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Chapter Text

(Lavel)

A weary spirit, Lavel Sucoret opened his eyes to a realm he had seen once before, though not in its full beauty. A realm of spirits, a realm for the dead of his world, a realm linked to his own in a way he could never understand.

He remembered the words of an old acquaintance. All denizens of both realms moved to the other upon their passing, spending a brief time before fading away completely. But select individuals from either could spend a longer time in the other world. With the power cursed to him by a god, he became one of those individuals.

  Simple as it once was, Lavel's mind seemed to have transformed a little by becoming a spirit and began to wonder about new, complex things. Things he never had the desire or ability to think about. Why do humans and Gendirlo, intelligent beasts of various species, even cross over from Dosjorya to this world after death? Likewise, why do spirits cross over to his home? Spirits never played a role in any happenings in Dosjorya; in his life, he did not remember even finding a spirit save for that time he was on the brink of death. He doubted he could do much here except look around, and few would ever know he was here.

Did Vasem wonder about the same things when he died?

Lavel tried to reign in his focus, though it still continued down a dark path. Almost three decades ago, his soul stood on the cusp of the spirit realm, while in Dosjorya his body barely clung to life. All of the pain, the sorrow, the loss had finally caught up to him, all because of the war and Vasem's death. Vasem gave up what was left of his spirit to ensure Lavel could continue to live during that last meeting. Not just live, Vasem hoped, but thrive. To continue without the pain of losing half his soul. And in many regards, it worked.

Where the power to manipulate water was cursed, in Lavel's mind, to him by a god, fate gifted him with the uncommon ability many Dosjoryans had, to form a telepathic bond to a Gendirl, the Innen bond. A bond that could vary in strength, and he had the strongest ability of anyone. Then Vasem came into his life, an Oundat Gendirl, a blue quadruped with a long neck and black stripes. Nothing was ever the same again, for Vasem meant more to him than life itself. Even here in the spirit realm, after decades of becoming numb, after Vasem's spiritual sacrifice, Lavel found it hard to look ahead to the future, to a life without his partner. Especially now without friends and family.

His eyes looked around and spotted a bright point of light, infinitely lighter than his mood. That light was his entrance to this realm, he instinctively knew. His window to his old life, to his wife and three children. To the friends he made in his nearly five decades of life, acquaintances he had worked alongside in various capacities, even to his enemies, the Dargonian people who had invaded his land, killed friends and family, and whom he fought against so that Dosjorya would not die as Vasem did.

The very war that killed Vasem also profoundly changed his being.

"Why do my thoughts always turn to the war?" Lavel thought out loud.

"Because war, violence, and struggle shaped who you are. It has made you into a warrior, and there are many different types of war to fight," said an unfamiliar voice. Lavel looked around to find its source.

Behind him stood a wisp of a humanoid, completely black except for the tiny flecks of blue that glimmered as it moved, with a tail instead of legs. Wings sprouted out from its back. It wore no clothes, yet stood as if completely comfortable. Lavel turned his entire body around to face it, still human-like in comparison to the spirit.

"Who are you?" Lavel asked.

"A spirit of power. A deity. A god, if you will, though we do not use that term often. It is reserved more for your own deities."

Lavel backed up a step. The gods of his world, immortal beings locked in an eternal struggle, cared little about the affairs of mortals. No, that was not true, he thought. They cared enough to use mortals against enemy gods. He had become one of those weapons. The Dargonians became one of those weapons. Vasem was killed as a result.

He did not trust gods or deities. He did not trust this spirit.

"You distrust me," said the spirit kindly. “Rightfully so, given your history. However, I have followed your soul in Dosjorya after the god Maker interfered with your life. I follow every mortal in your world affected deeply by your gods."

The spirit spoke with a genuinely sympathetic voice, but it did not sway Lavel. Mortals and immortals were too different to understand each other, let alone feel sorry for each other. Assuming this spirit deity meant well. He did not know.

"Why?" Lavel asked, taking another step back.

"Why? Because what those gods do to mortals is wrong."

That he agreed with. "It is."

The spirit nodded. "In no other realm or world do deities use mortals as pawns as your gods do."

"They don't?" Lavel asked before realization of what the spirit said came to him. Other realms? The only ones he knew about were his own and this one. Just what is existence? How many things did he not know?

"They don’t," said the spirit. "Countless worlds exist, many linked to others, such as ours. Others stand alone. Yet all are linked in some small way. Deities can see these worlds, and sometimes we can touch them. I have that ability and I use that ability to watch over your realm, and also to gaze over others that might offer a better life. To those in our realm influenced negatively by your gods, I can take them and reincarnate them in a world not governed so harshly by deities."

The spirit cupped its hands and a globe appeared, hovering. Lavel could see many visions within it. A city built into and around ancient trees. Tall citadels looking over walled cities akin to Dosjorya's greatest cities. Humans walking alongside other human-like creatures peacefully. And one more creature, one that Lavel did not recognize, one that had different colors per individual and to him looked a bit like a winged version of Vasem.

"Is that another realm there?" Lavel asked.

"It is," said the spirit. "A realm a lot like yours, except a little tougher and more governed by magic than by gods. Near immortality is achievable by those you would otherwise call mortals. You can be reborn there. Alongside Vasem."

"Alongside... Vasem?" Lavel gasped. Most of his being wanted it to be true. To see Vasem again, to share with him the life he lived after the war. To be together for as long as fate decided. To feel whole again.

Yet he knew how cruel the world could be. To have hope just within your grasp, only to have it snatched away when reaching for it. Such could crush stronger men than him. It had shattered him already. Fear made him hesitate to believe in this hope.

This offer is coming from a god, albeit one for a different world. A god who appears to care. But a god nonetheless. Why should an immortal offer him a new life? What motive does it have in sending spirits to other realms? To influence affairs indirectly? To play a more subtle game with mortals than he was used to? To remove the most threatening spirits that came from his world?

Or maybe, just because it wishes to give a better life to those who suffer. Could an immortal care for a mortal?

"It is not far-fetched. I can reincarnate both of you in this realm or any other I find. As Vasem is a part of you now, there is enough of him for me to rebuild. I can do the same of any spirit who resides in this realm, even to those nearly faded, so long as a piece exists. My abilities are limited, otherwise, I would bring back many of your friends and family alongside you."

"Why though?"

"Why?" The spirit paced a little, its tail pushing it around. "Why? Because mortals should not have to suffer at the hands of deities. You and Vasem suffered. Azen suffered with both Resdie and Sonota. Andreiah suffered with Dinshalow. It is wrong in my mind."

"Why do you care, though? All of us mortals, we live and suffer, but we all go away. We don’t last. You do. There is nothing in common between us."

The deity shuffled its wings. "Not all immortals are as detached from mortals as you believe."

The images of the globe shifted to a new scene. The god standing in a house, lifting into the air a smaller spirit who lacked the flecks of light. Both laughed and the smaller spirit begged to be lifted again. Another spirit entered the scene, almost as large as the god but also lacking the speckles, and both of the larger spirits hugged.

"You see, Lavel, that sometimes deities long for the love and affection mortals give freely to each other. Sometimes we want to prove to ourselves that immortality does not equal loneliness and indifference. Much like you, I have felt love and lust, loss and sorrow. I am a spirit's version of a husband and father. I find joy in bringing peace to others and feel hurt when others suffer. My heart felt for you after Vasem's death. It felt for so many others killed or wounded in the name of a god war."

The globe disappeared. Lavel held no doubts the scene he just witnessed was the family of this deity, and from their appearances, they did not look like an immortal. He could see the love between father and child, between husband and wife. Both loves he knew well.

"I have this power to reincarnate. Just as the Maker has the power to create. We both can twist our elements to make use of our representations and abilities. But unlike Maker, I find it a shame to let such potential be used to harm."

Lavel glanced back at the bright light. From this distance, he could not make out any detail.

With that image of this spirit’s family burned into his memory, he trusted this deity more than he trusted any of his gods. The offer to live again with Vasem tempted him like nothing else. His last words in Dosjorya were addressed not to his wife or his children, all of which were by his side. No, they were addressed to Vasem. "I'm on my way," he had whispered, fully knowing that he would still never see Vasem again.

But then he could not watch over his friends and family for however long he had in this realm. He wanted to watch his three children make their mark on the world, much like his nephew did. Perhaps he could have touched Senyda's dreams, to show that her husband was not yet gone forever. And he wanted to see prosperity continue to return to Dosjorya, prosperity that he had shed blood for decades ago, as the memories of that brutal war continued to fade.

"I would be giving up on watching everyone if I accepted," he said out loud.

The spirit nodded, a sad expression on his face. "You would. It is terrible to have to choose between loved ones."

Lavel shook his head. "I am grateful for the opportunity."

"How so?"

"As much as I want to watch my family, there is little I can do for them or anyone in Dosjorya. My time there is done. Watching them does much more for me than for them. But living again with Vasem helps him much more."

Smiling, the deity formed the globe again. More images appeared within. A vast desert. Mountains that dwarfed Xazdos Volcano, a several-mile-high monolith in its own right. Endless fertile plains crossed with roads and streams and dotted with villages and lakes. "It seems even I have something to learn," he said.

Lavel pointed at the globe. "That is the world Vasem and I will be reborn in?"

"If you agree, yes. I would tell you about it, but I know little enough about it and you would forget our conversation anyway. Know that this too is a world that can struggle to find peace. True peace is a rare thing indeed. However, after what you have endured, it is the best place for you and Vasem. Your time together in Dosjorya was far too short and here, unless war and fate see differently, you two shall endure alongside each other for much, much longer."

Slowly Lavel nodded. "I do not want to fight in a war again. But if I must, I will. You said I will forget our conversation. Will I forget more?"

The deity shook his head. "Meeting Vasem again will be more meaningful if you remember everything from Dosjorya. Each of you will remember everything about your past once you are old enough to understand. I think you two will have much to catch up on."

He wanted this. His soul screamed to accept the offer. Vasem would live again. More good will come of accepting than from not.

But Lavel glanced at the bright light again. He would remember his family but would never know how they moved on after his death and reincarnation.

He could not have both.

But he could not make choices just for himself.

"I accept your offer," Lavel said with certainty.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. For Vasem."

"Then it shall be done. Good bye, Lavel Sucoret."

Chapter Text

(Lavel)

The high ridge exposed them to the bright sun which acted to shield Lavel and Vasem from the early winter chill. A steady breeze blew, trying to freeze the pair, but neither cared as magic and internal heat joined by the sun counteracted the winds. They stood facing the grand city, Doru Araeba, far below and surrounding the stream-filled lake at the center of the valley. A city they have been to a few times already in their training.

It was a sheer stroke of luck that they had been ordered here by their teachers, the human Rider Ordell and his regal black female dragon Kuramre, only a day before their second home, Ilirea, had been attacked by the traitors. Sheer luck that in their second chance together, they had not experienced more violence, more conflict. They were here for a proper tour, not for refuge, though the latter has become their reality.

"It feels odd that we have not been assigned new teachers," Vasem solemnly said. "Hopefully we'll receive some guidance today. And maybe some information as to why so many Riders died in Ilirea, including Ordell and Kuramre. They were very accomplished for their age, and I miss them."

Earlier in the day, Lavel had received a note from elder Rider Nierya and her dragon Sharjarth to meet on one of the higher ridges on the north side of the valley. The names always stirred a confused pot of emotion within Lavel. Nierya is his Alagaësian mother, and another elf, Thel, is his Alagaësian father. But they were not his true parents; they were not Mama and Papa back in Dosjorya. He still loved Nierya and Thel as any elven child would, but there was always confusion. Did loving them mean he was forgetting his first parents? Was loving his first parents a slight against Nierya and Thel? He did not know. No one had answers for him.

Vasem's egg had been laid by Sharjarth the same day Lavel was born. Vasem, by virtue of his original and current forms, did not share the same confusing thoughts. Oundats never cared much for their parents and dragons cared but not deeply.

Closing his eyes, Lavel cleared his mind and let himself settle down. It did not take him long. Young as he is, he is now an elf and a Rider, both of which had better control over their minds and emotions than humans.

Before long, the Rider and dragon noticed Sharjarth's lavender bulk rise from the shining city, followed by a much smaller aquamarine dragon barely large enough to be bonded to a Rider in full rather than an apprentice. Neither dragon was in any hurry to reach them. Lavel, even with his good eyesight, could not make out their Riders yet.

"That dragon better not antagonize me for my less glittery scales or my black stripes. I hate the dragons who think their shade of color is better than other dragons of that color. Any blue dragon thinks they look better than me. All are so vain and prideful."

Lavel patted Vasem's flank and let his fingers glide over Vasem’s nearly smooth scales. "That was only a couple of blue dragons that did that, and they were quite young. They’ll outgrow it in time. My opinion matters more than theirs, and I think you look like a patch of wild blue sky paying homage to Dosjorya. Besides, I can sit on your back without a saddle and not get torn up."

Vasem snorted in response. "This one is young too." But Lavel could feel Vasem’s joy at the praise.

"Relax. Sharjarth will keep it in line. Just behave yourself in the meantime."

Still, the Rider could feel Vasem's annoyance return. They were outsiders of a sort, the only known inhabitants in Alagaësia that had experienced reincarnation and remembered and bore traits of their previous life. They were targets for questions by those who had no idea and then targets for accusations by those who did not believe them. Vasem stood out as a very unusual-looking dragon, and Lavel stood out as an unusual thinking elf. But they were what they were, and neither would change a thing.

And beyond that, they both felt an unknown source of dread, though it was likely related to the attack on Ilirea. Something was afoot, something to do with the traitors who decided to aid the mad Rider. They had no real proof; everything either had heard had come from sharp ears picking up on conversations they were not a part of. Lavel was a child by human standards, much less elven or Rider standards, and he had bonded early for an elven child. They have been bonded for three years, not old enough to know the secrets of their station nor of the most important events in the land, despite being older in their thoughts than anyone cared to acknowledge.

So why did their mothers call them here, and why are they bringing another young pair? Only time will tell. That time was approaching.

As the sound of flapping wings grew louder in his ears, Lavel walked a few steps away from Vasem, towards the flat grassy expanse that served as a landing zone. Sharjarth landed first, blowing gusts of wind on the young pair. She quickly closed her wings, giving space for the other dragon.

Unbuckling themselves, Nierya and the other Rider climbed from their dragons. It was readily apparent to Lavel that the other Rider was human, despite already being deep in the gradual transformation they go through. He lacked the same grace and ease of Nierya, and with the impatience in his movements, the differences were all the more visible. Lavel touched his two fingers to his lips in greeting.

Before Lavel could go through with the formal elven greeting, Vasem walked over to the aquamarine dragon, standing as tall as he could and growling softly. All eyes were on him.

“I hate being the small one,” Vasem said privately.

The older blue dragon eyed Vasem curiously but did not appear intimidated. Rather, it looked calm, perhaps unlikely to show any of the aggression Vasem experienced with some other dragons. However, Lavel thought, the aquamarine dragon would likely not back away from Vasem.

“I would rather you save your antics for later, Vasem Blackstripe, when there are no more matters to discuss,” Nierya’s soft but authoritative voice called out, lessening the tension between the two younger dragons. Vasem slowly backed away and stopped growling. Both Sharjarth and the aquamarine dragon looked amused.

Finally, she and the other Rider touched their lips, and Lavel initiated the elven greeting. Nierya continued the conversation, a little steel entering her light voice. "There is much going on around us, and little time to prepare. Time flows faster than we like to see, bringing changes to the land. Thus, I have arranged this meeting between you, Lavel and Vasem, and between you, Brom and Saphira, high on this ridge. Malevolent ears and eyes may stalk the city below, threatening the safety of you both and my plans for you."

“Is all this about the mad Rider?” Lavel asked.

"Of course it is. He and his followers and forced helpers. How can the son of an elder not know?" asked Brom, voice much harsher than Nierya's. Lavel guessed he did not mean ill but figured the Rider, for some reason, was passionate about the subject.

“They know little because of their youth and because talking about such things would bring up the fact their teachers died in Ilirea, something that until today did not have to be brought up,” rumbled Sharjarth. She whipped her tail around for a few moments, then settled down again.

Brom looked away, focusing on the ground rather than on Lavel. “Then you two have our sympathies for your loss,” said Saphira in an apologetic tone. “Forgive my Rider for his rudeness.”

“We harbor no ill will for his words,” Lavel murmured.

“It is best to not cling to the past,” said Nierya, steering the conversation back to its original course. “But I must bring it, and other things, up now, for the safety of you four.”

“We do not know when the traitors will attempt to attack Doru Araeba, only that it will happen, and in the near future. Lavel, Vasem, you two are too young and inexperienced to join the defense. No student shall be required to stay and fight.” Sharjarth looked over the city while she spoke, voice tinged with sadness.

“Your father and I do not want to see you come to harm. And you need to complete your training to become a Rider in full. Elders Oromis and Glaedr currently reside in Ellesméra and have agreed to continue your training. Brom and Saphira are to accompany you, for there is strength in numbers.”

“It would be our honor,” Saphira said, shooting her Rider a look of disapproval. Brom looked back at her, then to the elder. “We chose to join the fight, Nierya-elda, in hopes of saving my old friend, Morzan. He was like a brother, and maybe I can make him see reason, rather than have someone impale them with a sword.”

“And it may be that Morzan could be redeemed. Too little is known about the goings-on to know. But based on what Oromis said, I would not count on it. You two are well trained and formidable, as Oromis said, but not experienced in true conflict. Your efforts would better serve the Order by escorting these two to their home in Ellesméra and helping your own teachers heal from their wounds,” said Sharjarth.

“If Oromis allows it, and if we have not seen the enemy here on Vroengard, you are welcome to return and join the defense. We may have need of every warrior we can muster,” said Nierya.

Lavel took the news with a slice of trepidation, but also with relief. More violence would soon occur, but they will have no part in it. More experienced, more capable Riders did not need the help of an elf who bonded to a dragon far earlier than any others, who still had years of training left to complete. From time to time he and Vasem had seen awe-inspiring displays of strength by older Riders, seen the immense bulk and prowess of the oldest dragons, including the largest living one, a wild dragon by the name of Belgabad. Many dozens of Riders and even more dragons have roosted on the island in the previous days.

He still felt nervous though. Ilirea and the Riders there, while fewer in number, still lost against an attack that caught nearly everyone off guard. Vasem’s fears joined his through their bond. “It's like what the citizens of Dosjorya must have felt when the Dargonians first made landfall. Fear and dread for what may come, for what they beheld of those well-armed foreigners,” Lavel said privately to Vasem.

To everyone, Vasem asked, “why don’t we just leave right now, or as soon as we get packed?”

“A storm approaches, hitting the island and the waters between here and the mainland by this evening. Gaze upon the clouds and know I speak the truth. This storm is one you cannot hope to fly through unscathed. By morning, all should be clear. You leave then.”

Looking up, Lavel could see some high clouds and a few thicker ones building. Clouds behaved the same here in Alagaësia as they did in Dosjorya, but in neither land had he yet mastered the art of reading them. Vasem, being a dragon, learned much about cloud forms along the way, but even he could not predict the weather.

"I must have you swear an oath, Brom-vodhr and Saphira Skulblaka, that you will escort these two to elder Oromis in Ellesméra, and do so with all possible haste after leaving tomorrow."

Saphira said the oath first, confidently and happily. Her words earned a scowl from her Rider, but he too bound himself with the oath.

“Thank you, both of you. It means much that you agree to guide and protect our sons,” said Nierya, smiling. She turned to Lavel. “I wish we could escort you ourselves, rather than enlisting help, but alas our efforts are needed alongside Vrael and the elders. We likely will not be able to see you off tomorrow morning.”

