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Chapter Text

I am the daughter of Death, a proud and noble Lady who knows her duty. Lyris walked along the rocky shore where the black waves lapped against her bare feet, her dark-winged raven fluttering its wings where he sat upon her shoulder. Lightning flashed on the horizon, lighting up the sea at the edge of the world. She raised her head to stare beyond the water, where she knew her destiny awaited her. The wind ripped at her hair, making the light brown waves snap at her eyes and block her vision. She pushed her hair away in agitation. I must not be afraid. The raven let out a caw.

"Daughter," the cold voice came from behind her, though she knew it was not from unkindness; that was just his way. She turned after plastering a smile upon her pretty face.

"Father," she greeted, coming to stand just in front of him. He smiled down at her, his own version of kindness in his stark, grey eyes. Lord Death was a stern man, but he had softened over the years since Lyris was born. Her mother, Keturah, had changed him in ways he never knew were possible. And when Lord Death had created life, it gave him new purpose. Keturah and Lyris gave his endless life new meaning.

"Are you ready, Lyris?" She chewed on her bottom lip nervously. All her life, she'd known this day would come eventually, but she'd never imagined it would come so soon. She was still just a girl, after all; no more than one hundred years old. Shaking a bit from her anticipation, she nodded quickly, sending her curls bouncing up and down and unsettling the bird.

"Yes, Father, I think so," she replied. Her black cloak suddenly felt heavy upon her shoulders, and the clasp at her neck seemed to tighten with her fear. The bird let out another agitated caw. "Hush, Armaros," she chided the bird. The raven must have sensed her nervousness, and Lord Death could also tell she was trembling.

"There is nothing to fear, child," he said, putting a hand upon the shoulder that was not occupied by the raven. "You have been training for this your entire life. The task is simple enough: ferry the souls of the departed to their eternal resting places. You must be the judge of who goes where. That is all up to you, Lyris. I trust you will judge wisely and fairly. There is much of your mother in you…" His thoughts trailed off as he smiled at his daughter. "Now come. There is work to be done." Lyris took a deep breath and followed behind her father, taking care not to step on the hem of his long, red cloak. Not a day had gone by where she had seen him without the cloak, but today would be different.

They stopped just short of the waves, near a small boat. Lord Death turned to his daughter and fiddled with the silver clasp at his neck. It was in the shape of a raven with outstretched talons and spread wings; it's mouth open as if it would cry out at any moment. The anticipation bubbled within her as the girl watched him unclasp the cloak and slide it off his shoulders. She did the same with her own cloak and let it fall to the ground. There would be no need for it any longer. As Lord Death handed over the cloak, a similar bird to the one perched on Lyris' shoulder flew forth from the enchanted clasp, cawing wildly as it flapped its wings. The raven landed upon Lord Death's shoulder, and he stroked the black bird's wings softly.

"It is good to see you, old friend," he told the bird, which rustled his wings in response. Lyris looked to her own raven, and he pushed off her shoulder, flying towards the clasp and letting the magic of the celestial object envelop him. "Armaros will be your guide as you travel through the worlds, Lyris. He will never lead you astray," Lord Death said. Lyris took the red cloak and clasped it about her own shoulders, letting the power of the garment wash over her. It felt as though her whole body was buzzing, and the air seemed to shimmer around her.

She looked to her father and held out her arms. "How do I look?" she asked sheepishly.

Lord Death smiled. "You are now Lady Death," he replied, "and I am simply Ademus once more. It is time." She nodded quickly and allowed her father to help her into the boat. As she sat on the wooden bench, he pushed her off from the shore. Lyris clung to the sides of the boat as it rocked against the black waves, and kept her eyes on the beach. Her father stood there and watched her disappear from the Land of Eternal Life, knowing it would be quite some time before he saw her again. Soon, the little boat disappeared beyond his line of sight, and his daughter was gone.

100 years later

Lady Death tread softly along the forest path, her bare feet hardly touching the ground. It was a bright, sunny day in Angleland—the place where her mother was from—but grief loomed on the horizon. The small village of Tide-by-Rood would soon meet Lady Death for the first time in nearly twenty years. In the century since her mother had left, Lady Death noticed that it was still the same happy, simple village that it had been. The plague scare from over a hundred years ago had passed them by, and the town had not had any same such excitement since.

The last time Lady Death had been here, it had been to take away their king. He was an old man, and had lived a long, fruitful life. The villagers were sad to see him pass, but his son had become a fine ruler in his stead. Whenever Lady Death visited Tide-by-Rood, she liked to spend some time amongst the townspeople and marvel at their peaceful lifestyle. Too often, she was busy taking souls from bloody battlefields of horrible wars. It was a nice change to ferry the soul of one who has lived their life to the fullest. Today, she would be meeting a woman of eighty years who had spent the better portion of her life caring for the orphans of Tide-by-Rood.

The village came into her sight through the trees of the forest—the very forest where her parents had met—and she quickened her pace. The bells in the church were clanging to announce the evening service. Women and children flocked to the building that stood at the center of town; the men hadn't returned from the fields yet. Lady Death weaved her way through the charming village, heading to a house that stood off a side street. There were people gathered outside, but none of them noticed Lady Death as she walked past them. Inside, it was dark and chilly. The family was gathered upstairs, in the old woman's room. Lady Death hurried up the stairs and stepped around the group of weeping women. They were the old woman's daughters; Lady Death knew that they all had many more years to live with each other. But the one she had come for was lying in the bed, her hand held by a young man whom Lady Death knew was her grandson. Her mouth was agape and her eyes stared up at the ceiling. The family members were all whispering condolences to each other, but Lady Death paid them no mind.

