Oh! Look at that. I updated one week later, on a Monday, just as I promised.

I hope you enjoy!

Eragon emerged from his waking dreams gasping. He had woken up to the image of Galbatorix dying more times that he could count.

Unlike all the other times, Saphira was absent. He reached for her, but the emotions emanating from her made tears well up in the corner of his eyes. Separation from a loved one was never easy. The thought tasted bitter in his mouth.

He shook his head. There was no point in dwelling, lest he wished to inflict upon himself unnecessary anguish. He quickly gathered his possessions and organized them into Saphira's saddle. Ismira, Aiedail, Mor'ranr and Hrothgar were set to join and protect a shipment heading to New Vroengard. Svarvok and Valgorv would oversee the yearly games the Urgralga threw to allow young rams to gain glory and reputation without the need to shed unnecessary blood.

In a brisk pace, he made his way to Vanyalí's dwelling to give the young Rider her assignment. Hudraer greeted him.

Eragon-elda. It is good to see you.

Likewise Hudraer.

My Rider's sister just gave birth. The babe is strong and healthy.

I'm glad to hear so. Here is your assignment. Before we left New Vroengard, I received a message from the new king of the Broddring Kingdom. A rogue group of magicians have been targeting ambassadors as well as the royal family. They call themselves the Black Hand. Eragon paused, let the rage of the tainting of his mother name diffuse within himself. Go to Illirea. Tristan and Könungr will join you there. You can - the cries of the newborn interrupted him and he smiled at the wonder of a new life being born into this world. You can stay a few days here, but no more. I fear another Shade will walk the continent if we do not intervene promptly.

Very well, Eragon-elda. We shall depart for Illirea as soon as things are well and settled.

May you fly true and well, Hudraer.

And you as well, Leader.

Tialdarí Hall was peaceful, mysterious in the light of dawn. Eragon meandered around, waiting for Saphira, admiring the beautiful gardens. The Morning Glory Faölin made for Arya called to him and he studied it more carefully than he had allowed himself on other occasions. It was a delightful and delicate thing, a gift of love. There was no doubt left in his mind. However vague Arya had been about the male elf, the fact that he had loved her and she had loved him had imposed itself as a certitude in Eragon's mind. He was surprised when the pang of jealousy that usually followed the elf's name was absent this time.

Maybe I have become wise.

The thought made him laugh, a deep-bellied, roaring rumble that shook his entire body. He was still chuckling when Saphira finally arrived.

What's so funny?

The idea that I could think myself wise when I spend my days with you.

One could argue you have become wise. For a round-ear.

He hummed. While what she had said was true, he couldn't help but think of the elves that lived in Ellesméra, most of which were older than him by centuries.

Together, they made their way to the council room. And elf maid escorted them in. This time, Arya was alone sitting upon the throne with knotted roots. Back straight, hands resting lightly on her thighs, her diadem catching the sun's reflection, she was the portrait of her mother. Eragon twisted his hand to his chest and greeted her with the traditional phrases. She responded in kind and he even added the last verse.

"Rise, Shur'tugal," she declared.

A million words competed in his mind to express everything he wanted to tell her. None came out of his mouth.

"Arya, I…," he said lamely.

"Atra nosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya." She smiled gently at him, urging him to continue.

"I will not ask again. I trust you."

Arya nodded in understanding and stood up. Trepidation filled the Rider as she got closer. He shivered at the contact of the soft pad of her thumb on his cheek, the tender circles she drew across his cheekbones. Her lips parted in silent thankfulness.

"Gánga. We will see you soon," she said in the ancient language. "I promise."

Nuanen, have you memorized the map of Alagaësia I gave you?" asked Eragon.

Yes, Master.

"Very well."

After leaving Tialdarí Hall, Saphira and Eragon had joined Wyrda and the white-scaled dragon at the edge of the city. While he had initially planned for a swift return to New Vroengard, the idea of seeing Palancar valley after again so long was tempting him into staying longer. He knew Wyrda would be more than happy to further her knowledge of Alagaësia's geography, but apprehension still sat heavy on his chest. How would he feel? Leaving the first time had been difficult and while duty had always guided him, there were times in which he wished he could be freed of them.

We should reach the edge of the Du Weldenvarden by dawn. You can scry Murtagh there and decide then, said Saphira.

You're right.

With practised ease, Eragon climbed on Saphira's back and both dragons soared to the sky. To pass time, he quizzed Wyrda on human history and their customs. As always, she delighted him in her impressive array of knowledge and her astounding ability to retain them all in her memory. From songs from bards known throughout the land to odd superstitions, she recited them all until they broke flight a few leagues away from Ceunon.

"As always, you impress me, Wyrda," Eragon declared.

"I still have much to learn, Ebrithil. While I excel in theory, I remain an average spellcaster and my skills with a sword are less than impressive."

The Rider nodded, for what she said was true. While Vanyalí had been full of vitality and had proven to be an extraordinary spellcaster with a confidence to match, Wyrda was quiet girl who preferred her scrolls over the physical side of her training.

"A great man once told me the outcome of a duel was decided by the brain and not the arm. The winner is the one who succeeded in finding the weakness in his opponent's wards. I have no doubts with time and experience, you could outsmart the smartest of your opponents. However, what you said is true. I will guide you in your journey, but there are things that I cannot teach you." He paused. "But enough of that. Help me set up camp. I will scry with Murtagh and bring back water."

The village should be in view in soon, Little One.

Sure enough, the shadow of castle Roran had built for Katrina after the war slowly took shape under the steady flapping of Saphira's powerful wings. Slightly behind her, Nuanen's considerably smaller ones worked as hard, the muscles bulging under the pressure. After hearing news of how calm the island had been under Murtagh's care, Eragon had informed Wyrda and the white dragon of their new destination. They had both been thrilled to visit the place where their esteemed masters and fellow Rider, Ismira, had been born.

Eragon took a deep breath, taking in the familiar smell of the Spine, of earth, freshly watered crops and the sun. He had already announced his visit to Juliet, lest the sight of two dragons terrify some of the villagers to death.

As they landed, Juliet, as copper-haired as her grandmother, greeted them. The dragons and their riders met the villagers of Carvahall who, to Eragon's surprise, had prepared a banquet in his honour. Many of the men sitting next to him were grandchildren of the villagers Eragon had known and he spent the night recounting the bravery of their ancestors. The children, attracted by the shine of Nuanen and Saphira's scales, found endless amusement in climbing up her front leg and letting themselves falls down.

When night fell and the villager started retiring for the evening, the Riders thanked Juliet for her hospitality and settled themselves in the rooms Roran had built initially for Eragon and Saphira and later for his daughter when she would visit him. The hall was simply huge, big enough to house two dragons bigger than Saphira.

"Master?" spoke Wyrda. " I would like to make a request."

Eragon gestured for her to continue.

"In all my years of life, I had not had the opportunity to spend so much time with humans. It was a fascinating experience. That is why Nuanen and I talked, and we would like nothing more to have a similar experience with the dwarves. We have always longed to visit Farthen Dûr."

The elder Rider took his time to answer, carefully considering the proposition.

"It would be a detour."

"We know."

"The voyage will be tiring. Farthen Dûr is a long way from Ellesméra, even more from Carvahall."

"We are aware."

Eragon smiled. "Very well. You believe this will contribute to your studies, and I agree. Get some rest, we depart in the morning."

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