowly scooped it up, tucking it carefully into his coat pocket. He solemnly nodded, but otherwise looked too anxious to respond aloud.

Hal watched as the brothers turned towards the wall. Thankfully, they did not look back as they walked through the stone, seemingly vanishing into thin air. Hal, who had her hand up in a small wave, slowly lowered her arm back to her side.

"Please let this work," she prayed, unsure of who would even be listening to her at this rate. "Please." She knew she could not yet give up. She had to keep fighting until the end. Even if she had to dig out every last morsel of strength in the farthest reaches of her body, she would. All for that smallest, tiniest bit of hope that was still trying to guide her home.

In times like this, when she was physically still and her mind was at war with itself, Hal could feel her exhaustion. It was not like before, when she was tired from working the fields or having spent the day running after the children. This felt like it was locked into her bones and joints along with her very essence. Her entire body felt heavy, like she was both pushing and pulling weights chained to her. It wasn't the kind of exhaustion that made her feel tired enough to sleep, but the hurt it caused her made her want to curl into a ball and hide under her blankets, just like she had after losing the baby. Just as she had after Denu died. Sometimes, it was so much easier to feel nothing at all then to endure everything at once.

What do you need, iet dunei? Tell me what you need?

Hal shook her head, not wanting to hear his voice. Not wanting the idea of him when she missed him so dearly. Especially after these last few weeks. The absence of him had felt heavier, but a small terror of one day facing him and telling him the truth about the failed pregnancy was perhaps the one thing that kept thoughts of him at bay. However, whenever Hal was overwhelmed like she was in this moment, it was Murtagh who anchored her best and kept her from feeling like she was about to drift off into the deep ocean alone.

Please, Hal. Don't shut me out. Talk to me. You know you can always talk to me.

"I know," she whispered. And in this moment, there was so much she wished she could tell him. How frightened she was that she was risking the lives of two dear friends for selfish reasons. How weak and lost she felt following the failed pregnancy. How overwhelmed she was at the prospect that the sheer luck of her survival to date was for a burden too heavy to bear alone. Her head hurt with all the thoughts she had running through her mind, and yet she was conflicted between doing something and trying to make sense of it all. It felt like it was getting harder and harder to do what needed to be done when she could not understand why any of this had to have happened.

But she knew she didn't have time to dwell with such thoughts. Regardless of how Thea might have intended for things to go, fate had clearly had other plans. Hal would not let those spirits use her people as puppets for their revenge any longer. Like she told her aunt, she intended to break this cycle of violence once and for all.

…

For the first time since Denu died, Hal's mind felt clear. Like it had once been back on the island, when she chased after lovuk with wild abandon, or sought to rescue her friends when no one else would. The same girl who had dived into the ocean to rescue a dragon rider. But that reckless fearlessness was gone. This was something new and evolved. A frightened resolve that chose not to ignore her fears as she once did, but instead embrace them and carry on anyway.

A hand on her shoulder snapped her back to reality, and Hal was relieved of the tension in her shoulders as she slowly opened her eyes. In the early morning, the wind was calm, and the view beyond could easily be mistaken for beautiful. To her right, the flat lands before her went for miles until there was another mountain range off in the distance. And from just behind the peaks was the sun, as radiant as any sunrise she had witnessed on Illium.

She looked down at the small memorial Zola had taken her to at Hal's request. She had inquired as to what happened with the bodies of the deceased, her mind still focused on her sister even though she doubted a proper burial had been done considering the circumstances. Zola had had them each don the proper attire before heading out. They had walked for most of the night, not speaking, until they had reached what felt like the edge of the world itself.

"We never got the chance to perform proper burials for those who died on Uden and those who died along the way here. But we became racked with guilt and grief over it, as well as fear of what burying the dead too close might bring out. Thea found this place for us. Performed the ceremony usually with just Olwenyo and myself since the distance to travel was too far for many. After we burned the bodies, we let the tides below carry them to rest."

The ocean looked almost the same as it did further south. The water was darker, but it seemed just as endless here as it did back home. The nearby river broke into several different falls that came over the side of the cliff, stirring the ocean below.

Hal reached for a small flower that had been laid down and preserved by Thea. Hal recognized it as one that grew in the forests of Uden. She knew that Thea had carried the tiny plant all the way here. It was no duplicate or fake. The small, yellow petals stood out against the white snow, a display of brightness even in such dreariness. There was only one flower, but beyond that stood hundreds of small rocks and stones, many bits taken from the dead earth that had long since resided up here. And into each stone a name had been carefully inscribed.

Halen Zarasdaughter.

It was unnerving and heartbreaking to see her own name among so many others. Although the ashes were long gone, the stones remained behind. The stones and this one flower.

"Do I put it anywhere?" Hal asked, looking back at her aunt.

She nodded. "Anywhere you'd like."

Hal reached into the small purse tied to the belt around her waist. She studied the small stone in her hand, fighting the lump in her throat. Nodding as if to assure herself she was ready, Hal set it down next to her parents.

Thea Zarasdaughter.

Her sister, for now, had been laid to rest.

"We all contributed to help making the stones," Zola continued. "Each of us taking it upon ourselves to remember those we had lost. But for so long, Thea refused to write your name down."

