"You!" said Angela, sounding exasperated. "Yes, you!" she repeated, pointing. "You were about to skip this author's note, weren't you? Well, don't! Seriously, I know that you usually do, so much so that I had to trick you by making this look like an actual bit of dialogue to get your attention, and that's cool, but this one's really important! It contains information on how to get a bonus chapter and more! So, scroll down and read the bold text!"

Hey guys! Well, here it is—the end of the road!

Hopefully I haven't taken too long this time. In any case, it feels really weird to be writing this right now.

Firstly, let me just say that when I started this fic all those sporadic updates ago, I DID NOT expect it to take over a friggin YEAR of my life. Furthermore, I certainly did not expect in my wildest dreams to get a tenth of the support I have gotten from you guys. Over 250 reviews is more than I could have ever hoped for—you guys rock!

Following on from that, I've decided that I must find some way to repay all my wonderful reviewers. Therefore, everyone who reviews this chapter, providing that I have the ability to PM you (meaning that you a. aren't a guest and b. don't have PMing turned off) will receive a fairly short epilogue which will be...for the first time ever...

FROM ERAGON'S POV!

It's not going to be vital to the story, so if you don't get it you won't miss out if I do end up making any sequels (still no comment on whether that's going to happen,) but it will contain my first ACTUAL romance scene, because a lot of people have been asking for that.

So, now for my acknowledgments. Yes, I'm doing acknowledgments. It looks all professional-like, doesn't it?

Firstly, I want to give special thanks to Tamerlain85...No, wait a second, it was changed, sorry about this...TamerHELM85! Wait a minute...OH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! TAMER-EL!... for helping me immensely with my early ideas for the story and providing awesome feedback during the early stages of my publishing the thing. Wow, is anyone here still around from those days? PM me if you are to get another worthless loyalty prize!

Secondly, I want to also give extra special thanks to Elemental Dragon Slayer, for sticking me the whole way. He has also helped me immensely in always being around to bounce off ideas and provide excellent feedback through the whole time. Basically, he's been my writing guinea pig for the majority of the time I've been writing this, and for that I take my hat off to you, sah! I encourage you to check out his Inheritance Fic, "Switching Lanes."

Now, like I said, I have not yet made a decision about whether to go through with a sequel to this fic. However, at this stage, I AM open to ideas about what I should do with it. While I have got a general idea of what the plot would be, I have not yet put pen to paper with it and therefore there is some degree of flexibility. So, tell me what I did wrong, how I can improve, what you want to see more of and what you want to see less of in a sequel and I will take it all into consideration.

Well, that's just about it from me. In conclusion, I just want to say that this has been an amazing journey for me. This fic has dragged on far longer than I'd expected—it is in fact considerably longer than the three first Harry Potter books, that's a scary thought—but I am very glad to have seen it through all the way. But I've talked way too long already, so, for the final time...

Read, enjoy (or not,) and REVEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIW!

Arya slumped over, resting her head in her hands. It had been a very long day. This council meeting had been the busiest one since she had taken the throne. With very few short breaks to divide up the endless frustration, Arya and the council had been arguing back and forth non-stop to try and get everything sorted out. Where the dwarves would stay. How the forest would be defended against the Giant's attack. Whether or not she was a lunatic who had simply conjured an image of her father and somehow replicated his mind. The list went on.

Presently, it was night-time—that is to say, the sun had set, not that it made much of a difference, and the stars would have been out if they were visible—and the council elves were still going strong. Arya's throat was hoarse from yelling, which one would inevitably have to do on several occasions in order to prevent such meetings as these from spiralling out of control, and from the number of disapproving stares and outright furious glares she had received throughout the course of the day, she now had a fairly good idea of how it had felt when Oromis had knocked Tia out with a flash of his eyes several days before.

There it was again—Oromis. The very few reports she had received about his condition were not at all promising. Eragon had said that he'd be okay—but what did "okay" mean for these people, exactly? Besides, for all she knew he was lying. Yes, lying was one thing he was very good at...

How could he have lied to her like that? How, for that matter, had she been so incredibly stupid as to believe him? She was cleverer than this! What exactly had he planned to do, anyway, once he'd re-established the riders? Arrange a horrifying accident and then get Murtagh to take his place or something?

