Arya honestly believed that nothing else could surprise her that day.
When she had first arrived at the hidden settlement, she thought discovering an entire village concealed behind powerful magic was shocking enough. Then she met Harry, the mysterious mage whose reputation had spread across Narda like a half-forgotten legend.
Today she met Mella, a former servant of Galbatorix whose true name had somehow changed, freeing her from the King's control. As if that wasn't enough, she had then discovered a newly hatched dragon and Mella is the rider the dragon chose.
By that point, Arya had been certain the day could not possibly become any more unbelievable.
She had been wrong.
Still, despite the constant surprises, Arya found herself happier than she had been in years.
For the first time since the Fall of the Riders, genuine hope existed.
Not desperate plans whispered around campfires.
Not impossible dreams spoken of by exhausted rebels trying to convince themselves tomorrow would be better.
Real hope.
A Dragon Rider.
Free from Galbatorix.
The simple existence of Mella and her dragon changed everything.
Arya watched the tiny golden hatchling perched proudly upon Mella's shoulder. The little dragon seemed completely unaware of the enormous significance of its birth. It chirped happily, rubbed its head against Mella's cheek, and received affectionate scratches in return.
The bond between them was already obvious.
Arya could feel it.
Every elf learned to recognize that connection. It was subtle but unmistakable. Rider and dragon were no longer separate beings. Their thoughts, emotions, and lives had already begun intertwining.
For several moments Arya simply observed them.
Then practicality returned.
The hatchling was small.
Years would pass before it could carry a Rider. Dragons grew quickly when healthy, but not quickly enough to change the current war. Before Mella could challenge the Forsworn, before her dragon could face Shruikan or any of Galbatorix's servants, much time would be needed.
Which made one thing immediately obvious.
Protecting them had become the highest priority.
More important than recruitment.
Because if Galbatorix learned that a new Rider existed, he would stop at nothing to claim or destroy her.
He would send mages.
Assassins.
Entire armies if necessary.
The King feared very few things.
A free Rider was one of them.
Arya was still considering all of this when she noticed Harry looking upward. His attention had shifted away from the conversation entirely. Curious, she followed his gaze toward the sky.
At first she saw nothing unusual.
Only clouds drifting lazily overhead.
Then she noticed two tiny shapes.
One dark.
One pale.
So distant they appeared no larger than birds.
Arya frowned.
Birds did not move like that.
The longer she watched, the larger the shapes became.
Her eyes narrowed.
The dots grew steadily.
Then rapidly.
A cold realization struck her.
"No..."
The word escaped before she could stop it.
Harry looked completely unconcerned.
Which somehow made Arya even more nervous.
The creatures descended from the clouds.
The white shape became enormous.
The dark one became larger still.
Wings spread across the sky.
Massive shadows swept over the lake and the nearby forest.
Children playing near the shoreline immediately pointed upward and began waving excitedly. Several villagers did the same.
Clearly this was not an unusual occurrence.
Arya simply stared.
The dragons descended rapidly before landing near the edge of the lake.
The impact shook the ground beneath her feet.
Trees swayed.
Dust exploded outward.
The air itself seemed to tremble.
When the dust finally settled, two gigantic dragons stood before her.
The first was white.
Its scales resembled fresh snow beneath sunlight. Scars covered portions of its body, old wounds that spoke of battles long past. There was an ancient strength in the creature's posture that immediately commanded respect.
The second dragon was even more intimidating.
Dark scales covered its massive body, nearly black beneath the afternoon sun. Jagged spikes protruded from its neck, back, and tail. The dragon looked less like a living creature and more like a weapon given life.
Arya's mouth opened.
For perhaps the first time in many years, she found herself completely speechless.
Harry glanced toward her and looked amused.
"Surprised?"
Arya slowly pointed toward the dragons.
"You..."
Harry nodded.
"My dragons."
Arya blinked.
"Dragons."
"Yes."
"Plural."
Harry's smile widened slightly.
Arya looked from the white dragon to the black one.
Then back to Harry.
Then back to the dragons again.
Her mind desperately attempted to make sense of what she was seeing.
Dragon Riders bonded with one dragon.
That was how the world worked.
That was how it had always worked.
One Rider.
One dragon.
Every piece of history supported that rule.
And yet standing before her was a man casually claiming ownership of two dragons as though it were the most natural thing in existence.
Harry walked toward the white dragon.
The enormous creature lowered her head immediately. He reached up and scratched beneath her jaw. The dragon released a pleased rumble that shook the ground.
"This is Lily."
Arya stared.
Then Harry pointed toward the darker dragon.
"And this is Norberta."
Norberta snorted loudly.
The blast of air nearly knocked loose leaves from nearby trees.
Arya looked back toward Harry.
"You're bonded to both of them?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Harry shrugged.
"I honestly don't know."
Arya laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because her brain had finally given up trying to understand what was happening.
She looked toward Mella.
The young Rider seemed completely comfortable.
As though multiple dragons were perfectly ordinary.
As though Harry casually possessing two fully grown dragons wasn't something that should rewrite everything Arya knew about Riders.
Slowly, Arya sat down on a nearby rock.
