A/N: This would have been published 3 weeks ago, but I was away from this computer the whole time. Thanks for all your support over the course of the story! Hope you like the ending.

Chapter 7: Freed

As she awoke, the only thing she sensed was movement. The world was dark, and never stopped moving. It always kept going, in spite of pleas and cries from those who inhabited it. Moving… Moving…

Aya opened her eyes.

She was in a wooden carriage, her arms and feet in manacles. Outside came the sounds of tired feet and hooves. The enclosure was dimly lit by a floating lantern, but by the shadowy light she could see her cat, Remira, in a cage. He- or she, was looking straight at her. Again came the mental speech that still unsettled her.

About time you awoke.

It was then that she realized that Remira had spoken. Aya also realized that it was larger now, with amber eyes instead of pale green.

H-How can you talk? She asked.

You don't know? You made me as I am.

I did?

Yes. When you gave me that much energy, I transformed and became a werecat. You also managed to discover my true name before I changed. By the way, I am, in fact, female.

Wow. She laid her head back on the floorboards. Now she had a werecat.

You do not own me, Aya. Werecats are free spirits, always have been, always will be. But we can be friends.

I'd like that.

Good. Now, can you get us out of this accursed place?

Aya looked at her chains. They didn't seem to be breaking anytime soon. The hard steel was cold against her small wrists. The room was completely bare save for a door in the front.

At that moment, the movement ceased. The door opened, and revealed the silhouette of a man. He stepped out of the door frame, revealing cold, hard features and several scars.

"Who do you work for?"

"N-Nobody."

Stay strong.

"I don't have time for this. We're almost at Uru'baen. Who do you work for?!" At that he cracked his whip at Aya, leaving a trail of blood across her arm. It was shallow but unbearably painful.

"Stop! Please! I don't work for the Varden. I just tagged along to get back to Du Weldenvarden."'

"Good." He sent another crack of his whip at her, but it seemed to move slower than possible. She caught it easily and wrenched it backward. The man's cruel features went into shock as he went flying towards Remira's cage. She grabbed him by his neck and put a claw up to his throat.

LET. ME. OUT.

"Okay, okay! I will. Please let me go!" All of his earlier confidence was gone, and the driver started to choke up. He fumbled desperately with the keys on his belt, and jammed one of them into the cage lock.

Good. Don't reach for that whip.

Then all Aya saw was a spray of blood from the man's neck.

Remira! Did you really have to!

Yes. He planned to whip both of us back into submission.

At that she grew smaller and turned into a girl slightly larger than Aya with a calm countenance, white hair, and the same cat eyes. She turned the key in the lock and produced a clicking sound.

I don't know what to do about your manacles.

Now that I look at them, I don't think that'll be a problem. They didn't plan to arrest someone so small.

The elf wriggled her wrists and, with some difficulty, got free.

"We make a good team. Let's find the Varden again," said Aya.

000…000…000

He just had to understand. To understand, and see what he had done. Eragon's spell grew in strength, with the help of the hidden Eldunari. Galbatorix touched his forehead, puzzled and furious at the same time.

"What are you doing now, you witless fool?! You cannot hope to win! Swear yourself to me!"

They were in Galbatorix's citadel. Nasuasda was chained. Murtagh was wounded, by Eragon's hand. Arya was distracted with Shruikan. Elva was still frozen. Eragon's spell was the only hope for survival.

000…000…000

Finally. Aya and Remira arrived at the citadel doors, tired and bloodstained. It had been a hard fight to get there. The Varden had been losing the battle badly. Soldiers were pouring in from barracks all around, and the rebel troops had been badly depleted in the previous fight (So much so that they had gone directly to Uru'baen instead of capturing Dras Leona). Aya had to cut through the main body of Galbatorix's forces in order to reach the citadel. Somehow, she felt sure that Eragon was there. She was about to burst through the door when Remira stopped her.

Wait. The way to Eragon is probably strewn with traps. How do we get in?

I think I know. Come on.

Then the ten-year-old sprinted around to the side of the enormous building, where the fight inside had weakened part of the wall. Summoning up her mysterious energy, she watched every brick come into sharp relief. Then she slammed her shoulder into the wall.

It shuddered, but didn't collapse, so she tried again. This time the wall caved in and she fell through to the ground in a shower of dust.

Her head snapped up, and she saw Eragon lying on the ground. She saw Galbatorix towering over him and clutching his helm. She saw the brick fly through the air, and land right on Eragon's wound. She saw him groan in agony, and saw Galbatorix's face flash into relief, then surprise, than terrible fury. She saw him, in his temporary break from the throbbing pain, thrust his sword into Eragon's chest. She saw what nobody deserves to see: a kind friend die. The flow of the spell was dammed, and the evil king's suffering ended.

In that moment, she knew what was to be done. Galbatorix, reveling in his victory, suddenly felt a delicious rush of energy. He thought it to be adrenaline, but it kept coming. He didn't care where it came from, all he knew was that it felt wonderful.

His wounds healed, and he stood up straighter. Now Galbatorix could go anywhere, do anything. No annoying gnats like the Varden could harm him. He was practically invincible.

At some point, he realized that it was too much.

The torrent of energy pushed at his very being. His heart pounded, his skin itched. Pleasure immediately turned into torture. He let loose a crazed scream in desperation. But it didn't stop.

Then, Algaesia's jailor burst.

Watching it all was Aya, who had given all she could. Her eyelids slowly closed, and she drifted away.

Rising. She was rising. Her eyes opened, and Aya gazed at Remira, crying above her battered body. Shruikan gave one last, inaudible roar, and fell, as his master had. His spirit began to float out of his body as well. Saphira wailed in agony at the loss of her Rider. She felt Eragon's presence above her. Arya lay crumpled by Shruikan's foot, but no spirit drifted from her. And Tony was staring at the wall. It was over.

No, it couldn't be over. She wasn't over. Aya tried to swim down to her body. She flailed wildly, focused her energy downward, and tried to grip a chandelier shaft. Nothing.

At that, the spirit gave up, and all was white.

000…000…000

The elf awoke to beige. It was a nice break from the ubiquitous white. Just like…

Fabric.