Hal looked up in surprise. "She did?"

Zola's smile was sad but she nodded. "Insisted that you were still out there. That you had a made a promise to her. She never said what it was. But it kept her going for so long. I think, in her darkest moments, she thought of you. How much she admired you. What she thought her older sister would do if the roles were reversed. She channeled you so often it sometimes felt like you were with us. I can see now just how right she was about you. About everything about you."

Hal looked down at her name, remembering. Thea had used her memories as fuel to keep going. Hal had cast them aside. She could not say if one way was right or wrong. But for each of them, it had worked as long as they had needed it to. And Hal took comfort in that.

"When all is said in done," Hal commented, rising slowly to her feet, keeping her stone in hand, "I would like to talk about her. What she was like and how she lived. I wish I could've have known the woman she grew up to be. She was clearly a fearsome one."

"She was indeed. You both are. And if what you say is true, which I do not doubt, then we have even more reason to stop this madness now. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that I had made a mistake, and I know it is one I will always regret. But the thought that our own used us like this. And for such petty revenge? To add to our own indignity in such a disgraceful manner makes me sick."

Hal couldn't agree more. They could've guided their people, protected them as the Tenari had done for Hal. Instead, they had taken advantage of their grief for selfish reasons, manipulating them and causing ruin to even more lives.

She doubted they cared, but she would never forgive them.

"You leave the Shade to me," Hal stated. She never should've used her sister's name. She never should've doubted her either. The Thea she knew, the Thea that had stepped up all these years for her people, would have never committed the crimes the Shade had. They may have used her sister's name and her feelings, but it had not been Thea that stepped on Denu's back. It had not been Thea who murdered hundreds of innocents for the sake of influencing magic.

And that was why Hal's hands were no longer shaking.

The Sani all trusted Hal with this final step. To rescue what remained of their village and to stop the spirits that harbored Thea's body so that her sister could know peace. So that her sister could finally stop fighting.

So that Hal could finally stop fighting.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Hal asked. "I do not know how long it would take Albriech and Baldor to return with assistance. If we leave now or if Thea strikes…"

"I'm sure. I've already spoken to Olwenyo and our warriors and, as you said, they've been wanting to leave for some time. They've already begun talking to their friends and families and they tell me that there are a few who are unsure, but they are tempted. Like I said, your speech about dying while fighting rather than dying as cowards hit hard for many. We all long for what we once called home. Or perhaps something like it."

Zola stepped forward and pressed her hand to Hal's stomach. Hal flinched, the gesture as raw as the experience itself still was. "I want to see you at your best and happiest. If that is with that rider of yours, then I accept it. If that is, one day, with his children, then I hope they will know me and call me Nana. You are proof that there is life outside this hell. I want our children, and our children's children, to know it. And if they do not know it, then I want them to think their ancestors braver than the ones who came before us. We will not hide behind our own in rage and grief. That is not what it means to live. And so long as we survive, then we can do plenty of living for those we lost. We can make sure their deaths were not in vain. Our revenge will be living on and making memories we can be proud of."

The sun on her cheeks felt warm in that moment, and Hal felt it coursing through her entire body. She and her aunt both turned towards the light. Off in the distance, Hal could see them all. Her people. Her parents. Denu and Celia. Merida and so many more. Denu shot her a bright smile, as sweet as she remembered it.

"Take your time, my child," he told her. "We will be here when you're ready. Not a moment sooner."

Hal smiled in return. "Okay."

"Did you say something?" Zola asked, having already turned away to start heading back.

Looked down at the stone in her hand, Hal pretended like she hadn't heard anything. Holding the stone up with her name, her expression faltered as a quiet, grieving thought came to mind. "May I hold on to mine?"

"I suppose so, since you never actually died." Zola gave her a curious look. "But I sense that that is not the reason you want to keep it."

"Nothing gets past you." Hal looked away, unable to meet her aunt's eyes as she added, "I know there is no body for me to put to rest. And there was no name. But I hoped that I could…I don't know —"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Zola said gently.

Hal kept her head down. Although she wanted to leave the offering with the Sani, it didn't feel right to do it before Murtagh knew. She knew he would also want to say goodbye. When it was time. "Thank you."

"Come. Let's head back. It's a long walk and we have much work to do."

Hal was more than happy to oblige. The sight of this massive memorial had shaken her more than she'd like to admit. She turned her head and gave the stones one final look. Seared the sight into her mind. She could not carry them with her. Although, even if they had been able to manage, it did not feel right to disturb them. Here, all their people were together. In both spirit and in memory. They may have been far from home, but here she would let them rest. Here, she prayed, they would at last find peace.

…

Over the next week, their efforts to sway the villagers garnered more traction and influence. Those who may have had their doubts about Hal were convinced by Olwenyo and Zola. The preparations were already underway, taking stock of what more they might still need. Food, however, wasn't their biggest issue. It was the cold. Hal forewent wearing any furs, citing that she had made it here in her own belongings. Let someone in need use them.

Having already fled one home with so little, there was not much to do in terms of packing. Aside from essentials, there was nothing that the Sani were so fond of that they would want to hold on to. All their keepsakes, their treasures, and valuables had already been lost or destroyed.