Murtagh. She was worried for him as well—however much she used to loathe the Red Rider—well, the former Red Rider—it was hard to go through a quest like theirs and not become friends. She wondered if he'd be awake yet. She doubted it. He was better off being unconscious right now anyway. Once he woke up...

"My lady?" said Filor, with a bit of an arrogant smile. "I trust you are well?"

"I'm fine." She snapped.

Filor pretended to look taken aback. "I apologize for offending you, my lady. If these proceedings are proving to be too tiring for you, I am sure that everyone here would understa-"

The doors of the great room swung open, and through them stepped Eragon, now looking a fair bit healthier than before. Wearing his shining silver armor and heavy blue cloak, he was an imposing sight. The gravity of his presence drew the eyes of every elf in the room. Of course, Filor was the first to address him.

"Ah, shadeslayer, it is wonderful to see you returned to us. I trust you are enjoying your stay here?"

"Indeed, Lord Filor." said Eragon smoothly. Another effect of Eragon's slightly restored health was a certain sense of power and confidence in his voice that it had previously lacked. Yes, his voice did have that sort of commanding yet smooth and easygoing tone and particularly classy accent that usually marked a man who knew full well that he was better than everyone else in the room put together and simultaneously tried not to flaunt it and failed somewhat in hiding it...Not that Arya cared about that...

Filor smiled rather fixedly. "I apologize, Shadeslayer, but would you mind terribly summoning the door guards? I must have a word with them—they were supposed to prevent anyone from entering, you see, I'm sure that you can understand that this council is very busy..."

"I apologize for interrupting you, Arya, but I'm off to Illeria to discuss the present situation with the other Alagesian leaders and I think you should come along." He said, without even looking at Filor.

Arya stood up very quickly. "Yes—yes, of course." She said, doing her best to hide her relief. "Most of the arrangements for the defence of the city have already been made—I'm sure that my councillors can handle what remains to be said for the accommodation."

"My lady, there is still much to be done." Said Lord Filor, equally as quickly. "Apologies, shadeslayer, but I was not aware that you had the right to order our queen around."

Arya gritted her teeth. Filor knew exactly who Eragon was. Eragon looked at him silently for a few seconds, his face expressionless. Arya half-hoped that he would do the city a favour and smite the elf for his impudence, or whatever Gannel would say he'd do.

"Respectfully, Lord Filor, I think you should take a bit of a break." He said. "Your understandably tired mind seems to have blurred the definitions of 'ordering' and 'asking.' You should probably be going anyway. That delightful little whore you hired for tonight—she'll be arriving at your quarters soon. You spent a fair bit of money on her—I suggest that you don't keep her waiting."

For the first time in several hours, there was complete silence. Every elf in the room was staring at Filor. Of course, Eragon could have been lying—Arya had told them that the ancient language did not bind his kind to the truth—but Filor's furious blushing and lack of any response suggested otherwise.

Without another word, Eragon turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Arya hurried to join him. When she reached the threshold, she couldn't resist turning around to the mortified elven Lord.

"Better do as he says, Filor." She said with the straightest face she could muster. She then turned back and followed Eragon, following him through the main hall of the building at a brisk pace.

"It's not time to leave just yet." Said Eragon quietly. "But Oromis is awake and I thought you might want to see him."

Arya nodded, feeling grateful underneath the emotionless mask she had quickly resurrected for her dealings with Eragon. In any case, she was currently too wrapped up in thinking about how easily Eragon had somehow plucked Filor's name and secret doings from the powerful elf-lord's mind. Could he simply pull thoughts out of Arya's head just as easily? Would she even know if he did?

They crossed the threshold, and Eragon stopped. "We can't teleport there because of our new wards, so we'll be flying to the infirmary and then meeting up with Saphira and Firnen, who will take us beyond the defensive perimeter so we can teleport to Illeria." He said. "Follow me."

He took off in a shower of blue sparks. Arya followed him, and within a few minutes they had landed in a large clearing in which the Alaelans had set up an impromptu healing centre. The place was bustling with activity. New beds were constantly being materialized out of thin air, and groups of warriors would land every few seconds, often depositing wounded before taking off again. The area was surrounded completely by dwarves, all accommodated in makeshift tents.