She came around to the other side of the bed and kneeled down to put her hand upon the old woman's brow. The woman gasped at the sudden contact, and her glassy eyes went wide. "Do not be afraid," Lady Death whispered in her kind voice. "You have lived a full life, and you never spoke a false or unkind word against another soul. You will live the rest of your days in the Land of Eternal Life, with your family, who await you even now. Come with me." The old woman took in one final breath, and then slowly expelled it, her eyes fluttering closed. Her spirit lifted up out of her body, and she took Lady Death by the hand. Lady Death kissed her upon her wrinkled brow and the woman's spirit disappeared to the Land of Eternal Life. The family wept bitterly, so Lady Death left them to their grief.

As Lady Death walked through the town in the dusk, she looked up to the sky. It was afire with the colors of sunset; purples, pinks, and reds were painted across the dark blue in a beautiful display of nature. She let a small smile play at her lips and then continued on her way. She would have liked to stay longer, but the silver clasp about her neck began to pulse with a faint, white light. Armaros was trying to contact her.

What is it, Armaros? she asked.

The spirit of her guide replied, Lady Death, there is a matter that requires our immediate attention. It concerns a queen. Lyris hated dealing with the deaths of royals. Besides the death of the king from Angleland, they were generally tedious affairs that were drug out as long as possible. The healers and advisors took whatever means necessary to save them, although it was a hopeless endeavor. Lady Death was a stern mistress, and she would always come eventually.

Where are we going then? she sighed. Perhaps it would be somewhere new, she thought. There were far too many worlds for Lyris to handle every passing herself, so most of the time she let her ravens handle it. But sometimes, there would be an important matter or a large battle she would need to attend to, and new worlds would be introduced to her. This time, she was not so fortunate.

It is Alagaesia, my lady, Armaros replied stoically. Lyris fought back the urge to roll her eyes; that would not have been very ladylike or fitting for her station.

I despise that place. There is far too much death there, and the people act so childishly about it. You would think they would know by now that it isn't something they can ever hope to avoid. And yet I am always dealing with some magician trying to devise a new way to live forever. You remember that Galbatorix fellow? Lady Death huffed in irritation.

Yes, my lady, I do. But remember, he did not escape your grasp in the end, Armaros said. She could just make out that he was teasing her. You should know that your father contacted me, and requested that we deal with this matter personally.

Very well, to Alagaesia we go.

The moon shone down brightly as Lady Death arrived in Alagaesia. It was a clear, summer night, and a warm breeze tousled her light brown hair. But above all, there was a stink of death about the land. Lyris remembered the stories her father had told her of the terrible wars that had been waged here a few hundred years ago. There were dragons in this land, and those monsters had attacked each other without any regard for the lives they destroyed. Not long ago, another war had been waged in this land, and Lady Death had been here to ferry the souls away. It made her sick to see such a blatant flippancy for the sanctity of life, but there was nothing she could do except for her duty.

She walked through the tall grass of the plains, sweeping her fingers against the fronds of green foliage. A large city loomed up ahead, and she knew that was her destination; Armaros' guidance had told her as much. The queen of this land was dying, and she needed to take her away. But in a little while. For now, she was content to take her time. The queen was not going anywhere.

Eventually though, she knew she could not wait any longer. It would anger her father if he knew she had been wasting time. So she spirited into the city and walked into the palace, slipping past the guards unseen. There were only a few people she'd ever met in all the worlds she'd been to that could see her, and she knew that one of them lived here. She just hoped he was not nearby. He could cause her problems if the matter was as urgent as Armaros had made it seem. The palace was sprawling and covered a large area of land, but Lady Death did not need a map to traverse the city of Illirea. She was guided by the pull of dying life, a force that was impossible to ignore.

High up in the largest tower of the citadel, Lady Death could feel the waning life force that was calling her, and she knew she was in the right place by the guards posted outside of the door. None of them felt her presence as she walked easily past them into the room. Within the room was a large, gilt-framed bed surrounded by several people. There were men and women alike, but Lady Death paid them no mind. The only person she was concerned with was the dark-skinned woman lying upon the bed.

Nasuada was much older than the last time Lyris had seen her; she was well into her seventies by now, if the white hair upon her head and wrinkled skin of her face and hands was any indication. When Lyris had last been in Alagaesia, the dark-skinned woman had been little more than a girl, only just barely into womanhood and with a rebellion to lead. Lady Death had been by Nasuada's side when her father died, and now her time had come. By her side was a young man with dark hair and grey eyes, but Lady Death knew that he was not all he seemed to be, nor were the other young people gathered in the room. They all had the stink of magic about them, all except for the old woman lying in the bed. The dark-haired man had a tight grip on her frail hand, but she didn't seem responsive to him. Lady Death knew that the hour was drawing near. All she would need to do is wait.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Eragon," one of the older men said to a tall youth with pointed ears. Lyris knew he was another magician that was far older than he seemed. A blue sword sheath hung at his hip, and he placed a hand upon its hilt nervously. The woman beside him had pointed ears as well, and long flowing black hair. The young man named Eragon nodded his head somberly, still looking at Nasuada where she lay quietly.