“If you four must plan your trip, speak of it only here, outside of the city. I’ll not have those opportunistic traitors set up an ambush from eavesdropping on you. We cannot take that chance.”

“I understand,” Lavel murmured.

“Good. Behave yourselves, especially you, Vasem. All four of you, bring honor to yourselves and that which you represent,” Sharjarth said, bright purple eyes sparkling.

“Indeed. We cannot stay here much longer, for there is much we need to accomplish to fortify Doru Araeba, and there are things I feel we have forgotten to do. Farewell, and may the stars watch over you. Lavel, Vasem, if we are unable to speak to you again, know that we love you and did all we could to keep you safe.”

Lavel watched his mother run up Sharjarth’s leg and settle on her saddle. With great gusts of wind, the lavender dragon and her Rider left them upon the ridge, silent until the elders were out of sight. The younger Rider noticed Brom had his hand clenched on his sword’s pommel, knuckles turning white. The glyph on the sheath read “Undbitr.”

“Morzan has to be innocent,” the human Rider said, voice low but rising. “He had to have been forced to serve that vile Rider. I know him like a brother. And soon he will be killed instead of reasoned with.” Brom turned directly to face Lavel, pointing. “And now I can do nothing about it, nothing at all, because of some entitled elder’s son incapable of defending himself.”

“Don’t growl, Vasem,” Lavel warned, but his words fell on deaf ears. Vasem lowered his head and growled as menacing as a bonded dragon could.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” Brom continued, unfazed by Vasem. “You’re too young to have been presented with an egg as an elf. You—“

Saphira swung her massive head into her Rider, knocking him to the side and interrupting his speech. They appeared to speak to each other. Vasem stopped growling at them, but still stood tense. Lavel patted his dragon’s shoulder, trying to calm him.

“Let me handle this, Vasem. I believe it is only Brom, not Saphira, that is opposed to the situation,” Lavel said quickly.

“No, but his feelings can influence her. Much like yours can influence mine.”

When the aquamarine dragon turned her head to them, Lavel spoke. “You may not have heard of our history, and you would not believe it anyway, but we were meant to be together for far longer than either of us have been alive. It served no purpose to keep us apart any longer than necessary. Age ten is when humans are presented to the eggs, is it not? That is how old I was when Vasem hatched for me. As for your friend, Morzan, we offer our condolences for the torture he must be going through if indeed he has been forced into servitude. Perhaps he may be strong enough to fight his bonds to Galbatorix.”

Morzan. He remembered the name swirling around a little when he and Vasem first arrived in Ilirea. Extra protections had been made for hatchlings after Morzan and his dragon aided in the stealing of a hatchling meant for someone else. That poor black dragon, who could not yet speak, lost his fledgling Rider and had been taken by a demented man. Most said that Morzan willingly helped and that he and his dragon fled alongside the mad Rider.

But if Brom and Saphira had been friends with Morzan and his red dragon, then they would have a better understanding of the pair. They would better know if Morzan served willingly or not. Lavel gave their judgment a little more weight than others, but he was still cautious.

"I hope. He's the only family I've really had, other than Saphira of course since I became a Rider. But your answer still doesn't satisfy me about how you were presented with the eggs so young."

Lavel smiled. “I was not presented with all of the eggs. Only Vasem’s. Relation to an elder had nothing to do with it.”

Both Rider and dragon looked at them curiously. “As I said,” Lavel continued. “We were meant for each other since long before we were born. It is no coincidence that his egg was laid the same day I came into the world, wouldn’t you think? Magic is mysterious.”

“Indeed it is,” Saphira said softly.

“Stupid elven answers,” Brom muttered low, but Lavel’s ears easily picked up his words.

He nodded. He felt their confusion, for he and Vasem did not often reveal their reincarnation. Not many believed them when they did, and many more disapproved of them believing in supposed falsehoods. Saying nothing led to confusion, but confusion could be molded into mystery. And among humans mystery was expected when talking to an elf.

And he also felt for them facing the realization that they could soon lose a friend. Lavel remembered a childhood friend of his, Samulin, how they had both become Innena in Dosjorya at a similar time. They were each other's only anchor to their childhood after being thrust into a new duty and world. Maybe Brom felt that same familiarity with Morzan. But Samulin died young. In his heart, Lavel wished the same did not have to happen to Morzan if indeed he is innocent.

Finally, Brom let go of his sword pommel, revealing a large, crystal clear aquamarine gem in a rough sphere. A little darker and a different shade of blue than Vasem, but perhaps an altered version of the same gem would one day go into Lavel's sword. All Riders had gems in their sword, though he did not know why. It would be the first gemstone or crystal he had ever owned in either of his lives.

“Perhaps it would be prudent of us to discuss, even briefly, our plans for leaving as Sharjarth-elda suggested,” said Saphira after a few moments. “When we will leave, where to meet, what direction to take.”

“Vasem can fly fast and can fly long distances well enough. His body is built streamlined so do not worry about us falling behind,” Lavel said. Vasem snorted, stretching his wings as if to support that point.

“Yes, I can see. That is good. Speed is good. Perhaps you can outpace me, but I was built for endurance. Regardless, would meeting at the eastern stables at sunrise suit the two of you? Our quarters are near there. From there, we can aim for Narda to shorten the distance over the ocean. Ellesméra is almost due east after that.”

Vasem grumbled, interpreting Saphira’s words as a slight against his ability to fly long distances. Lavel rubbed his bony chin, calming his dragon much like he would in Dosjorya. “That path will work. We have taken it before. We are quartered not too far away from you as well.”

“Don’t be late, then,” said Brom in an authoritative voice. “I’ll personally drag you to your dragon if you are.”

Lavel laughed, bright and cheery much like any other elf. The whole conversation had been in the ancient language, and it amused him to imagine this young human, several years older than him and likely fully grown, dragging him, a young elf barely past the years where he glowed with childhood magic, through the paths of Doru Araeba. If he was late, then Brom would be oath-bound to go through with his threat. But that would ruin Lavel’s clothes and be very much uncomfortable. “Of course, Brom-vodhr, we shall not be late.”

Chapter Text

(Lavel)

Lavel checked and double-checked all of the straps and buckles on Vasem's saddle. All of the saddlebags full of his provisions, the tethers around Vasem's arms, the bindings securing his own legs. Their first teacher had imbued the leather with spells to prevent wear, and so far the saddle remained unblemished. A far contrast to Vasem's Dosjoryan saddle in the same period. He also fully buttoned up his coat, knowing that while it was cool here at ground level, it would be colder higher up.

Saphira sat nearby, saddle secure from her flights yesterday but still empty of any signs of her Rider. She watched intently, occasionally asking Vasem questions about what he knew about the Spine or other land features vaguely close to the route they would take. Lavel listened just as much as Vasem did whenever Saphira described any unfamiliar landform that she and Brom had seen during their travels.

"It seems my Rider forgot to wind his waking bauble in his irritation last night," Saphira said after all had been silent for a while. Cold water dripped from outside the stable, catching the sun's first bits of light shining down into the valley. The sun would soon cross over the horizon, fully lighting the massive valley and warming the air to a pleasant temperature. "I beg you two to not fool with him about being late. This assignment is hard enough for him and he has suffered a bit of bullying since becoming a Rider, coming from the odd city of Kuasta."

"You have our word, Saphira," Lavel said, nodding.

"Good. I believe he will soon be ready."

A Rider then burst into the stable, but it was Nierya, not Brom. She wore her battle armor, not the ornate polished set she often wore when meeting with leaders. On her back, pommel sticking up above her left shoulder, was her lavender-hued longsword, Domia.

"Saphira Skulblaka, I release you and your Rider, Brom-vodhr, from your vow to me. Sharjarth and I shall escort our sons to the mainland and hopefully beyond. Go." Nierya spoke with apprehension, very unlike the calm demeanor she and the other old elven Riders typically had.

"Is something amiss?" Saphira asked, beating both Lavel and Vasem to the question.

"Galbatorix and his Riders have been sighted crossing the ocean. They are nearly here."

Saphira growled and left the stable. Lavel watched her, a little saddened. They would get their chance to save their friend. But what went unsaid yesterday was that several other Riders willingly joined the mad Rider and that if Ilirea was anything to go by, Brom and Saphira would have to be careful to not get killed by them. They had no experience in war. Lavel and Vasem had no experience in Alagaësian war, but they knew what was to come could be very bad. Nierya would not change her plans like so if she thought the young pair could defend them effectively.

"We are ready to go, Mother," Lavel said.

"Hold on," Nierya said, placing her right hand, gëdway ignasia glowing hot, on Lavel's leg. For a minute, she whispered in the ancient language, using words he did not recognize, casting what felt like protecting wards. Lavel could not determine their purpose but felt better having them.

"Now you are protected from unseen threats, and your mind is further shielded from those who would kill you. Sharjarth is waiting nearby. I'll follow."

Lavel held onto Vasem's lowest neck spike tightly as the dragon bounded out of the stable. Nierya easily kept to the same pace, leaping into the air and grabbing Sharjarth's saddle as Vasem took to the air. He looped above to gain height as Sharjarth followed them into the air, head adorned in a plain dragon helm. When both dragons had reached a height above all buildings, Lavel looked to the east.

A black dragon rose from the horizon, silhouetted by the early morning sun. The dragon was flanked by others on either side. They were here.

"Go! Go!" ordered Sharjarth, roaring to the city below. "Veer northeast and fly! Head to where the ocean is closest to here."

"I'll keep watch," Lavel said to Vasem, then closed his mind. His least favorite part of Alagaësian magic was the ability to invade minds. In Dosjorya, he could speak mentally to his bonded partner, as all Innena could do, but only a rare few people with the right magical skills could even read another person's mind. Mental defense and having one's mind invaded were not ideas anyone knew of. Even now, the idea unnerved him and mental defense had been one of his self-imposed training priorities.

Vasem continued to gain altitude as he flew. The mountains that ringed Doru Araeba still towered above them, but it would cost them too much ground to rapidly ascend. Ground that they did not have much of.

Gazing at the scene around, Lavel noted that not only were Sharjarth and Nierya keeping up but that Nierya now had her sword in her hands. Gone was the calm or the fear from her face; she bore the expression of a warrior who would stop at nothing to kill her enemies. Stop at nothing to protect her son and his dragon. Rather than reassuring him, the look unsettled Lavel further.

"They are keeping up," he yelled at Vasem. In response, Vasem picked up his pace. With the enemy so close to the city, they needed to fly as fast as possible, faster than any other dragon so that they could escape unscathed and make it to Ellesméra.

Roars of anger and cries of pain began to echo through the curved valley. Lavel risked another glance backward, fearing the sight he might find. Many dragons already had bloody gashes, mostly on their wings, but a few had worse injuries. More than one fell from the sky, chased by another dragon either to save them or to ensure their death. Spells of fire and lightning lit the early morning sky, not for the purpose of light but death. More magic seeped into the air, less visible but no less deadly. The dragons on either side of Galbatorix's stolen dragon had already begun to spread out, one of which turned towards them.

“Faster Vasem!” Nierya called out, voice amplified. Neither Vasem nor Lavel turned back. The Rider could feel the muscles beneath the saddle strain with the additional haste. Lavel held on tight and bent down, streamlining himself as much as possible, but stopped himself. He needed to keep watch, just as he said he would.

Sharjarth was falling behind, turning her head to survey her surroundings. The enemy Rider was closing in not only on Sharjarth but also Vasem, its red scales bursting into flames when the sun’s rays hit them. They flew so fast, faster than Vasem, that magic had to be involved. The man on the red dragon’s back held his sword high, pointed at the sky.

This dragon had red scales. Morzan's dragon had red scales. Lavel did not know if any of the other traitors or their unwilling servants had red scales but he doubted this pair was anyone else. Blood red was the description he had heard, and blood-red fit this dragon.

It made him wonder where Brom and Saphira were. Here was their friend, giving chase to him and an elder Rider and they were nowhere to be found.

Tearing his gaze from their pursuers, Lavel looked forward at their trajectory. With Vroengard’s size, they still had a long way to go before they reached the ring of mountain peaks, Aras Thelduin, much less the ocean.

“Dive into the ocean as soon as you can,” he called out to Vasem. The dragon snorted smoke to confirm he heard. Water was the element given to both Lavel and Vasem by the Maker of Gods in Dosjorya. Vasem completely lost his ability to control water but Lavel retained some familiarity, sometimes only having to say “adurna” to get water to do what he wanted. He could give them air pockets to breathe while swimming underwater, out of reach from the enemy Riders. Both remained strong swimmers. Sharjarth knew that when she suggested heading to where a finger of the ocean reached close to the ring of mountains. But they had to get there first.

Minutes passed before Vasem passed the top of the mountain ring, beginning his gradual descent towards the distant waves. Lavel took that moment to look back, having not heard the wing flaps of other dragons getting any louder or hearing any cries of pain. Minutes where he thought they might be safe.

He wished he had not looked back.

Sharp elven eyes revealed a horror-filled landscape. In the distance, a titanic struggle not in the Order's favor was devastating not only the combatants but also the city below. So far away, Lavel could not make out much detail. Even farther away, some dragons fled the area, being chased by two others.

Several other dragons, mostly wild, had joined him and Vasem in fleeing in this direction as well, eyes wide with terror. Many already suffered severe injuries, though not to the point where they could not fly fast. Many were keeping up with Vasem, whose wingbeats were beginning to slow down. He did not see Sharjarth.

Still, the red dragon and its Rider pursued, unaided by the other traitors, red sword now painted deep crimson with blood. His gëdway ignasia glowed, pointed at one fleeing dragon and shooting a red beam of light. The targeted dragon soundlessly fell from the sky, dead. The man smiled with glee. His lips moved, and another dragon fell, this time with a sickening crunch. In no way did it look like Morzan was fighting against his will. No, he was enjoying this, slaughtering defenseless wild dragons.

“Hurry,” Lavel called to Vasem.

One dragon fleeing turned suddenly and swiped at the murderous beast carrying Morzan. Morzan’s sword slashed upwards, impaling the attacker in the chest. That dragon did not cry or roar; it growled a little as it fell, life streaming out of an angry red wound. Then a scream from that direction, the sorrow of a Rider who just lost their partner, piercing the sky.

During that moment, Sharjarth appeared from below, fury boiling in her every movement. Blood ran heavily down her side, dripping to the distant ground as she passed the mountain peaks. With the red dragon slowed a bit by the now-dead dragon, Sharjarth caught up quickly and dove below, rotating to grab from below. In that motion, Lavel nearly screamed, as Sharjarth's saddle was empty.

No!

Maybe she dismounted to help elsewhere. But that would leave Sharjarth vulnerable to enemy spells. She unleashed a torrent of white-hot flames, tinged with lavender, but they parted around Morzan's wards by a wide margin. Her paws frantically tried to grab onto Morzan's dragon before she lost height, but could not. Sharjarth clamped her eyes shut, roaring in pain, but her fall was halted. Lavel guessed she and Morzan were in mental combat and that Morzan was using magic to carry her along.

How can one Rider be so powerful? Lavel fearfully thought. To have wards that keep others from even touching you requires a lot of energy. Fighting against a dragon mentally took a great deal of concentration, especially against one so old. Carrying a dragon along with magic as one would something small and light, with no strain evident on his face, Morzan had to be exceptional. Other dragons that fled were starting to catch on to the fact that he was occupied, with only two continuing to flee alongside Vasem. Yet none of the attackers managed to inflict a scratch, all bouncing off or wards or stopped before they could get close.

Vasem's wings beat even faster and shallower, and fatigue seeped through their closed link. Lavel's fears must have spread as well. That a young human could display such strength that even a thousand-year-old elven Rider might struggle to replicate, shook Lavel to his very core. No wonder Ilirea fell. Even if only Morzan harnessed unnatural powers, the Order had little chance of defending a city with reduced numbers.

Morzan’s mismatched eyes locked on Lavel’s, and the red Rider smiled further. His bloody sword flew, seemingly on its own accord, and buried itself deep in Sharjarth’s throat, killing her. The magic holding Sharjarth let go, hot dragon blood leaving a momentary trail through the air.

No!

Sharjarth just died. Lavel could not distract Vasem by telling him. They had to get away.

But Morzan and his beast were getting closer, and fewer dragons were fleeing, all falling out of the sky. The human’s mind began to dig into his, a painful spike attempting to worm its way through Lavel’s defenses. Except that it did not feel like the kind of a human. It felt wild, mad, and alien, more akin to a dragon or other such beast rather than a human. Morzan, not at all strained by the effort, raised his hand, pointed his gëdway ignasia at Vasem, and spoke without breaching Lavel’s mind.

Lavel’s own wards, placed around himself and Vasem, drained his strength at an alarming rate. The pressure on his mind lessened completely. Vasem cried in pain and started falling to the cliffs below. The red dragon swerved, ignoring them in favor of the other, more powerful Riders heading this way.

No.

Finally, the ocean was close, but not close enough. They would not make it to the shallows with their current trajectory. Vasem's wings collapsed and were pulled backward by the wind. Blood oozed from the base of each wing, splattering Lavel with drops of searing hot liquid. His own shoulders burned with agonizing ghost pain.

Desperate, Lavel forced his way into Vasem’s mind. Many combined years together allowed Vasem to do exactly as Lavel needed, giving his Rider every bit of strength he could spare. With the added power, Lavel shouted “gánga fram,” propelling them farther out as they fell.

“Hold your breath," Lavel said, having only enough time to say one more word, "adurna," before they hit the ice-cold waves.

Despite his spell keeping water away from his and Vasem’s faces, the frigid sea knocked all breath out of him. He released his first spell, the one propelling them forward, once Vasem bottomed out, within sight of the jagged rocks lining the shallows. He had so little strength left that he could not maintain it for long regardless.

He tried to comfort Vasem as the injured dragon swam horizontally, staying beneath the surface in case Morzan wanted to finish them. His blood left dark trails on either side of Lavel, diluting and dispersing with the motions from Vasem’s legs and tail, but not disappearing. Lavel’s heart clenched at the sight; Vasem was slowly bleeding out.

Lavel did not dare speak further to try to heal Vasem yet. The bubbles of air they had would not be refreshed. There was not enough time before the end of their dive for him to word a complex spell, and he did not have enough air to risk trying now. All he could do is trust Vasem that he knew where he was going.

“Just a little longer. I know of a cave,” Vasem said through his pain.

“Hurry so that I can heal you. Our air will not last. Nor will you.”

Through their bond, Lavel felt every stab of pain whenever Vasem's injured wings moved; the constant burn from saltwater touching tender flesh; the heartache that his closest friend was suffering far worse. It took all of his elven mental fortitude, as well as all of his Dosjoryan war and torture experience, to block enough of the pain so that he could focus on the spell.

Vasem made a sudden turn, and Rider and dragon found themselves under an overhang. With a single whispered word, Lavel created a small werelight in front of Vasem’s snout to light the way.

In front of them, a natural air pocket beckoned. Large enough for a small dragon like Vasem.

“There,” Vasem said with a voice laden with fatigue. “You may need to pull me out of the water. This cold, it saps my remaining strength.”

It was getting hard to breathe. But the air pocket was close. Vasem broke through first, running aground just far enough for Lavel’s head to break through the surface. He stared up in wonder.

During their first trip to Vroengard, they were taught about the volcanoes that helped to build the island long before the Riders existed, about how lava shaped the island inside and out. They had found more than just an air pocket or a cave. They found a lava tube. Cold as if dead, but still bearing many formations shaped by the molten rock that once flowed through to the ocean. Much of the cave was smooth black basalt, punctuated sparsely by stalactites and plant roots.

