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Still feeling drained from casting the spell, and the excitement that resulted from its revelation, Eragon decided to retire to his cabin for the remainder of the day. While he lay on his bed he thought about the image of the amethyst dragon he'd seen earlier; the most striking detail of which were the eyes - how they glowed - leaving him to wonder if it was some significant detail or simply a side-effect attributed to the fact that it'd been an apparition and not a real dragon. He paused, smiling, thinking himself foolish for his earlier jealously.

Oh, the irony that I should feel jealous over another dragon that all the while was me! He thought, shaking his head.

His smile faded; then, he thought of how the transformation might actually manifest, and how long it might take. Would it be painful? Would it occur while he slept or while awake? Would it take a day, a week, or a month? Moreover he wondered how the elves might react to the discovery. He knew that he would have to tell them eventually, he would not be able to conceal it from them for long. Moving from the subject Eragon thought about the fate of the riders. If he was to be a dragon, and Saphira's mate, how would he be able to fulfill his duty? As if in answer Eragon soon realized the question was moot. Ar'Din had said that his path as a rider had passed away, a fact confirmed by the disappearance of his Gedway Ignasia. But who would take his place? Who could take up the mantle as leader of the riders and carry them into the future?

Having no immediate answer to the new dilemma Eragon decided to save the questions until his next encounter with Ar'Din. At this he closed his eyes and drifted into his waking dreams.

---

During the night the Talita continued to glide along the river while the surrounding landscape changed. The crew awoke the next morning to discover a landscape that had transformed from wetlands carpeted by endless fields of marsh grass to a drier, slightly rockier, terrain covered in a blanket of dense foliage that left the morning air fragrant of sage-brush and scrub-oak. Ahead of them they could make out the distant shapes of mountains whose peaks were crowned by low hanging clouds. By early afternoon the terrain began to slope into low ranging foothills specked with a spread of small, widely spaced, evergreens that became taller and denser as they journeyed on. By late afternoon the river widened, emptying into a vast lake surrounded by a dense forest of tall pines; the mountains now towering over them along the opposite shoreline. It was here that Boldhgarm spied a lake-side town just past the opening of the river. Realizing they may not have another chance to re-stock their supplies they angled the ship towards the town eventually mooring the Talita to a large wooden pier that jutted beyond the shoreline. Eragon, along with Boldhgarm and several other elves, disembarked and were greeted by the town's pier-master - a stocky fellow with muscular arms and a thick beard - who was accompanied by several other men Eragon surmised were workers of some sort.

The men before him seemed friendly enough - assuming the pier-master's cheerful disposition was shared by all - albeit slightly taken aback by the elves the likes of which they'd never seen before; especially a fury blue one. With a quick sweep of his mind Eragon learned that the town's population was human, a fact that surprised him. He'd not realized humans lived so far beyond the boundaries of Alaga?sia. Sensing the men's wariness at the sight of his strange looking companions Eragon took a moment to introduce himself, and the elves, to the pier-master then moved on to explain they were merely travelers from a distant land and no threat to them. He went on to explain that they were simply in need of supplies and would be on their way after obtaining them. Having calmed the pier-master with his words Eragon was freely given direction to the town's local merchants from whom they could obtain provisions. Eragon thanked him; then, remembering his impression from the day before, explained that they needed to continue east and asked if there were other outlets that might provide east-bound passage from the lake. The pier-master explained that there was but one other river, the Pree, which emptied into the lake at its southern-most shore. It was a day's journey from the town, the pier-master continued, but once reached would take them to the eastern sea following another seven days journey. After thanking him again Eragon, Boldhgarm and the other elves, made their way into town to procure their supplies.

En route Boldhgarm pulled Eragon to the side.

"Shadeslayer, if I may. You seemed quite certain, back at the pier, concerning our heading. Is there some undisclosed destination you already have in mind?"

Eragon remained silent, lips pressed tightly in thought; then, relaxing his expression, he carefully replied.

"Only a feeling Boldhgarm. I can't explain how or why right now, but you have my word that I will when I have more answers. I must ask you to trust me on this. Will you do that?"

Boldhgarm remained silent, ruffling the fur on his neck; then, after a moment, replied. "At your word I will trust you Shadeslayer."

When they'd finished gathering what they needed Boldhgarm and the other elves started back to the ship but Eragon, who was curious of the new place, decided to tour the town a bit more before heading back. Boldhgarm, who was uncomfortable with leaving Eragon by himself in a foreign place, had urged to accompany him but Eragon insisted that he would be fine and so, reluctantly, Boldhgarm and the other elves made their way back to the ship while Eragon continued on.