"It was the least I could do," he replied. Lady Death crossed the room on silent, bare feet, taking up a spot in a shadowy corner. There was a tall, slender girl with dark waves of hair, that locked her piercing, violet eyes onto Lyris. She stared at the girl pointedly; apparently, there was yet another person in this realm who could see Lady Death. And Lyris knew that this was one of those strange souls that she would never claim; a goddess, like herself. The girl continued to stare at Lady Death, but if she was concerned that no one else in the room seemed to notice her presence, she did not show it on her face.

"Elva," Nasuada suddenly croaked, reaching out the arm that was not being held by the dark-haired man. The girl with the violet eyes shifted her gaze quickly and hurried to the queen's bedside, grasping her hand and drawing it into her chest. Lady Death watched on with interest.

"I'm here, my lady," the girl whispered.

"Tell me truly, Elva. Has my time come?" The girl chewed on her lip nervously, and silently looked back at the shadow where Lady Death patiently stood. No one seemed to notice her furtive glance, but her silence was confirmation enough. The old woman exhaled heavily, her chest caving in at an alarming angle. Lady Death did not know what afflicted her, nor did it really matter, but it was clear that whatever the disease was, it had taken its toll on the once proud, noble Queen Nasuada.

The witch, Elva, stood and retreated from the bedside, keeping her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her. Lady Death could see a shining, silver tear roll down the sorceress' cheek. The dark-haired man suddenly looked up at the witch, fire blazing in his eyes, and it was then that Lady Death knew him. She had hoped to avoid this problem while she was in Alagaesia, but instead she'd stumbled right into it. Murtagh Morzansson was the other soul from this world that could see her. He locked his eyes where she stood pressed into the corner, but she was not afraid. There was nothing a mere mortal could do to harm the goddess of death.

Murtagh looked to Elva and she nodded slightly, wiping away another tear. They knew that Death lurked nearby. Then his gaze shifted to Eragon and the elf-woman. "Thank you for coming, brother," he said quietly, "but I think we have a little while yet. I would like some time alone with her." Eragon nodded somberly and headed for the door, followed by Elva, Arya, and the older man. At the opposite side of the room, there was a girl Lady Death had failed to notice before. She wore a dress of cloth-of-gold, and her skin was the color of honey. She had curly, light brown hair, and hazel eyes that were brimmed with tears. There was an air of magic around her, and Lyris instantly knew who she was.

"You too, Vala," Murtagh said, never taking his eyes off the queen.

"Please, let me stay Father, I—"

"Hush, child," he said, not unkindly. "I would be alone with your mother now. Take Franae and find Adric; tell him there is not much time left. The last time he was seen, he was in Du Weldenvarden. Start your search there."

"Yes, Father," she said obediently, bowing her head and hurrying out of the room. The door clicked behind her, and a heavy silence settled over the room. Lady Death strode purposefully toward the bed, her bare feet making no noise against the carpeted floor. Murtagh's gaze remained on Nasuada, but a snarl began to spread across his face.

"Stay away from her, demon," he growled.

"You should show more respect to the gods," Lady Death said stoically, unperturbed by his insolence.

"I don't believe in the gods," he scoffed.

"Then I am a figment of your mind? I would think you of all people would know better than that, Murtagh Morzansson." Lady Death stared down at him pointedly, one eyebrow cocked high above the other. She stood at the foot of the bed, gazing down at the frail old woman that had replaced the once strong leader of the Varden. Time ravaged all, although for some it passed much slower. Only when the two worlds collided—those that died slowly, and those that only had a short time in the world—did it create problems for Lady Death, as it would now. Lyris looked at Murtagh coldly, and she knew from the fire in his eyes that he would not give up his beloved without a fight.

Chapter Text

"I will not allow you to take her from me," Murtagh snarled, leaning over the bed so as to shield her with his body. Lady Death held back the smirk that was threatening to spread across her face; how arrogant these mortals could be. As if he could ever hope to thwart the goddess of death herself; it was an amusing thought to Lyris.

"There is nothing you can do, Rider," she said softly. "Her time has come, and now I am here to ferry her to the afterlife. You can either let her go with the knowledge that you may see her again, or you can fight me and make it all the more painful for yourself and your children; the choice is yours." Murtagh stared at Nasuada's sleeping form for a long time, breathing heavily and a scowl marring his handsome features. Finally, he glared coldly up at Lady Death where she stood placidly at the end of the bed. He thought that she was far too beautiful to be a harbinger of doom, but he supposed that was just a cruel jape made by the gods. They would be the only ones to think it humorous that beauty would bring death.

"Please," he whispered, his voice tight with anguish. "She is all I have. Do not take her from me."

"Think on what you have just said, Murtagh," Lady Death snapped, her anger slightly flared. "You have a family, and friends who care a great deal about you. It is selfish of you to say she is all you have. Think of your children, and your brother."

Murtagh stayed silent for a while, not daring to look at Lady Death and the icy chill that was emanating off of her. Already he could feel his beloved's hands getting colder. It shamed him to know that Lady Death was right, and he was acting selfishly. But there was a time when Nasuada had been all he'd wanted, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing her again. "I've already lost her once…" he said quietly, letting the thought slip away into silence. Lady Death heaved a small sigh and stared down at the quilted blanket upon the bed. Then, she stepped around the footboard and stopped next to the Red Rider where he knelt at the queen's side. She placed a dainty, pale hand on his shoulder.

"Would it comfort you to know that she will spend eternity in bliss and peace? She has been a just ruler and kind to her people. And your son, Ajihad, will rule wisely when she is gone. Your other children will become great leaders in their own right, and you will help to train countless generations of new Riders." Lady Death was not in the practice of disclosing details of a person's future, but she thought she could make an exception in this case. Perhaps it would help him to relinquish his hold on her if he knew that all hope was not lost.