“We made it. I found this during one of my fishing hunts. Help me, my dear Rider, I cannot move further.”

Holding his breath to undo his tethers, Lavel swam to shore, fixing the werelight to a single point on the ceiling above. Shivering, Lavel again borrowed Vasem’s remaining strength to drag him out of the water with magic. The effort forced him to collapse to his knees and made his vision blur.

“Don’t overdo it,” Vasem warned when only his tail remained submerged. Lavel cut his spell and crawled to Vasem’s side for warmth and comfort. The dragon sent billowing flames towards a nearby rock, turning it into a glowing heat source.

In a day their lives upended nearly as much as they did that one terrible day in Dosjorya. At least they still had each other this time.

“We made it,” Vasem whispered.

“We did. But others did not.”

Slowly, Lavel showed Vasem what he had witnessed. The horrors, the reasons for his fear.

“They are... dead?”

“They are.”

Pain and numbness claimed Lavel’s body as he curled up tighter. He could not stand or heal Vasem in his state. He did not have the strength left to confront the reality that Nierya had likely died. That Sharjarth did die. That so many others died fleeing from a terror bent on sowing chaos and death. He closed his eyes when Vasem’s snout came to rest in front of his face. Vasem had nearly died again. That hurt just as much.

“Vasem, I am scared that so many others will follow Nierya’s and Sharjarth’s fate. I fear Brom and Saphira were very wrong about Morzan, and that Galbatorix and his other followers might be just as strong. We are much more powerless than we were in Dosjorya.”

“Then we must look after ourselves. We shall hide until the coast is clear. No one shall find us. Sleep, and when you are rested enough, you may heal me. Rest and regain your strength so that we may face this together at our best.”

Though his words were brave and wise, Lavel could easily hear Vasem's sorrow and fear. And he worried about leaving Vasem's injuries unhealed. Hopefully, the saltwater will not cause infection. That was something he could do little against with his early training.

“Rest, Lavel. Rest so that you can heal me sooner. Please.”

Chapter Text

(Vasem)

Pain kept Vasem awake. Excruciating, burning pain. He felt weak from the blood he had lost, but now at rest, less of it leaked out from the bases of his wings. He would not bleed out, that he was certain. But he could not get comfortable enough to fall asleep. All he could do was keep his pain to himself, completely separate himself from his partner so that Lavel could get a good sleep.

Every time Vasem had guessed an hour passed, he glanced at the pool from which they emerged. He cast his mind outward searching for anyone, friend or foe. He and Lavel could do little in their state, weary and hurt and so inexperienced, but he had to keep watch. Larger dragons could not fit through this entrance, but a smaller dragon like Morzan’s could.

As before, all he could see were tiny ripples lapping at the edges of the pool. They reflected some of the light Lavel's werelight put out. Not a single fish swam near. They were alone.

He wondered how the battle was going in Doru Araeba. Whether the traitors harnessed their unusual strength to defeat the Riders or if numbers ultimately triumphed. He wanted to think that the Order would succeed. Little more than a dozen Riders joined the mad Rider, and even with the power Morzan possessed that so terrified Lavel, they were so few.

But he could not be sure. What if the Order was not as prepared as it looked? What if the traitors did emerge from this victorious? What would the traitors do? They could rule over the other Riders, or kill them all. Without the knowledge of their true intentions, Vasem could not guess accurately.

The ground above them began to rumble and shake, and a low thud reverberated through the lava tube. Bits of earth rained down on them until the shaking stopped. The ceiling showed no visible cracking. Vasem rose his head again to sniff for volcanic gases in case this tube became active. But he smelled nothing out of the ordinary. They appeared to be safe for the time being.

Vasem nudged Lavel gently, waking him. “The very island just trembled. I do not know why. I do not know if it will happen again.”

“Then I should heal your wings,” Lavel said. His eyes turned to Vasem’s wings, surveying the damage. “Just in case.”

“Only if you can handle it. Eat first, and take your time. I can still swim if I must, but the cave is in no danger of collapsing.”

He watched Lavel perform some of the poses from the Rimgar before grabbing something from the saddle. His nose could smell salted fish and nuts of some sort. It always amused him to think that he was bonded to the only elf in Alagaësia who thought the practice of solely eating plants made no sense. Their teachers in Ilirea, as well as any elves or human Riders they met, looked at Lavel's tendencies with disgust so Lavel usually had to acquire any meaty foods in secret. Usually, that meant taking from some of Vasem's kills, a practice he was happy to help with. As a carnivore, he could not understand why a creature capable of eating meat would resist doing so. It is the way of life that prey will be hunted.

The smell, though, made Vasem's mouth water. He loved fish, a product of when he learned to hunt underwater in Dosjorya. Fish helped keep his scales shiny, as shiny as they could be when his lacked the true gem-like qualities of other dragons'. And the taste always made him want more. He could always get more. Not many dragons joined him in fishing. But he would have to find his own fish later; he would not take Lavel's.

“Where exactly did he break your wing arms?” Lavel asked once he was finished and ready.

“Right at the shoulder. The rest of both arms feels okay. The membranes are intact.”

“My wards were not enough to stop his attack. I think I might have overlooked something... or just was not strong enough.”

Vasem snorted. “You cannot protect me from everything. Do not even try. Just feel good that we survived.”

"How can I feel good after seeing Sharjarth and others die? I saw you die once. Of course, I want to protect both of us from everything."

Choosing his words with care, Vasem said, “if you insist, then learn from this, whether it was lack of strength or oversight. Now, if you can, my wings are continuing to hurt.”

A warm hand lightly brushed the tender and broken flesh where his left wing joined to his body. He flinched as the touch sent stabs of pain through his back.

“Sorry. I do not want to hurt you.”

“It is going to hurt no matter what. Do not worry about that. The end will be worth it.”

Lavel softly started singing in the ancient language. Gritting his teeth, Vasem forced himself not to flinch as Lavel's hand brushed both wing arms. He was merely surveying with magic and needed cooperation. And Vasem did not want his Rider to worry too much.

“Do what you must. Let me know if you need me to do anything,” Vasem said.

Lavel murmured a few words, then said, “It was a clean break in both joints. Bone and most muscles, nothing else. Fragments broke your skin, not the spell. This will be the most complex healing I have ever done, but I think I can restore everything. It helps that you can still feel.”

“Take your time. Do not overexert yourself. I shall lend my strength. Trust that your training thus far will not fail you. I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

Though a novice Rider and an elf child, Lavel knew more about healing than others his age. He had pursued the topic on his own time and pestered his teacher for more lessons. He wanted to be a healer, a Rider who helped save the injured, the sick, the weak, and the ones drawing close to death. He wanted to be the kind of person he could not be in Dosjorya. And he wanted to be able to heal his dragon from any injury. All of his lessons Vasem knew too. Lavel had the necessary knowledge for this wound. He just lacked the experience.

Beginning with a whisper, Lavel's voice slowly rose as he uttered healing words in song form. Vasem deepened his connection with Lavel and poured his exhausted energy into the Rider. Lavel worked slowly, and for a while, Vasem felt no change.

After some time Vasem began to feel an intense itch build in both joints. The pain was still there, making the whole experience more unbearable. More and more, the sensation of ants crawling on his skin made his body want to move on its own accord. Unable to control himself, Vasem started to shake as he would to dry himself. The motion jerked his wing arms, bringing fresh waves of pain. Vasem whimpered, a pathetic sound for a dragon.

Lavel’s chant faltered as the motion made a wing clip him. “Sorry,” Vasem said, but only to himself. He did not want to break Lavel’s concentration again.

More time passed. The whole process was difficult for Vasem. Once more he had shifted himself, sending knives of pain through his healing joints. Twice he shot bright pale azure flames into the dark expanse beyond, temporarily blinding them both. Vasem had never injured himself so badly before, and those few minor injuries he had acquired during training had always been tended to by a Rider in full, one who knew how to heal quickly and comfortably. Lavel would perform this healing slowly and gradually, a way to minimize mistakes but prolong Vasem’s misery.

Eventually, the pain and the itching faded. Lavel's song stopped abruptly. "It is done," he finally said, voice laced with fatigue and worry.

Cautiously Vasem lifted his wings. The space did not allow him to stretch them to their full extent but he could test his range of movement. His wing joints felt a little stiff but were fully responsive with no pain. He had full movement. Satisfied, he folded them against his body.

“Thank you, my dear Rider.”

“You feel good?”

“Well enough that I feel confident I can make it to Ellesméra without issue. Perhaps Oromis can double-check everything, but you did well.”

“Just... how bad are your wings?”

The question caught Vasem off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Something is not right, is it? Are you still hurt?”

“They are a little stiff, but no pain. That might work itself out with a flight. My wings move properly. Really, you did well.”

“Are you sure? I do not want you falling out of the sky.”

Vasem gently nudged his Rider. “Yes,” he said with confidence.

Lavel hugged his snout. "Good. I was worried."

"I know you were. Your emotions are filtering through me."

He could feel more than just Lavel's worry over his injuries. He knew Lavel still felt scared and saddened over what he witnessed during their escape. That they could have died. That Nierya and Sharjarth did. And neither knew what was happening on the island.

"We need to go see what is going on," Vasem said, glancing at the pool of water.

"Not yet. I do not want to risk our lives in case the battle still rages. I say wait a couple of days. How long was I asleep?"

"Several hours I would guess."

"Then we should still wait. Let things settle down. Battles in Dosjorya lasted a day at their longest, not counting sieges. I do not see this being a siege."

Vasem grudgingly nodded. Of course, it was smart to wait. They will have to eventually leave, if nothing else to perform the proper rites to their dead mothers. Maybe the traitors, even if they are victorious, will have left and he and Lavel can fly to Ellesméra peacefully. And they both needed sleep. Lavel had food, Vasem could hunt underwater with help, and Lavel could get them fresh water with magic. Yes, the best course was to wait.

"Did you sleep any?" Lavel asked.

"No."

"I thought not. Sleep well, and regain your strength."

He did not argue. His eyes were starting to feel heavy.

The sharp smell of dead fish woke Vasem from a deep slumber. Opening his eyes, he spotted a pile of large silver fish right in front of his snout.

"Lavel?"

"You were dreaming of eating a Nïdhwal. I thought maybe I could humor you a little. And those snalglí you ate the day Nierya met with us will not last you forever." His Rider's voice held little mirth despite his words.

"We'll have to explain to the other elders why we waited to come back from hiding," Vasem said. "And thank you for the fish."

"No, I do not think we will have to explain. Mother could have had us hide in a normal cave in the mountains but instead wanted us to fly all the way to Ellesméra. Oromis and Glaedr are not the only teachers available that could have been given to us. She believed there was something bigger than we thought. They will know we were influenced by that fear."

Vasem sniffed the fish. Lavel had been thinking while he was asleep. His fear was even stronger. "Maybe. How long was I asleep?"

"More than a day."

"That long?"

"You flew for our very lives. Of course, you were tired."

He sighed. Many words went unspoken between them. Words that were festering into sorrow and terror in his Rider. It was his duty to guard Lavel against the demons external and internal. Not just as a bonded dragon but as Lavel's closest companion. "When we are ready, we will leave this cave and make sure Nierya and Sharjarth are properly honored. We shall be stealthy in case the traitors are still around."

"Okay. I do not look forward to it though."

"You should not. It is unnatural for immortal beings to face such death in any form."

"It will hurt as much as it did in Dosjorya. Vasem, it physically hurt to return home, to an abandoned ruin, knowing my parents were killed there and I never had a chance to help save them. Now I feel helpless on top of that, and scared that I may lose you too because I am so powerless compared to Nierya, let alone Morzan."

Ignoring the fish, Vasem rose and sat in front of Lavel, who had perched deeper in the lava tube. "I know this hurts you. It hurts me too. But you do have me. The full and complete me. I shall not leave you, so long as you do not leave me. Let me shoulder your burdens for a time."

“No, that is unfair to you.”

“How is it unfair for a Rider and dragon to share their worries and concerns? We are bonded by ancient magics on a deep level. It is not our first time experiencing this. We are two that are one. Two individuals, one soul. We always have been. Give me your worries, your concerns, your fears. Do not force yourself to endure them alone... again.”

Lavel did not speak for several moments. “I do not want to lose you again. Whatever force allowed us to have this second chance gave it to us for a reason. To be together, whole, complete. But with this happening, how can we survive?” Vasem closed his eyes as a shiver raced through his whole body the moment Lavel’s gëdway ignasia touched his snout. His Rider whispered his next words. “How can we endure another war?”

“By doing what we must, not only for ourselves but for others who also suffer. We may have been given this chance so that we can be together, but we may also have been given it because we have something no one else here has. And we can use that to our advantage. Use your past experience to banish your fears; we shall not die easily.”

“But how can we mentally endure another war? War tears apart, war snuffs out many bright flames, war darkens all who are forced to participate. Just look at what it did to me.”

“Again, by doing what we must. And that is helping those who suffer from the stain of war. Did Dosjorya win the war by using you to kill as many Dargonians as you could? No. Dosjorya won because you did what others could not. You fought the Priests who could lay waste to the land before they had a chance to do so. You destroyed some of their weapons stores so that the Dargonians could kill fewer people. You helped to guard those who wished to escape the violence and those who fell under attack.

“How does that translate to here? If they are victorious, then we must learn the situation and determine where we are most needed. We must finish our training so that we can stand guard anywhere the traitors decide to attack next. Who knows if they will stop at attacking Ilirea and Doru Araeba? If they are defeated, then we can use our talents immediately to help the injured. Regardless, by doing what we must, as Rider and dragon, we will make a difference and make it through another war.”

Vasem backed his snout away from Lavel’s hand, breaking their physical connection. “First you must find peace within yourself. All else will follow. But no matter what, I will protect you and you will protect me. We are together, in war and in peace.”

Lavel looked away, and his thoughts became more shielded. "Training. That is something we need. A partially trained human Rider killed an elder elven Rider easily. He had to have had an advantage. We need training so that we can find a way to counteract that if indeed there is a way. Otherwise, we are better off hiding in some far corner of the world."

Minds still distant, Vasem thought about something he knew a little about. Something that Lavel could not know about yet. A potential source of power that could make a young Rider able to overpower an elder. But that source comes at the cost of the freedom of others. Something that, if verified, made him furious, and would do the same for Lavel. But with his limited knowledge, he could think of no counter to this source of power. He reestablished their mental link.

“Yes, we need training. No matter what, we need training, even if things went well on Vroengard. So when we leave, we honor Nierya and Sharjarth, keep them alive in our hearts, and obey their direction by returning to Ellesméra. We can learn more, and maybe we can come to understand what happened and how we might proceed.”

“How are you able to remain so rational through this?” Lavel asked, nearly silent.

“Because I must. You are more emotional than most elves, and it clouds your reason and logic. And I am able to because I endured our... separation from a different perspective. We complement each other.”

Lavel’s hand gently patted his snout before pointing to the pile of fish. “I am glad to be bonded to you again. Please, take that fish as a token of my gratitude.”

Smiling internally, Vasem returned to the fish. The smell must be getting to Lavel. That and their conversation, though at least the conversation seemed to have a positive effect. In their past lives, Lavel could not be reassured or swayed quite so easily when his mind fixated on a line of reasoning. Now, he was more open to arguments and reason. Now he possessed a greater intellect and in situations like this, Vasem was thankful for that.

Elven Lavel amused him in many ways, and without a thundercloud hovering over them, Vasem could enjoy all that made his Rider unique. A mixture of Dosjoryan and Alagaësian philosophies and experiences, a melting pot of human and elven customs, of all the physical similarities and differences between old and new selves. One could say that the present person, Lavel of House Flianí, was not the same person he bonded to in Dosjorya, Lavel Sucoret. But it did not matter to Vasem. Lavel was still Lavel, he loved the new person he was becoming and would guard him against every threat, inside and out. What he never said to his Rider, though, was that if things had become too bleak, he would support flying them as far away from Alagaësia as he could for their safety.

Slowly, he ate every fish, making an effort to allow as little blood and juice to drip onto the soft ground as possible. Anything that soaked into the ground was out of reach, and less for him to savor. Even after talks of such dreary subjects, Vasem’s stomach would not be dissuaded from a good meal.

“Do you need more?” Lavel asked when all of the food was gone.

“Do you dare question my ability to hunt?”

“It is easier for me to hunt for you while staying hidden.”

He snorted. “I am filled for now. Let us sleep in turns until it is time to leave. Try not to dwell on what has happened.”

“I will try.”

Vasem would be lying if he said he was not nervous to see what had happened. What apprehension he felt was not entirely from Lavel. Somewhere on this side of Vroengard, Sharjarth lay dead, and somewhere else, Nierya’s body likely sits lifeless. Three days have passed, three days of not knowing what they would find. At least Lavel made his peace with the fact he could witness another war zone. He would not let Lavel leave this cave if he was not ready.

After strapping himself down to the saddle, Lavel uttered a more elaborate spell allowing for air bubbles around their heads that would replenish themselves with air already in the water. Vasem knew he did not have to rush to leave the ocean. He could lay and wait below the surface so Lavel could cast his mind out. The werelight moved to above his head. A silent signal told Vasem that his Rider was ready. Unhindered by pain and not immediately in danger, Vasem gently slipped into the water.

The swim went much smoother. Between his paws, tail, and wings, Vasem could move swiftly beneath the waves, outrunning any other dragon who might have cared to join him. If there were any other dragons around. Lavel could not search the whole of Vroengard for signs of the Riders, but he could search the immediate area.

“I feel a few Riders and dragons. Their minds are shielded but they are not hostile to my touch,” Lavel said.

“Are we safe to breach the surface?”

“Yes.”

Vasem dove to the rocky bottom and used the jagged floor to launch straight up out of the water in a burst of sea spray. He quickly transitioned into flying, gaining altitude. Were it not for the situation at hand, he would have allowed himself to enjoy the whole experience, roaring to the sky so that all nearby knew of his delight. But he stayed silent, mood subdued.

It did not take him long to begin spotting the signs of violence. Smoldering trees wafted up wisps of haze and smoke into the morning air. Many other trees fell from the weight of massive beasts crashing into them. A few more minutes passed before Vasem started flying against the face of the mountains, and he spotted a lavender-colored form.

“Sharjarth...” he whispered, spiraling downward. The slope and the forest made it difficult for Vasem to land, but he managed. Up close, the sight of his mother’s dead body awoke deep, primal emotions that threatened to choke up his thoughts and blur his vision.

Lavel never showed him the exact memory of the blood-red sword impaling Sharjarth, only saying that the sword killed her. Dried blood painted Sharjarth's throat and all the way down to her stomach in splatters. She had several other gashes around her body, mainly from the resulting fall into the forest but also a couple of clean cuts made by a blade. One was around her heart.

“Her saddle is missing,” Lavel whispered, still not dismounting Vasem.

Vasem took a deep breath. Someone must have taken whatever she had on her after her death. Not just her saddle, but the dragon helm she wore into battle. That did not bode well for them. The Order would not have taken her saddle and left her to rot. The traitors are much more likely to commit such an act. But only if given a chance. Steadying himself, Vasem unleashed a torrent of sky blue flames towards Sharjarth's body, cremating her as the wild dragons often did.

It made no sense. Why would anyone be so vile, so destructive? In neither of his lives could he come up with a satisfactory answer. Some just found comfort or sick joy in inflicting irreparable harm. And sorrow. Such individuals always bred sorrow. None were completely sane.

He closed his mouth to stop his flames when Sharjarth’s entire body was engulfed. His grief mingled with Lavel’s, pooling into a deep well of sorrow. Without a thought or plan, Vasem touched his snout to Sharjarth’s burning nose one last time, and that sorrow spilled out as an icy rush.