While walking through the town's center cause-way he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth at the friendliness of the people who were more than happy to greet him with smiles and salutations as they passed. Although larger than the town he was raised in Eragon couldn't help but be reminded of Carvahall. Continuing on he chanced upon a merchant selling smoked fish, the smell of which caused his mouth to water and his stomach to rumble with hunger. Realizing that he'd not eaten all day Eragon purchased two fish and continued on his way. Eventually he reached the edge of town where he discovered a well-worn trail etched into the ground, leading down to a large embankment lining the lake below. He followed the trail, then the shore line for a distance, until he came to a small outcropping of weathered stone where he sat and ate. He breathed in deeply relishing the scent of wood mixed with pine. How he missed those smells, the smells of home. He was thankful for the brief respite from their journey over the past two days which, although relatively uneventful, had seemed mundane and ... empty ... without Saphira. He took a moment to admire the beauty of the mountains which towered over the lake from the distant shore. Although still day light the sun had sunk behind them, leaving a back-drop of brilliant, red-orange rays stretching beyond their towering peaks. His thoughts soon drifted to Saphira, for although the site before him was of great beauty it did not compare to hers. It occurred to him that he'd not sensed even the slightest twinge of her consciousness since they'd separated two days prior, causing a shudder of unease to pass over him. Calming himself Eragon reasoned that she was fine; however, in that moment, he found himself wishing she could hear his thoughts. He missed her company and wished he could beckon her to join him and share in the beautiful scene.

---

Early the next morning, following the directions given them by the pier-master, they continued south along the lake. True to his word it'd taken them the entire day to reach the southern-most shore where they encountered the Pree.

During their journey across the lake Eragon had spent a portion of the day in his cabin, continuing his meditation over the newly given ancestral memories. At another point during the day he'd conversed with Glaedr and Umaroth, asking if they believed he should inform Boldhgarm and the other elves of his impending transformation into a dragon. Glaedr had said that it was ultimately Eragon's decision but cautioned that it was probably wiser to keep the information secret until such time that the effects of the transformation rendered it impossible to hide. By the end of the discussion Eragon agreed and so decided to wait before he would reveal it. It was not long after when he found that keeping the secret would prove more difficult than he'd originally thought. He noticed that - in addition to the heart, soul and ancestral memories of a dragon - he'd begun to smell like one; emanating a scent not unlike that of Firnen several times throughout the remainder of the day - a scent that flared strongest when he thought of Saphira. This naturally alarmed him for, since they'd begun their journey to the Pree, he was confined to a ship whose crew was exclusively elven, all possessing a heightened sense of smell. Eragon realized that if any one of them were too close to him while wafting the draconic air he'd no doubt be confronted with questions he was not prepared to answer. He eventually sought counsel from Umaroth and Glaedr who, to his irritation, were oddly amused. After chiding them for their mirth Eragon received from the pair of Eldunari` two options: Either he could refrain from thinking about Saphira or confine himself to his cabin until a better option presented itself. Taking several moments to consider the options given him Eragon ultimately decided the latter and so confined himself to his cabin to read and meditate. In the quiet of his cabin there were moments he experienced brief flashes of concern for he still had not felt Saphira's consciousness. Maintaining his determination not to worry over the matter he convinced himself at each flash that she was fine, reasoning that he was merely overreacting. Saphira was no hatchling and perfectly capable of looking after herself. She would turn up eventually. In spite of his attempts at self-assurance he still felt a twinge of unease concerning her well-being, an unease he could not readily explain. Though he could not hear her thoughts it was as a faint warning being transmitted over their bond. It was insufficient to overly alarm him but strong enough to leave the feeling that something was amiss.

Another day had passed before Ar'Din made good on his promise of another visitation. Prior to that the Talita reached the mouth of the Pree, marking the beginning of their seven day journey to the eastern sea.