"I would rather have her here with me," he said firmly, squeezing her hand. "Can you not heal her?" Lyris again held back the urge to roll her eyes. Why did the mortals always think she could heal their loved ones?

"It is not in my power," she replied. "You will need to pray to a different god for that." He glanced up at her scornfully and then snorted.

"You mock my pain!"

"I speak the truth," she snapped. "I cannot heal her ailment. The only thing I can do is take away her pain. Let me do my duty, Shur'tugal."

He suddenly stood and faced Lady Death head on, catching her somewhat off guard. She took a step backward, unaccustomed to being confronted so blatantly. "What must I do to convince you? This is the closest to begging you will get out of me," he snarled, his grey eyes cold with malice towards Lyris. She looked between him and the frail woman on the bed, and felt compassion tugging at her heartstrings. Her father had shown compassion once… Perhaps she could allow him a little more time.

"Very well," she replied in a tone that implied she had not been defeated, but was merely making a concession for him. "I will give you three days. That is how much time your daughter will be given to find your other son, but no more than that. At sunset on the third day, I will come for her. Is that understood?" Murtagh nodded firmly and turned back to look at the woman he loved. Lady Death stood tall and proud, but she was uncertain that this had been a good idea. Give the mortals too much leeway, and they could take advantage of her...

"Thank you for your kindness," he replied quietly. She inclined her head and then turned to leave off the balcony. The city looked beautiful from up here, the lights of houses twinkling down below as the breeze flickered the flames of candles and lanterns. It was truly a different world than the last time she'd been here. Lady Death remembered coming to the black citadel to take the Eggbreaker King's soul away to the Winter Realms, a land of eternal ice and damnation where the vilest and blackest souls spent their eternities. He had howled and screamed the entire way there, but most of them did. It was not a pleasant fate.

In his absence, the land was flourishing. Nasuada had opened up trade and lessened the taxes on the people of Alagaesia. All in all, it was becoming a pleasant and peaceful place to live, but Lady Death could feel there was a looming darkness on the horizon, waiting to strike. She knew it would not be long before she returned here to gather souls in droves. Lyris placed her hands on the white, marble railing and leaned against it, letting out a sigh. She was becoming soft after doing this for so long, though she knew there were yet thousands of years to come before she chose a successor. Perhaps she would follow in her father's footsteps and find a love of her own. But that was not in the forefront of her mind right now.

It was a kind thing for you to do, Lady Death, Armaros said. Though I wonder what it is that made you make an exception.

I'm just trying to avoid a battle of wills, Armaros. You know that, she quipped. It quickly becomes tiresome fighting with these mortals that can see me. At least if I give her family a chance to hasten to her side, the Rider will let me do my job.

I defer to your judgment, my lady, he replied obediently. She had made her judgment, but now she was trying to decide if it had been the right one.

The next day passed slowly for Lyris. There were souls all over the city that she could take care of, but the waning life force of the queen was forever nagging at the back of her mind. As she ferried an old man to the Land of Eternal Life, she felt a jolt of energy coming from the palace. The queen was fading, and fast; it would not be much longer before her soul would go dormant waiting for Lady Death. And there was nothing she could do about that. Lyris only hoped that Murtagh would not blame her for it. Although he could do nothing to hurt her, his magic could become a nuisance, and one that she did not have the fortitude to deal with right now.

That night, she returned to the palace to check on the queen. Murtagh was afraid she would break their bargain, until she took up a post in the corner of the room and stayed there all night. The Rider never left her side, refusing all food and drink that was brought to him. On the morning of the second day, he looked haggard and utterly spent.

"You should call for someone else to stay with her," Lady Death suggested quietly from her corner. "It will do you no good to wear yourself out."

"I will not waste the few precious moments I have left with her," he snapped, not even looking at her. "And what if you betray me and take her away when I am gone? No, Lady Death, I will not take that chance." Lyris sniffed slightly at his contempt, but said no more. Let him think what he will, but she was a woman of her word. The sun's rays peeked through the muslin curtains that hung over the exit to the balcony, lighting up the room and spreading their warmth slowly.

"Is your daughter any closer to finding your son, Adric?" Lady Death asked.

"I do not know. When last I spoke with her, she was on his trail. But that was yesterday afternoon; I have not heard from her since." Murtagh was sitting in a chair today by her side, tired of kneeling on the carpeted floor. But Lady Death had no need of sleep, nor did she tire; she just continued to stand in her corner to wait. It was not long before the door to the queen's room opened and a tall, noble looking man with caramel-colored skin strode into the chamber. He wore a long cape of purple silk trimmed with gold, and a golden crown sat upon his head. He looked to be in his early fifties, but he carried himself as though he were a much younger man.

"Father," he said, clapping Murtagh on the back. "How does she fare today?"

"No better," Murtagh replied. They were an unlikely pair to be father and son, but King Ajihad was not a Rider, and therefore aged as his mother had. A salt-and-pepper goatee framed the lower half of his face, and bright, hazel eyes lent him a youthful appearance. He looked down at his mother fondly and ran a hand across her wrinkled brow.

"Any word from Vala?"

"Nothing more than yesterday," Murtagh replied sullenly. "It was pigheaded of your brother to run off at a time like this. What could he have been thinking?"

"Adric is young, by a Rider's standards," Ajihad said. "It seems his temper ran away with him, and his dragon. But I have faith Vala will return him home in time." Murtagh glanced up at Lady Death surreptitiously.