Beneath the flames, Sharjarth's soft tissues turned immediately to ash and her bones morphed into lavender-colored stone. With nothing more to burn, the flames quickly died out. Maybe it was a trick of the eye, but Vasem thought he saw the flames absorb into the stone skeleton.

Taking a step back, Vasem closed his eyes. Projecting his thoughts, he said, “Mother, it is done. May you find peace in the void. May you and Nierya never know pain again. Thank you for your gift of life to me. Thank you for all you have done. Rest in peace.”

Lavel added a few words of his own. "Alagaësia is a darker place without you providing light. I am grateful to have known you and to be raised by your Rider. I promise that no matter what fate befell Nierya, she shall receive the same honor we give to you. I give my word as a Rider."

Vasem touched the now lavender-hued skull with his snout. Then he walked away, blinking out tears from his eyes, completely unsure of what they would find once they crested the mountain.

Chapter Text

(Vasem)

The moment Vasem rounded the top of the mountain, Lavel let out a cry of anguish, and Vasem growled.

Doru Araeba was no more.

“What happened here?”

Many of the buildings, especially those near the center, had sustained devastating damage. Smoke from still-smoldering fires rose in areas where wood was allowed as a building material. Trees leaned away from one particular point, the ones that still stood and resembled the leafy guardians that they were. Most were broken and twisted and leafless from some tremendous blast. What was once bright and clean and full of awe and glory now sat broken, charred, and full of sorrow.

But what squeezed Vasem’s heart the most were the lifeless, dull, mutilated bodies of dragons everywhere. Dragons with broken wings. Dragons lying in pools of dried blood. Dragons with deep gashes in their chests, in their throats, in their wing membranes, and in their backs.

“This is no war zone. This is a mass killing zone,” Vasem said softly. Among the dragon bodies, he did see a few two-legs, mostly elves, also dead.

“This is a place of death... one of the wards Mother placed on us is taking more of my strength. I do not know what, but something dangerous lurks here. We must tread carefully, lest we join those below...” Throughout Lavel’s voice wavered and threatened to break, even in his mind.

Up ahead, Vasem spotted movement. A single red dragon walking with a limp, and an elf standing nearby. The elf bowed his head and stood with his shoulders hunched. No one had to tell Vasem that this Rider and dragon were not traitors. The pain was evident.

“Land by them,” Lavel said. “The elf is Lundaraë and the dragon is Golundír. Both are friendly and relieved to see us. Lundaraë told me he knows where Mother’s body is.”

Locking his wings, Vasem slowly descended and landed gently. He bowed his head and quickly folded his wings, showing he was no threat. Lavel dismounted and walked over to the elf.

While the two greeted each other in the style of the elves, Vasem noted that Lundaraë had at some point lost his left hand. The skin at the end of his arm was poorly healed and a bit swollen. The wound must have been during the conflict. And Golundír had lost a great deal of muscle in one hind leg, hence the limp.

“I had witnessed the flight of you two, guarded by Nierya, during the battle. I was unable to gather the forethought to wonder if you had escaped. It gladdens me to see you whole and healthy. A horrendous battle this was, and a tragedy the likes of which Alagaësia has never seen,” said Lundaraë.

“If I may, what exactly happened here?” Lavel asked softly.

The battered dragon shook his head and spoke. “The enemy swept in with the strength of a thousand dragons and the abilities of the vilest of spell casters. We fought valiantly, as did everyone else, and Vrael himself nearly succeeded in defeating Galbatorix. But alas he failed, and the elf Thuviel, in a stroke of panic I believe, killed himself with the explosion that wrought much of the destruction you see here. Unfortunately, he only managed to kill one enemy Rider, Glaerun, and killed many more of the Order. When it was evident we had lost, many, including us, hid in the mountains or offshore until the Wyrdfell departed.”

“Wyrdfell and Forsworn. These are the names for the traitors that other survivors have given them. Rather fitting, I think,” said Lundaraë.

“It is, unfortunately,” said Vasem. “They are gone, right? They just came here, killed as many as possible, and left? Why?”

“It is not so simple, Vasem Blackstripe. So many died as an act of revenge for imagined wrongs. But their goal was more than just death. They pillaged the library, sacked the stores of treasures, and broke into the many vaults holding our most precious and sacred objects, many of which are incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. So much knowledge and technology, stolen or lost for their personal gain. They have set themselves to become the undisputed rulers of Alagaësia should the elves and dwarves and humans fail as we did. And I fear they may.”

“Lavel-vodhr, I have tried my best to provide proper rites to the dead left on this island. I have come across Nierya’s body and planted a spruce sapling, her favorite tree, where she is buried. However, I have too little strength to sing it into something befitting an elder. I must save what I have to help as many as I can. I hope you understand.”

“I do. I shall do what I can,” he murmured. “Vasem already breathed his flames over Sharjarth’s body, and somehow turned her bones to purple stone.”

Lundaraë nodded sadly and faced Vasem. "Dragon magic can do amazing things. Sharjarth was one of our wisest dragons and deserves every honor you give her. Come, let me guide you to Nierya."

Lavel elected to walk, and Vasem followed, head bowed. He still made an effort to see every detail of the destruction as they traveled. Unpleasant as it was, Vasem wanted to commit everything to memory; this is the final resting place for so many, including their mothers, and he would never forget that. The heavy smell of death that hung in the air, piles of rubble lying everywhere, remnants of the living, grey and lifeless. Buildings covered in soot and dust, ground stained with dried blood. Fires burning in the distance, smelling of burning wood and flesh. Even the sun refused to come out of hiding, obscured by an overcast sky.

Doru Araeba was not a city they knew very well. There were many buildings he could not identify whole, let alone crumbling. Still early in their training, and with Lavel being one of the youngest elves to bond to a dragon, they had mostly been kept in Ilirea with other young students. He did not have much of a fondness for this city, its unique accommodating architecture that blended many styles, its grand size, or its stores of treasure and knowledge.

No, in Vasem’s mind he did not pay much attention to the material cost. He mourned those who died more than the city itself. Though young, he and Lavel had met many dragons and Riders, and he knew many were somewhere here, dead.

Vasem's attention shifted when he heard Lavel choke out a cry. Lundaraë stopped before a small spruce sapling surrounded by churned-up earth. They stood in a clearing that had likely been a piece of undisturbed land, a natural space to retreat to within the city for those who yearned not for marble and granite but grass and trees.

Lavel kneeled at the edge of the dug-up dirt, and Vasem placed his snout on his Rider's back. Lundaraë and Golundír stood back a short distance, granting them some privacy. Quietly, sorrowfully, Lavel began to sing, weaving spells of grief, of loss, of protection, and of growth to the tree. As the tree grew taller, glyphs appeared near its base, marking for every passerby that this tree was planted for elder Rider Nierya, mated into House Flianí of minor nobility, wielder of the sword Domia, third in line to succeed Vrael as leader of the Riders.

Elven rites mixed with Dosjoryan traditions. They went well together, Vasem thought, and he added his strength to Lavel's, further feeding the tree. The idea of this spruce tree, now taller than a two-leg, forever bearing these glyphs helped to comfort him, and he shared his feelings with Lavel.

Placing his right hand, the one with his gëdway ignasia, on one visible tree root, Lavel gave the tree wards of protection against the coming winter and against the ravages of time. He gave the tree a blessing that it would never find itself in dire need of water or nutrients, and he fed as much of his and Vasem's strength that could be spared into his spell. Vasem backed away, glancing up at the leafy cover.

"You honored me by giving me life. Mother, let me honor you in your death. I promise your loss will not be in vain."

When the two of them fell silent for a while, Lundaraë walked closer and observed the scene. He gave a few words, as did Golundír, and he walked away. Vasem nudged Lavel to follow when he knew his Rider was ready to leave. “One day, Lavel, we will return. Nierya and Sharjarth will be waiting for us.”

After walking a long way, Lundaraë stopped in the middle of a large avenue in front of what looked to be a storehouse. "It is not safe for you two to remain here," said the older elf. "Most of the survivors, the ones who suffered fewer injuries, have already left for various places, including Ellesméra and Ilirea. Any who lost a dragon or Rider are already gone, seeking death or revenge. Another group is set to leave soon, bound for Ilirea, that you would do well to join."

"We are destined for Ellesméra. Nierya wished for us to continue our training there with Oromis and Glaedr," said Lavel.

"Join them at least to the mainland. It is safer. They wait at the eastern shore. Once the dragons among them are ready to fly, they will leave."

"Thank you, Lundaraë-elda."

“You are most welcome. But if you may, can you carry a message for me to Oromis?”

“We shall.”

Lundaraë looked away for several moments. “Tell them what we have told you about the battle. Tell them we are diminished as a group and that our arrogance has come to bite us. So many who have not died might become enslaved. He and his dragon might hear of this from other sources before you arrive, but regardless give them the news of what happened.”

“We promise.”

"I expect no less. Now go, before the dangers of the island strike. May the stars watch over you, Lavel-vodhr, Vasem Blackstripe."

The old elf, followed by his maimed dragon, slowly walked down the road, on their way to continue the morbid task that needed to be done. Vasem kneeled down to let Lavel climb up into the saddle, then took to the skies.

Taking a leisurely pace, Vasem observed the destruction from above, noting the emptiness of the buildings that now lacked a roof. He left his mind completely open to Lavel, hoping the closeness would ease their sorrow. No sane dragon or Rider can look upon the scene before them and not be moved to tears.

The sun was beginning to descend by the time Vasem landed among the group Lundaraë mentioned. Vasem's mood soured further when he saw that only four dragons and Riders comprised the group and that they had many festering wounds. He had hoped to ask another Rider to double-check Lavel's healing, but he had no doubt that he was in better shape than any of the present dragons, and if these dragons were still very hurt, then their Riders had no strength left to check him.

The largest dragon present, a storm grey half the size of Sharjarth, had enough chunks missing from its wing membranes that flying looked impossible. Its Rider ran her hands around many of the missing pieces of flesh, but little happened. The sad faces on both said even more.

Lavel introduced them and explained their situation while Vasem watched the waves coming ashore. Not that he was very fond of the wordless expressions and communication of dragons, especially wild ones, but the sensation of cold-unyielding-powerful-indifferent fit the ocean. Always had, even in Dosjorya. And it fit, to some degree, the Riders that attacked Doru Araeba. Cold enough to kill or maim hundreds, maybe even thousands. No doubt someone tried to reason with them in all of this, even if it was just Brom and Saphira trying to save their friend Morzan. Unyielding from their path, if Lundaraë's words were true. Only those indifferent to the lives of others would cause so much destruction and death. The very island bore scars from their power.

In Dosjorya, Lavel had subdued the gods through lots of help, including from that one powerful and caring being. Even with all of that, he could not kill the gods, though he probably wanted to. But the Wyrdfell, to do what they did, might have the strength to kill many gods. That thought, coupled with the fact that they could attack any other city on the mainland, sent dread through him.

"Vasem, lend me what strength you have left," said Lavel, interrupting his thoughts. Without question, he let all of his spare energy pour into his Rider, and through their connection, he knew Lavel was doing what he could to heal the other dragons.

Between the emotional toll and the physical toll of feeding Lavel's spells, Vasem felt ready to sleep. To wake up in an alternate reality where all of this was just a bad dream and they would continue their training as normal. But that was wishful thinking. It all was real. This is reality, and he had to remain awake. At least to the mainland, but likely farther. Hopefully, the draw of their homeland would banish the fatigue during flight.

Lavel slowly healed the dragon, just as he had with his wings. When the healing was done, the storm grey dragon and its Rider both thanked Lavel. Everyone else was getting strapped into their saddles, indicating it was time to leave. Vasem watched the storm grey dragon stand up, and realized one of its front paws was in serious pain.

“Are you okay to fly?” Vasem asked the dragon.

“I am, thanks to your Rider,” said a deep male voice.

“You have a limp.”

“It shall only bother me when landing. I can fly, and that is most important. Already the poison on this island sickens my Rider. It would take more time and energy than we have to heal me further.”

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, Vasem turned back to the ocean, preparing to leap into the air. He was in no position to tell another dragon what they should or should not do.

One by one the other dragons began their flight to the mainland. The healthiest dragon besides Vasem indicated it would take the lead in their small V formation. Vasem followed behind everyone, settling at the back of the right side.

Rising higher, they entered the wind river that would help to speed up their flight. The other dragons closed their minds to him, so he only opened his mind to Lavel. His Rider was all the company he truly needed, though the lack of conversation with the others made him lonely. It reminded him that dragons and Riders are very diminished.

For many hours they crossed the open ocean, still rough from recent storms. All alone they flew, for the few ships had reason to sail this far north before the battle, and almost no reason now. Most of Vroengard’s inhabitants, permanent or otherwise, had already abandoned the island. No one had any reason to fly back now that the city of Doru Araeba, the very heart of the Order since humans were added to the pact, had crumbled. No one had any reason to visit the heart of so much sorrow.

The sun had sunk entirely below the horizon when Vasem took the lead. It was odd for a young dragon like him to lead a formation. Usually the biggest and strongest lead, with the youngest staying in the back. But these were no longer normal times. Lavel patted him on his back, encouraging him.

Just before all light had disappeared, he sighted land. “We are north of Narda," Vasem said to Lavel. "Perhaps even with the villages of Palancar Valley. Now might be a good time to leave the others.”

“Are you sure? They will likely make camp for the night here.”

“Yes. After everything the last few days, I am eager to return to Du Weldenvarden. I can fly through the night.”

“Your wings are still okay? Your strength is not liable to fail you? We used a lot of our energy on Vroengard.”

“Of course, Lavel. I would not risk falling out of the sky with you on my back.” That he said with such conviction, even though he already was speaking the language of truths, that Lavel had to believe him. And it was true. The easy flight so far allowed some of his weariness to melt away.

When the others began their descent to the foothills of the Spine, Vasem only briefly stopped for water before he carried on. Through the dark and the chill with only the moon and stars as guides. Lavel quickly fell asleep, leaving Vasem to himself.

Mountains grew in height as they traveled deeper, and then the mountains descended. Vasem aimed for the general direction of the watchtower Edoc'sil to gather his bearings. From there he could orient himself with Palancar Valley and the Anora River and thus to their homeland.

Forest capped monoliths with uncharted secrets, wild animals, and scarce habitation. The Spine had a more wild feel than the steep, primarily bare mountains of Dosjorya, more sinister and perhaps more deadly. Vasem shuttered, knowing it was a mountainous landslide that killed him in his first life. The catalyst for so many bad events for Lavel.

Before the sky began to lighten, Vasem sighted the ancient watchtower built to look over the mad human king Palancar. Even in the darkest part of the night, he spied a lone dragon, possibly dark blue, green, or purple, and moderate-sized, taking refuge. Its scales reflected the tiniest bit of light from the moon.

Though it would jostle Lavel, Vasem pitched left and right slightly to acknowledge and greet the dragon from afar. But he got no response. The dragon was probably asleep anyway.

Lavel shifted but remained asleep. Vasem lightly touched his Rider's mind, relieved to see that he was dreaming of nothing interesting or terrifying, then ended the contact. Lavel needed a night void of the nightmares that sometimes plagued him. They both did.

Deep down, Vasem was very grateful that this conflict, yet another one they both have had to deal with, had not separated them. No matter what came next, they still had each other.

Chapter Text

They were home. But it did not feel like home. Ellesméra felt so empty; so many elves had already left in the past several days, full of hope or desperation that they could defeat Galbatorix and his traitorous Riders. Or to save their brethren abroad.

Just four days ago, when they reached the boundaries of the city, Gilderien the Wise had tested them far beyond normal before granting entrance. Rather than appearing as an apparition, he ordered them to his abode to test them in the flesh. Few Riders were allowed into the city, the ancient elf had explained, because it was difficult to determine who was an ally and who was not. Lavel and Vasem had to detail their entire experiences from the past weeks just to show they were innocent in every way.

Even his Alagaësian ancestral home, the humble tree-dwelling of House Flianí, stood empty of life, a single piece of parchment left as a note to anyone entering that the elf Thel, and Thel's father Ardwen, had marched beyond the pine forest with many others to avenge the loss of the Riders. Lavel held the note in his hand, reading it yet again.

It was abundantly clear through the hastily inked glyphs and tone of the letter that Thel and Ardwen thought both he and Nierya died in Doru Araeba. No one here could have discovered he and Vasem had survived, as their first teachers cast complex wards against others scrying them or determining their location. It was a matter of not allowing others to eavesdrop on the secrets of the Riders, but it seems to have misled his father and grandfather. As they had not taken their scrying mirror, and also had wards, Lavel could not contact them.

He and Vasem were alone in this rapidly changing world. They had not even been granted an audience with elders Oromis and Glaedr yet. The older pair had other matters to attend to, including, he had heard, a trip to Vroengard to survey the damage, leaving the younger pair to wait alone in a ghost of their former home.

"Father and Grandfather are going to be happy when they return and see we survived," Lavel thought glumly, putting the note back on the desk it was left on.

"They will, but Thel still lost his mate. It is sure to hurt him deeply still."

"I know."

Assuming the two elves even returned. No news had reached him over the fate of those leaving the forest, or if any conflict had even arisen yet. It may take months for Lavel to hear any words from what is left of his family. Months where he would only have their new teachers and a few old friends to confide with.

 A low thud shook the tree, startling Lavel. Smoothing out his clothes, he hurried to the entrance.

Standing proud just outside the house was a large golden dragon nearly as big as Sharjarth. It stood with such authority even with a leg missing, that it had to be none other than the elder dragon Glaedr.

Vasem cautiously rose from the pine needle-filled depression that served as a dragon bed and stood by Lavel. All performed their greetings, then Glaedr spoke. "Oromis awaits the two of you at the Crags of Tel'naeír. Follow me when you are ready."

Unwilling to make the old dragon wait, Lavel hurried to grab Vasem’s saddle and secure it. Oromis and Glaedr were to be their new teachers and he wanted to make a good first impression. He did not know how much Nierya told Oromis about them. Lavel also knew Vasem wanted to stretch his wings for a proper flight, not just a hunt, and Vasem’s eagerness helped to encourage him.

All the while, the massive dragon’s eyes watched them, eyes that spoke of wisdom and something else, something that Lavel could not quite identify, yet felt familiar.

Lavel tightened the last strap securing himself, and Vasem indicated they were ready. Glaedr nodded, then took to the sky. They flew above the primeval forest, above elaborate dwellings sung into tall pine sentinels, above lush gardens of rare and unusual flowers.

Beyond the boundaries of Ellesméra proper, the forest became untamed, wild, and too thick for a dragon to walk through easily. The dense green canopy was rarely broken by small clearings, forming a near impenetrable carpet of exotic green below.

Just when it seemed the forest would never end, when it seemed the Crags would never appear, they spotted their destination, the clearing fit for more than the two dragons, a small table and a small hut near the edge of the trees. A silver-haired elf sat on one stool near the table.

Glaedr allowed Vasem to land first, but Vasem had to get out of the way quickly, lest he be knocked over by the wind from the older dragon's wings. When both dragons were situated, Lavel dared to climb down and greet Oromis.

Upon the exchange of pleasantries, Oromis offered him a seat on the other side of the table and pointed to a half-full bowl of nuts and fruit pieces. Lavel sat on the stool, back resting against Vasem's side, who sat directly behind. It occurred to him that the seat was warmer than it should have been given the weather.

"I must welcome you, Lavel-vodhr and Vasem Blackstripe, to my humble home here outside of Ellesméra," said Oromis. "You must forgive our lapse in the past few days; we were aware of your presence in the city, yet we had other matters to attend to. But know we are glad to see you here and alive."