---

Now late evening, the day after beginning their leg along the Pree, Eragon sat on his bed meditating. Without realizing it he slipped into his waking dreams and found himself standing in the center of a great courtyard surrounded by massive stone structures, conveying the remains of great buildings or monuments ravaged by the decay of time, or some great catastrophe. Looking out beyond the courtyard he saw the landscape littered with similar structures, some still standing while others lie in ruin. Panning his gaze around Eragon could see that the city, or what was left of one, was set within a massive valley encircled by towering mountains several of which reflected, in the daylight, a red-gray hue across the distant horizon. With his elven vision he could see shadows near the upper-most peaks of the closer mountains which he guessed were the openings to massive caves. He noticed that one in particular stood taller, and closer, than the others. Near its peak he could just see the faint shadow of what appeared to be the opening of another large cave, this one; however, possessing a massive stone ledge extending beyond the mountain's wall, forming a natural balcony set just below the cave's entrance. Looking back to the ruins surrounding him he could not help but feel a sense of familiarity, as if he'd seen this place before; yet, at the same time, it was unknown to him. Looking around his eyes caught site of what appeared to be an oddly shaped boulder and so, curious, he moved from the courtyard, walking towards it to get a closer look. When he was close enough to recognize what it was he gasped in surprise and abruptly stopped. What had appeared to be a boulder from a distance had gradually taken the shape of something far grimmer. In fact, it was no boulder at all but the skull of a large dragon. He moved again, coming to a stop beside it; then looked to the side where he saw large, scattered fragments of what he guessed were remnants of the dragon's skeleton. In whole the remains before him conveyed a creature of imposing size and form. He looked up to survey the city again and noticed that the landscape was littered with more, hundreds, of dragon skeletons, varying in size and all conveying the remains of once powerful creatures long since fallen by some unknown disaster. He grimaced as a wave of sorrow passed over him; then he heard them, the heavy, slow moving foot-falls of a large creature approaching from behind. Startled by the sound he quickly turned then tensed at the sight of the imposing figure slowly approaching, its jet-black scales shimmering in the daylight, like polished onyx.

Do not fear Eragon-Skulblakahjarta it is only I.

Calming, Eragon inquired with a bewildered look on his face. Ar'Din?

_Aye. Did you not expect my appearance to be different in daylight? _

The onyx dragon replied as he stopped beside Eragon and looked out to the ruins beyond.

Feeling slightly foolish for his abrupt reaction Eragon turned back round then gathered himself.

I've seen this place before, within the memories you gave me, although it looks ... much different. It looks as if it's been abandoned for years. What is this place?

Ar'Din replied with an almost somber tone coloring his thoughts.

Behold what remains of the great dragon city Ter'Olen.

Surprised Eragon raised his eye brows then replied_. City? I didn't realize dragons lived in cities._

Craning his massive head round, Ar'Din moved to look at Eragon.

There is much you do not know, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta, concerning the origin and history of dragons, who have existed far longer than you know.

Recounting the knowledge he'd learned through his training, readings and conversations with Orik, Eragon replied.

I was taught that dragons have no origin or, if so, that it has ties to the birth of Alagasia itself. There is even a legend among the dwarves' that dragons were created by their gods: Urur and Morgothal. Even so, if what you say is true why have Glaedr-elda, Umaroth or any of the other Eldunari` not made mention of this place? Or, for that matter, the dragon's existence beyond Alagasia? Even Saphira has made no mention of it to me.

Eragon paused briefly to consider Ar'Dins revelation further then inquired.

Wouldn't this knowledge have been passed from generation to generation? Wouldn't they have learned of this place through ancestral memory?

As though amused, Ar'Din released a soft rumble then parted his maw slightly in a draconic grin, revealing snow-white teeth that contrasted against his onyx scales.

You are no longer in Alagasia, youngling. There are a great many secrets that lie beyond its borders to which you have not been privy. Secrets whose answers may not come as swiftly as you have grown accustomed. However, in this case, the memories given you contain a history of the dragon race, including their true origin and this great city; a knowledge that was, by way of unanimous vow, withheld from generations that followed the original survivors of Ter'Olen.

Withheld, why?

To protect the future generation of dragons until their appointed time to embark on a pilgrimage back to the land of their ancestors, this city and all you see beyond it. Guided by the whim of destiny the remaining survivors of this once great city escaped certain death with the hope of rebuilding the dragon race that once flourished here. The land they ultimately found was Alagasia and there they settled to rebuild what was lost.

Who are these ... survivors, and of what? What happened here?

Ar'Din stood, silent for several moments then, following a soft rumble, continued.

Long ago a great war waged between two dragon factions, those who served Ar'Olen and those who were seduced into rebellion by Mot'Gar. Both sides were equally matched, resulting in a war that carried on for months, culminating in a final battle fought here in this very city. By the time the battle was over the remaining forces of both sides were wiped out save for a handful of survivors - those still faithful to Ar'Olen - who escaped in search of a distant land to begin rebuild of the dragon race.