Arya quickly spotted Oromis, who was sitting on the side of his bed and conversing with Angela. She and Eragon quickly walked up to them. Oromis smiled at them.

"Arya, my dear, it's good to see you." He said. Arya covered the remaining distance between them at a sprint and flung her arms around the old Alaelan.

"I'm glad you're alright." She said thickly.

"Careful that you don't re-break his bones there, Arya." Said Angela. "I spent hours regrowing those."

Arya turned to face her. She could see in Angela's face that despite her ongoing attempts at appearing supremely aloof, she was just as relieved to see Oromis awake as Arya was.

"Angela's already told me what happened down there." Said Oromis, embracing Arya as tightly as he could in his condition. "I am sorry that you have had to suffer so much, child." He said warmly.

"Worry about yourself." She said thickly, and then broke away.

"So, do we have any news from the Giants?" she asked the group.

"No." Said Eragon. "We hit them hard at Tronjheim—we may have just a little breathing space before the attack comes. But it will be all for nothing unless we use it well."

After scanning the chaotic scene for several seconds, Arya spotted Murtagh, lying unconscious on a bed and looking very pale.

"How is he?" she asked Angela quietly.

"As well as he can be." Said Angela, her voice sounding far more subdued than Angela's voice had any right to be. "It will be a while before he wakes up. I think it's best that way. The shock that it will have wrought on his mind..."

There was a long, forbidding silence, which was in fact very, very similar to the vast majority of the innumerable other long, forbidding silences that the author has written into the story for lack of a better dialogue device. Finally, Eragon spoke.

"We need to be going." He said. "Where's Evandar?"

"He's still busy with the defence arrangements." Said Angela. "He said it's best that you two leave without him." Eragon nodded. As in on cue, Saphira swooped down into the clearing, followed by Firnen.

"Ready to go?" Firnen asked Arya. In response, she climbed up on his back and strapped her legs in.

The flight to the edge of the defensive perimeter took only a few minutes. They landed in another clearing.

"Good luck, Arya." Said Firnen as she dismounted. Eragon held out his hand to her and after a moment of uncertainty she took it.

"You'll need it, with those crazies." He added. There was a flash of light, and a moment later, they were standing it the courtyard of the palace at Illeria.

Arya was overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia as she looked upon the scene that she had last beheld what felt like a lifetime ago. Her life had been simple then, and she had been oblivious to the truth. She wished things had never changed since then.

It was a second or two before she realized that she was still holding Eragon's hand, and she quickly withdrew from the contact. Eragon didn't seem to take any notice.

"We'd best be getting up to the council, then." Said Eragon. "Orik's already here, and I had some warriors bring Nar Gazarvog here as well." With that he began walking briskly towards the archway that lead into the interior of the palace.

Meanwhile, the numerous guards who were standing in the courtyard had gotten over their apparent shock at two people appearing out of thin air and came running towards them, yelling loudly and incoherently.

"Stop!" yelled the bravest. "No unauthorized entry to place grounds! Wait a second—Shadeslayer? Is it you? How did you—"

"It's called teleportation." Said Eragon. "Considering your vocation you people ought to get used to it. I take it you have been told to expect me?"

"Yes, but not like this—"

"Well, you learn something new every day." Said Eragon, and he went on walking.

Finally shrugging off the remainder of their shock, the guards rushed to form a line in front of Eragon.

"Sir, I must ask you to drop your sword." Said the speaker, drawing his blade. "Your identity must be verified. You too, miss." He added, turning to Arya.

Eragon sighed, and his glowing sword was whipped out of its scabbard. The guards quickly backed off in ill-disguised terror, but he held it out by its hilt. "You can take it if you really want it, but I must warn you that doing so will probably knock you out cold for three days. I'd swear that I'm telling the truth to you in the ancient language, but if anybody bothers to do that from now on they're probably lying. I'm sorry, but I really don't have time for this." He said, and began to walk forward once more.

The other guards drew their blades, but with a flick of his hand Eragon caused each one of them to fly out of their hands and over the parapet, into open space.