"Let us hope so," he muttered. "I fear your mother does not have much longer." At that moment, a servant in deep purple garb hurried in through the hidden door in the corner. He carried a bowl of steaming broth and a carved cup filled with water. It was all the queen could stomach these days. Murtagh helped lift Nasuada up into a sitting position so he could more easily ladle the soup into her mouth. She smiled at him fondly and sipped timidly. After a little while of talking with her quietly, Ajihad left his ailing mother's side and returned to his duties. It was an hour later before she finished the bowl and the servant cleared everything away.

"Where is Vala?" Nasuada asked her husband. They had married in secret long ago, to avoid the whispers and outcries of those who would oppose their love, but the day finally came when the queen could conceal it no longer. When she became pregnant with their first son, Ajihad, she didn't really have a choice but to admit the marriage to the kingdom. At first, there had been riots against Murtagh, who had once been employed by the Black King. But Nasuada assured her people he was a changed man, and that she would not betray their trust by making him king. She and Murtagh had agreed that would be for the best; Alagaesia would never accept a Rider for their monarch ever again. It was fortunate that their eldest son never became a Rider, so their family line could continue.

It did not, however, come as a great surprise to either of them when dragon eggs hatched for their other two children, first for Vala and then for Adric, their youngest child. Vala's burnished gold dragon was a female, and the girl had named her Franae. Adric's dragon was a male, colored dark hunter green, and named Jevrath. Nasuada had been hesitant to send them to the east to train with Eragon and his new order of Riders, but Murtagh had insisted it was the best option for them. It would be a long time before Riders were welcome again in the Broddring Kingdom. It had been forty years since their mother had seen them, but Vala and Adric had rushed to her side when the sickness first became apparent. But then, after the queen had deteriorated even more, Adric had run off, presumably unable to watch his mother die.

"She has gone to fetch Adric," Murtagh answered his wife; his queen; his beloved Nasuada. The queen smirked slightly and tightened her grip on Murtagh's hand, the simply engraved gold band on her left hand glinting in the sunlight that poured through the glass doors to the balcony.

"If the boy does not wish to see me die, let him go," she said, some of her previous strength coming through in her voice. "I would do the same were I in his position. I must be a terrible sight to behold, especially since I was a young woman the last time he saw me as a boy. Be sure to tell him I always loved him though, when I am gone."

"You mustn't say such things," Murtagh said firmly. "You will tell him yourself when he comes. Vala will find him." The queen smiled knowingly, but said no more and rested her head against the ornate headboard.

"Tell me, my love. Has Death come for me at last?" Murtagh seemed surprised by her question, though Lyris was bemused. The Red Rider still, after all this time, underestimated how well Nasuada knew him. She looked to her husband and chuckled slightly at the shock upon his face. "I have known for many years that you can see the god of Death. Is he here now? In this very room?"

"Goddess, actually," Murtagh muttered. "And yes, she is here." He glanced over his shoulder and looked at Lady Death, resplendent in her crimson cloak and fine dress.

"Where?" the queen asked. Murtagh motioned to the corner where Lady Death stood, and the queen shifted her dim gaze across the room. "What does she look like? I suppose I shall see for myself soon enough, but I would like to know all the same."

"She is a young woman," Murtagh said, a fond smile upon his handsome face, "though only in appearance. Lady Death is centuries old, and has been doing the duties passed down from her father for at least a hundred years. I have seen her several times over the course of my life: when my mother and father died, when Brom passed, and when Galbatorix was sent to Hell, where he belongs. And yet, Lady Death has remained constant. She is beautiful, with her flowing dark hair and stormy, grey eyes. The red cloak she wears is what gives her power, and she has a black raven as her guide through the worlds. The Lady Death is a soft spoken woman, though stern when she needs to be. And I have bargained with her for a few more days. I had hoped it would give Vala time to find Adric, but I fear that hope may be lost."

"Lady Death sounds lovely," the queen mused. "Admittedly, I am anxious to meet her. This body pains me, and I am content to leave this world in the capable hands of our son."

"Don't speak that way," Murtagh said. Although he was smiling fondly at his wife, there was pain evident in his eyes. She looked over at him, her dark eyes gleaming with renewed vigor.

"I have lived a good, long life, Murtagh," she replied. "My time has come. We always knew this day would arrive eventually; why do you act surprised now that it has? I am not afraid to die, my love." Murtagh hung his head and drew her hand up to his lips, kissing it gently.

"You always were so brave," he whispered. "Braver than me, anyways. It's what I admired about you from the very beginning."

"I will greet Lady Death as I friend, I think," she mumbled to herself, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Lady Death watched on from her corner, fascinated by this exchange. On the one hand, the man who would live centuries more to come was terrified of death, but his mortal wife was ready to move on from this world and go to paradise. It was interesting to her, how these mortals viewed life and death. Nasuada was turning out to be a promising candidate to become a Guardian, if she would consent to the job. It was not meant for everyone, but Lady Death thought that she could handle it. After all, she'd been a queen, and had handled much worse than a position as a Guardian could offer her. And as the sun went down on that second day, Lady Death thought that maybe—just maybe—this trip had not been a waste of her time after all.

Chapter Text

"Do you think they'll make it back?" Eragon whispered to Arya where they stood in the corner of the spacious room. He was referring to Vala and Adric, but Murtagh had not told them of the deal he'd struck with Lady Death. How could he explain to them that he was able to see the goddess of death, and had haggled with her for the life of his love?

