There was moment where time seemed to stand still, the shock of defeat slow to register on Thea's face despite it now being obviously inevitable. Even Hal felt the way in which she held her breath, unsure of what to expect.

Then there was an explosion of air that knocked Hal backwards and off her feet. Yet, despite the force, the blade's handle slipped from her grasp, remaining firmly lodged in Thea's chest. The Shade had become fully transparent, the dark shadows she had seen before twisting and swirling fast, like they were caught in a whirlpool of some kind. Suddenly, they were wrenched free of their physical being and scattered through the air. Where they went, Hal had no idea, and she only had a brief moment to fear what it meant that even though Thea's physical body was defeated, the souls that had entrapped her would still remain.

However, a small movement made Hal lower her gaze back down. She felt her breath catch and tears sprung to her eyes. There, hovering a few feet above the ground, was a small spirit that looked just as the Sani had when they had once appeared before Hal. She recalled sensing that same spirit when she had touched the Shade's mind. How alone and frightened it had been trapped amongst such evil.

"Th…Thea?"

The spirit seemed to grow brighter, drifting ever-so closer to Hal as if to whisper a secret. But just as Hal raised her hand, the spirit faded and vanished.

Hal was left standing there, hand outstretched into the empty air. She dropped to her knees. For a few brief seconds, Hal felt listless. A quiet voice inside her head whispered it's over yet she felt nothing at these words.

Tears filled her eyes as she lowered her hand back into her lap, slowly curling up as if to protect herself from an unforeseen enemy. Her entire body shook with the weight of the emotions coursing through her at once, and Hal hugged herself tightly as if that alone would be enough to keep such feelings trapped inside her forever. Because if she dared let them out…

There was a raw, shrill, animal-like howl that burst forth from Hal's chest without any warning. When she had released all the air in her lungs, she took a deep breath and screamed again. And again. And again. The tears ran hot and fast down her cheeks and into the snow, melting small, barely-there sections. Hal had never cried like this. It was a visceral, terrifying feeling. A loss of control she had thought she'd already learned to let go. But no. Here it was: the final form of almost fourteen years of grief broken by the sight of that tiny soul that had endured such brutality for so long.

Clutching at her chest, Hal dug her nails into the furs she wore to protect against the cold, wishing it was her own heart that had bore the brunt of that dagger instead. Anything, anything, to stop this inescapable pain she was left with now.

Hal poured her whole being into her sobs, regardless of how reckless it was. Her emotions no longer fit inside her physical being. Without fully meaning to — driven only by her heart's deepest desires and most fervent longings — Hal felt her magic become drawn out, building slowly the longer she sat there, crouched and pitiful and wishing for a timeline where no one, least of all Thea, had endured such suffering. The air around her hummed pleasantly like it always did when she used magic, whether she had meant to or not.

Despite how barren the land around her seemed, she knew there was still life here. Knew it from the spirits of the Titerria that had remained here all this time and the creatures and plants that still dared to call this place home. All of it, Hal called to her now while her mind was empty of all thought and reason. The further her mind reached, the more life she found. To each being, she carefully opened her mind, exposed the raw ugliness that was the truth of being alive and being human. And they accepted this, offering her bits of their life, their energy, in return. She did not dare take too much from one being. She would not make the same mistake she, Thea, the Titerria, and the Grey Folk had all made before.

Around her, the air grew hotter with the energy being summoned, and it seemed to shimmer in response. As her magic did its work, Hal just let herself cry. She cried for herself, cried for Denu and the Tenari. Celia, Berjis, and their village. The city of Ilirea and the children she had come to love. She cried for Murtagh and Thorn, because their absence had left a gut-wrenching hole in heart for these long months. She cried for her unborn child, a life she still had not made peace yet with losing. There were too many people who deserved her tears. She felt she could cry and lifetime and it would not be enough. But she cried for them now. Because they all deserved to be mourned, remembered, cherished, and loved. Hal had more than enough feelings to give to make sure everyone received such sentiments in abundance.

It took what felt like days, but Hal knew when she had enough. Knew when she had reached the right amount of energy. How she knew this, she didn't know. Perhaps she never would. But she would not ponder this now. Her intent was clear, her focus, even through such feelings, was absolute.