"I am not here to harm anyone." He said, and now his voice rang with indescribable power. Arya felt a sudden urge to believe anything he said. "If my men had not already placed the innermost part of this place under their warding, I would have appeared straight there and you would not have seen me. If I wanted to harm anyone here I could have already done so. Now let me pass."

The guards parted—Arya couldn't tell whether Eragon had forced them to do so or whether they simply did it because they saw no other option. Either way, he immediately continued walking without another word, and after a second Arya followed.

They continued to the far side of the courtyard, and as they passed under the arch two more armed figures hurried towards them, but these were unmistakably Alaelans.

"Sire, I apologize that these humans gave you trouble." One of them said. "We were just passing the message along for them not to bother you—apparently it has not yet reached them."

Eragon nodded without stopping. Within a few minutes they had reached the great oaken doors of the council chamber. Eragon raised his hand and they creaked open—Arya had a vivid flashback of Murtagh doing something very similar at the exact same spot before their quest began.

Arya surveyed the scene. Nasuada sat at the head of the table, looking rather pale in the face. Orik sat to her side, looking even worse, and on the other side was Nar Gazarvog, who looked predictably warlike. Orrin sat next to him, looking very drunk.

As soon as he saw Eragon and Arya enter, Orik jumped to his feet. He rushed forward and sank to his knees before Eragon.

"Lord Guntera!" He said, dipping his head. Eragon sighed loudly.

"Angela told you to do this, didn't she?"

Orik looked shocked. "I was merely paying you the respect you are due, great one!" he said. "...Lady Sindri may have mentioned that I should do so." He added after a few seconds. Eragon rolled his eyes.

"Oh, get up." He said. "And don't do that again." Orik leapt to his feet quickly. Eragon place a hand on his shoulder.

"There is no need for it among the two of us, brother." He added quietly. The dwarf seemed at a loss for words.

Nasuada stood slowly.

"Welcome, Queen Arya. And, er...Lord Guntera." She said.

"I prefer Eragon, thank you." Said Eragon irritably, taking his seat. Arya sat beside him. "Now, I trust you have all been filled in on the present situation?"

They all nodded slowly, save for Nar Gazarvog. "We have been informed of your claims." He rumbled. "But I do not believe them. You are not the true gods."

Orik rounded on him instantly, drawing himself up to the full extent of his admittedly fairly small stature. "Now listen here, you—"

"Peace, Orik." Said Eragon, and the dwarf fell silent instantly. "Nar Gazrvog is quite correct. We are not gods." At this, Orik looked utterly stunned.

"Whether or not there are all-powerful beings who look down on this world and design our fates, I know not. However, if they do exist, they don't seem to be very interested in helping us, so I would certainly not worship them." Nobody had an answer for this.

"My name is Eragon." The king continued. "Oromis, Angela and Evandar are my companions and friends, and those names are their true ones as well. I am sorry that we deceived you—that we assumed false identities and did not reveal our true selves or our true purposes. I hope that, in time, you will come to understand that these deceptions were necessary, though I would not blame you if you didn't."

Nobody spoke for a long time. Eventually, Nasuada responded.

"Very well...king Eragon. I am sure that we can all agree that we do not fully understand the purposes for your deception, but I for one am willing to trust your judgement." Arya knew Nasuada well enough to know that the human woman didn't trust Eragon one bit, and she certainly never intended to worship him as a god. Despite her own reservations about Eragon, Arya still felt distain over this.

"Excellent." Said Eragon. "Now, let us begin. It is my intention to ensure that Alagesia does not suffer the Wrath of Angvard alone. However, the dark forces will almost certainly take their fight to our homeland, Alaela, now that we are in open conflict. Our full attentions cannot be devoted to this land alone, and we cannot defend its entire expanse. The dwarves have already been relocated to Du Weldenvarden, but the question still remains of the human and Urgal races. Farthen Dur would of course been an ideal headquarters for the entirety of Alagesia's population, however I can assume that is why the entrance to the underworld was placed there—so that when the time came, it would be denied to us. Unless Angvard is very, very stupid—and he is not, mind—we will not see the inside of that place before the end of this war, if at all.

Arya thought this may have been a slightly insensitive thing to say in front of Orik, who looked now more sombre than ever. However, Eragon ploughed on.