"We can only hope," the elf queen replied. "There's no way to know how much longer she'll last, but they need to be back soon if they wish to see her."

"Murtagh sent Thorn after them, to hurry them back. He seems to think she won't last the night." The Red Rider sat stooped over the bed, his face buried in his hands. The other people in the room didn't want to disturb him, so they kept their voices low. The dark-haired witch stood on the other side of the bed, her brow furrowed in worry. She knew that Lady Death was not here right now, but she would be here soon. The sun hung in the middle of the sky; it would only be a few hours until sunset, and then she would return. Elva chewed on her bottom lip nervously, and her hands were trembling. After a lifetime of protecting the queen, she did not like feeling so helpless in the face of an unbeatable foe. Nasuada looked up at Elva wearily and extended a gnarled hand.

"Do not weep for me, Elva," she said hoarsely. The witch looked at her sorrowfully, a tear rolling down her porcelain cheek. "You have served me well, and I know you will continue to protect my line until the end of your days." Elva nodded weakly and squeezed her hand.

"Yes, my lady," she whispered. Nasuada turned to Murtagh and stroked his hair, causing him to look up at her. His fierce, grey eyes were ringed with dark circles, completely bloodshot; his cheeks looked sunken in, and his face seemed to sag with the weight of his sorrow. The queen had never seen him this way. But she said nothing, wanting to save her strength until the very last moment.

Ajihad came and went a few times throughout the course of the day, checking in on his mother. He knew that a messenger would fetch him the moment things turned south, but it eased his mind to make sure everything was still alright. And all the while, Murtagh never left her side. Eragon and Arya too, stayed in the room. Elva left after another hour, unable to take the pain any longer. She had said her goodbyes, and she knew the queen would understand. It was time for the witch to let her go.

Out on the wide balcony, a green dragon and a blue dragon hovered in the air, watching through the wide windows to the scene inside. They were all extremely attached to the queen, and her loss would hit them hard. But whatever happened, they would have each other for consolation. Saphira groaned mournfully as the hours wore on, trying to lend her Rider some of her strength in his sadness. Eragon thanked her quietly, but mostly kept to himself. He and Arya exchanged a few words, but they continued to keep their eyes trained on the gilt-framed bed. The air became heavy with their silence, and Murtagh's heart beat faster and faster. Every few minutes or so, he would glance out to the balcony, to gauge the position of the sun in the sky. It was sinking lower, and his agitation was growing. Soon, Lady Death would return to claim his beloved, and there would be nothing he could do. And his children had still not returned. It was too late…

Lady Death strolled lazily down the cobblestoned streets of Illirea. Her scarlet cloak was clasped around her shoulders, as normal, but underneath she wore a light summer dress that came to her calves. Although the climate did not affect her in the way that it did humans, there was something about the spirit of summer that made her feel more carefree. Perhaps that is what prompted her to show leniency to the Rider; the summer air was going to her head. Her bare feet swept across the smooth stones of the street, and a warm breeze shifted her cloak about her.

It had been a relatively quiet day in the city. There was a young mother and baby that could not be saved by the midwives, and Lady Death had escorted them to the Land of Eternal Life that morning, but nothing more than that. Those were the hardest for her—to ferry the children out of this life before they'd even had a chance to begin theirs. The look on the father's face had been difficult to bear, but, as always, Lady Death did her duty in stoic silence. It was the only way to cope with the emotions of these humans.

Somewhere far off, a child laughed and his mother called to him for dinner. Lady Death turned her head in their direction, enjoying this little slice of life she was getting to witness. It was not often that she got to observe the mortals; usually, she was far too busy ferrying the souls of the recently departed. When she looked up at the sky, she noticed the position of the sun as it hung low. The hour was getting late, and soon her task her would be finished. She scanned the sky for any sight of dragons, but did not see any. If they were going to make it, they would have been back by now. Lady Death heaved a sigh and shifted her gaze to the towering citadel. She was not necessarily looking forward to going back in there, but she knew she must. Even now, the queen's life was slowly ebbing away, drawing into the void where it would hang in limbo until Lady Death came to carry it away. And so, padding along quietly on bare feet, she made her way as slowly as she dared through the bustling city, slipping into the castle unseen and steeling herself for whatever trial she might face in the form of Murtagh.

When she reached the queen's chambers, it was much as it had been the first night she had come there. Eragon and Arya stood huddled together, and Murtagh sat as close to the bed as he could without being in it. She noticed that Elva was absent, but paid no further mind. For what did one immortal girl matter to the goddess of death? No one—not even the Red Rider—stirred at her arrival. Murtagh was too engrossed in the condition of his lady wife to notice that her fate had finally come. Off of the balcony, Lady Death could see the sun hanging just over the flat horizon. Not much longer now.

Nasuada's breath came raggedly, an alarming rattling in her chest causing those that were gathered to worry more than they had before. Her eyes remained closed, where once they had opened periodically to inspect her visitors. Her life was coming to an end, and all who were present knew it.

Murtagh's head suddenly shot up to look out the windows, and then he glared coldly at Lady Death. She just continued to stare back at him impassively. They had made a deal, and she had met her end of the bargain. Now it was time, and he knew there was naught he could do to stop her. King Ajihad suddenly burst into the room, having been fetched by a servant at Murtagh's behest.

"Father…" he said breathlessly, rushing to the Rider's side. Lady Death watched on, her hands clasped in front of her.