The Menoa tree had said that magic was a gift. But so was life. The two were inextricably linked. Energy, life, and the ability to manipulate it was simply…magic. One could not, and should not, exist without the other. And that understanding, the simplicity of it all, had been lost on the beings of this land for far too long.

Life. Such a precious, fragile, beautiful thing it was to behold.

It must be fixed as it was broken.

Thea had not broken magic. Galbatorix had not even managed such a feat despite his efforts. It had never been whole to begin with. Centuries of heartache and heartbreak seemed to course through her at once. The Grey Folk and the Titerria had both lost something precious in a selfish bid for control by a single individual. Hal would not allow their sacrifices to have been for naught.

Only when Hal finally released her magic did she stop crying. She breathed slowly, the warm air misting before her like it always did. She didn't expect to feel a difference. Yet she knew she had done all she could for the magic users in the world. Had fixed it as it was broken. Magic was meant to be shared. It was meant to bring people together, as it once had to ancient races.

Her vision began to swim, exhaustion graciously coming to claim her at last. She fell on her side in the snow, vaguely aware that someone was shouting her name. They sounded too far away, to incoherent for Hal to make out who. But she didn't care. Hal's eyes closed. And the last thing she saw was her sister's face as it was always meant to be remembered: smiling and full of the life.

…

Murtagh and Eragon had been in the middle of a joint lesson with their students when he saw Selena standing in the back of the room, watching him with a faint smile on her face.

His eyes had almost missed her completely, the split-second delay between his vision and his mind almost breaking down until he stopped mid-sentence to stare at her. He blinked, expecting her to vanish. However, she looked as solid as his surroundings, draped in a robe of purest white that hung off her lithe frame. She looked too real. So real that he almost called out to her. So real that he actually took a step forward before something stopped him.

Her smile widened, her eyes bright with a love he had almost never known. She nodded her head towards him, then shimmered, and faded, like something out of a dream. Then his palm, where the gedwëy ignasia was etched into his skin, began to itch and burn, almost like it had when he had first received the mark.

Tears of grief that didn't quite feel like his filled his eyes. He clutched his chest, like his heart was failing. He dropped to his knees and heard someone shout for him. However, the moment soon passed. A fleeting thing, and yet Murtagh knew. He didn't know how, but he knew.

He raised his head, uncaring of the tears that still rolled down his cheeks. He glanced around until he found what he was looking for. As it was midday, and the classroom they occupied was one with windows, it was too bright and cheery for the torches on the wall to be lit just yet. He focused as he always did and said clearly, "Brisingr!"

The torch jumped to life, the fire blazing brighter and stronger than any flame Murtagh had conjured before.

Coming to his senses, he glanced around the room, expecting everyone to have noticed what he had. Instead, they all looked pale and stunned, everyone quiet and no longer speaking. It was Eragon who moved first, shaking his head before the dance of the flames caught his attention. Then he looked over at Murtagh, who was still kneeling.

"I just…" Eragon began, but he seemed unable to formulate exactly what he was thinking. "I could've sworn I just saw…but no, that's impossible."

Murtagh almost blurted the he had seen their mother. That she had smiled at him. Acknowledged him. Had said more in one look than her diary could have ever told him. But Murtagh felt the words lodge themselves in his throat. No. He did not want to share this with Eragon. He did not want to share this with anyone except for one.

"You can do magic again," Eragon stated, finding a suitable change of subject.

Murtagh nodded. "I can."

"But how?"

"Halen."

They stared at each other, and only then did Murtagh realize. He patted himself down with a sort of mad rush until he found the mirror Nasuada had gifted him. He opened it, hands shaking with fear and hope as he muttered the words to scry.

The surface rippled and was white. Suddenly, after nearly six months apart, he saw her. Hal was unconscious, but she was alive. Otherwise, he knew, he would not have been able to see her at all. Arya was with her, although the elf queen was gazing off into the distance with a look of pure shock on her face — something Murtagh did not think was possible, surprising an elf. He could not see what stunned her so, but he didn't care. Hal looked smaller than when he had last seen her. Somewhat more gaunt, her cheekbones sharper than he would have liked. But she was alive and, for some reason, she was in Arya's care. That was enough to ease some of the tension in his chest before he looked up, releasing his magic.