"It is my suggestion that the lands of the Empire be evacuated, with the human population condensed into the cities of Illeria and Aberon, along with their immediate surroundings. The Urgals will join them."

Orrin stood with some difficulty. "Preposterous! I'll not have some blasted beasts-" he pointed in the general direction of Nar Gazarvog—"disrupting my city!"

The urgal whom he was probably addressing stood much more quickly. "Hold your tongue, drunkard, if you wish to keep it!"

"Now wait a second, who are you calling a drunk—"

"Sit down, both of you!" said Nasuada.

Orrin rounded on Nasuada. "No, I don't think I will, your highnessness." He said, slurring his words. "I've had quite enough of you acting as if you are still in charge of us!"

"Perhaps I will listen to you more intently once your grammar improves." Replied Nasuada icily.

"And you!" said Orrin, rounding on Eragon. "Since when did you have the right to order us around?"

"HOW DARE YOU?" roared Orik.

"But he is right, little one." Said Nar Gazarvog. "My people have only just gained their lands. We will fight to defend them!"

"SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!" yelled Arya, with as much force as she could muster. Each voice fell silent, and each face turned to her. Most of them looked rather indignant—especially Orrin. But none of them spoke.

"How can you quarrel like this with the magnitude of the enemy you face?" she yelled. "Don't you understand the power of the enemy you're fighting?"

Eragon nodded. "Perhaps they do not. Maybe a demonstration, then?" he said. The silence, if possible, deepened. Eragon stood.

"Queen Nasuada, I would assume that you have received considerable warding from your mages."

Nasuada's face turned suspicious, but she quickly hid it behind a mask of neutrality. "Indeed." She answered evenly.

"That is a relief. However, am I right in assuming that most of your subjects do not enjoy nearly as much magical protection, if any?"

Nasuada nodded. "Yes, that is correct."

Eragon sighed. "Well, at least you are safe, then."

Nasuada nodded uncertainly. "As safe as it is prudent to be away from the battlefield, yes."

"Indeed. So, you would agree that a single individual, unless he possessed power equivalent to that of, a man such as, say, Galbatorix, would find it difficult to breach your defences—especially considering the guards and mages who constantly watch over you? That it would take a considerable effort on their part, and that it would leave them physically and mentally drained?"

"Yes, I think that is a fair assumption." She said, now sounding more bewildered than ever.

Eragon paused for a long moment. He then snapped his fingers. Instantly, Nasuada slumped into the chair, unmoving. There was a commotion of surprised yells, and the guards ran into the room with their weapons drawn. Arya could see the queen's chest moving—but she knew that the others, not possessing elven perception, could not.

Eragon turned round to the guards. The first ran at him, and, with Eragon making no attempt to stop him, ran him through. Arya was unable to stop a yelp of utter shock and fear from escaping her lips before she realized that the guard's blade had passed through Eragon as if he were made of smoke. The guard looked utterly dumbstruck as Eragon turned around, quite calmly, to face the other leaders, who were all on their feet, each one lost for words, for once.

"He could repeat that again and again, and continue to do that all day, and he would not harm me." He said. "In fact, if every magician in Alagesia were to attack my mind, they could not break my defences. And as for queen Nasuada—she is only unconscious. However, I could have utterly vaporized her just as easily."

He snapped his finger once more, and Nasuada stirred. "I don't...what—" she said.

The silence in the room was once again absolute. Nobody spoke to Nasuada, or seemed to have any words to offer in response to the situation. Eragon turned round to the guard who still stood beside him, his sword arm hanging limp in shock.

"I applaud your quick and decisive action, Hatham, but I assure you that your queen is not harmed in any way." He said, and with that he sat down.

"Now, I am, admittedly, a little more powerful than most of the Giants. However, there are hundreds and hundreds of Giants, not to mention the far more ancient and powerful forces that Angvard will undoubtedly call to him in light of his return. I know you may find it difficult to co-operate, but I saw each and every one of you put aside your differences in order to defend yourselves during the reign of Galbatorix. I ask only that you show the same level of camaraderie now, and leave behind your quarrels for as long as this land is under threat."