The final night before their scheduled departure, Hal found sleep impossible. After insisting and checking to make sure that the Sani were resting as comfortably as possible while they still could, Hal had spent a few hours reviewing their supplies. Anything to keep her mind busy. She recounted the stock, double-checked every knot, and made sure none of the bags were too heavy — especially since their lack of livestock meant the people had to carry much of their belongings themselves.

"You are pushing yourself again, iet dunei."

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the small bit of guilt she felt. "I'm just double-checking, rider. I need to be sure."

She waited for his sharp retort. When none came, she turned her head and remembered he wasn't actually there. Hal let her head fall, unable to hide from her own disappointment. She had hoped it would get easier. It had been months now. Yet she still found herself looking for Murtagh everywhere…especially as of late. She wasn't sure if it would have been better had some things been different. She just missed him. She was already dreading the moments he would be called away to honor his fealty. She did not like feeling unbalanced when he was away.

After talking herself out of going over everything a fourth time, Hal forced herself to stand and walk away before she drove herself mad. Obsessing over details would not help them now.

The next morning, Hal stood with everyone in the main hall. They had their bags of extra clothes, canteens for water, and other such items strapped to their backs. Many had chosen to already don their furs, holding the heads of slain animals under their arms. Hal waited at the front of the crowd as Zola and Olwenyo approached. "That is everyone," Olwenyo assured her. "We are all accounted for." Zola nodded to confirm this.

Hal took a deep breath, feeling the number of gazes on her grow as the reality began to truly settle in. Those closest to her watched her to see what she might say and do next. Clearing her throat nervously, she hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder, pretending not to notice the expectant stares. "Good. Aunt Zola, take my place at the front and — what is it?"

Zola gave her a tight, nervous smile. "I think they want you to say something."

Her throat tightened. So clearly she hadn't been the only one to notice. "Say something? Like what?"

"Something encouraging perhaps." Zola leaned forward and whispered, "Remember, they are scared. They are looking to you to guide them. The burden you carry is not to be taken lightly."

Hal knew this, but to be reminded of it made her hesitate. Made her doubt. She was only here by what felt like pure chance. Every decision Hal had made up to this point had led to casualties that would haunt her forever. Could she really do this? Was she truly the right person for people to put such faith in? As she looked up, hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking in their direction, staring at her with expectancy. Women and children, men, and the elderly. Sani eyes. Sani people.

Her people.

Hal had never given a speech before. She had seen Denu deliver some at wedding ceremonies, but the closest she'd ever come had been when she was playing with the children. Insignificant and silly little things. Not to mention she was also often the villain. Not exactly the words of encouragement she wanted to conjure in this moment.

She glanced back but the only acknowledgement she received was a nod from her aunt. These people were once again disrupting their entire life for the sake of survival. Even if the situations were slightly different, the end result was ultimately the same: fight and survive, or cower and die.

Hal took a sobering breath and glanced around until she found a small indention in the cave wall that she could use to prop herself up. The crowd turned to follow her as she moved but no one said a word. Even those who were too far to see what was going on simply followed the lead of those closest who had stopped talking. She pulled herself up, her feet awkwardly turned in two different directions in order for her to have balance. And she had to grip the bits of rock above her head to make sure she didn't fall over. But she had a much better vantage point with which to see more people, and they her.

She felt like her silence was only increasing their expectations, and she felt slightly panicked at saying the wrong thing. Or worse, convincing them that she was the last person on earth they should follow and they should instead remain here after all.

Hal took another deep breath, her hand over her heart as she willed it to calm down. She quickly and silently prayed for the strength all those who loved her had impressed upon her. When she opened her eyes, she spoke only from her heart:

"I know it seems like some cruel test of the gods that we find ourselves here again," she began. "After thirteen years, our people must once again abandon all they know on the small chance, the smallest bit of hope, that there is more out there for us. My people, I will not lie to you: I'm frightened. And I can see in your eyes that you are all frightened as well. And like you, I used my fear as an excuse. To stay dormant and confuse it for contentedness. To stay passive and confuse it for strength. And if I had continued to live like that…if I had not been woken up by the cruel reality that is life itself…I would have never seen any of you again."

Hal could see how people began to lean forward and listen. Their eyes were steady, their gazes heavy, but she also saw relief at the acknowledgement of their fear. Of her own.

"For thirteen years, I thought I was the last of the Sani people. And I regret to admit that our customs, our culture, and our beliefs would have died out because I was too afraid to think of all I had lost. I told myself that waking up each day and being alive, was enough. I was wrong. Because for the last year, I have learned, truly learned, what it means to live. I have seen cities, filled with sweets and stalls of jewels and clothes. I have met people, some of them not so nice, but so many others filled with compassion, just like Baldor and Albriech who many of you became close with during their time here. I fell in love…" She felt her eyes burn and choked up almost immediately, hating herself for it. "I fell in love with someone who, if he could see me right now, would remind me of how sensitive I am. He would be right, of course."

Lighthearted chuckles swept through the crowd, and Hal felt moved by the sound. Her people stood before her laughing. Smiling at her as she spoke. There was still hope.