Uncertain of whether to believe the onyx dragon, Eragon remained silent as he considered the sad tale. Concluding that now was not the time for debate over matters of history he decided to trust, for the moment, in the authenticity of the tale and so bowed in sincere respect at such a great loss.

This is indeed a sad tale, Ar'Din-elda. I am truly sorry for such a loss endured by the dragon race.

Ar'Din thrummed in reply.

Standing straight Eragon gestured to his surroundings, then asked.

But why have I been brought here? What does all of this have to do with me?

Ar'Din released a low rumble that shook the ground beneath Eragon's feet, echoing to the farthest mountain ranges beyond. After which he settled upon his haunches and replied.

It is true that you have discovered you are to be a dragon, yes?

Eragon nodded. Aye, it is true.

Although ordained to consummate your partnership with Saphira your transformation is not for her sake alone. It is also to equip you for the vital role you are to serve in the future of the dragon race. You are destined to rise, hailing a return of the dragons to the land of their ancestors. Destine to restore this city, and the dragons that will inhabit it, to a glory long ago enjoyed. A glory destined to spread beyond the borders of this city to lands both far and near.

Me? Eragon gawked, head snapping to regard the onyx dragon, an expression of disbelief riddling his face._ _

What role, vital or otherwise, can I possibly serve amongst a race as great as the dragons? I understand, barley, that I'm supposed to be Saphira's mate. And I even understand, though not entirely, my transformation into a dragon. But surely I would have no more to offer than even the least among dragon-kind!

Ar'Din remained silent for several moments then relaxed into a crouch, regarding Eragon intently.

Among the survivors of the war were two dragons, one a male, heir to the throne of Ter'Olen, and the other his mate. Years following their settlement of Alagasia, during the war between the dragons and elves, the original survivors of Ter'Olen, including the heir and his mate, were slain but not before producing many offspring spanning several generations. Among the offspring was another heir, but one who was unaware of his lineage. Just as the origin and history of the dragon race was withheld so too was the lineage of the true dragon kings and queens. The destiny of the dragon race has now come full circle. Just as a single heir, descended of true draconic royalty, was forced to flee the land of his ancestors - his home - so through a single heir will the dragon race once again flourish under the rule of their true king and queen, here in the land of their origin, your home, destined to you since before the time of Alagasia. A home where you are destined to rule as the first dragon king to rise in the dragon race's native land in many millennia. Along with the one destine to be queen by your side ... Saphira, your mate.

Immediately following Ar'Dins reply Eragon felt a great weight settle upon him. Too shocked to answer he grew pale and leaned against the dragon skull nearby to steady himself. He was silent for a long while as he digested Ar'Dins startling revelation. Finally, taking in a deep breath he spoke, his voice shaky; colored by a mixture of wonder, sorrow and frustration.

_H-How ... how is this possible? I'm no king! All I've ever wanted to do since accepting my lot as a Rider was fulfill my duty by keeping the peace between the races of Alagasia, favoring none over the other, and restoring the new generation of Riders. Following the defeat of Galbatorix I even dared to hope that I might find love with Arya. _

Eragon paused, running a hand through his hair then sighed and looked back out the desolation sprawled before them, shaking his head.

_Leaving Alagasia was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and yet I've accepted that lot as well. Since leaving it seems I have been ... cursed ... by near overwhelming trials the likes of which I've never encountered before. First, was my sudden discovery of a partnership with Saphira I would have never considered in my life before this. Next, the discovery that I'm to be a dragon. _

Eragon turned his head to look back at Ar'Din, jaw set, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

And now? Now you're telling me that dragons have a history beyond Alagasia, a history that goes against everything I've ever been taught about dragons, and that I am to become a king ... of dragons no less? At least I can say that my dream and Angela's prophecy helped me to prepare our eventual departure from Alagasia, from everything I've ever known and loved. Of all the events for me to foresee why am I now just learning of these? Why could I not have foreseen them? If for nothing more than to prepare me for what is clearly becoming an overwhelming responsibility!

Peace youngling! Not all concerning your destiny was hidden from you.

Grossly frustrated, Eragon replied with a raised tone in his voice.

Enough! No more half-speak dragon! I would have you speak to me plainly! No more riddles!

Rising to his haunches, Ar'Din rumbled, again shaking the ground, as his piercing, pupil-less, sapphire eyes fell upon Eragon. Cocking his head slightly he gazed at Eragon, silently regarding him for several moments before speaking.