It is time, my lady, Armaros intoned gravely. The silver clasp at her neck was humming and shuddering with energy.

I know, Armaros. Just a moment more, though. I promised him until sunset. She looked out off of the balcony, and thought that the sun seemed to be taking its time in setting tonight. Slowly, she moved toward the bed, preparing to take the queen away. As Ajihad knelt by the bed, silent tears flowing down his face, Murtagh had only eyes for Lyris. She held his gaze, undeterred by its ferocity. This was the moment, whether he was ready or not.

"No!" Murtagh suddenly shouted, jumping up from his chair and knocking it to the floor. Eragon looked alarmed at his sudden outburst.

"Murtagh, what is it? What's happened?" he asked in concern. The two of them, Eragon and Arya both, hurried across the room to his side. Murtagh continued to stare at Lady Death, though to their eyes it seemed he was staring into nothingness.

"I can't let you do this," he growled threateningly.

"Your time is up, Rider," Lady Death replied, unfazed by this expected development. "We struck a bargain. Do you mean to tell me you are going back on your word?"

"Father, who are you speaking to?" Ajihad asked, looking up to the man he had hardly known throughout his life. By the utterly flabbergasted looks on the faces of those gathered there, Lady Death knew this would not end quickly. And so, with Armaros' aid, she unraveled the enchantment of the red cloak that kept her concealed and made her presence known. The other two Riders gasped in shock at her sudden appearance and drew their weapons, green and blue blades shimmering in the light of dusk that poured through the windows. As for the king, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Sheath your blades," Lady Death commanded in a threatening tone. "Do not think that you can harm me. I mean you no ill will." It was not a plea, but rather a statement. Her voice was firm, asserting her ultimate authority.

"Murtagh, what is this?" Eragon demanded, looking between his half-brother and the goddess that stood before them.

"She is a demon—"

"I am called Lady Death," Lyris interjected, tired of the impudence of this mortal man. "And your queen's time is up. I agreed to give you three more days with her, and now those three days are spent. Do not force my hand in this, Shur'tugal. You will find me to be a most unpleasant foe."

"I cannot lose her like this!" he exclaimed, a crazed and frenzied look entering his eyes. Lady Death had seen this madness before, but never in a magic user before. She did not know what to expect from him. He suddenly held his arm out before him, palm facing upwards to the goddess, and he cried, "Thrysta!" A rush of air swept over the room, aimed straight for Lady Death. She simply stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded in front of her, as the air arced over and around her harmlessly, dissipating behind her form. Then the room was still once more. An air of breathless anticipation hung over them, as Eragon and Arya looked on in shock, and Murtagh, in anger. His attack had failed, and he could not understand why.

And for all of the formality and respect for the souls of the departed Lyris had ever been taught, she could not help but laugh. How could this man, a mere mortal, think that he could harm the goddess of death herself with his paltry magic? As her peals of bell-like laughter rang throughout the chamber, Murtagh looked on in heated fury. Finally, her laughter subsided, and Lady Death stared at the Rider with a cold intensity.

"How dare you?" she hissed, narrowing her once kind eyes at him. He stood his ground, and Lady Death would give him credit for that later. But right now… Right now, she was furious. "I am a goddess, and you think you can harm me with your little words and manipulations! Ha! It's laughable to even consider. And you—" she glanced at the other two Riders "—with your shining blades and your fearsome dragons!" By now, Saphira and Firnen were hovering just off the balcony, alerted to the disturbance by their Riders. "How could you ever hope to harm me?" Her fury was overwhelming her, and she was prepared to do something she had never done.

My lady, I must caution you—

Silence, Armaros! Lyris snapped at her companion. These mortals will pay for their insolence. She looked between the brothers that stood before her now, and then at the father and son. And it was evident to her keen senses where to inflict the most harm. With a dainty hand, she raised only two fingers and pointed them in Eragon's direction, and then flicked them to the right. His blade suddenly dropped to the floor and his palor changed completely.

"Eragon!" the elf queen cried. She gazed at him in alarm, and a cold sweat began to break out on his forehead. He grabbed at his throat desperately, gasping for air.

"What are you doing to him?" Murtagh roared. Outside, Saphira was screaming.

"Showing you just how helpless you are against me!" Lady Death boomed, her voice resounding off the small chamber and filling it up with a deafening sound. Saphira burst through the windows, shattering glass and sending it flying all over the room. Her fangs snapped hopelessly at the goddess, trying in vain to stop her. But the goddess' power protected her from any mortal harm. Arya was rushing towards her, sword held aloft, and Ajihad was yelling something incoherent. Murtagh held his brother in his arms helplessly as Eragon fell to the ground, his face turning purple and blue as the air was stolen from his lungs. And then, just like that…

Everything fell silent.

Eragon stood upright, his sword in his hand and Arya by his side. The windows were whole, and Saphira hovered in the air outside. The room was set back in order, and Lady Death once again stood at the foot of the bed. It was as though nothing had ever happened.

"I have just given you all a vision," Lady Death said calmly, "of just how great my power is. You can never hope to stand up to me, and I do not advise you to try." At this point, she stared directly at Murtagh, who was still breathing heavily. "Now," she continued, coming around the side of the bed closest to the windows, "will you allow me to do my duty?" Eragon and Arya looked at each other, and then the brothers shared a quick glance. The apprehension retreated from their eyes as the answer became clear. With great effort, Murtagh hung his head as a sign of his assent.