Lavel nodded. "I am aware of the responsibilities of the elders, ebrithil. It is not my or Vasem's place to question your actions. We waited patiently, and shall continue to do so if necessary."

"Even so. And yet it was not our duties as elders that caused us to neglect your instruction." The older elf casually grabbed a slice of apple, studied it, and slowly ate it. As calm as he acted, there was much sadness in his voice. "The Order as we know it has fallen apart. It matters not what we are meant to do as elders. Glaedr and I have little to do but mourn those we lost and guide those that are left.

"Our most recent student sat where you are now only moments before Glaedr fetched you. In the battle you escaped from, this Rider lost his dragon, and has vowed vengeance. Despite my cautioning, he has left to follow the rest of the elves leaving the forest."

Looking down at the bowl, Lavel nodded at those words. Nothing that he or Vasem had learned indicated that losing a dragon or Rider was any less painful for the surviving member than the agony Lavel felt when Vasem died in Dosjorya. The only difference was that every dragon and Rider could face this, while only certain Innena, like them in their previous life, could.

"If you meet this Rider again, or any in his situation, please send my condolences. Such pain is a heavy burden to live with," Lavel said.

"May he and the others similarly affected by that battle find peace," Vasem murmured.

“We shall. But our duty lies here, not elsewhere. We do not know the depth of your understanding of us, but Glaedr and I have suffered wounds of our own. We are vulnerable outside the safety of the forest. Thus it is prudent that we honor our commitment to training the two of you rather than fly abroad to comfort those who are heartbroken.”

The older elf’s eyes held a great sadness, and Lavel guessed that Oromis yearned to help where he could. He knew only a little, that Glaedr lost a leg and Oromis now suffers some deep ailment, but neither he nor Vasem believed the elders could fly abroad and fight the traitors with or without help. It would be certain doom even at the height of a Rider’s strength. “We understand, ebrithil.”

“Such is the shape of the world and we must adapt as we can. And that starts by formally becoming your new teachers. We must determine the extent of your education thus far and build a curriculum around that,” the larger dragon said. “This is complicated by your youth and your… unique history.”

Glaedr brought his snout to Vasem's and sniffed. Lavel felt the golden dragon's breath wash over them both, a wave of hot, humid air reminiscent of the climate of his birthplace in southern Dosjorya. Thick and oppressive, yet oddly comforting.

"We have, of course, heard of your supposed origins from both of your mothers." Glaedr finally said. "I can see that Vasem does not look like a normal dragon, and you Lavel do not have the mind of a normal elf. Yet you must forgive us for not fully accepting or understanding the idea you two are reincarnated from entirely different species. Seeing you in the flesh has not enlightened us."

"Most do not accept this, ebrithil. But what would you have me to explain if you wish to believe us?" Lavel asked.

A sparrow landed on the edge of the Crags, chirping at the Riders and the dragons without a single worry. Vasem began to growl at the disturbance, his thoughts of food reaching everyone's thoughts. The older elf scowled at Vasem, while Lavel did his best to hide his smile and his thoughts.

Finally, the bird flew off, possibly perturbed by all of the attention on it.

"Some of the reports I have heard of you, Vasem, indicate you are of an immature disposition like you just demonstrated. However, is this how you would have been in your previous life? Impatient and thinking with your stomach?"

"I agree with thinking with my stomach. It helped with survival to hunt even when not hungry to guard against food scarcity. Dosjorya is not the easiest place to hunt in. Not like Du Weldenvarden."

"As for what you identify as impatience," Lavel added. "Oundats, which Vasem was in Dosjorya and is the origin for his different scales and stripes, are typically impatient and aggressive with those they do not agree with. I see the same trait in some of the dragons I have met."

Oromis nodded. "I see this same thinking with young dragons as well, which Vasem still is. That does not prove you two are reincarnated from a different life at all. I am not saying this is some elaborate lie; on the contrary, I know such an explanation, if proven, would go far in explaining why the two of you are very different from any elf or dragon Glaedr and I have ever met. And the idea of reincarnation can have far-reaching impacts for everyone in Alagaësia."

"Would you rather we recount our memories from the past? Show that we had an entire first life before being born here? Show you what an Oundat looks like so you can compare?" Vasem said, staying civil and calm.

"Only if you two are okay with that and swear to us that none of the memories you show us are fabricated. Know that we are open to the possibility that what you say is indeed the truth and is a fact of existence that the elves and Riders have failed to discover yet. That Nierya and Sharjarth fully believed you show that your oath shall not affect what you show us."

"If you are open to the idea, and trust her judgment, why do you challenge us so?" Vasem asked.

"Because we still need proof. That is how we make discoveries. And because we do not understand such a thing, even if we accept reincarnation as a fact," said Glaedr.

Lavel swore that his and Vasem's memories are true, but did not show them to the elders yet. "Ebrithil, we do not know how we are reincarnated, nor why our memories, and in Vasem's case his appearance, are intact to some degree. In this, we are just as much in the dark as you."

"We are just glad we got another chance to be together, after everything that happened to us in Dosjorya," Vasem said.

"But you can perhaps give us a direction to look to," said the older elf.

Lavel grabbed a small handful of nuts and munched on them one at a time. As he always was, he was nervous about showing his memories to others and welcomed any distraction, even one as mundane as food. Oromis and Glaedr appear more accepting of the idea than most, but even they were reluctant to believe them.

"You only swore that our memories are truthful, not that we would share them. Do not open yourself to them if you are not comfortable yet," Vasem said to him alone.

"There will always be the question of what makes us different if we do not, Vasem. I have to one day show them these memories, as I did with my parents and our previous teachers. So will you."

Taking a deep breath, Lavel and Vasem fully opened their minds to Oromis and Glaedr, recounting the major memories they had from when they were younglings to their last moments. They skipped over many unimportant moments and did not show some of their most personal experiences, but otherwise recounted everything.

Victories and sorrows, good times and bad, things they did together as an Innen, and the things Lavel was forced to do alone after Vasem's death. Emotions, from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. They showed memories of the wonders of Dosjorya that they had the fortune to see, the people and Gendirlo they met, and features that made Dosjorya different from Alagaësia. They hesitated when their showing came to the time when Vasem met his end in a landslide, but they pushed on. Vasem briefly explained how in Dosjorya, the dead move on to another world until they fade, a world closely attached to Dosjorya. Lavel explained the meanings of some of the titles he once had, Innen, fallen Innen, and Halcan. Their emotions turned into pleasant feelings as Lavel finished with some memories of his later years, times without Vasem but which were filled with happiness as he watched his three children grow and make their way into the world, watched until sickness took him from Dosjorya.

Oromis and Glaedr said nothing for many long moments. Lavel let himself cry a little during the silence. Vasem kept his snout on his head, sending thoughts of comfort and peace. Lavel knew Vasem was just as affected. They both treasured their happy memories, but tried to forget the painful ones. Both were prominent in his recounting, and as such his tears were of both sorrow and joy.

"Can you allow us to think upon what you showed us during the night?” Oromis asked when the sun was fully below the horizon.

"Yes, ebrithil."

"I have little doubt that if you endured the same pain as our student and managed to emerge from it no worse than before, then you are a remarkable person. Vasem too, if he had to endure the same pain but with no one to lean on. This is sure to shape the Rider and Dragon you are and we must adapt accordingly to serve as the best teachers we can."

"And I can see the sadness and grief you both still hold in your heart is genuine. It is still at the moment beyond my comprehension that you could have lived a previous life. However, I believe you have provided enough evidence for us to consider not only that this may be a fact of the world, but give us a starting point as to how and why this happened.”

“Thank you for considering this,” Lavel said.

“You are very welcome. As the sun has set, we will determine the extent of your training tomorrow. Glaedr will send for you when we are ready to begin.”

Lavel was standing and stretching when Vasem spoke. “Ebrithilar, you had asked your newest students to escort us. Brom and Saphira. Is Brom the man you referenced earlier?”

“Unfortunately yes,” said Glaedr sadly. “Morzan was his idol, but it came to pass that Morzan's sword found its way into Saphira's neck and Igor made the final blow as they fell from the sky. Brom has sworn vengeance against Galbatorix and the Wyrdfell, and to Morzan specifically, in his own madness. It is not a path we recommended for him, but as we have not experienced his pain, we cannot guide him as you could. He is determined, but his path may very well lead to nothing but ruin.”

“If I must, I will try to help him and any others who experience the same tragedy. But I do not know how much I can do,” Lavel said.

“Every little bit is better than nothing, Lavel-vodhr. Brom has already left, and I am not aware of any other dragon-less Riders here in Ellesméra at the moment,” Oromis said, eyes facing the grass. “Unfathomable is the tragedy that befell our order, and especially the dragons. I hope that you two can bring light to even one individual.”

Neither Oromis nor Glaedr made to speak anymore. Lavel took that as a sign that they were dismissed. While climbing onto Vasem, his mind thought about how some of the recent events could mirror happenings in Dosjorya. Galbatorix and his Wyrdfell Riders mirrored Azen and his group seeking to destroy the Innena who had wronged them, and in some ways, Brom mirrored Lavel's Dosjoryan self, seeking vengeance against a group that had destroyed their life.

He hoped these were the only parallels. He did not want to fight in a new war. He did not want to risk losing Vasem or more of his family again. Once was one time too many.

Chapter Text

Lavel sat on a low branch, facing the gigantic Menoa tree. Nearby, Vasem sat in muted anticipation. All around, elves were gathering near the massive and sacred tree, partly thankful and partly solemn. Lanterns dotted the many branches, providing a soft light in the forest gloom. It was the eve of the Agaetí Blödhren, and it was a wonder indeed that the festivity was even held this century.

A little over six months ago, Riders and dragons roamed Alagaësia almost freely. The wise elf Vrael led the Order alongside his noble dragon partner Umaroth. King Evandar of the elves ruled justly alongside his mate, Islanzadí. King Argrenost of the humans ruled safely in Ilirea, now dubbed Urû'baen. He and Vasem had been unaware that the coming events would leave them among the few known Riders and dragons left on the land, that Galbatorix would anoint himself king over his newly formed Empire, or that so many other leaders would have died, throwing all but the dwarves into political chaos.

Six months ago, they were not so alone. Many other Riders and dragons, alongside friends and family, would have joined them for this Blood-oath Celebration. Now Vasem is the last sane and fully whole dragon known, and Lavel was the last elf of his house. Thel’s and Ardwen’s bodies were never recovered from the plains surrounding Ilirea, though one survivor delivered to Lavel the news of their demise.

Queen Islanzadí approached the base of the Menoa tree, dressed still in the clothes of the mourning. So many elves present, including Lavel himself, bore some sign indicating the loss of someone near and dear. Black robes and tunics were the most common, adding to the overall dismal mood. Others wore black brooches and jewelry, sometimes to indicate sorrow over the great amount of death that had swept the elven race and the dragons. All were here to celebrate the pact between the Riders and the dragons, though there was little to celebrate.

Only three Riders had gathered by Oromis's reckoning and two dragons. Besides Galbatorix and the Wyrdfell, only a few other dragon-less Riders were known to still live, and they were unable to attend, hiding from certain doom or struggling to fight back. Glaedr believed no other dragons, bonded or wild, still flew.

The elven queen opened her palm, allowing light to gather in the form of an orb, which she placed in a hollow on the tree, an indication that the Blood-oath Celebration had begun.

Still sitting on his branch, Lavel watched as some elves brought out tables and plates of various foods. Elsewhere, elves began to sing their songs, enchanting the entire area with various spells and murmuring stories and poems. Many began to dance to the eerie melodies. Many began to descend into trances.

Lavel thought it looked as if the world was slowly going mad. Elven festivities, he had noted over the years, usually had that feeling.

But it was more than just the effects of the magic. It was the fact that the world had just changed faster than anyone would like, down a path of pain and sorrow and loss. The Mad Rider has become the Mad King, ruling over the humans with an army at his disposal and twelve willing but broken Rider servants. Much had occurred, and yet many elves, slow to change, held onto traditions as if this festival would keep their enemies at bay.

“Maybe they celebrate this deeply to forget,” Vasem said. “Maybe they wish for a few nights of relative normalcy before returning to the dreary world.”

A few other elves around seemed to have warded themselves against the enchantments of the songs, similar to Lavel and Vasem. They stood or sat at the edges of activity, watching but not joining in. Among them was the elven Rider Maeruna, who had lost her dragon and nearly her life while protecting those elves who had retreated from Ilirea to the forest. Like Oromis and Glaedr, she bore permanent scars from the fight, and like him in his first life after Vasem’s death, she desired an end to the pain.

Lavel noted she had her purple sword with her, its amethyst pommel catching the gentle light from the Menoa tree’s lanterns. Her dull eyes caught his, then looked away.

He wanted to help her and others through their pain. Death was an answer, but it was rarely the right answer. Maeruna wanted to die fighting for something worthwhile, but Lavel doubted she would end up fighting for anything, and his words would have little effect on her. Maeruna's pain was so absolute, and she lacked the drive for vengeance his Dosjoryan self had. Likely this ceremony was reminding her of her lost dragon, torturing her with the celebration of that which she lost. Deep down, Lavel knew she would soon join the dead in the void, and there was nothing he could do.

Careful not to knock over any of the tables or bump into any of the elves, Vasem slowly made his way into the clearing, sniffing the air. Lavel had insisted that Vasem should be able to celebrate if he chose, and without the burden of his saddle. For all the world, Vasem looked like a polite wild dragon willing to try some food that was not prey. It was a little something to smile at.

Maeruna’s mind touched his, and he lowered his barriers. “All we are doing is watching our kind making fools of themselves,” she said. “That and some useless art.”

“The end of the ceremony is the most important, is it not?”

“It is, young Rider, for you, but until then we are just watching customs that the dragons would find odd. Dalyar... Dalyar never liked the Agaetí Blödhren.” Her mind’s voice grew very quiet with the naming of her late dragon.

“If you desire to leave, I can explain to the others so you may leave in peace.”

“No, I shall stay for now. Perhaps one of these maddened fools would make me laugh a little.”

Lavel looked away from her direction, eyes facing the ground as he closed his mind to her. At least she believed there might be humor left in her would. He was not so lucky in Dosjorya during the worst year of his life. But he was not an elf then, and though similar in concept, a Rider bond and an Innen bond are very different.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and turned to Vasem, who was lapping at a large wooden bowl, splashing globs of thick green liquid on a table. One elf cried in dismay while several others laughed and joked about the honor of serving a dragon, and about the flavor properties of dragon saliva.

“Tastes funny but good,” Vasem said. He sent impressions of what he tasted and Lavel identified mint and fireweed as the main components. “Would you agree to season my prey for me sometimes during my hunts, Lavel? I like this mint stuff.”

“Maybe if you had cared more about plants as an Oundat, I could have done what you ask when you were still small. You eat too much for me to accept your request.”

Looking away from the commotion, Lavel saw Maeruna watching what was happening, but she still looked despondent. Her mind once again brushed his.

“There is much suffering in this world and someone worries about a dragon drinking his herbal broth. What a disgrace. Lavel-vodhr, Vasem Blackstripe, I shall take your offer and bid you good night. I’ll return when the Caretakers begin their dance.”

Glancing at her purple sword, Arvindr, she retreated to the shadows beyond, unnoticed by everyone else.

With Maeruna’s departure, and with Oromis not yet strong enough to partake in the festival until later on, Lavel felt suddenly alone, the only Rider present, the only symbol of what they all were celebrating.

Slowly, time crawled on, far too slowly for his liking. Except when either he or Vasem took a brief slumber guarded by Glaedr or hid from everyone, any number of elves would approach him, offering condolences for the losses of his brethren in the Order and in some cases, condolences for the loss of his family. A few inquired about their escape from Doru Araeba and fewer still showed interest in their life in Dosjorya. Vasem sometimes answered in Lavel's place, much to the delight of those who met them.

Sometime during the second day, several of the elves had persuaded Glaedr and Vasem to perform complex aerial acrobatics over the Menoa tree, shouting up words of encouragement and cheers when either dragon managed an impressive maneuver. It was not either dragon’s contribution to the festival, just a demonstration of the might of the race that the elves had bound themselves to and a small piece of the past that now lays under blood and death.

When the dragons landed to rest, an elf by the name of Kveya, a friend of Lavel’s from before he bonded to Vasem, convinced him to lower his wards to briefly partake in the madness.

“Let the festivities sweep you away for a time, Lavel-vor. You have let yourself drown in the darkness and pain of your station for far too long. Join me in the revelry, and trust me and Vasem to anchor you,” Kveya had said. With a nod from Vasem, Lavel accepted, though asked for the experience to be kept short.

Still young and relatively inexperienced with elven celebrations, Lavel had quickly descended into the madness that pervaded. What he had done had been relayed to him later by Vasem, who had remained warded and tried to keep his Rider somewhere close to sane.

Lavel later learned that he had begun singing, imbuing his words with great power. He sang of his hopes for a brighter future for all races including the dragons, gradually transitioning to singing blessings for the Menoa tree and the other ancient sentinels around her. Vasem had watched, concerned, as Lavel poured all of his energy into the melody and even the very forest swayed to his words. Within his song, spells of protection and promises of ideal growing conditions wove themselves around the weaker trees.

It was Kveya who rebuilt Lavel's wards after the Rider passed out from magic use, caught by the roots of the Menoa tree who guarded him alongside Vasem until he woke. And it was Kveya who carried Lavel away from the clearing once he regained consciousness, letting him rest and eat in peace while Vasem explained what had happened.

“It is like you to wish for the betterment of others, for you have always been a kind soul deep in your core. I do not know why you focused on the trees, nor why Linnëa sought to keep others from you afterward," Vasem said. "I am glad you did not kill yourself, though. You had me worried.”

“I am sorry.”

Vasem sounded amused. “You should not apologize for letting yourself throw out all reason for the sake of casting away your burdens for a time. Before you sang your spells, I felt nothing but joy and happiness through our link.”

“Maybe having many of my happiest Dosjoryan memories happening in a forest influenced me,” Lavel mused.

“Or maybe something about you caught Linnëa’s attention, and she influenced you as well as protected you when you fell unconscious. Though knowing her history, I would never expect her to find any sort of favor for any boy or man, especially elven.”

Near the end of the ceremony, when the were light had begun to dim slightly, Lavel and Vasem were prompted to present their projects before all present. Nervously, Lavel nodded as Vasem retrieved their contribution.

“It is custom for dragon and Rider to present their own works to this most important of observances,” Lavel said as Vasem approached in the distance, the fruits of their labor grasped securely and carefully in his talons. Lavel trusted his dragon to transport their piece intact. “However, given our circumstances and the reality we all find ourselves in, Vasem and I have chosen to collaborate on our contribution. It was not our intention to appear uncaring or ignorant; we both understand the importance of the Blood Oath and that which is expected to honor it. Fate has not given us the time to contemplate and pursue separate works if an acceptable quality.”

With perfect timing, Vasem gently landed on three legs, the fourth carrying the large wooden sculpture they made together. Lavel helped him place it down on a flat piece of earth, all the while eyeing it for any signs of damage. He found none, but he did not expect to find any.

“Many of you present know of our unique past, of how we once lived and died in another world, yet we retain our memory of that previous life. This piece does not try to explain why or how, as we do not have those answers. But it does show what we were and what we have become.”

He and Vasem appeared in the sculpture six times, six free-standing figures each on a single flat base. In all cases, Lavel was riding on Vasem's back and through the progression, Vasem was taking a stride and leaping into the air. In the first figure, they were completely Dosjoryan, but in the following figures, they gradually transformed into their Alagaësian forms. Wings sprouted out and grew on Vasem, limbs became more graceful and ears became pointed on Lavel.