So be it Eragon-Skulblakahjarta.

Immediately following Ar'Dins reply the courtyard and everything around them faded. First the distant mountains, then the city and finally the courtyard itself vanished replaced by a dark void. After a few moments the void transformed, replacing the darkness with a pale light - as that of early morning - and the nothingness with the shapes of new, and yet familiar surroundings. As the final shapes emerged Eragon glanced around immediately recognizing the new location he found himself in. Bewildered, he asked._ _

What are we doing here?

Moving his gaze to the scattered remnants of egg shell adorning the blood-stained surface, Ar'Din spoke.

In every so many generations among the true dragon kings and queens one offspring, female, is chosen and bestowed the ability to glimpse future events, a gift they have no control over but that provides foresight as need arises. The dragon whose knuckle bones the witch Angela obtained and used to read your prophecy was one such dragon, and her's would have turned the tables in favor of the riders and dragons during the siege of Galbatorix, had she lived. She was slain, while still in her egg, during Du Fyrn Skulblaka. Right here, in this very place, which dragons so named: The Stone of Broken Eggs.

Moving his gaze back to Eragon, Ar'Din continued.

_Since the survivors of Ter'Olen settled in this land their fate has been linked with the races who inhabited it and with those that ultimately followed. Among the races which followed were elves who, by way of a foolish few, instigated the war with dragons leading to a blood-bath that resulted in many losses on both sides. Numbered among these losses was the enchanted female who, through her gift, was destined to forewarn the riders of Galbatorix's plan of rebellion before he had opportunity to follow through with it. With no advance warning to aid them in time Galbatorix succeeded in fulfilling his plans, ultimately leading to the near annihilation of both rider and dragon alike, imprisonment of many Eldunari` and capture of three dragon eggs. The elves foolishness years ago might well have thrown Alagasia into eternal darkness and slavery for all races under the rule of the egg-breaker king. Moreover, among the wild dragons slain, during the siege, was the second heir to the throne of Ter'Olen, survivor of Du Fyrn Skulblaka and one destined to lead them back. Had the enchanted female lived, he would have survived to lead the dragons back to their home, but nay. And since then that historic journey remained threatened _

... __until now.

Eragon stared at Ar'Din, dumbfounded, unable to speak. After several moments he took in a deep breath (an attempt to relax the knot that had formed in his stomach while listening to the dragon's tale.) Turning to face the valley surrounding them Eragon remained silent as he struggled to make sense of it. Finally, after a long while he turned back to Ar'Din, sighed weakly, then replied.

You've not answered my earlier question, dragon. If what you say is true then tell me, how am I to become a king of dragons?

The fabric of destiny is indeed mysterious but it is not without power to overcome, to make a way where none would appear to exist. Yet for each path there is an appointed time. Although the death of the second heir was unfortunate it was not without foreknowledge and thus not beyond restoration. Another heir was chosen.

Eragon's stood, the hairs on his neck standing straight with a sudden chill. He swallowed, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Who? Who is this ... chosen heir?

Is it not obvious to you? Ar'Din asked, plainly.

You are the chosen heir.

Eragon remained silent, brow furrowing in a mixture of disbelief and confusion, head tilting to the side slightly. But before long his expression relaxed. Unable to control himself, he doubled over in a fit of boisterous laughter that echoed across the canyon surrounding them. For what seemed hours he laughed, so hard in fact it threatened to steal his breath away. After a time the fit waned, simmering into an occasional, terse chuckle that finished in a mirthful sigh as he straightened and looked back to Ar'Din, head shaking in disbelief.

You ask too much of me dragon if you expect me to believe that I am an heir to this ... throne of Ter'Olen. As a human my lineage was no more than a farmer, but as a dragon? The notion that I'm descent of nobility is ... well, preposterous!

Ar'Din nodded briefly in acknowledgement to Eragon's response, then he countered.

You are not an heir by direct descent, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta, but by connection to one who is.

Eragon's smile faded, instantly.

Who?

Ar'Din rumbled then everything around them again faded into darkness. Moments later, Eragon found they were back in the clearing where he'd first encountered Ar'Din. It was night, as before, the moon high in the sky, casting a ghostly-pale light over the clearing; enough for him to make out the eerie shapes of plants, stones and fallen trees that adorned its earthy floor. Sobered from his earlier merriment Eragon sighed.

Why have you brought me here again?

Do you not recognize it? The very forest where you came face to face with your destiny?

