Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. I only own the OC Michael Draven/Ancalagon.

Eragon didn't know where he was. He floated in nothingness, unable to move his body. Flashes from the Shade's mind enveloped him, and pressed down on him like a blanket, smothering him. Darkness surrounded him and he curled into a ball, trying to fight against the shadows around him. He clung to his memories of his own life like a shield; the images of his friends, his feelings towards them, and his experiences since finding Saphira's egg. He struggled to keep this light with him, battling back the evil.

Come to me, a clear voice rang out. Eragon felt the darkness halt, then retreat. He looked up to see a figure dressed in white standing in front of him.

Who are you... he asked weakly.

I am the Mourning Sage, and also the Cripple Who Is Whole, the person answered. Come to me, Eragon, for I have the answers that you seek.

But...where are you? Eragon pleaded. How do I find you?

Trust in Arya and go with her to Ellesmera... I await you there.

The figure turned and walked away into the distance. Eragon tried to stand and follow, but his body would not respond. Wait, please, he tried. The person stopped, then turned back to face Eragon, their face obscured by a silver light.

The time for answers will come, Eragon, he assured him. Rejoice in what you have done, and be proud. You have rid the world of a great evil. Eragon could feel the truth in his words, and a sense of peace washed over him. He had accomplished much, and his feats would merit him honor and recognition. No matter his trials in the future, he knew he was no longer just a pawn in the game of power. He had become what Ajihad had wanted; an authority independent of any king or leader.

Eragon sensed approval as he reached that conclusion. He could feel a strange sensation come from the mysterious figure, but it spoke before he could. Remember – you must go to the elves...

Rest Eragon...

"Eragon..."

"Eragon!"

He reluctantly forced his eyes open and found himself on a long bed, swathed in soft blankets. Angela sat in a chair beside him, staring at his face intently. "How do you feel?" she asked.

Disoriented and confused, he let his eyes roam over the small room. "I... I don't know," he said, his mouth dry and sore.

"Then don't move. You should conserve your strength," said Angela, running a hand through her curly hair. Eragon saw that she still wore her flanged armor. Why was that? A fit of coughing made him dizzy, lightheaded, and ache all over. His feverish limbs felt heavy. Angela lifted a gilt horn from the floor and held it to his lips. "Here, drink."

Cool mead ran down his throat, refreshing him. Warmth bloomed in his stomach and rose to his cheeks. He coughed again, which worsened his throbbing head. How did I get here? There was a battle... we were losing... then Durza and..."Saphira!" he exclaimed, sitting upright. He sagged back as his head swam and clenched his eyes, feeling sick. "What about Saphira? Is she all right? And Arya! Ancalagon! Everyone!"

"Easy, easy," Angela chided, gently holding him down. "Saphira is alright, as are the others."

"What happened? Where are they?" he asked, his eyes darting around the room.

"They are outside waiting for you to wake up. I will get them," she said, and got up to go to the door.

There was nothing but silence outside the room, save for the heavy breathing of the two dragons that laid together. Saphira had her head on top of her mate's, with him giving her comforting and reassuring strokes along her side with his tail. On the other side of the hall, Murtagh sat against the wall as well, his gaze directed at the floor. Arya stood a small distance away, similarly lost in contemplation.

Saphira had been struck silent when Ancalagon told her of his past, and showed her his past, that he was a human from another world who had been brought here through mysterious means and given the body of a dragon. Ancalagon said he'd understand if she refused to be with him now that she knew, he just wanted her to know who she had chosen, that if they were to commit, she might as well know him fully.

In the end, it didn't change a thing between them, but Saphira was going to get used to using his real name 'Michael'.

They were all snapped from their silent musings and thoughts when they heard the door open. Saphira lifted her head as soon as she heard the doors opening and Angela popped her head out to look at them and smiled. "He's awake."

Arya and Murtagh entered while Ancalagon and Saphira snaked their heads into the room after them, their bodies too big to fit through the doorway. Saphira's chest vibrated as she hummed deeply, eyes sparkling.

It is good to see you well, little one, she said tenderly.

You too. But how –

The others wish to explain, and I will let them.

You breathed fire, I saw you!

Yes, she hummed with pride.

I swear, if you worry us like that again… I'll tie you to either myself or Saphira if it means you are safe and unharmed. Ancalagon said with a growl. First Gil'ead, and now this… was this how older brothers felt when their younger ones got themselves into so much trouble?

I'll try harder next time. Eragon said cheekily, earning a narrowed eyed-gaze from Ancalagon. He looked at Arya and Murtagh. "What happened?"

Arya looked sad. But Murtagh crowed, "We won! It was incredible! When the Shade's spirits—if that's what they were—flew across Farthen Dûr, the Urgals just watched them go. It was as though they were released from a spell then, because their clans suddenly turned and attacked each other. Their entire army disintegrated within minutes. We routed them after that!"

"They're all dead?" asked Eragon.

"No, many of them escaped into the tunnels. The Varden and dwarves are busy ferreting them out right now, but it's going to take a while." Murtagh said. "I was helping until an Urgal banged me on the head and I was sent back here. You're a hero! Everyone's talking about how you killed Durza. If it hadn't been for you, we would have lost.

Eragon's cheeks reddened, flustered at the praise which earned amused chuckles from the dragons. Eragon ignored them and turned to Arya. Her large bright eyes had been fixed upon him the entire time. "And you? Are you okay?"

"I am well, Shadeslayer." Arya said, lips twitching for a second before she grimaced. "It is you who we are worried for."

A twinge of unease shot through Eragon, matching the intensity of his throbbing head. My back...But he felt no bandages there. "How long have I been here?" he asked with trepidation.

"Only a day and a half," answered Angela. "You're lucky I was around, otherwise it would've taken you weeks to heal—if you had even lived." Alarmed, Eragon pushed the blankets off his torso and twisted around to feel his back. Angela caught his wrist with her small hand, worry reflected in her eyes. "Eragon... you have to understand, my power is not like yours or Arya's. It depends on the use of herbs and potions. There are limits to what I can do, especially with such a large—"

He yanked his hand out of her grip and reached back, fingers groping. The skin on his back was smooth and warm, flawless. Hard muscles flexed under his fingertips as he moved. He slid his hand toward the base of his neck and unexpectedly felt a hard bump about a half-inch wide. He followed it down his back with growing horror. Durza's blow had left him with a huge, ropy scar, stretching from his right shoulder to the opposite hip.

Pity showed on Arya's face as she murmured, "You have paid a terrible price for your deed, Eragon Shadeslayer."

Murtagh laughed harshly. "Yes. Now you're just like me."

Scars can be badges of honor or a reminder of terrible prices. Ancalagon said grimly.

Dismay filled Eragon, and he closed his eyes. He was disfigured. Then he remembered something from when he was unconscious... a figure in white who had helped him. A cripple who was whole—Togira Ikonoka. He had said, Think of what you have done and rejoice, for you have rid the land of a great evil. You have wrought a deed no one else could. Many are in your debt...

Come to me Eragon, for I have answers to all you ask.

A measure of peace and satisfaction consoled Eragon.

I will come…

The next chapter is going to be the last, as I am breaking this into a series. this book covered the first one in the Inheritance Cycle series, so book 2 will cover Eldest. hope nobody is upset at this decision, but it will give me time to plan the story out.

In the next chapter, expect a sex scene between dragons.