The silence was not broken for some time. "Very well, king Eragon." Said Nasuada eventually. "I think we can all agree that you have made your point."

And so they began. The matter of re-organizing the entire population of Alagesia was a logistical nightmare, and it might have dragged on for a week if not for Eragon. Despite all his insistences that he be treated as an equal to the other rulers present at the council, the fact that he was simply so superior to each one of them was impossible to miss. The rulers all reacted differently to this. Orrin, with his obvious inferiority complex, seemed to absolutely loathe the fact, while Orik just seemed to be in utter awe of the king. Nar Gazarvog seemed to have gained much more respect for Eragon since he had shown such power and strength, as was to be expected of his race. And Nasuada—she was, as always, inscrutable. No matter what their reaction though, none of them could help but follow his lead.

When Arya and Eragon left the meeting, it was well past midnight. Each of them, however, knew what arrangements needed to be made for their respective races. Moving their attention from village to village, town to town, and arguing constantly about how they would be evacuated and where they would be moved to had been a horribly tedious process, but they had eventually managed to work everything out, more or less. While the entire population of Alagesia could not of course be condensed into three cities, the lands around the respective capitals did provide enough room, cramped as conditions might be. Eragon had assured them that food would be provided where needed, and therefore farmland did not need to be held.

Arya hadn't taken too much of a role in the proceedings, as she was by now unable to hold off her exhaustion any longer. She had never suffered a more difficult day in her life, and now she felt more exhausted than she had ever been.

It wasn't until Eragon came over to her that she was stirred from her half-slumber. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

"Time to go." He said quietly.

Arya nodded and slowly stood up. The other leaders were filing out of the room, one by one. Arya followed Eragon out, grateful that he had slowed his usual pace considerably in order to allow Arya's aching legs to keep up.

They teleported into Du Weldenvarden, and as Saphira and Firnen flew them back to the city, Arya was greeted by an encouraging sight. Despite the total blackness of the night sky, the area had been filled by merry little lights, and it seemed that everywhere was illuminated in their soft glow. The city was bustling with activity, with groups of dwarves, elves and Alaelans rushing this way and that. The mood was by no means cheerful, but the very fact that they were all there, a little worse for wear but carrying on, was encouraging. Saphira set down in a large garden that Arya knew had been converted into a military headquarters of sorts. Eragon dismounted.

Arya did the same, but Eragon said, "There is no more need for you tonight, Arya. You need rest."

"That you do." Said the Firnen. "You have not rested properly for far too long, my rider. And neither have I."

There it was again—someone dismissing her, telling her to go rest and let them take care of it. Arya knew it would take her some time to get used to that—especially from Eragon.

Arya nodded. "Very well." She said. "Wake me if I am needed."

The corner of Eragon's mouth twitched. "Oh, I'm sure we can manage for one night." He said. "We are quite experienced with this sort of thing, you know." Arya heard the equivalent of draconic laughter form Saphira.

She turned back to Firnen once more, and moved over to mount her dragon.

"Arya." He said just before she could do so.

She turned around perhaps more swiftly than she planned to do so.

"Arya, much has happened that...that I would not have wished. You should not have been involved in this."

Arya turned away, hot fury boiling inside her. Again, he was treating her like a child, a helpless woman who couldn't look after herself. That, at least, had not changed.

"Arya." He said again, and she couldn't help but turn around once more. He walked up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Arya, I didn't mean it in that way." He said wearily, once again reading her perfectly. "I know that you are a strong person—one of the strongest people whom I have ever met, and without a doubt the strongest Alagesian. But this war should not be yours, and nobody should have to go through what you have gone through without...without knowing why." He said. Arya felt shock resonating through her body. So that's what he was talking about.

"I was trying to protect you. To make sure you would be safe along with the rest of your race. But I miscalculated, and looking back I think perhaps I didn't do things the right way. I'm sorry for not being truthful with you, Arya."

She didn't know what to say to that. She wasn't sure if she wanted to scream at him or fall into his arms, and she was quite sure that neither would be proper. But she knew that she did have to say something to him, even if she couldn't reply to his statement.

"You've had your own ordeal...king Eragon. Perhaps you should be resting as well." Her words came out much more softly than she would have wished.