Moving to look around, Eragon stepped forward then stopped as he heard a muffled crack beneath his foot. Looking down he moved it to see what he'd stepped on and, his eyes adjusting to the pale light, noticed he was standing over the same darkened patch of ground he'd seen before. This time in the center of the patch lay several fragments, each glimmering with a soft, sapphire luster, in the moonlight. He bent down to pick one up, studying it as he stood. He soon realized the fragment was the broken shell of a dragon's egg, a sapphire dragon's egg. Eragon quickly looked over the clearing again as realization came over him. This is ... is the ... Spine?

Dropping the fragment he took several steps then stopped and gestured to the clearing around them.

This clearing ... this ... this is where I ... I discovered Saphira's egg.

Aye, it is. Ar'Din replied.

But why? Why here? What good does it do to bring me here if only to remind me of a home to which I can never return?

This ... shadow ... of the clearing where you met your destiny, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta, is not to remind you of what you've lost but of that which you've gained.

I don't understand. What do you mean by 'gained'?

The prophecy read to you by the witch Angela gave you foreknowledge of a pilgrimage to a land beyond the borders of Alagasia, did it not?

Eragon sighed. Aye, but what does that have to with this place, or Saphira for that matter?

Did the prophecy not fore tell something else?

Eragon thought silently for a moment, then realizing what Ar'Din was getting at he rolled his eyes, scowling.

_Yes, yes, I remember. It also foretold of an epic romance. I would find a love of noble birth, powerful and beautiful beyond compare. But Angela said she couldn't tell if it would end happily, but-- _

Eragon paused, sighing wistfully._ _

Clearly it didn't. Arya and I can never be.

Ar'Din shook his head. No Eragon-Skulblakahjarta. For you it has not ended ... it is only beginning.

Beginning?

_Aye, just as Saphira was given a prophecy concerning her future mate so too were you given a prophecy of the one you were destine to fall in love with and be joined to. A prophecy concerning your future mate and the one through whom you would become heir _

... heir to the throne of Ter'Olen.

His brow furrowed, Eragon moved to sit upon a nearby log. Following several moments of silence he inquired.

Are you suggesting the prophecy concerning my love-to-be was speaking of ... Saphira? And that Saphira is ... is descendant ... of ... of draconic royalty?

With a thrum Ar'Din replied. I am. Saphira is the last female dragon of direct descent to the kings and queens of Ter'Olen, the only descendant to survive the siege of Galbatorix.

Does she know this?

No. Neither is she aware of the knowledge and history of Ter'Olen.

Why not?

The vow made long ago to withhold the knowledge from future generations can only be lifted through an heir of Ter'Olen. You are that heir, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta. You are the one who must tell her ... and the others.

Seeking relief from a great weight that, once again, began to settle upon him, Eragon turned the conversation back to their original subject.

Argh! I think I've heard enough on the subject of dragon kings, queens and heirs. I fear my head will burst if I hear any more. Besides, you still haven't answered my other question. You still haven't explained how Saphira could be the subject of a prophecy I'd always believed spoke of Arya.

Ar'Din fluttered his wings causing a smoky-sweet scented breeze to blow across Eragon's face.

Your infatuation with Arya may have served to distract you from the truth hidden within the prophecy concerning your love-to-be, but you were not left without impression of whom it spoke.

Impression? What impression? I had no impression indicating ... Saphira. How could I? I didn't even consider Arya until after I met her. Even so, Arya was the most obvious choice. And not just that. How was I to know that Saphira was decent of draconic royalty? How was I to know she was the one the prophecy spoke of?

Turning to one side Ar'Din brought his head down close to Eragon and gazed at him with a single, penetrating, sapphire eye.

You require proof then? Proof beyond your feelings for her?

Eragon took pause as the realization of Ar'Dins question penetrated him. Despite all he had seen, all that had happened, since they left doubt still found refuge in his mind. Looking down in shame at his doubt in Saphira, and his feelings for her, he replied with no more than a whisper.

_"_I ... I do."

Pulling back Ar'Din released a soft rumble, fluttering his wings again.

Then if it is proof you require, proof you shall have. Search your memories, youngling. Think back to the day Angela gave you the prophecy. Where did you go after you took leave of her?

Eragon leaned over and, resting his fore-arms upon his legs, thought back to his time in Teirm, with Brom, and the events following his departure from the witches' shop.

I ... I went to see Saphira, to tell her about my day, including the details of Angela's reading and what Solembum told me. But ... how is this proof?