"We deserve to live as we once did. Not ruled by fear but by love. Even though this world seemed to have turned its back on us, we will rise above it and let them know that the Sani will not be cowed so easily!

"I was wrong to call you cowards for remaining in these tunnels," she continued, not wanting to delay any longer. "You all were never cowards. Before me I see fighters and survivors. I see faces that I thought I'd never see again. That alone gives me peace. So do not berate yourselves for your time spent here. Instead, tell yourself you were regaining the strength needed to fight. You were regaining a sense of purpose needed to live. And you were waiting for someone to lead you back home where we belong. I will make sure you do not regret entrusting this to me. My sister, Thea Zarasdaughter, made sure you all were strong enough to continue the fight with me. The fight of your survival, the fight of your perseverance, and the fight to end this nightmare once and for all. So in her name, follow me! In the name of my mother, Zara, and my father, Daniel, follow me! In the name of all those we have mourned from thirteen years ago to today, follow me! And let us reclaim our lives, reclaim our stories, and reclaim our legacy, once and for all!"

She threw her fist into the air and the sound that followed was almost deafening. She would not have guessed that such a crowd could make such a joyous sound. Screams of determination and will, of grief and rage, of love and hope. Hal looked out into the sea of people, prouder than she had ever felt before. She would do this. She would make sure every single villager survived this. And she would put Thea to rest at last.

As she stepped down, Zola walked up and squeezed her other hand, the woman's cheeks streaked with tears. They locked eyes, the moment between them private and personal. The secrets they knew that no one else did. The heartaches and the toll it had taken on them both. But Hal was so relieved, in this moment, to have her aunt here by her side.

"Promise me something when we get back?" Zola asked.

"Anything."

"I want to plan a proper wedding ceremony for you and…Murtagh. One befitting of you and your family. Would that be all right?"

Hal's face brightened at the idea, a newfound eagerness sweeping through her. Zola's face indicated she didn't want to make this a big deal, but they both knew that was hardly the case. It was the most hopeful of peace offerings she could give. To make a point to let Hal know that she would be better about accepting Murtagh by allowing him to participate and pay witness to a special tradition. Before she forgot to answer, Hal quickly nodded. "Yes. Absolutely yes. That would be everything. For both me and for Murtagh. Thank you."

They separated so that Zola could take her place up front with Olwenyo. The warriors who often did the hunting were dispersed throughout to try and manage any issues that may come up. And Hal would bring up the rear. Murtagh's hand-and-a-half sword was strapped to her side, her bow and arrows to her back. She slipped her hand into her pocket and clutched the tiny mirror that was her ticket to Murtagh.

To me, Halen. Come to me.

She could still hear those words clearly in her head as she had that day. His deep and beguiling plea that had saved her life. Had captured her heart. She would find her way back to him. She always did. Hal smiled at those around her as the crowd began to move forward. Hands reached out for her, and she gripped them tightly, as if she could pass along her own hope and strength to fuel their long journey. Nervous but eager smiles passed by, bolstered by her words.

"Not bad, iet dunei. I, for one, never doubted you."

Her eyes slid to the imagined figure standing beside her, that all-knowing and arrogant grin making her heart flutter for the real thing. "I'll be home soon. Wait for me?"

He leaned his head towards her. "Always."

If there was one thing Murtagh had taught her, it was that she could fall on her ass repeatedly, but it never stopped her from getting up again. The stakes now, of course, were higher and he was not here to hold out his hand and help her back to her feet. However, as she took that first, heavy step, followed by another, and then another, she was reminded of all the times before Murtagh she had gotten back up on her own. He and Thorn would be waiting for her. Albriech and Baldor would be waiting for her. And the Tenari were waiting for her most of all.

She would see them all again when the time came.

…

Do you think we lost them?

Murtagh glanced over his shoulder. Although there was nothing around them, he knew it was nothing but cover. I doubt it, but dive into the clouds. I have an idea.

You must truly be desperate then. You hate going through the clouds.

Aye, but we cannot always avoid it. Might as well use this as a learning opportunity.

All right then. If you're sure.

Thorn huffed and dropped down. Murtagh braced himself. Despite the summer weather that made for ideal flying conditions, getting soaked through a cloud never was pleasant. Against the needle-like frozen water droplets, it took great skill and experience to keep his eyes open and alert. It didn't help that his wards were gone — they often helped avoid some of the discomfort. Not to mention that visibility decreased dramatically. It was the easiest way to smoke out a tail with less practice, but not, ultimately, the best. When they were properly immersed, Murtagh said, Good, now let's double-back.

After about half a mile, Thorn slowly rose from the cloud, flying at an even gait that minimized his wing movement, keeping them quiet and steady. They're up ahead, Thorn confirmed, his vision locking with Murtagh's so that his rider could see as he did. Murtagh grinned. Their plan had worked. The pale yellow of Latham's dragon, Aleria, up ahead blended spectacularly with their surroundings. They would be formidable when they learned how to properly conceal themselves amidst their surroundings during the day. Unfortunately, for now, they had left themselves wide open and Murtagh and Thorn were easily able to catch them by surprise.