Eragon just smiled. "Oh, I'll last a few more hours yet. Don't worry about me." Arya's eyes fell on the few streaks of grey which still remained in his hair, and she was quite sure that she should be worried. She didn't say that, though, and simply nodded, and then turned back to mount her dragon.

They took off once more, heading for Tialdari hall. To Arya's surprise, Saphira came with them, while Arya saw Eragon moving over to join an important looking council before disappearing from sight.

After the two dragons entered the hall, (Saphira with some difficulty, owing to her size,) the two of them found a free space on the floor that wasn't occupied by a group of dwarves and elves and lay down together. Arya smiled. At least not all relationships were so complicated.

"You two-legs could learn a lot from us dragons." Said Firnen, sensing her thoughts.

Arya might have tried to tell him that it was more complicated than that—how humans, elves, dwarves, urgals had romantic relationships that were affected by so many different factors. She did not, however, say any of this. She was too tired, and besides, there was a part of her which knew Firnen to be right.

"Maybe we could." She replied.

She made her way to her quarters. Being the central nexus of the city, Tialdari hall was now full to the brim. Elves and dwarves alike were strewn chaotically around the building (much to the displeasure of both parties.) It took Arya several tedious minutes to reach her quarters, owing to the amount of times she was forced to go through formal greetings with hordes of elves, who would not have dispensed with the pleasantries if Faolin himself came strolling right in.

Eventually, she reached her quarters. It seemed so very long since she had last been there, but the place hadn't changed—except, of course, for the absence of Tia. Seeing the room again only served to fully drive home the reality of her friend's death.

Thunder rumbled overhead—it was especially loud that night. However, Arya was too tired to be bothered by it. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she lay down. The feeling of being in a comfortable bed once more was indescribable, as was the feeling of being able to rest with Firnen's presence in her mind once more. Almost instantly, she fell asleep.

The moment her eyes closed, the darkness of sleep was replaced by a blinding light. Imposed onto the light was the vaguest hint of a man's silhouette, and, as the image came into focus, she saw that kneeling before the silhouette was a Giant.

"The enemy are preparing for war, sire." Said Faolin. "The mortals are informed."

Angvard laughed, the sound rocking Arya to her core.

"A shame." He said. "There will be much death before this is over. How I wish that my son had stayed with me...things would have been so much quicker."

"His mistake will only prolong their agony, my lord." Said Faolin quickly, and Arya heard a slight note of apprehension in his voice. "They cannot win this fight."

"No, they cannot." Angvard replied. "However, they should not be fighting at all. This war should not have been allowed to happen."

"My Giants are working to ensure your son's re-capture as we speak." Said Faolin, even more quickly than before.

"Liar." Said Angvard, his voice hardening. The effect of this was a ripple of power that sent a shiver through Arya's very soul. She sank into a cower. Please don't let them see me. She thought. Please don't let him see.

"Your forces have no way whatsoever to ensure that wretches' re-capture. You cannot lie to me."

"You truly are all—knowing, my lord." Said Faolin, after a moment, sounding truly scared now. "I am sure that with such power—"

"Silence." Said Angvard—he was not shouting, but the word hit Arya with a force similar to the one she had felt after the explosion which destroyed of the palace at Urubaen.

"I have made a mistake." Said Angvard. "I had such high hopes for you Giants—but that faith was clearly misplaced."

"My lord—"

"SILENCE." Said Angvard, and the anger in his voice was much more apparent this time. "You have failed me, Faolin. You wasted all your time scheming over that pathetic half-breed. You put your trust in a ridiculous prophesy instead of acting as I had directed you."

"My lord, please. The half-breed—she was not how I expected. That piece of dirt had already given herself to the Order!"

"Now now, Faolin." Said Angvard. "How dare you insult our guest in such a manner?"

Faolin spun around, and his fiery eyes grew wide when he saw Arya. His surprise quickly changed into a mask of pure hatred. He raised his hand, a nimbus of fire forming in his palm...

"ENOUGH." Said Angvard, and Faolin's hand fell to his side. The Giant turned back to face his master.

"This piece of dirt, as you call her, managed to best you, Faolin. What are you, then? What is a man who is bested by a piece of dirt?"