And then what did you do?

Shrugging his shoulders Eragon replied.

I don't know. We talked for a while longer then sat together and watched the trees in silence until dusk. Then I left her.

And what we're you thinking about during your time of silence?

Sitting up Eragon protested.

That was months ago! How am I to remember what I was thinking about?

Keeping his eyes fixed on Eragon Ar'Din shifted then relaxed into a crouch upon the ground, staring in silent expectation. Following several moments Eragon became uncomfortable. Assuming his previous position he released a sigh then attempted to recount what he'd been thinking that afternoon so many months ago. He found that remembering was not as difficult as he'd thought. As the memories returned to him he remembered thinking at one point how beautiful the trees were; then of another moment concerning how pleasant the afternoon had been with the warm sun and gentle breeze blowing every so often. At another point his thoughts had drifted again to the prophecy Angela read to him earlier. The first concerned Roran and whether or not it was possible he'd be the one to betray him, a notion he'd again dismissed.

Pausing from his reverie Eragon forced a smile realizing the folly he'd shown at even considering a notion that Roran could be the betrayer alluded in the prophecy. Moving back to the memory of his afternoon with Saphira, he remembered next thinking over the portion of the prophecy that concerned his future love. He'd wondered who it was and what she would be like. As Eragon regarded the thought he tensed then quickly stood at the sudden memory of the name that had entered his mind while thinking about his love-to-be.

Wait, no! It ... it can't be.

What troubles you, youngling?

Eragon began pacing. The name ... her name. It came to me ... as I sat thinking on the prophecy that afternoon.

Who's name?

Saphira's. But ... I didn't think ... surely I didn't ... couldn't make the connection back then.

Then what did you think?

I ... I don't know. At first I couldn't understand why but then later, after I met Arya, I thought perhaps it was because Saphira had been so close to her. From all the time Arya had spent ferrying Saphira's egg back and forth between the elves and the Varden. I thought maybe Saphira's name came to mind as some ... indirect association to Arya. As if fate were trying to tell me about Arya but ... through Saphira.

Ar'Din rose to his haunches.

You were each given the prophecy, albeit by different means, that your destinies might come to futurition. The memory of Saphira's was hidden from her for reasons you learned when she shared its discovery with you; however, yours was not. Instead it was left in plain sight for you to see if you had simply opened your eyes. Although your distraction with Arya is excusable you cannot claim ignorance of whom the prophecy spoke.

Deflated, Eragon slowly moved back to the log and sat. Leaning forward he cupped his hands over his face then released a deep sigh. Following he moved to look upon the shimmering, sapphire, fragments that lay within the blackened patch of ground. For a long while he stared, regarding them as the subtle reminder of a path that now lay before him. Releasing a soft, almost inaudible, rumble Ar'Din spoke.

Why do you resist your destiny, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta?

Looking at Ar'Din, Eragon sighed.

I don't know. I suppose for many reasons and yet ... for none at all. I do love Saphira, enough even ... I think ... to accept her as my mate. Especially with the knowledge that I'm to be a dragon. But if I do I must also accept my destiny as a king of dragons. This carries with it great responsibility, one that I never wanted in the first place. It fills my heart with an equal measure of doubt and sense of ... insufficiency. There is also the future of the riders to consider. What will happen to them if I'm no longer a Rider? How will the order be restored? Who will lead them? How can I fulfill my duty?

You needn't worry about the future of the Riders, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta. There is one who has already been chosen to replace you as their leader. One who is already a Rider, but is unaware of the destiny before him. A destiny that offers the redemption he seeks.

Eragon tensed as a knot began to well in his stomach. Fearful to confess what he already suspected, he hesitantly inquired.

W_ho is this ... this Rider?_

Your ... half-brother.

_Murtagh? You can't be serious! _Eragon exclaimed, overcome by indignation.

Peace! You must trust the destiny given him, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta. He was chosen just as you were.

With clenched fists Eragon began pacing before Ar'Din and spoke, the tone in his voice steadily rising.

Even if I choose to trust in what you say Glaedr-elda would never allow it, not after what was taken from him. I acknowledge the fact that Murtagh helped us defeat Galbatorix and for that I am grateful, we all are. But he can't be trusted to lead the Riders into a new era. Never that!

Clenching his jaw, Eragon continued to pace, carefully considering his next reply. After a brief moment he stopped, shook his head and spoke.