Murtagh had never been a fan of fighting on Thorn's back — the positioning was awkward and Thorn tended to tower over their enemies, leaving Murtagh feeling a bit…far away. But he was accustomed to it. The more time he spent with Eragon and the apprentice riders, the more he could deduce why Eragon had been so desperate to have him here all this time. By himself, there were small gaps in the training that would take longer for to overcome. Even if the students could fight well because of their sparring with the elves, the elves could not advise on fighting in the skies. Only Eragon could do that, and he still had to train them on magic, law, history, writing, and the role they would come to play when they returned to Alagaësia. Murtagh doubted he could cover the blindspots in such a short amount of time, but he and Thorn had eventually agreed to at least lend their assistance while they were here.

But Latham and Aleria were both strong. All the students were. And they seemed even more eager to prove themselves to Murtagh and Thorn. He was not sure if it had anything to do with him specifically or if it was just a matter of wanting to make sure Eragon's teachings held strong, but he was more than happy to match their energy and give them the challenge they subtly requested. He never did like going easy on an opponent if he could help it.

"A dragon has more options in the sky than on land!" Murtagh shouted over the sound of their protected swords clashing in combat. "And it is where they excel the most. You must never underestimate your opponent or let your guard down just because you're in the air. You have to learn to hear your enemies approaching over the wind in your ears. Learn to use the clouds, the sky, or even the sun as coverage. If you can do that —"

As he spoke, Thorn had slowly but surely been leading Aleria in a circle until she was caught off guard and temporarily blinded by the sun, painfully bright at this height. She hissed, turning her head to try and stave off the discomfort. Thorn moved in close, knocking Aleria off balance. As Latham tried to right himself, Murtagh had already moved up and set Zar'roc against his throat.

"I win again," Murtagh stated, removing his blade and returning it back into his sheath. "Now. Tell Thorn and I what you both learned as we head back."

"Yes, ebrithil."

Murtagh tried not to cringe at the honorific. Despite his insistence that it was unnecessary, the students were still just fearful enough of Eragon to not let it slide. And when Murtagh had tried to get his brother ease up on the formality, he had simply said, "I know it's strange, but I cannot allow exceptions. You are their elder, and as such, they will refer to you as they do me. It's important that they see you as my equal."

It had been hard to argue with that, although Murtagh had still tried. But it wasn't a fight worth prolonging, and Eragon refused to cave despite making allowances for other things. So Murtagh decided it best to not be too fussy.

When they landed back in the fields, the other riders and their dragons having watched, Murtagh stepped in front of Latham and said, "You flew well today."

You both did, Thorn added, nodding to Aleria. Continue to practice your aerial defensive techniques. But you both are fast and strong. You will be exceptional in the skies before you know it.

Thank you for training us, Aleria responded, her voice as light as air. But Murtagh and Thorn knew her ferocity would easily catch opponents off-guard if they weren't careful and underestimated her.

"That is it for today," Murtagh called out to the others. "I want everyone to study and practice based on the respective feedback Thorn and I gave. Let us know if you have any questions."

The Urgal, Ovdkel, threw his hand in the air. He towered above everyone, and Murtagh had put him at about seven feet with hardened muscle. As expected of any Urgal, his skin was grey and his eyes yellow. A pair of long twisted horns protruded from above his ears. Like Latham — although he was human — Ovdkel exuded a rather serious demeanor. His dragon, another female, was a deep orange. Her name was Ilgra. "Teacher, I have a question…"

Everyone walked back more or less in a group, the riders moving in closer to hear. It felt odd, having four new pupils that, much like Hal, took his criticism and advice seriously. In addition to Ovdkel and Latham, there was Gloria, a human girl about the same age. She had bright, blonde hair almost as pale as the snow, with green eyes. She was petite, shorter than everyone around her, but well-muscled and carried herself with a natural ease. Her dragon, Greita, had been the first to hatch, making them the oldest riders of the new generation.

There was also the elf, Vaeril, whose age Murtagh could not begin to guess. He looked to be a few years older than Murtagh himself, with dark, almost black hair that he wore past his shoulders, and eyes. However, with his dragon, Ivarros, at just a year old, they were the youngest members of the group. Of course, as an elf, it didn't show nearly as much when compared to his comrades.

"Yes, Ovdkel, what would you like to know?"

Murtagh had never gotten the impression that Eragon had ever said anything to them, and yet he could hardly fathom that they trusted his expertise the way they seemed to. He had wrongly assumed before now that perhaps his enjoyment teaching Hal had been largely due to his growing affection for her. Lessons that became an excuse to spend time together. However, these last few months proved just how wrong he was. He liked teaching, if that were possible. Liked knowing that his opinions and feedback were trusted by others who were attempting to better themselves. Similarly, Thorn was sought after by the other dragons for his advice, without hesitation or any feelings of mistrust. At times when they were alone, they would marvel at their new reality: they were really training the new age of dragon riders.

For a moment, Murtagh paused, taking it all in. It wasn't the first time. He doubted it would be the last.

"Is something the matter, Ebrithil?" Vaeril asked, and Murtagh realized everyone had stopped walking to stare at him with expectant gazes.