Faolin made no response.

"I have been foiled." Said Angvard. "I would, of course, have preferred to absorb the power of my traitorous son. Our family connection...Taking his life would have given me the strength to rise completely."

"Master, I—"

"It is a disappointment to me...I confess myself disappointed...The ritual cannot be properly performed without him...but you have robbed me of him, Faolin, so I suppose I will have to settle for you."

"Please, master, no—"

"At least it will be less time-consuming." Said Angvard matter-of-factly. My son put up quite a fight. But your soul was given to me long ago, Faolin. I do not think that you will be anywhere near as bothersome."

"Lord Angvard, please! You chose me...chose me to lead your armies and to kill him! I have always been your weapon against him! Let me continue to fight! I will not make any further mistakes!"

"No." snarled Angvard. "You will not." The figure raised his hand, and a jet of fire and darkness rushed into his palm from Faolin's chest. The Giant screamed, and the scream was more horrible than any Arya had ever heard.

The fire in Faolin's body began to dim, and Arya realized in horror that his very life force was being sucked out from him. Angvard was devouring his own servant.

Arya knew she had to stop it. She hated Faolin utterly, but she knew that Angvard could not be allowed to take his power and use it for himself. Arya tried to raise her arm, but in horror she realized that she was utterly paralysed—rooted to the spot.

The last of the fire disappeared from Faolin's form, and the giant dissolved into nothingness. As it happened, Arya saw that Angvard's figure seemed to grow more solid, more real. The darkness of his form thickened while the swirling light surrounding him dimmed. He turned to face Arya, orbs of red light appearing where his eyes should be. The force of his gaze hit her like a physical blow, twice as strong as before. Arya screamed.

"You have given me much trouble, half breed." He said, and as he spoke the power of the malice in his words struck her like a spear of ice. "You resisted the deceptions of my servant, and he was unable to defeat you—perhaps you are not so insignificant as he claimed you were. Perhaps you even think that you can withstand me as well."

She didn't.

Angvard laughed once more, and the sound was full of more cruelty than any laughter should be able to hold. "I have seen your mind, Half-Breed. I must say that I am almost impressed. You have a strength of mind that poor Faolin lacked. He admired you, you know, in secret. In his heart, he admired your strength, and he feared it. But I do not fear you, nor do I fear anything under the sky. There is nothing you could do that can stop me. You are dirt under my feet, Half-Breed. Perhaps you would have made a good servant, just as Faolin imagined. But as I said, I have seen your mind. I know that you love him—and for that you will pay.

He raised his hand once more. Arya felt a spike of intense cold in her left hand—cold beyond any cold that she had ever imagined before. The pain shot up her arm in a furious spasm, and Arya cried out in pure agony.

She looked down at her hand and cried out once more. Where her Gedwey insignia should have been was a mark—a mark comprised of pure darkness. Arya couldn't make out its shape—whatever it was, it seemed to constantly shift, morphing into something more terrible every time.

Angvard spoke again, but this time it was not in a language that Arya understood. She knew only that it was a language of power, an ancient language a hundred times more ancient than the one of her people. The earth itself rumbled, icy wind whipped her face, and every word was like a clap of thunder. As he spoke the pain in her palm only grew, and only when it had reached an intensity so great that she was about to black out did he stop. Arya fell to the ground, gasping for breath and clutching her mutilated hand with tears streaming down her face.

"You are marked, half-breed. Wherever you stand, darkness will find you." Said Angvard, returning to the ancient language once more. "Wherever you lie, evil will stir. There is no mountain high enough, no cavern deep enough, no place in this world where you can escape from the Wrath of Angvard. You will experience torture beyond anything that pathetic shade could have dreamed up. And when you are finally defeated and all your hopes have crumbled into dust, I swear before all of creation that you will live long enough to see Eragon die."

And with that, the vision dissolved into a vortex of darkness.

"Sweet dreams." He said. His voice was now far off, but his subsequent laughter was as loud as ever.

Okay, so there's a Harry Potter reference in there. Did you really expect me to finish this story without one? Find it and you will receive YET ANOTHER WORTHLESS PRIZE!

Goodbye, dear readers, until our next meeting! ~ Reference