No! I won't allow it! I can't. If he's the only choice then you have to restore me as a Rider and stop my transformation. You must! The future of the Riders is too important to entrust ... to him!

With a low rumble, and flutter of wings, Ar'Din replied.

I cannot undo the destiny set before you. That power lies with you alone. You are free to choose as you wish but before you do consider Saphira.

What! What about Saphira? What have you done to her!

I've done nothing to her, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta. As I've told you before her heart burns for you. It burns with a love that can only be matched by that which now burns in you. No other is ... compatible. The love that now exists between you and her is borne of a fire whose power is far greater than the magic that bound you as dragon and Rider. It existed long before Du Fyrn Skulblaka, before the magical pact was forged between the dragons and elves of old, even before the birth of Alagasia itself. It is through this same fire that you were forged as both Saphira's mate and as the future king of dragons. You can choose to accept the greatest gift and honor given to a member of your kind. To accept a life with one who has loved you beyond any other, with her to father the new generation of wild dragons and lead them back to the home of their ancestors, taking your place as their king or ... you can forsake all. Decide how you will younling, but be warned. To deny your destiny is not without cost.

Cost? What cost?

This foolishness in fighting your feelings for Saphira, attempting to cling to a path that is no longer yours is not unexpected, but if you persist your ignorance will be your undoing as well as hers. Consider your infatuation with Arya. How long did you suffer after her only to be rejected time and again? Your infatuation lasted mere months but she was never yours to begin with. Saphira has known you were to be her mate since before she hatched, before she first set eyes upon you. Although the memory was hidden from her, during the war against Galbatorix, it is now unveiled, accompanied by a longing pent from years of separation from her mate. Neither you nor her were left without a choice and Saphira has made hers. Consequently, each day you tarry over whether or not to accept your destiny so each day you rob her of what she has desired since before you were born. While you stymie with indecision her heart waits. It waits to be forever joined to it's one and only match. Until then it must burn alone, but cannot do so for long. The strain following your rejection of her has already taken its toll. If you persist you will lose her to a madness from which she can never return.

Eragon paced feverishly before Ar'Din as the battle between his heart and mind began, creating in him a fierce torrent mixed with fear, rage and sorrow. Torn between the choice to entrust the fate of the Riders to Murtagh, son of the traitor, Morzan and the fate of Saphira he lashed out, tears streaming down his face.

"By whatever gods there be I swear if you've harmed her ..."

Un-phased, Ar'Din answered.

It is your decision, Eragon-Skulblakahjarta. How do you choose?

Eragon growled as the torrent peaked within him. Unable to restrain his torment, he wailed into the night and collapsed to the ground in a trembling mass. He lay kneeling, eyes squinting with grief, watching as his tears wet the earthen floor. In a final attack the torrent wrapped his mind, filling it with the sound of an anguished roar. Clenching both hands he gripped the earthen floor as a spasm of grief coursed through him; then, all went quiet. Eragon lay panting, hands clenched, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, breaking the silence, he heard it, a song echoing in his mind, growing louder with each passing moment, drawing a flow of memories from those given him by Ar'Din. He closed his eyes as a flood of images and sounds flowed to the fore-front of his mind. The images flashed before his eyes, accompanied by songs as varied as the dragon pairs he witnessed in each, all from ages past and all with one common theme. Understanding gripped him by the time the flow of memories ceased. Without realizing it he'd begun crooning the song Saphira had first sung to him the night of their departure, and each night thereafter until he'd sent her away. He now understood what she'd been doing, the significance of his response and the meaning of Ar'Dins words concerning his greatest desire. He sobbed at the sudden memory of how he rejected her, turning her away instead of giving her the one response she'd waited so long to hear. Now, in the quiet of his thoughts, only one thing mattered to him. He knew then that he could not loose her.

Broken, in despair, Eragon forced himself to his knees, beseeching the onyx dragon.

"Please Ar'Din! I understand now! Please tell me that it's not too late! Please help me ... help me to save her! I can't lose her! I

... I love her!"

Lifting his wings Ar'Din replied.

Then go to her, while there is still time.

---

Eragon jolted from his waking dreams. Taking a moment to gather himself he soon realized he was back in his cabin. Wasting no time he leapt from his bed darting out the door heading to the upper deck of the Talita. En route he quickly reached out with his mind, stretching his thoughts as far as he could in search of her. But his effort proved for naught, feeding his desperation.

Saphira, please! Please answer me! I don't want to lose you! I can't lose you, now that I've found you!

_Saphira, please don't leave me! _