Flushing a bit, he shook his head. "No. Nothing at all. Just deep in thought. Ah, I almost forgot. Your other assignments for tonight —"

Instant groans of regret and Murtagh rolled his eyes at the dramatics. "If you all didn't complain so much, perhaps they would feel more bearable. Halen told me —

"Wait, who's Halen?" Gloria asked innocently.

"I think Ebrithil has mentioned her once…" Vaeril stated, pretending to look confused.

"Or twice," Latham added.

"Or everyday since arriving," Gloria finished, not bothering to hide her grin.

"Okay, okay," Murtagh snapped, his face burning even redder. Eragon was right. He should've been stricter with them up front. Now they hovered between formal and informal. Addressing him accordingly but teasing him at the same time. It was maddening, and something Hal would do. How he managed to always find himself in the presence of smart asses, he would never know. And yes, maybe he had a penchant for mentioning Hal when he was feeling especially forlorn and missing her. However he didn't think it was that much.

Heavens, if Hal ever found out she would never let him hear the end of it.

Clearing his throat and trying to regain some sense of command, he said, "Your assignments for tonight are as follows…"

His pupils waved him off as they departed towards the dining hall for their supper. Murtagh watched them go with a bit of softness in his face that he hadn't realized he'd been feeling for them and this place these last few months. He liked it more than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

"And you were worried for what?" Hal's voice teased in his ear. Like she was right there.

"In my defense, you set the bar rather high, my love."

But when he turned, she was nowhere to be found. There were still moments where he could not help but still expect Hal's wit or presence. Despite keeping busy, he was still eagerly counting down the days until their year was up.

He felt a familiar presence in his mind and lowered his shield as Eragon asked, I need you in my office.

His brother withdrew quickly, which Murtagh appreciated. He'd eventually found it easier to communicate with Eragon in this manner rather than chasing down messengers who then had to chase them down. However, it still made him a bit uneasy so they often tried to keep their conversations as brief as possible while Murtagh continued to adjust to being comfortable with others in his mind that weren't Thorn or Hal.

Curious as to what could be concerning Eragon — and he knew based on his tone that something was wrong — Murtagh hurried back inside the mountain. As he turned the corner towards the stairs, he ran into Elva, who looked peeved. Not at him, he had learned. Just in general. "Did Eragon summon you too?"

"Unfortunately," she muttered.

He led her go first and she stepped in front of him. While her appearance and voice had, at first, surprised him, he had quickly gotten over the shock and was able to behave around Elva as he would anyone else. When she had one day finally asked him why, he had teasingly told her, "Wait until you meet my wife."

He was married to a Shade. Not much else could surprise him after that.

"His tone was off," Elva continued, her voice flat. "Something must be wrong."

"Aye, that was my first thought as well."

When they arrived, Murtagh was surprised to find that Eragon was not alone. Standing before him was a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She had a mess of wild curls, not unlike Hal's, but thinner and more blonde. Elva didn't look surprised as she stated, "Angela. I didn't think we'd be seeing you."

"I'm sure you were hopeful, but I managed to find time to visit. I've been making my rounds — a lot has happened in my absence." However, she cut herself as Elva and Murtagh reached them and looked to him directly. "Including all the noise surrounding you. I was pleased when Nasuada told me you were here. I'd been hoping to meet you again."

Murtagh narrowed his gaze in recollection, a vague memory bubbling to the surface. "You were in…Farthen Dûr?"

"Indeed, I was."

That's when Murtagh realized what seemed off about the woman. She did not seem to have aged at all. Even Eragon looked somewhat different. Nasuada, Arya — okay, maybe not Arya, but she was an elf after all — everyone. But not Angela.

"You saw her majesty?" Murtagh asked, trying not to lose focus. "Does she have news for us?"

"Yes, but not the good kind. The Black Hand has revealed itself at last. I was just about to tell Eragon what happened."

"Please, everyone, take a seat," Eragon offered, ever the good host. They settled down into the chairs situated in the center of the room. There was no table, leaving a rather informal feel as everyone leaned forward to listen.

"It was as we feared," Angela began. "Thanks to the information gleaned by Orrin's remaining spies, we were able to track the group to the Hadarac where they were attempting a spell to conjure spirits. Presumably, to undo the Shade's curse but for their benefit. Fortunately, we killed them all and there was no sign that the attempt would have even been successful. But we finally have proof of what we suspected all along: the Black Hand hopes to restore magic but for themselves and with their rules. It's only a matter of time before other magic users make similar attempts."

"Did the news get out about what happened?" Eragon asked.

Angela's lips pressed into a thin line. "Aye. One of the soldiers sent to assist with the clean-up apparently got rather loose of tongue later that week at a bar. Nasuada stripped him of his duties for breach of security, but it was too late. We only found out because Mr. Giles overheard a group talking in panic."

Murtagh leaned back in his seat, feeling the tension in his shoulders. "So the word is out then?"

"Not just that, but people are growing anxious again. Things were fine the first few months because there was so much happening, no one had time to truly process the reality we're in. Things are different now, and people are adjusting to this, well, for lack of a better phrase, 'new normal,'" she said, her fingers mimicking quotation marks. "Now that the air has cleared, people are trying to look ahead to what comes next. They're growing aware of the vacuum left behind with the lack of magic. They will begin to grow restless and power hungry."