Slowly, Lady Death made her way to the head of the bed, where the queen lay in silence, unaware of what had just happened. Lyris reached out a hand to place it upon her brow. This was it; she could finally do what she came here to do and then move on from this wretched land. Her fingers hovered over the queen's brow momentarily, and just as she moved to touch her—

A deafening roar split the air.

Lady Death looked out of the windows to the two dragons waiting outside, but both of their maws were clamped shut. So where had the roar come from? She turned back to the gathered Riders, and a look of pure elation covered Murtagh's face.

"Thorn!" he cried, rushing around the bed and out of the doors onto the balcony. The others followed, along with Lady Death, who remained just inside. She stared out of the glass panes, and saw the sun's last, faint rays dipping below the horizon. In the flash of light that came with sunset, she suddenly saw a brilliant crimson form hurtling towards them. Next to the great red dragon was a smaller one of golden scales, and on the other side, a dark green dragon. So he had managed to find the other son… Lady Death expelled her breath and hung her head.

Of course Fate would do this to me at the very last moment, she thought.

She has a funny way of doing that, Armaros chimed in. I believe it amuses her, my lady.

Yes, well… Lady Death let the thought fade into silence. The dragons approached the balcony, and off of their scaled backs bounded two mortals Lyris recognized. Vala jumped into her father's arms for a quick embrace, and then Murtagh clapped his son, Adric, upon the back. The king greeted his siblings, and pleasantries were exchanged between the Riders before they all rushed inside. Lady Death remained by the window, watching as Murtagh threw her a furtive glance.

"You and your family may have a moment with her," she said quietly. "But it must happen soon. She has run out of time, Shur'tugal." He nodded firmly in silence and then hurried to the side of the bed. They all kneeled around her, and Lady Death watched as the queen's eyes fluttered open. At the sight of her family gathered there, a wide smile graced her face, lighting it up with a happiness she had not known for many years. Lyris waited a few minutes, to let them have one last moment together, in which she lingered by the window, watching the five enormous dragons. She did not hear what they said to one another, nor did she wish to. Lady Death had endured as much exposure to the mortals as she could handle for now.

When the family stood and stepped back from the bed, Lady Death finally abandoned her post at the window and came to the bedside. They all watched her as the air began to shimmer and the clasp about her neck pulsed with energy. This time, she did not hesitate in placing her hand upon the queen's brow. As soon as their skin made contact, the queen inhaled sharply. Her spirit rose up out of her body, and as the last tendrils of light detached from her physical form, the queen exhaled her last breath. When she was gone, the tears flowed freely, but now there was a certain peace that overruled everything. Murtagh had been able to share one final moment with his family, and that would be enough for him. Now he could depart from this place with his dragon, to help Eragon train the new Riders, as Lady Death had suggested. Their son would stay behind to rule and continue their line, and the land would be at peace. Nasuada had made sure of that.

As for Lady Nasuada herself, she was once again young and strong, as she had been the last time Lyris had seen her. The queen's spirit had remained strong until the very end, and so her form would remain so for all eternity. She gazed about the room at her loved ones gathered there, and a small pang of sadness filled her soul. Nasuada looked at Lady Death, whom no one had noticed had disappeared once again. The goddess smiled at her sadly.

"It is a beautiful family you had," she told the queen, who nodded in response.

"I will miss them greatly," she replied. "May I ask, will my line continue on?"

"Yes, Nasuada, your line will sit the throne of this land for hundreds of years to come. Does that give you peace?" Lady Death eyed her carefully, gauging her answer to determine what she would say next.

The queen thought this over for a moment. "No," she finally replied, "that does not give me peace. What gives me peace is knowing that they all came together in the end, for me. That is a sign of true love. I am sure they will remain close long after I am gone." Lady Death nodded approvingly and then shifted her gaze to look at the mortals still gathered at the bedside. They were embracing one another in their consolation.

"I would like to offer you a gift, Nasuada," Lyris whispered. "You do not have to accept it, but I will offer it all the same." She paused a moment, but the queen said nothing. She was content to revel in this moment for as long as she could. "In the spirit world, we have beings that are called Guardians. They are designated to watch over certain people. Would you like to become a Guardian for your family?" Lady Death looked over at the dark skinned woman, and thought she could just glimpse a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Oh, my lady," she said, dipping her head in a sign of respect. "How can I thank you for such a great honor?"

"You can watch out for that wilful husband of yours," Lyris laughed. "He's caused me quite enough trouble over the past three days. I only ask that he does not do it in the future. Can you help me with that?" Nasuada nodded emphatically and thanked Lady Death once more for her kindness. With a parting smile, she hurried over to her friends and family to stand behind them, where she could spread out her spirit and wrap them in an embrace of love and protection. Lyris was not sure if they could sense the queen's spirit, but they would soon enough.

With a small smile of satisfaction, she padded across the room on bare feet, away from the mortals who had caused her so much trouble. But that was the way with them, and she supposed that would never change. She had shown compassion, and everything had worked out in the end, so she thought it hadn't been that bad. But one thing she knew for sure: if she didn't have to speak to a mortal for another thousand years, she could spend her eternity in peace. Lady Death exited the queen's chambers onto the balcony, where the brilliant purples and dark blues of twilight were painted across the sky. And she thought that it was truly a beautiful sight. Out of death had come a new sort of happiness, and that was all she could hope for in her journey. She raised her face to the sky and spread her wings out to the side, as the raven upon her clasp did. The wind pulled and tugged at her cloak, lifting her up into the air where she melded into the world of the spirits. It was time to move on to her next task…

The End