By the last figure, they were completely elf and dragon, taking to the skies as the masters they would become. Throughout, they both appeared happy, calm, and carefree. They had each other. Everything they had endured in both Dosjorya and Alagaësia had taught them that as long as they had each other, things would be okay, and they both wanted to express that in the sculpture.

Vasem had found a fallen tree and carried it to where they both could carve it in private. Vasem did all of the rough cuts by using the rough scales on his tail as a giant rasp. Lavel carved in the fine details with a single knife. Vasem singed the entire piece with a controlled flame, and Lavel carved through some of the blackened wood to create highlights and add expression and depth.

As intricate and detailed as their project was, it was no masterpiece. Other wooden sculptures already presented showed far more craftsmanship and elegance. Neither of them was aiming for perfection, though. They were far too young still to master an art form. But they had what made them unique, and this work showed it.

“The two of us pooled our abilities and strengths as we poured our hearts out making this. I hope you find this a satisfactory contribution to the Agaetí Blödhren,” Lavel finished.

Islanzadí, who knew of their entire Dosjoryan past and had been more open to the idea than others, approached the sculpture and peered at it closely. All other elves had fallen silent, and most were observing the work from a distance. Even the Menoa tree appeared to lean closer. Lavel shuffled nervously and placed his right hand, the one with his gëdway ignasia, against Vasem’s flank.

Just as the queen backed away from the piece, Oromis walked up and placed a careful finger on the pure Oundat sculpture. "Lavel-finiarel, Vasem Blackstripe." Lavel startled slightly; it was the first time their newest teachers had used that honorific for him. "From your own memories, this is a faithful representation of your past selves." His finger retreated. "You need not worry about the quality of your sculpting. I can see your purpose of this subject: your transformation from your past to your present. Together as one."

“Yes,” said Islanzadí. “It is a work of much thought and collaboration. A wonderful contribution to the ceremony and a glimpse into the forces unknown to us that shaped you into the Rider and dragon you are today. I sense you two have opened up your soul in good faith hoping that it would yield no ill will, and it is with great honor that we are allowed to witness such an intimate part of two of the kingdom’s most important subjects. What we see here is, on the surface, a wonderfully crafted sculpture, but truly it is simply a symbol of the piece of yourselves that you bravely revealed for all to see. That, I believe, is your true contribution and it is one that means the most.”

Elves all around burst into claps and cheering, even those who Lavel knew had doubted their past. Many comments complimented them on their skill in carving the physical piece but far more praised them for showing something nearly as personal as a true name. The feeling was overwhelming, and Vasem had to nudge him forward a little as a reminder to answer everyone.

"Thank you, all," he said in as steady of a voice as he could manage. Vasem nodded, mind not connected to enough elves to properly thank them. In their short second lives, they had both been met with disbelief and disapproval and occasionally hostility for the mention that they remember life before reincarnation. The whole concept was not one anyone understood and this was his original reason for holding his tongue as much as possible. But to be received by nothing but praise, even understanding, filled both himself and Vasem with joy. That they could fit into this new world as themselves, not as just a last hope of a dying and battered order. They could open up about their past when needed, allow themselves to be vulnerable, and be seen as the sum of two lives instead of one.

Glaedr offered to carry the sculpture away to Tialdarí Hall for display, promising to take care of it. “No harm shall come of it, and any who wish to see it again or for the first time need not bother you in your dwelling.”

“Yes, yes that will be fine, ebrithil.”

“Is this yet warded against wear and tear? Oromis has offered to protect it with magic if necessary.”

“No, I have not cast any wards yet. The only magic it has seen yet is that from Vasem’s flames. No spells were necessary for this.”

Vasem led him away from the clearing so that they could both calm down. The were light was dimming further and both wanted to have complete control of themselves again before the final ceremonies.

“I did not expect that,” Vasem said.

“No. I am glad, and I had hoped, but I thought at least someone would speak up. Perhaps in the presence of the queen and Oromis, they did not dare.”

Warm humid breath washed over him as Vasem spoke low. “Whether they fear those in power or truly respect our past, it was demonstrated now that they can at least hold their tongues. It is something.”

When the were light was barely lit, they joined the other elves gathering around the Menoa tree. Islanzadí took to a perch on the tree’s gnarled roots and addressed everyone present.

“As is our custom, and as was agreed upon at the end of the Dragon War by Queen Tarmunora, Eragön, and the white dragon who represented his race- he whose name cannot be uttered in this or any language- when they bound the fates of elves and dragons together, we have met to honor our blood-oath with song and dance and the fruits of our labor.

“But it is in a dark time indeed that we reaffirm our oath. Outside of the Mad Rider Galbatorix, Shruiken, and the Wyrdfell, only two dragons, Glaedr and Vasem, and several Riders, Oromis, Lavel, Maeruna, Brom, Cedric, and a few others remain, and not all are present with us in Ellesméra. We all either struggle to fight or struggle to save ourselves. The situation is dire but we must never lose hope. To lose hope is to completely surrender, and to surrender is to turn our back on the blood-oath between us and the dragons and that we can never do. Not when we have failed dragon kind.”

Islanzadí motioned for everyone to clear a large area in front of the Menoa tree. Lavel sat near the tree, joined by Oromis. Their dragons flanked their sides, standing as sentinels over what is to come. Maeruna did not join them, but Vasem said he spotted her in the distance, perched on the same tree branch Lavel had occupied at the beginning of the Agaetí Blödhren.

Though neither Lavel nor Vasem was old enough to have ever attended the Blood-oath ceremony before, both knew some of the ritual that would follow. Lavel felt Vasem’s excitement trickle through their bond.

Twin elves, the Caretakers Iduna and Nëya, entered the clearing. Nearly identical in both looks and motions, they let their robes fall to the ground, revealing an iridescent rainbow-scaled tattoo of a dragon that stretched across both of their bodies. With an embrace, they stood with the appearance of a single dragon stretched across two bodies and began their dance.

As the Caretakers picked up their speed, more instruments joined the rhythm of their feet. Drums, harps, flutes. Then voices. Iduna and Nëya began the verses of their spell, soon joined by everyone present.

Lavel raised his voice, laced with power, to join the rest as Vasem hummed along. All in unison, together. They all sang of memories ancient and powerful, of war and peace, of the very fabric of the world. Most importantly, they sang of dragons, whose magic was responsible for the very pact they had with the Riders, and whose magic was responsible for shaping not only the Riders but also the races bound to them.

Primeval and complex, their enchantments wove strong magic in the air, within them, and to the tattoo that danced as if animate despite still being attached to the twins' bodies. Both elven women increased the speed of their dance, becoming a blur to even elf and dragon eyes.

With a flare of light beginning with the tattoo's head, the iridescent dragon came alive and launched off of the dancing elves' skin, attached solely to the Caretakers by its tail.

Deep in Lavel's heart, he felt a swirl of emotion. Awe at the ancient spectacle before him, fear at the untamed fierceness of the apparition that roared and flew among them, duty for that which he and Vasem were a part of and swore to defend at all costs.

Here before them, sustained by enchantments, was the embodiment of the memories of dragons.

The consciousness of the specter dragon entered his mind, and he could feel it entering the minds of the other Riders and dragons. Unsure of what to do, Lavel completely lowered his mental barriers and relinquished control of his being to the iridescent dragon; for at this moment, in this ritual, he belonged to the dragons. He owed everything of his Alagaësian self to the dragons.

Much of what happened during this ritual, he did not remember. All was fire within and without. An indeterminable amount of time passed before he returned to full control and the spectral dragon retreated to its position on the Caretakers' bodies. He drew a shaky breath, feeling utterly spent.

"Will you be okay?" Vasem asked, a curious mix of concern and excitement in his voice.

"Yes. I just need a little time to recover."

"Draw upon my strength if you need."

Lavel felt a trickle of his dragon's energy enter him without prompt. Gratefully he accepted it.

"I feel like an ocean of power. Do not worry about me. If I could use magic at will, I think I could move a mountain."

He glanced over at Oromis, who looked fatigued but not so severely. Glaedr stood proud on his three legs, no trace of the ancient hurts showing in his expression. Vasem looked much the same.

"Such is a powerful ceremony. Young Riders often lose control as you did," Oromis said in a low voice.

"I never felt a need to fight against the apparition. I surrendered control."

"Many fight before losing control. You were wise not to. If there is a next time, you will be better prepared to only give the dragon partial control. From then you may better learn and witness the importance of this ritual."

"Yes, ebrithil."

The older elf's eyes lit up a little. "However, Lavel-finiarel, you have acquitted yourself well during the entirety of the Agaetí Blödhren. You too, Vasem Blackstripe. Look how the were light dims to nothing. The end is nigh, the time to return to reason and logic. Rest well, my students. Do not be late tomorrow morning."

Chapter Text

(Vasem)

Quietly, unnoticeably, seasons and even years drift by within the realm of the elves. Given the day to rest, over five years into their apprenticeship to Oromis and Glaedr, Vasem calmly walked between the massive, enchanted pines outside of Ellesméra. Lavel sat on the saddle on his back, mind open to everything, not just Vasem.

Just as it had in Dosjorya, watching Lavel grow from a child to an adult amazed him. From such a small child to nearly fully grown. Three years ago, Lavel reached the age of manhood by Dosjoryan and human standards, and even though he is still a child by elven and Rider standards, he looked and acted far more mature, and far more wary of the realities of life. In his second life, it was evident to Vasem that his Rider would be even taller than before, and just as heavy. A comfortable weight sitting in his saddle even as he, the youngest dragon in existence, grew yet larger. His Rider was peculiar in the eyes of others, but Vasem understood Lavel; the complexities of not just Lavel’s, but both of their double lives made every physical and mental quirk sensible on a deep level.

But he also wished that they both were allowed to live calm, stress-free lives. That they were not being trained to hold the weight of their entire station on their shoulders, or to fight and kill the most sinister evils Alagaësia has ever faced. Perhaps if things were different, Lavel would be more alike to a young elf, light and curious and full of wonder. Instead, Lavel, and Vasem by extension, felt more like worn-down idols who know their duty to those around them has barely started. From that fateful day on Vroengard to the discovery of Maeruna's suicide directly after the Bloodoath Celebration, to the news that only one other Rider existed outside of Du Weldenvarden, to even the deep philosophical discussions over pain and war and death, they both had aged decades in their minds, far more than the effect of their first life.

The trees stood far enough apart for him to pass unhindered. Very few elves made their dwellings this far from the city and thus few greeted them during their walk. But as they approached Ellesméra, more elves passed them and gave them the same respect given to Riders in full and all dragons. They all knew their greatest hopes rode on the shoulders of apprentices.  A weight he and Lavel did not deserve to bear but had no choice.

Vasem dipped his head to anyone who murmured welcoming words or waved. He and Lavel often spent nights alone away from the city, traveling only to the Crags of Tel’naeír for training or to Ellesméra’s library to read. So focused were they on their training that they rarely met any other elves, even old friends like Kveya. Yet it was a good idea to remain friendly and familiar, for it was the elves of Ellesméra who would aid them in a fight should the Wyrdfell descend upon the elven capital. The elves around them were the reason they could train in safety.

As Vasem walked, he sometimes went deeper into his Rider's mind, catching in a glimpse the entirety of what Lavel was pondering. Time and again, a question asked early in Lavel's training with Oromis gnawed at him, and Vasem could find no answer that satisfied Lavel: why are elves adverse to taking lives to sustain themselves, yet are trained to fight mercilessly in a war? Some needs they both understood, such as self-defense or defense of one they loved. Defending the defenseless. But why would an elf willingly kill another elf in the name of war, yet live millennia without eating meat to prevent starvation even in desperate times? War is a far less honorable occasion than hunting, that is Lavel's latest observation on the matter. And war left far more scars upon the land than routine hunting, scars that could not be accounted for merely by counting bodies. Lavel pondered but came up with no new revelations or satisfactory answers.

The sun had swept through much of the canopy-obscured sky by the time the pair reached the home Lavel inherited. Vasem padded his paws in the pine needle-lined depression that he always rested in, the depression that served as a proper nest for Sharjarth when she and Nierya visited. Lavel unstrapped himself and jumped to the ground before Vasem could crouch, landing perfectly and unhurt.

“One of these centuries, I will be too big to jump off of,” Vasem rumbled, not impressed.

“I await the day, Vasem, for it means we both still breathe.”

“Of course. Still, it would not do for you to twist your ankle or break a bone from falling from a height. You know as well as I that magic cannot perfectly heal all injuries.”

“I know. Let me have a little fun now and then. Our lives have been largely devoid of it. I... someone is inside. We have a visitor.”

Quickly and stealthily, Lavel entered the tree house. Vasem followed his Rider's progress through the ample windows Nierya had sung into the walls, with Ardwen's permission. Windows filled with glass but meant for a dragon to look through.

He spotted the visitor on the second floor of the dwelling mere moments before Lavel entered that room. The hooded figure stood head down and shoulders squared, hands grasping one of the spherical rocks Lavel polished with water and silt. The specific stone the stranger held onto was a dull grey, a simple river pebble given a nice shape and finish.

“I have an affinity to water spells, and with a little help, water can make for an interesting tool,” Lavel said, touching his two fingers to his lips.

The hooded man whipped around, pushing the cloth around his head back a little. He still held the stone. The visitor's identity remained hidden from Vasem.

“Brom-elda?” Lavel asked softly.

Vasem's eyes widened. Could it be the only other Rider to have survived other than Lavel and Oromis? Their teachers had kept news to a minimum to prevent distractions, though had occasionally spoken about Brom, who he was, and how he was managing without his dragon.

“You know who I am,” Brom said gruffly. “Why elda though?”

“Because of the loss of your dragon. I believe you deserve dignity and respect for what you have gone through.” Lavel began to utter the traditional elven greeting, but the human Rider cut him off.

"Enough of that. Master Oromis said to me that he has kept you in the dark about the events in Alagaësia. You are the last whole Rider left against the Forsworn. He allowed me to inform you on goings on before I make my request to you."

Lavel nodded. “Vasem is outside, watching us if you want him to join the conversation. And please, take a seat. My house is yours. I can bring food.

Setting the stone down gingerly, Brom indicated to Vasem that they could join minds. Vasem only touched his mind enough to answer, not wanting to intrude more than necessary. The man did not accept any of the other offers.

“Galbatorix has set himself king of his Empire, the ruined remains of the Broddring kingdom. The elves and dwarves continue to hide. I have gathered many fighters together into a group whose purpose is to dispose of him and his servants. A group called the Varden. Another nation has formed in opposition to the Empire, Surda. Both are unaware of your existence. But you would do well to help our efforts once your training is complete enough. Not with Vasem, he must remain in Du Weldenvarden.”

Vasem tapped his snout against the window. “I know it is wise for me to remain in Du Weldenvarden, but are you proposing for my Rider to fight abroad without me?”

Brom nodded his head. "It is the best way. And as Rider and dragon, you must learn to work independently as well as you work together. Master told me things about you two. I do not wish to inflict pain on you, but that vile king and the Forsworn must be defeated... for Saphira... for all who died. Lavel, you are an elf, you can disguise yourself as a powerful magician. There are battles to be fought where you can make a difference. And you can help me hunt the Forsworn, for we have the best chance of killing them."

No, that would not work. Vasem would never leave Lavel’s side, not after what they went through in Dosjorya. Lavel had to fight a war alone then. This time, they fought together or not at all. Vasem would find a way. That was one of the problems he often pondered in private, and he was close to an answer.

"Are you sure my aid would be valuable, Brom-elda?" Lavel asked. His voice was unsteady, though Vasem could feel some building confidence in his Rider. "Answer me this: I am averse to killing people unless they cause severe harm or unless my or Vasem's survival depends on it. I will willingly fight the Wyrdfell and Galbatorix, for they have killed thousands including my family, when I am ready. I will also fight Shades and other fiends who stalk the land to prevent bloodshed and loss of innocents. I swore this to my first teachers upon hearing the duties and responsibilities of the Riders. But why should I face an army of people, no matter their species, who have little chance of inflicting a scratch on me? Why should I kill men who only fight me because it is what they are told to do? If Galbatorix holds an Empire, he has an army, and many soldiers might have joined because they had no choice.

“And why should I fight without Vasem by my side? If Master Oromis did indeed say much about our past, then you know that I understand what war takes from everyone. Why should I risk dying without having Vasem near? Why should I risk my well-being by being without the one who can heal my soul?”

Vasem sighed as Lavel finished his little speech in a lower, less certain voice. “What if I cannot overcome my reservations about fighting in a war?”

The former Rider turned away from Lavel and rubbed his short beard, a feature not present on his face when they last met on Vroengard. Brom looked as if he was losing some of his elven features granted by his bond with Saphira, or maybe he had disguised himself, but the beard made him look even more human-like.

Vasem noted the hollow expression he bore, the pain of his loss that will never disappear for as long as he lived. From the spirit world connected to Dosjorya, Vasem had witnessed the same expression on Lavel every time he looked into the light. Deep down, he felt sympathy and sorrow for the former Rider. And a little fear that it could once again happen to himself or Lavel. No longer did they have blissful ignorance of the true consequences of their bond, the full knowledge of why it was both a blessing and a curse.

“I will not have you fight without me,” Vasem said privately to Lavel.

“What if I must? I do not want to. I really do not. But it is my duty as a Rider, even alone as an elf. I must swear to uphold that duty, I could not avoid that as soon as you hatched for me. Even if I cannot figure out the reason, there is probably a good reason for you and Glaedr to never reveal yourselves. I could disguise myself and work as an assassin or spy. It is dishonorable, but it might keep me safer. I would spill less blood, I think. I will do my best to avoid battlefields.”

“I care not about dishonor. You will not die away from me.”

"If you don't fight in these battles," Brom finally said, turning back to Lavel. "Then many more innocents shall die. We cannot defeat Galbatorix and the Forsworn without causing bloodshed along the way, not when they have amassed many other forces. That is the purpose of having the Varden and Surda fighting because they can take care of the things that we do not have the time and the energy to. But their forces, with so few spell casters among them, cannot take down a Rider. And we both know that our allies too have innocents who do not wish to fight but must. You can fight for them. You have advantages they do not, advantages that can keep you alive and save lives."

There was a pause before Lavel answered, sorrow building in his features that squeezed Vasem's heart a little. "You still have not answered why I should risk my life without having Vasem near. Forgive me for saying this, but you fought alongside Saphira when she perished. You may have gotten to say goodbye to her, only you can say. But your proposal might deny Vasem and me that dignity, and that is quite unfair to any Rider."

The human pointed a finger at Lavel. "You would disrespect the duty of a Rider by hiding in your forest out of nothing but cowardice. None of us fights willingly, elf. We fight because we have no choice. So will you, eventually. Yes, you must leave Vasem behind. In time you will learn why. If you can defeat these traitors then you can return to whatever life you wish to lead. If not, you would be called a craven fool by all and you’d sentence all of Alagaësia to enslavement or death, all because you were unwilling to do what you must as a Rider."

Anger finally boiled over within Vasem. "If Saphira were to rise from the ground and return to you alive, would you be so quick to abandon her in the forest to fight? Tell me Brom-elda, would you? That is exactly what you are proposing to Lavel and me. We are aware of our duties and responsibilities. But I shall not let my Rider go off and be killed by the same traitors that killed the entire Order. He is more important to me than the innocents he is asked to fight for. Without him, there would be no hope."

"If Saphira was still by my side, she will do whatever it takes to ensure Morzan and the others are killed so that we may fly together freely," Brom snapped. "She would find a way to be useful while remaining in the forest. Gather energy, study magic, something, anything. So long as I did my duty and hunted down the traitors."