"I have a feeling Nasuada already has a means of dealing with this already?"

"She needs to show her hand," Elva stated plainly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Am I right?"

Angela nodded. "Perceptive as always."

Catching on to what they meant, Murtagh's eyes widened. "She wants the Dragon Riders to come forward."

"Yes. Eragon, specifically. While he is but one person, his and Saphira's presence will resonate more than the young ones. They have not had to prove themselves yet in the eyes of the citizens. Not like Eragon has."

"Angela, you know I can't do that." Eragon looked away and Murtagh could not tell if his expression was one of frustration or disappointment. "You know I cannot step foot in Alagaësia. It was your prophecy that said as much."

Prophecy?

And Murtagh's mouth dropped when a sudden thought struck him. His mother had mentioned receiving a prophecy from a witch named Angela. He dared glance at the woman across from him. Could she be…? No, but she looked so young. It was one thing to assume she had not aged in six years, but nearly thirty?

"Nasuada insisted," was all Angela said.

The room was quiet, all eyes on Eragon who looked rather ill. "Is it dangerous though? If I go against what was laid out before me, it could backfire, right?"

"That's not up to me to decide. All I know is what the bones told me."

Eragon sighed, rubbing his temples. "I need to talk with Saphira about this. When does her majesty need my response by?"

"I leave in a week. She expects me to return with an answer."

"All right then."

When they left Eragon's study not long after, the mood had shifted. Murtagh knew they would later have to discuss telling the other riders. If Eragon really couldn't go back, they would have to shift all their lessons into preparing the students. More than likely, Murtagh and Thorn would go with them. Even he knew they could not, in good conscious, send them on their own. However, it was too soon to release them now. Eragon had already told him that his hope had been that they would have time to receive their proper training, at a pace more becoming and forgiving than what Murtagh and Eragon endured. They were, by no means, in terrible shape to be presented. But it was as Nasuada had insinuated: the people would not care for them. Truthfully, they would care very little for Murtagh despite his efforts in Ilirea during and after the siege. It was Eragon's name and heroics that held weight and power.

"You seem rather lost in thought there."

He blinked, stunned to realize that Angela was walking in-step beside him.

"He does that a lot," Elva deadpanned, a few steps ahead. Murtagh had taken her teasing to mean she didn't hate him or his company, which made him feel rather proud. Elva didn't seem fond of many, and many did not seem fond of her either.

"I was trying to see a way around this predicament we're in," he admitted. "I don't fully understand the details of Eragon's reading, although he's mentioned it to me in passing. However, I imagine that leaving Alagaësia was part of his fortune for a reason."

"As the one who gave it to him, I do not wish to downplay it. However, even I sometimes find that holding myself to such rigid guidelines makes things more difficult than necessary."

"Have you ever read your own fortune?"

"No. Nor will I ever." She stopped and turned to face him. "Do you want me to read yours?"

"Like you read my mother's," he responded, raising a brow in challenge.

She blinked once, giving nothing away.

Murtagh hesitated for a moment under her gaze, a moment of curiosity giving him pause. He had never before had such interest in knowing his future. Despite how determined he was to survive, there was very little he expected that life had to offer. He was often miserable and alone. Why would he want to find out that that would still be the case decades from now?

However…

"What if I cannot carry a child in this body? What if…this curse broke me —"

Hal's fearful confession jumped to the front his mind and he nearly caved. Because now he had a future he was fighting for. Time with Hal. Time with the Tenari. Children, perhaps. Maybe even a long life. And the temptation of knowing if any such delights would come to pass…he would weep to know the truth.

But what would it cost him?

Greatness?

Or peace of mind?

"Frightening, isn't it?" Elva stepped closer, her violet eyes dancing under his confliction. "The future? You can learn the worst and prepare yourself for it. Death, disease, war. To have such knowledge in advance will allow you to protect what you love most. To destroy what you fear most. To be able to know your own fate means you are relieved of the responsibility of it. Isn't that what you want?"

He stared at her, his chest tight. He resented her when she toyed with him like this. He knew she had spoken truth of the fears of many people, but had more or less calmed her more frightful and aggressive tendencies. However, every so often, it would slip out. It was always harrowing when it did.

And then, he realized what she had done and smiled. "Admit it, Elva, you do care about me."

She made a face before turning on her heel and walking away.

Chuckling, he looked at Angela and shook his head. "Thank you, but no thank you. Whatever's coming will come. But I'd rather be able to appreciate the life I have now instead of worrying about what might come to pass."

Angela chuckled. "Fair enough. Although not many are tempted to look away from such an opportunity. Are you sure?"

"Aye. In her own, very unique way, Elva reminded me that there are simply things I can never know. And I want answers, make no mistake. I'm still just a man. I want to know how much time I'll have with my wife. If we'll have children. If we'll be happy. I want to know that I make the right choices for the people who matter the most to me." He held his hands behind his back, looking out the nearby window. "But that would undo all that I've done so far. The past two years have given me more hope for the future and more opportunities than I've ever known. And I did it because I wanted to, for once, be the master of my own fate. No more did I want to feel beholden to a past that wasn't mine nor trapped by a future laid out for me by those who did not have my best interests in mind. However, if I accept your offer, then I put myself back on that path. And I very much like the one I'm standing on."