I do not know what exactly has happened, Thorn said, touching his mind, but I feel that Hal, once again, has done something truly remarkable.

Aye. Did you…did you see anything, Thorn?

I did. I do not yet know what to make of it. If you do not mind, I would like to keep it to myself for now, until I have come to terms with it.

Of course, of course. I was just curious…

Whatever Hal did to restore magic, it has had a far-reaching impact.

Murtagh glanced over at the students. Gloria had covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking as she cried. Ovdkel looked like he might be praying, eyes closed and his mouth moving quickly. Latham was staring out, his eyes distant. Only Vaeril seemed to be less effected than everyone else, sitting quietly and patiently with a gentle smile on his face. When he and Murtagh's eyes met, a quiet understanding seemed to pass between them. Of what, Murtagh wasn't sure, but he nodded at his pupil who returned the gesture.

Rising to his feet, Murtagh turned to his brother. "I have to go."

Eragon's expression was sad. "I know."

Without having to go into detail, Eragon had known Murtagh didn't just mean to leave this room.

"You should come with me," Murtagh continued. Before Eragon could argue, Murtagh quickly added, "I don't know what's going on, but I think it's time that the rest of the world meets the new generation of dragon riders. It's time to step out of the shadows, brother. Things are about to be put into motion. We can't be here when that happens."

Eragon looked conflicted, his brows pinched. Murtagh knew he was speaking to Saphira and finally understood why Hal always teased him so about his expressions.

Halen.

He knew the sole reason he was anxious to leave was to see her again. He knew they were about to be buried under paperwork and ambassador trips. If magic had been restored, then the laws and enemies that had been put on pause would ramp up at an even faster pace than before. But before any of that occupied his waking hours, he only wanted to see her.

"Okay," Eragon said, nodding to Murtagh. "You're right. There're still a few things I will need to wrap up here before I can leave. I ask that you take Gloria and Latham with you, as they are the oldest. I and the others will follow behind you. We will probably leave in the next few days."

"I'm leaving now," Murtagh threw back, keeping his voice low. "I know it's selfish to say, but I am not in the right headspace to help them navigate expectations. Not right now. My only priority is making sure Hal is safe and that's she's okay. I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize. You're right and I appreciate you admitting as much. They'll be expecting you but not us. Can you give Arya a message for me when you arrive?"

Murtagh nodded. "Aye, that much I can do. Thank you, brother."

Eragon gave him an encouraging smile. "I'm glad she's okay, Murtagh. And I look forward to finally meeting my sister-in-law."

He chuckled. "I'm sure she will feel much of the same way." Then he remembered something Hal had told him and hoped it would give Eragon the peace of mind before his own travels. "Hal asked me once, after we lost magic, what would happen when it was returned. How much will have changed after such a degree of impact. She even wondered if the True Name of magic had changed."

"I hadn't even considered that," Eragon murmured, thoughtful. "She raises a good question."

"She also wondered if it would still be Alagaësia if the language that named it no longer exists." At this, Eragon was quiet, immediately understanding what Murtagh was trying to say. "I admit," he continued, I don't know the answer to that. But I do know that names hold power for a reason. There is no guarantee magic was restored as it was once. There's no guarantee our country will exist as it did before. So perhaps, your prophecy wasn't wrong. Maybe it was just signaling that when you did make your way home, the land you had left behind will no longer exist."

Murtagh clapped him on the shoulder. "Whatever your feelings on the matter may be, do not let your heart and mind be swayed by a fortune. Only we can determine our own fates. Only we can decide the kind of lives we must lead. When we decide, we then must live out our choices. That is what it means to live. I hope, when you do make your way back, you will feel a sense of rightness in your decision and not regret."

Eragon's anxiety was palpable, but Murtagh could also see a bit of hope. A reminder that fortunes were only as powerful as they allowed them to be.

Greatness.

Peace of mind.

Murtagh did not see why anyone had to live without both.