Vasem growled, but a quick mental word from Lavel stopped him. It was selfish of him to want Lavel to remain in Du Weldenvarden. It was absolute madness to think he could leave the forest fully cloaked in his own flesh alongside Lavel. But an idea formed in his mind, one that gave him a measure of peace. Separating from Lavel's mind for a moment, he thought about his idea. He could give his Rider his heart of hearts. That was the solution he needed.

His Eldunarí. At the risk of having it lost, stolen, or broken, he could disgorge it and lend Lavel his strength and knowledge. He could keep a constant eye on his Rider and not feel so helpless. Until Glaedr taught Lavel about the heart of hearts, Vasem had to keep his idea secret, but he would not forget it. And there was no other place, besides secure in his body, that Vasem trusted with his Eldunarí’s care than in Lavel’s possession.

He could then do all he could to prevent Lavel from dying. And he could… No, Vasem would not think about being able to know how Lavel died should something happen. He would keep his Rider safe.

Satisfied, he opened his mind further to Lavel and Brom. "If you think I can remain useful and watch my Rider from Ellesméra, and you think Lavel can help without dying, then I will have no choice but to reluctantly accept this proposition. However, I am not pleased by this whole situation, and I implore you and everyone else to not send him to a battlefield where he may not just lose his life but his well-being. If Lavel does die, after I take revenge on whoever killed him, I shall make my fury known to you and those who sent him into harm's way. In this language of oaths, I make my stance on this issue."

"I understand," said Brom. "Just remember your word when the time comes that Lavel must join the struggle."

Vasem tapped the glass and said nothing. It was Lavel who spoke. "Indeed. We will. I am sorry, Vasem, for needing to leave you here. I hope one day I may know why, even if it is just that a large dragon is difficult and costly to hide. Maybe Oromis can scry me and show you where I am." Then his Rider turned to the human. "However, I shall not fight in battles between armies unless absolutely necessary. Besides not risking my life any more than necessary, this is my greatest wish, if it can be granted. I shall aid Surda and your Varden however I can, including teaching their forces to fight and use magic more efficiently. I cannot bring myself to become an agent of genocide and risk my life in such a way, especially when, to use your own words, you and I have the best chance of defeating Galbatorix and the Wyrdfell. I will try my best not to be coerced into becoming a fighting machine for them."

Brom sighed, a loud sound that easily passed through the glass and walls. "Master Oromis said you would say something like that. He said you would understand your duty but were loath to kill people. A reluctant warrior, he called you."

"Do you know what it feels like to hold a power stronger than anyone can imagine in the palm of your hand, then unleash it upon the normal men pitted against you in battle?" Lavel asked quietly. Vasem shuttered as memories from some of Lavel's Dosjoryan battles passed between them. Lavel did not participate in many battles against normal people, and even fewer against an opposing army, but every time, he had used abilities far beyond anyone's ability to guard against or comprehend. Holding back a river only to allow a surge to flood part of a battlefield. Kill by ripping out a person's blood. Fighting while wearing armor of pure power that could not break and had few vulnerabilities.

"I do. I have, only not as effectively without the aid of a dragon," Brom said, equally quiet.

"It is painful. It hurts your very core if you are not a monster. In another time and place, I have teetered between falling apart for that very reason and becoming the kind of monster Galbatorix became. So that is why, besides the issue of Vasem helping or not, I refused to fight enemies other than the vilest and most powerful. I refuse to fight those who might be considered mere mortals, pieces on a board, means to an end. I do not want to relive the horrors I once went through. I will not inflict the pain I endured on others by killing their sons, their brothers, husbands, their fathers."

What went unsaid, but Vasem knew well, was that Lavel did not want to become like the Maker of Gods, the deity or an immortal who only cared for how the war went against the other gods and not for the lives of mortals ruined or taken along the way. Because that is what he was compared to humans and even elves: a deity.

Vasem could tell the former Rider was reluctant to nod his head in agreement. "Remember the lives you will save when you find yourself in a battle. If you don’t fight, one day Galbatorix will kill Vasem and you would have made no difference. Soon you will be trained enough to fight with discretion. You do not have to be a mass murderer.”

“There is much more for us to learn from Master Oromis. He and Glaedr promised to teach us many of the secrets they know about magic and the Riders so that we are sufficiently prepared. Our training is still far from over.”

The former Rider shook his head, making his hood fall further from his head. “You are needed sooner than that. Nearly an entire dwarf clan has died out, the rest cowering in their caves. The Varden hide among them but are young and struggling to support themselves. Surda has no such hiding place, sitting next to the Empire and only still standing by some unknown mercy of Galbatorix’s. They all need more help than I can give.”

“Lavel cannot leave until he is fully prepared,” Vasem growled. “Even now you have received more training than he has. And if one man cannot solve their problems, a second will not make much of a difference.”

“And look where that training got me.” Brom huffed. He shook his head. “I came here to strengthen ties between the elves and the Varden. Your presence, even for just a brief visit, will help immensely. There is much to do before we strike back, and you are needed as soon as possible.”

Vasem shook his head. “As soon as Lavel leaves the forest, he will be forced to dive deep into politics and war, leaving no time to finish his training. What, you think the forces fighting against Galbatorix will all play nice? Is that what you see, or want to see? All will want a powerful magician in their corner if they are as desperate as you paint them as. Especially once they see Lavel accomplish something.

“And what if the Mad King is disposed of, and the Wyrdfell reduced to nothing but a fading nightmare? Who will lead the Empire then? The Varden or Surda? Both have everything to gain in having a strong ally in Lavel, both will be fighting for his loyalty. He needs to be fully prepared so that he can deal with them without becoming a puppet. Even more so if they discover he is a Rider.

“Sure, there is much to do. That we will not deny. But it will have to be done without Lavel for now. They will have to figure out how to fight their own battles. And Lavel’s presence shall do little to aid in rallying forces unless I am present, and that is likely not going to happen. You will be better off asking Islanzadí to allow the elves to aid them, and I very much doubt the dwarves, at least, will welcome her help.”

Brom’s shoulders sagged as he leaned his back against the wall. “I thought you two might be more inclined to help than you are, even with what Oromis said. The Forsworn killed your families and so many other innocents. I thought, Lavel, that you wanted revenge. You sought it in Dosjorya. You were a fierce warrior once.”

Silently Vasem thanked Nierya for designing these windows to be operated by a dragon from the outside. He opened one, pushing his snout inside, resting it on the floor in front of Lavel. His Rider placed a hand on the bridge of his scaly nose.

“You misunderstand me, Brom-elda, if you think revenge is my sole motivator in either life. In Dosjorya, Papa told me something very important. ‘War makes some become monsters, and others, they break to pieces; the rest die.’ Those were his exact words as best as I can remember. In Dosjorya, revenge was starting to turn me into a monster who saw no future without the spilling of the blood of my enemies. And I sought not just revenge, but my missing sister. The drive to find her was stronger than revenge. But ultimately, not just revenge, but everything broke me into many pieces.”

Steel entered Lavel's voice, and Vasem sent him a feeling of comfort. "Yes, I want the Wyrdfell and Galbatorix dead. I know not what exactly happened to Mother, but I saw Morzan's bloody sword kill Sharjarth. Father and Grandfather died in the same battle that killed my king. I will fight when the time is right, as will Vasem. But not before, and not beyond what we feel is necessary."

Vasem snorted an affirmative, careful not to accidentally jet flames out of his nostrils.

“And I will not become a monster who revels in war, nor will I allow myself or Vasem to shatter, no matter the means necessary to avoid it. I will not doom allies and innocents to die by my hand in moments of weakness. Brom-elda, do you see now the reasons for our reluctance?”

Slowly the other Rider nodded. "I do. I don't like it, but I see why. You are strong-willed enough not to become a pawn, that's for sure. But there are two sides to every coin."

“Did you believe you could maneuver Lavel into leaving now through your words?” Vasem said accusingly.

"I do not think that was your intent," Lavel said, facing Vasem though he spoke to Brom. "You lost your dragon. You feel as if you have nothing to lose, not even the well-being of others matters. In Dosjorya, after Vasem's death, I made far worse mistakes and choices. Deadly mistakes, while seeking revenge. It landed me in the whipping post once. It got people I knew killed. It got people I knew imprisoned, alongside myself. No, not just imprisoned, but tortured far worse than any person can imagine. So I do not blame you for trying to manipulate me, but take care not to follow the same path I did, for it will eventually lead not to peace, but to ruin."

“You got your revenge, though.”

"I did, but it resulted in the deaths of far too many, friend and foe, and after, I promptly tried to kill myself," Lavel spoke so silently, Vasem did not know if the human Rider heard him. But Brom's expression turned to horror, a clear sign that not only did he hear, he understood.

Gently, Vasem nudged Lavel’s stomach while giving a mental embrace. Too much talk of old hurts and death. But Lavel did not make a move to return the comfort. His attention was still on Brom.

“Oromis... he never mentioned that. Your bond in Dosjorya, it was as strong as that between a Rider and dragon?”

"For us, it was. I told Oromis to never speak of that to anyone. My moment of weakness. Some things only I can share. Sometimes death is an answer, but usually, it is not the right one. Vasem taught me that. And I believe you understand that death will not fix your problems."

“I did,” Vasem said. “There is so much more to life than seeking an end to pain or revenge, and so much more than just doing whatever you think will tear down your enemies. You just have to continue living to eventually see it. There will be moments of calm and joy and love. Until then you have to manage yourself so that you do not find ruin first.”

“And I managed to see it. So Brom-elda, though I do not want to, I will promise you this: upon the completion of my and Vasem’s full training, I shall leave the forest to aid the two entities you speak of. I shall help as an exceptional spellcaster, an ambassador for Queen Islanzadí, or as an assassin or spy against the Wyrdfell, whichever I feel will be the most helpful unless I am convinced otherwise. None of these tasks should place me on a battlefield. If and when the opportunity arises for me to strike down the Wyrdfell and Galbatorix, I shall take it, but not at the cost of my own life. If my services are best used to spy or to infiltrate, again I will do so. Nothing I do shall be at the cost of my own life or that of Vasem’s. If it is safe for him to do so, Vasem shall join me abroad. All this I swear in the language of oaths. Does this please you?”

Vasem snorted silently. He saw nothing of this oath that overly angered him. “You leave yourself many open doors to back out of situations without breaking your word,” he said privately to his Rider.

“I must. This is a different war than the one I fought in Dosjorya. I too must evolve, for I shall not leave you in this world alone. Alagaësia can burn before I do that. I do not wish for my own words to corner me.”

The human Rider sighed in defeat. “Were you anyone else, I would order you to bind yourself much tighter to our cause, slippery elf. You give yourself much power over your actions and little to others. I understand why, and I understand I can do nothing. I am not pleased, but I accept your terms so long as you cast your oath to Master as well, and any who he sees fit.”

“My Rider shall. If you have nothing else to say, then this matter is settled,” Vasem said, leaving little room for further negotiation. If Lavel must leave Du Weldenvarden, then these are the best terms he can give for himself, and Vasem felt pleased about the outcome and his Rider’s ability to forge his own way. “If you would like a ride back to wherever you are quartered, I shall offer it. Or you may stay here.”

“I’ll walk back on my own,” Brom said irritatedly.

Chapter Text

(Lavel)

            “Brom spoke to us last night of the oath you gave. You must take care not to bind yourself too loosely, lest your allies lose trust in you,” said Oromis.

            “I explained everything to him, and to you, ebrithil. There are many reasons for my reluctance to fully commit myself. The words I spoke in my oath are all I am willing to give.”

            The elder Rider nodded. “I cannot force either of you to give more. You are unwilling to be a pawn like you have been in the past, nor are you willing to be forced into danger. But I would ask you to consider the full implications of what you hold back. I do not want to see these allies of ours stab you in the back out of mistrust. You must make up in actions what you did not give in oaths. Remember that this is a task you cannot complete alone; you will need allies if you wish to merely survive, and even more so if you wish to succeed.”

            “And I shall, ebrithil.”

            “Good. I expect nothing less from a Rider. We are the ones who stand between the dark and the light, and no matter what you feel is best for you, you have a duty to the land and the races within. Were you entirely selfish, I would not teach you further.”

            Lavel slowly nodded his head. “Selfishness is not my intent. Vasem and I must remain alive if there is to be any hope that the Rider king and the Wyrdfell shall pass, and if there is to be hope that something of the past might still live. I admit, however, that my past in Dosjorya shapes me heavily as I do not wish to repeat my mistakes or my sorrows.”

            Nearby Glaedr rose his head. The two dragons had not yet left for their lessons. “If there is one thing we fully understand, it is the desire to not lose your partner or leave your partner alone. You must devise another reason that can withstand scrutiny, however, as you cannot reveal Vasem’s existence.”

            “And it also means you cannot reveal Dosjorya unless you can fabricate a convincing lie to use when you are not bound to the language of truth. It may very well be known to Galbatorix that there had once been a Rider reincarnated from another world and if you speak of this to a spy, he shall know a Rider and dragon survived,” said Oromis. “You must think carefully about how you must tread on your current path. A full pledge would solve some of these problems as no one will question you deeply if you pledge full support, nor will anyone push to question you further and force you to reveal more than is wise.”

            The wind gently rustled the needle-filled pines around the clearing, stirring many of the life forms hiding within. A vibrant orange butterfly fluttered past, buffeted by the breeze. When it settled on a distant flower, Oromis continued. "You are young still, Lavel-finiarel, and still ignorant in the deepest intricacies of Alagaësian politics. It is not your fault; on the contrary, you are rather aware of such machinations for your age. You do not stand to be taken advantage of easily, which is what I hope for in my students. I just want you to be aware of what you propose to yourself, lest you find allies turning into enemies. There are many ways of playing politics and stretching oaths."

            The golden dragon stirred again. “Heed these words, hatchlings, for much unrest stalks this land.”

            All were silent for many moments. Vasem was the one to dare break the silence, even though previously he had said nothing. “Ebrithilar, is there a reason we are all still present, if not for remarks on Lavel’s oath?”

            “There is,” Glaedr rumbled. Oromis leaned back in his chair and motioned for Lavel to give the elder dragon his whole attention. “Often you must have wondered why Vasem and I cannot come out of hiding until the time is right. Wisely, you have not questioned our concerns, nor have you inquired why. You two continue to grow and mature, and soon it shall be right of us to reveal the secrets known to dragons and Riders in full. And later, if we deem you ready, you shall even learn the secrets of the elder Riders, for you stand to inherit our position.”

            Glaedr looked over at his Rider, then continued. “The following I will speak of is a secret only known to fully fledged Riders, all dragons, the ruler of the elves, and select others seemed trustworthy, but only when necessary. You must speak an oath to never reveal what I am about to teach you to any except those who already know of this secret and to future Riders or leaders who are also ready to learn this.”

            Quickly Lavel said the words, binding himself. “I shall, of course, keep this secret and only share it when necessary. But it is unlikely I will find myself in a position to teach a younger Rider unless someone can find a way to steal what eggs there may be.”

            "You may never know. In case we can obtain even a single egg, you must be prepared. Two able-bodied Riders and dragons are better than one," Oromis said, smiling.

            “And so it is. But even if such a thing never comes to pass,” said the ancient dragon. “You still must learn so that you are not caught unaware. Now listen carefully Lavel, and even you Vasem, for you know not everything I am about to say.

            “We dragons possess a gem-like object, clear and colorless, within our chests, our heart of hearts, called an Eldunarí. We can transfer our consciousness to our Eldunarí, and such an event allows us to outlive our body. Otherwise, it would merely dissolve with the rest of our body after death. If we transfer our consciousness, it would then glow with our energy and turn the color of our scales. And we can disgorge it while living, but we must do this with great care, for our Eldunarí cannot be placed back in our bodies, and can never grow larger after.”

            Lavel's mind raced with the new facts he just learned and their possible implications. A gem holding the essence of a dragon. Instinctively he knew there was much significance to this. Could a dragon who disgorged their Eldunarí communicate with it? What happens if it were to break? How is it a dragon's mind can live inside a gem and could other species do the same? And the most worrisome question, can someone take advantage by possessing an Eldunarí? Was that how the traitors amassed their strength?

            Despite his many questions, Lavel held his tongue and reigned in his thoughts. He could not rush any of his lessons. Nor did he want to. He trusted Oromis and Glaedr to teach him as they deem fit, especially with the most important lessons and secrets.

            “Sadly, you are right to wonder if Galbatorix and the Wyrdfell used Eldunarya to their advantage. Yes, your thoughts and questions strayed from your mind but I shall not chastise you just this once. Ask every question you need, as this is of utmost importance that you learn properly.

            “There are a few different ways they gained their immense power and a few reasons why their uprising and overthrow succeeded. One of those was that Galbatorix gathered as many Eldunarya as he could, and over time, broke those dragons' wills and minds so that they serve him and the Wyrdfell. Shortly before the two of you came into being as newborn and egg, Galbatorix killed an elder with the help of another Rider. He then killed the ones who helped him and stole that dragon's Eldunarí. When he and Morzan emerged from the wild, they sought to take as many Eldunarya as they could, slowly breaking their minds and forcing them to aid them.”

            “So that is why you and Vasem cannot leave,” Lavel whispered, fully understanding. Deep down he felt a building anger the likes of which he had not felt since learning Vasem’s true murderer in Dosjorya. Dragons, broken and enslaved, used to kill, break, and enslave more dragons.

            And it could easily happen to Glaedr and Vasem.

            “It is,” said Oromis.

            Vasem, who had remained silent thus far, spoke up. “How many dragons did he manage to enslave? Did he manage to get Sharjarth’s and Waryn’s? Is there a chance that my dam and sire still live?”

            “Hundreds. Thousands. We do not know for sure. Slowly he seeks to break every one he stole, and we can only guess how long that may take. As for your parents, Waryn was a wild dragon and thus an easy target, and to my knowledge, he never disgorged his Eldunarí before the Fall. Whether or not he was enslaved in it remains to be seen. Sharjarth had disgorged hers nearly a century ago for Nierya to carry when separated as she had attained a reasonable size. We expected her to give it to Brom and Saphira as they escorted you here, but alas that did not happen. It either was broken in the fighting or taken captive.”

            Vasem began to growl, though his thoughts were colored with sorrow. Lavel nodded, aware now that many of the dragons he had met may be alive but enslaved. “Until Galbatorix bends all of them to his will, could the others fight back? Surely they could pool their strength and overpower him and his enslaved dragons.”

            “Many are wild and have no wards against being cast unconscious. Those who were bonded lost many of their wards if their protections were tied to their Rider. Even if any of the Eldunarya still had any wards against forced sleep, Galbatorix could overpower them with those hearts he already has in his service. That is all that is required to prevent them from fighting back in an organized manner. From there, he can rouse one or two at a time, using his skill of breaking into minds and dark magics to bend them to his will. That is why Oromis and I have focused greatly on teaching you mental defense.”

            Glaedr continued to explain everything he knew about the Eldunarya, which was a great deal indeed. However, Lavel found his mind wandering away at times, thinking about how the traitors not only killed so many dragons and Riders but enslaved so many dragons and stole their strength. A single Rider with the power of hundreds of dragons would be nearly invincible. Galbatorix or any of the Wyrdfell could kill him and Vasem as easily as picking a flower from a plant.

            And beyond that, what they did was wrong on a moral level. Even more, he shuttered to think, than what the Maker of Gods did to him in Dosjorya. He and Vasem needed to save those dragons, if nothing else so that they would not suffer a fate worse than death.

            “Lavel-finiarel, regain your focus,” said Oromis sharply.

            “Yes, ebrithil.”

            “This is one of the most important lessons the two of you shall learn.”