Angela chuckled. "A very wise and mature response, Shur'tugal. I will not ask again. I will, however, make myself useful in the dining hall. I have a sudden craving for something both sweet and slimy."

"You mean salty?"

"No." And with that, she wondered off on her own, leaving Murtagh by himself.

By the time he and Thorn returned to their quarters, he was thoroughly spent and barely managed to drag himself to his desk after getting cleaned up and changing into his night things.

As he had done almost each day for the past…he'd already been here five months. It felt surreal, and yet still painstakingly slow. But as he had done almost each day for the past five months, he pulled out a blank piece of parchment, his ink, and his quill. He swallowed nervously, always feeling a bit silly. He never knew where to start or what to say.

Taking a deep breath, he put his quill to the parchment.

My dearest, Halen…

He had taken to telling her about his day. About the apprentices and their progress. About his growth as a teacher or his relationship with Eragon. About how much he missed her, and still thought of her every day. He wanted her to see all the letters when they were finally reunited, just so there was physical evidence that he had always been thinking of her. But it was also helpful for him to. He could not talk to her, but in writing, he could almost imagine their conversations and her response to his daily activities.

Writing the letters always helped him unwind. Sometimes, by recounting his day and his lessons, he had even made several realizations that he noted separately to share with his students. Slowly but surely, he not only looked forward to telling Hal about his day, but experiencing his day as well. Adjusting to life at Mount Agnor had not been as difficult as he had expected. In a way, it felt right. To see these four young riders grow stronger, the reminder that it was not just three, but seven, and with more to come, gave Murtagh hope.

As always, I miss you, and I love you. I will see you soon.

Yours truly,

Murtagh Morzansson

It was a rather formal sign-off, but he included it in every single letter. An 'I love you' for all the times this year he wouldn't be able to say it to her directly, captured in writing.

Despite having a truly comfortable bed to sleep on, his letters to Hal always left Murtagh feeling lonely and melancholic. So as always, when he had closed the letter with his wax seal gifted to him by Eragon, he stood up, stretched, and walked over to Thorn where he plopped himself down against the dragon's side, closing his eyes.

I am getting quite accustomed to this place, Thorn commented, snuggling against Murtagh in return. It feels…right. I know you don't want to hear it, but this role we've taken on feels natural. The students trust us and they listen to what we have to say as authority figures. Not to mention I have grown quite attached them in a short amount of time. I want to see how much further they may yet still go.

Murtagh didn't immediately respond or react, wanting to simply drift off into a deep sleep where none of his current problems existed.

I feel the same way, he admitted, instantly hating himself for it. I don't want to, but I do. But we cannot stay here as Eragon does. Hal is not here to discuss, but she has been eager to return to Illium. As have you and I. We would be even further from the Tenari, and that was the reason we chose to stay in the first place.

I know. I just wish there was an easy solution. One where we could continue teaching, fulfill our duties to Nasuada, and have the comfort and security of home that we always wanted. And yet each path seems to pull us in a different direction. One of duty…

And one of desire, Murtagh finished with a mournful sigh. Of course, each option is also as far apart as possible.

This also does not factor in Hal's decision regarding the Sani people.

No, it certainly didn't. And while Murtagh didn't think Hal would choose to stay, he also feared the state she would be in if the Sani chose not to go. To never see them again…could he truly take her away from her people? Was it selfish of him, as her husband, to want her by his side even if he knew she would not smile nearly as bright?

We must not yet give up hope that Hal will make strides in this time to convince the Sani to leave that dreadful place, Thorn reminded him, his voice upbeat and optimistic. Hal is persuasive, and she is one of them. They will listen to her and come to see reason.

Murtagh did not doubt Thorn, but he could not hide his uncertainty. The Sani had been an unexpected surprise. One that he knew had to be overwhelming for Hal on top of everything else she'd been dealing with.

Do you think we made the right choice, Thorn?

What do you mean?

I mean about leaving Hal there? Should we have stayed with her?

Do not force yourself to dwell on decisions that have already been made, young one. I think we both know it was what Hal needed, even if it's not what any of us wanted. I do not like being apart from her for so long, but I have slowly come to see that this time is necessary for the both of you. This time will determine how we move forward once Thea is defeated and magic restored. You and Hal have grown together in a short amount of time, and you have done so beautifully. But as you fall further into your role as a rider, it's only fair for Hal to figure out what she needs to do for herself. She is less focused when we are around.

Murtagh recalled Hal's words to him back in Ilirea, right before they had left for Carvahall. "You and Thorn will be serving the queen, serving the people on such a large scale. And I am to what? Conduct weddings and settle private disputes and maybe raise our children if we have them?"

She had wanted more but had been unsure as to what that looked like. She had mentioned the Academy, but he was unsure of how relevant that would become now that the Sani were alive. He knew he could not make the decision for her. He could only support and guide her when necessary, and be there for her come success or possible failure. He just wished there was more he could do.

We still have time, as does Hal, Thorn reminded him. We will not come up with all the answers tonight. For now, let us rest and prepare ourselves for another day. And let's trust that Hal is out there doing the same.