            "I understand, ebrithil. However, what hope do we have in fighting Riders so twisted, they draw upon the strength of broken, enslaved dragons? No amount of power or planning on our part can withstand a single one of their attacks should they act. And they can surround themselves with an innumerable amount of wards that take far more strength and care to exhaust or circumvent. We would need the entire might of the elves joined to us and searching for a weakness for us to have a chance."

            “In a direct confrontation, if they want you dead, you will die. However, even at this part in your training, you should be knowledgeable enough to understand there are other ways of fighting, other ways of winning. Incredible strength is not infallible; one must also have a comprehensive intelligence to effectively use that power. Galbatorix and Morzan, the most powerful of the traitors, are not fully trained. We have reason to believe the other Wyrdfell, Riders in full, do not have as many Eldunarya as Galbatorix and Morzan. And even as Riders in full, they are no more able to anticipate every eventuality than you or Oromis.”

            “Lavel has a better understanding of how water interacts with everything,” said Vasem. “He might be able to use that to devise a spell that they are unable to counter.”

            "Even so," said Oromis, obviously satisfied at Vasem's idea. "However, you must think of many different ways that you can hide from them and strike when the time is right. It may be that you have to break their Eldunarya to weaken them. You may need to hide in plain sight as a servant. But to do any of this, you must continue to sharpen your mind, for without it, you are just as vulnerable and less than useless abroad."

            “Yes, ebrithil.”

            “But Lavel could carry my Eldunarí as he travels out of the forest and would have a direct conduit to you and the elves through me. He could have additional strength at his disposal and a way to ask for help.”

            The suggestion shocked Lavel and he instantly rejected it. Before either teacher could respond, he said with a firm voice, “no.”

            “No? Lavel, with my Eldunarí, you would not be alone. You would have me.”

            “No. I cannot risk losing your heart of hearts should misfortune or death find me. No, let yours stay within and grow larger unless dire circumstances require otherwise.”

            “You coming out of hiding is dire. I will not lose you to them if I can do something about it.”

            Vasem snaked his head around and tapped his snout against Lavel’s chest. “Lavel, listen to me. Ever since Glaedr gave me a rudimentary education on my Eldunarí, I knew I would disgorge mine one day. Recently I realized if you must leave the forest, I could aid and protect you through it. I am set on this. I trust you, and it will be of a good size by then.”

            Lavel shook his head. "And I would not dare risk having your heart of hearts added to their collection. And Glaedr said Sharjarth did not even disgorge hers until a century ago when they deemed it a reasonable size. Yours is far from that."

            “Is there no chance of me convincing you otherwise?”

            "I am set on this, Vasem. If there comes a time when you need to disgorge it so that you can continue living with me, then that is fine. But if such a day comes to pass, I want your Eldunarí to be as large as possible and within your possession."

            Neither of them had rose their voice or laced their words with any great amount of anger. Neither spoke for several minutes, and the older Rider and dragon did nothing to further the conversation. He and Vasem sat eye to eye, unwilling to accept the other’s argument nor opening their minds for more than just a trickle of thought. Lavel knew one of them would eventually budge, but he did not want to be the one. He did not want Vasem to make himself vulnerable for his sake.

            “What are your thoughts, ebrithilar?” Vasem finally asked, though he still faced Lavel. Likewise, Lavel refused to look away.

            “The answer that you seek must come from you two and you two alone. However, there is wisdom in Lavel’s words. Just as our enemies are not infallible, Lavel is not infallible either, and it is unlikely we can gather the elves to aid in his defense in time. Moreover, we cannot reveal the secret of the Eldunarí to them. Nor can we fabricate a way to explain how you can communicate with your Rider from a great distance. But to leave your Rider alone in the world, unaided, is a valid point as well, especially if there is a way to solve it.”

            Oromis tapped a finger against the table. “It is important for dragons and Riders to work well together, a skill to which you two acquit yourselves with distinction. But it is just as important for you two to learn how to work independently, something that I know Lavel has experience with.”

            Vasem finally lifted his head, giving Lavel a view of their teachers again. “We were separated because I was killed. It shall not happen again.”

            “If Lavel is careful, even alone it shall not happen again,” said Oromis. “With regards to your Eldunarí, Vasem, it is yours and you have the ultimate say in whether or not you disgorge it. But Lavel does not have to leave the forest with it; neither of us will force that upon our student.”

            With a loud growl, Vasem launched himself into the air with a gigantic gust of wind aimed at them all. He flew off to the north but Glaedr made no attempt to chase. Lavel tried to contact his dragon before they were too far apart but was met with impenetrable barriers.

            “Are you going to chase him?” Lavel asked, worried.

            “Even if I could catch up to him, it is not wise," said Glaedr sadly. His large golden eyes peered in the distance as if the younger dragon was still visible. "He cannot bear to have you alone in harm’s way when there is a way to join you. You are the same. You both need time to determine the best way to go about this situation. Oromis and I favor your position, for we cannot risk losing both of you, but it is not for us to decide.”

            He nodded. He would not be happy if Vasem put him in the same situation. “Fate always seems to steer us down the toughest paths. Only when we deal with the ground giving way beneath us are we given a smoother trail guiding us back to the rough road. If only for once it could be kind to both of us.”

            “So long as you continue to not let it completely break you, Lavel-finiarel, you will find that both of you will heal and emerge stronger. Were it not for your hardships in Dosjorya, you may not be suited to deal with this calamity that has befallen Alagaësia, and your situations might be far more difficult.”

            “I hardly agree that I have not let my trials break me. Vasem, yes, he has done well. But I am far from suited to fight the Wyrdfell.”

            Oromis smiled, and Glaedr snorted. The elf said, “you continue to underestimate yourself. Think to the displays of strength from your past. Would a broken, incapable man continue his studies, knowing that he will be called to a war he is reluctant to fight in? Would a broken, incapable man stop at nothing to succeed in finding his missing sister, even while knowing she would likely be dead?”

            Sighing, Lavel clenched his fists and said, “a broken man would try to end his life when he had nothing left but pain. That was me. I had shattered and wanted nothing more than just to end it all.”

            “Ah, but you did not truly end your life. You took the opportunity to continue.”

            "I had to. Vasem gave me a piece of his soul to ease my pain, and I could not throw away his final gift to me. Otherwise, things would have turned out differently."

            “Not all live through life without cracking now and then. You and Vasem have been chosen to fly over the highest mountains. You can do it together or apart, there are risks and benefits to both. But know this: you two are not alone. Whatever you choose with regards to Vasem’s Eldunarí, no one in Du Weldenvarden, not even Brom or Islanzadí, would think of forcing you to fight alone. I have no doubt you can resist breaking again and can do the land a great deal of good if you have other elves to lean on.” Glaedr turned to him before looking again in the direction Vasem flew off to. “You and Vasem both.”

            Gusts of wind drove sheets of rain and loose pine needles against the tree that was his house, pushing the structure around and filling the rooms with angry sounds. The strongest gusts whistled and howled through gaps and doors, momentarily transforming a fierce thunderstorm into an eerie symphony best witnessed on the ground or below. A gentle wind blew through, not enough to rustle Lavel's hair but enough to carry the pungent smell of rain.

            And still, Vasem had not returned.

            Lavel worried about how Vasem was faring during the storm. Perhaps he was far enough to be beyond its influence. Every once in a while, he cast his mind out in search, but he was not yet strong enough to go very far, and Vasem continued to elude him. After Oromis and Glaedr finished his lesson on the Eldunarya, they let him return home early and promised to notify him of they saw Vasem. They have not yet contacted him.

            The walk home, coming well before the thunderstorm arrived, had been the first time he journeyed between this house and the Crags of Tel’naeír on foot. It was not a difficult or overly long trek, but one he had never taken alone. Always Vasem had been beneath him, carrying him back and forth not in the belief that a dragon should ferry their Rider, but because he loved to have his Rider near. And because Lavel much preferred that to being carried in his dragon’s claws. Regardless, they had been together, not apart.

            At some point, he would have to get used to being alone, leagues away from his closest companion. The more he learned about the Eldunarya, the less he was willing to budge on his stance. He hoped Vasem flew away to think and not to disgorge his heart of hearts in private. Lavel did not want to be forced to carry such a valuable and vulnerable piece of Vasem into danger.

            Alone he sat on the floor, gazing upon the fairths of his elven ancestors, riding out the storm. Thinking and hoping and fearing.

            With night approaching, the sky outside did not lighten when the storm rumbled away. More than once Lavel looked outside to bear witness to the damage left behind. Some limbs fell in the distance. One tree leaned over, threatening to fall across a walking path. Leaves, needles, and twigs littered the ground. A broken branch creaked with the breeze, waiting to fall.

            Still, he did not see his dragon.

            A light knock on the door caught Lavel's attention. Rising from his spot, he opened the well-worn door, half expecting Kveya or another young elf to join him for the evening. Instead, he found himself standing before Queen Islanzadí.

            Lavel's eyes widened a little. Why should the queen of the elves visit him, an apprentice Rider, privately at his humble house? He would have expected any meeting between them to be conducted in Tialdarí Hall, surrounded by elven lords and ladies with far more influence than his House has ever had, even when some of his ancestors counted themselves as some of the most powerful elven spell casters before the founding of the Riders.

            No matter the reason, it was rude for him to keep her waiting. He gave the queen a bow, touched his lips, and greeted her. After the formalities, he gestured for her to enter his house, away from the dripping trees, but she shook her head.

            “I am not here to bother you long, Lavel-finiarel. At the Mourning Sage’s behest, I have come to address the tough position you and Vasem have been forced into, in hopes that I may alleviate it somewhat. It is unfair for us to place such responsibilities on those who are still children by our definition and not render any and all aid we can.”

            “Islanzadí Dröttning, I appreciate your concern. Has Master Oromis informed you about what occurred today?”

            She nodded. “Oromis-elda had believed it wise to hide the knowledge of the Eldunarya from you two for as long as possible given your history. He believed what happened between you two was inevitable. However, Brom’s visit carried news that had to one day reach your ears, and I decreed that your teachers begin to teach you of these secrets so that if you must leave the forest immediately, you are not unaware of what you face.”

            “So you know the source of our argument?”

            "I do indeed, Lavel-finiarel. It is unfortunate it has come to this, but you two needed to learn this concept, and you two need to resolve this, for too much relies on you. I wish it were not so, that Oromis and Glaedr still had all of their strength, that Brom still had his dragon, that Nierya and Sharjarth and Vrael and Umaroth and many others still walk this land. It is folly to believe a single young dragon and Rider can defeat traitors who killed so many and to put those very same children through hardship they are not ready to experience.

            “However, this is the situation we find ourselves in, and because of the enigma surrounding you two, this has evolved into a far more complex issue than I had thought. I do wish to offer a partial solution to the dilemma you and Vasem Blackstripe face. Regardless of what you two decide, I shall supply warriors sworn to protect you, and Vasem’s Eldunarí, even at the cost of their own lives. It is utter madness to believe we can send our only fully whole Rider abroad, our greatest hope in killing Galbatorix, alone without help or protection. And I shall not allow an Eldunarí to fall into the hands of the enemy.”

            Lavel pondered the offer. The elves were reluctant to leave Du Weldenvarden because the forest and its wards protected them and because any elf, save for the ones among the Wyrdfell, could be liable to reveal the secrets of the Fair Folk if captured and tortured. "It is a risk to involve those who might be better suited to guarding our people," he said.

            "The goal of ridding the land of this dark stain borne from the failures of my people cannot be achieved without risk. The plains of Ilirea proved that our armies are not capable of taking on the Wyrdfell, but laying in wait will not solve our problems either. In the turmoil plaguing the land, Brom managed to found the Varden, and Lady Marelda managed to separate Surda from the Empire. Neither venture was without risk. Just as they stuck their necks out in the name of rebellion, so too must we, not just with you or with our supplies, but with our people. I promise that the warriors I choose to join you are well trained and dependable, capable of holding their own in a fight against a Rider, and are the best suited to be abroad with their skill set."

            Oddly emotional, Lavel dipped his head. “It honors me that you think so highly of me and Vasem, Islanzadí Dröttning. I have never had the experience of having guards, and I promise I shall never foolishly lead them to harm.”

            "I trust you, Lavel-finiarel, even without a binding oath. In Dosjorya I believe you mostly fought alone or alongside another with similar abilities as yourself. I hope to provide a sense of familiarity with that. The elves I choose shall make themselves known to you before your training is complete, and you will fight alongside them in practice bouts to know their skill with weapons and gramarye. Should you decide to carry Vasem's Eldunarí with you, I shall have Glaedr inform them of the concept and have them swear secrecy."

            The queen snapped her head upward toward the sound of beating wings. A blue dragon, Vasem, slammed down on his pine needle bed, growling at both elves. Lavel touched Vasem’s mind but still found iron barriers.

            “Ah, Vasem Blackstripe. It gladdens me to see you arrive. I have a proposition for your Rider that I would like you to know of as well,” said Islanzadí.

            Vasem did not answer. His eyes locked on Lavel. Excusing himself, Lavel walked past the queen and stood in front of his dragon, Large, slitted eyes followed his every movement. He stopped several paces away, keeping his distance so long as Vasem remained angry and closed off.

            “Vasem, please listen to Islanzadí Dröttning,” he said.

            “Then speak, elf-queen," Vasem growled, only opening his mind long enough to respond. Lavel tried to get him to open back up but stopped. Vasem will open his mind when he was ready.

            "As you wish. No matter what you two choose concerning your Eldunarí, Lavel shall be given capable guards from among the elves. They can be told of the concept of the Eldunarya if need be. There is no reason for our greatest warrior to roam the land alone or for one of our most valuable assets to be left relatively unguarded when you two are our best chance at defeating Galbatorix and the Wyrdfell."

            Moments passed before Vasem replied. “These guards you speak of, do they compare to a dragon such as I?”

            “With enough of them, yes. Individually they can fight off a Rider. They faced the Wyrdfell near Ilirea and lived. Your Rider will be in good hands, as well as your Eldunarí, should you choose to disgorge it.”

            Fallen branches snapped as Vasem took a step forward. “I only trust Lavel with my Eldunarí. No one else.” He looked around at the windswept trees. “Leave, elf-queen. I wish to speak with my Rider alone.”

            “As you wish, Vasem Blackstripe.”

            “My apologies-“ Lavel started to say, worried that the queen was offended, but Islanzadí cut him off with a wave. “No apologies are needed, Shur’tugal. I only wish this incident will not drive a wedge between you two. You have time to think and discuss; years even if necessary. Of utmost importance is the bond you two have.”

            Before Lavel could say another word, Queen Islanzadí hurried away.

            “I only trust you with my Eldunarí,” Vasem stated after a moment. “And I would much rather guard you myself than have others take my place.”

            “If I have other elves with me, they can fight physically, mentally, and magically. Your heart can only fight mentally and bolster my strength. It is more of an advantage to have multiple sets of eyes and ears, and to have many swords around.”

            Vasem slowly traversed the gap between them and touched his snout on Lavel’s head. He felt his hair rustling from the dragon’s warm breaths, and it was always a comfort to have Vasem so close. “I have thought long and hard, Lavel. I do not want you to face the future alone. To fight on a battlefield alone. To aid in this struggle alone. You have already done enough of that without me in Dosjorya. But I... I understand why Oromis and Glaedr subtly hinted that I should agree with you.”

            “You would risk becoming a slave or killed if something happened to your Eldunarí.”

            “Not just that. It puts you more at risk.”

            “How so?” Lavel asked, though he already had a hint of an idea.

            “Even those who do not know of the existence of the heart of hearts might sense my presence and try to investigate. Those who do know will stop at nothing to kill you to take me. I will... I will endanger you. There is nothing I can do to help you without risking everything.”

            Vasem’s snout pushed him forwards, beckoning for an embrace. Lavel leaned in and gave Vasem’s chest a big hug. His dragon sounded so helpless, so defeated. And it all had to do with the current state of Alagaësia. They would have to make sacrifices for the greater good, but those sacrifices were so hard to make.

            “I must fight when I do not wish to, and you must stay back when you wish to be by my side. I wish it were not so,” Lavel whispered. He was glad the queen was not still around, and that they had the privacy to fully voice their feelings. “I wish we could ignore our duties and live as we wish.”

            “I do too. We must kill the traitors to live that kind of life, though. Perhaps when there is only one or two of them left, I can leave the forest with you. I can be by your side and I can fight your battles for you.”

            “And when none are left, we can live together without fear. But we must train and fight and sacrifice to get there.”

            Vasem snorted. “Not our lives. We shall not have to sacrifice those. Or our sanity.”

            “No.”

            “Did the queen identify the elves she would order to guard you?”

            "No, but I will train with them when Oromis is nearly done teaching me if I interpret her words correctly."

            “I will make sure they are worthy of guarding my Rider. If I cannot be with you in any capacity, only the best will do. Even if I must convince Oromis and Islanzadí themselves to join you. They see fit to send a young elf into battle; they ought to be willing to put themselves in danger as well.”

            “You know they cannot leave either. But I expect nothing less from you.”

            Another snort, causing Lavel’s tunic to shift a little from the dragon’s breath. “Who would think to disobey a dragon? That is one thing about dragons that I like more than Oundats: we get much more respect.”

            Just before Lavel could respond to that, Vasem spoke again. “Lavel, despite what the queen thinks... or what you may have thought when I flew away, I am not angry at you for this. I am angry at fate, for what it has always done to us. We should have always been together as one. Two that are One, just like the Two gods, Maker and Destroyer, in Dosjorya. But when you leave, we cannot be together unless you have my Eldunarí. It makes my scales itch and it feels like a violation of the pact between Riders and dragons, but there is nothing I can do. Nothing at all that is not dangerous.”

            Even with their privacy, Lavel switched to mental communication before speaking his next words. It was safer. “If we were not driven by duty and oaths, I would ask that, after our training is complete, you take me and fly me as far from Alagaësia as you can. We could live in exile as we once did in our first lives, ignoring the events here, and living as we want.”

            “Do you want that?” Vasem asked, voice hinting of excitement. “I can do that. As far as I know, I have not sworn any oaths preventing me from doing just that.”

            “But we still have a duty. Part of me cannot in good conscience sit back and do nothing as more people or even dragons are killed or enslaved.” Lavel sighed. Why was he always wanting two very different things? “I would love to live in the wilds with you. But no one would be able to keep the traitors, or Glaedr, from chasing us if we ran away.”

            “From chasing us? I will stop them. Glaedr cannot keep up with me. And whatever magic Morzan used to keep... that red monster of his from losing us has a limit. Not even Galbatorix and Shruikan can outpace me forever.”

            Lavel let himself laugh a little, and he tried to hug Vasem tighter. But Vasem’s scales were smoother than most dragons’, and his chest was even more so. His hands could not get the grip needed to complete the hug. A paw gently touched his back.

            “I’m serious, my dear Rider. I know we have an obligation, you have an oath, and that killing the traitors can prevent further bloodshed. But given time, I can find a way to circumvent your words. Let Oromis and Glaedr and Islanzadí and Brom and any others kill those enemy Riders.

            “If you want to run away, I will help you however I can without hesitation. I would rather watch Alagaësia burn while you are safe with me than see peace return while I guard your grave. I just want you alive and free, just as you want the same for me.”

            Mirth was replaced with sorrow as Vasem spoke. Lavel took a deep breath. “I understand, Vasem. That is why you wanted to give me your heart of hearts. But we do have a duty, and I must uphold what remains of the Rider order. Maybe if all hope is lost, we can fly away. Until then, we stay. Are you okay with that?”

            “As you wish, I will agree, Lavel. But only if you promise not to let yourself get killed.”

            “That I can promise,” he said both aloud and in his mind.