The amount of information she had absorbed today was becoming difficult to process.
It was enough to overwhelm anyone.
The dragons settled near the water.
Mella sat beside her hatchling.
The village continued its daily activities as though enormous dragons landing beside the lake was perfectly normal.
Eventually Arya broke the silence.
"If you joined the fight..."
Harry sighed immediately.
The reaction alone told her everything she needed to know.
He had anticipated this conversation from the moment she arrived.
"If you joined the Varden," Arya continued, "we would actually have a chance."
Harry kept his gaze fixed upon the lake.
"We already discussed this."
"No."
Arya shook her head.
"You avoided it."
A faint smile appeared on Harry's face.
"That's different."
Arya ignored the joke.
"You have power."
She pointed toward Lily and Norberta.
"You have dragons."
Then toward Mella.
"You have another Rider."
Finally she gestured toward the settlement.
"And you have people willing to follow you."
Harry remained silent.
Arya pressed on.
"With your help, the Varden could win."
The breeze carried across the lake as Harry considered her words.
When he finally answered, his voice was calm.
"I am tired."
Arya frowned.
"Tired?"
"Tired of fighting."
"This place exists because people wanted peace."
He pointed toward the settlement.
"They came here because they were tired of war."
Then he gestured toward Mella.
"She needs training."
Toward the dragons.
"They need protection."
Finally he looked directly at Arya.
"I don't want another war."
Arya listened quietly.
She understood him more than he probably realized.
She had spent years fighting.
Years watching people die.
Years carrying messages between allies while kingdoms burned around her.
She understood the desire for peace.
Unfortunately, wanting peace and obtaining it were rarely the same thing.
"Harry."
"What?"
Her voice softened.
"The war doesn't care what you want."
His expression became serious.
"Galbatorix won't leave you alone."
Arya continued quietly.
"Eventually he will learn about this place."
She pointed toward Mella.
"He will learn about her."
Then toward Lily and Norberta.
"And them."
Finally she met Harry's gaze.
"There are only two ways people escape Galbatorix."
Harry already knew the answer and she could see it in his eyes.
Still, she said it.
"Either you serve him."
Her voice remained calm.
"Or he kills you."
Silence settled over the lakeshore.
Because everyone present knew Arya was right.
Harry would never kneel.
Which meant eventually there would be a confrontation.
Whether Harry wanted it or not.
Galbatorix would come.
The only uncertainty was when.
Arya leaned back against the rock and released a slow breath.
For now she decided not to push any further.
Mella needed training.
The hatchling needed time to grow.l
Harry needed time to think.
And she had already learned more during one afternoon than she had expected to learn during an entire month.
Morning sunlight spread across the black stone towers of Urû'baen, casting long shadows over the capital of the Empire. Merchants opened their stalls in the marketplaces. Wagons rattled through the streets carrying supplies from the countryside. Soldiers marched along the walls, changing shifts as the day properly began.
To an outsider, it might have seemed like any other city awakening to another ordinary morning.
But there was nothing ordinary about Urû'baen.
Galbatorix stood before a massive window overlooking his capital.
His hands rested behind his back as his eyes swept across the city below. Sunlight poured through the glass, illuminating the chamber, yet somehow the room remained cold. The vast audience hall behind him was nearly silent except for the slow, steady breathing of the giant creature occupying the lower levels of the throne chamber.
Shruikan.
The enormous black dragon lay coiled within the cavernous hall beneath the throne platform. His scales reflected the morning light like polished obsidian. To most observers, the dragon appeared asleep.
Galbatorix knew better.
One massive eye opened briefly.
A slit of gold studied the room.
Then it closed again.
The King allowed himself a faint smile.
Shruikan never truly slept.
A knock echoed through the chamber.
One of the guards approached and knelt.
"Your Majesty. The survivors of the Vroengard expedition await your audience."
Galbatorix's expression remained unchanged.
"Send them in."
The guard bowed and withdrew.
A few moments later, the great doors opened.
Two figures entered the throne room.
Only two.
Puth.
Aisk.
Both mages walked toward the throne and dropped to one knee.
"Your Majesty."
The King studied them in silence.
Neither man dared lift his head.
The tension inside the room grew steadily heavier.
Finally, Galbatorix spoke.
"What happened?"
His voice was calm.
Puth swallowed before answering.
"The expedition failed, Your Majesty."
The King said nothing.
His expression remained unreadable.
Aisk spoke next.
"Diren is dead."
Vroengard was dangerous. The island had claimed the lives of stronger men than Diren. Ancient spells still lingered there. Wards and curses from the Riders' era remained active even after a century.
Diren's death alone would not have concerned him.
"He died within the Riders' palace."
Galbatorix nodded once.
Then his gaze sharpened.
"And Mella?"
The hesitation that followed immediately captured his attention.
Puth and Aisk exchanged a brief glance.
Galbatorix's eyes narrowed.
"Speak."
Puth lowered his head further.
"Mella deserted, Your Majesty."
The silence that followed seemed to consume the entire room. Even the guards standing nearby stiffened. Galbatorix slowly turned away from the window and faced them fully.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then he descended the steps of the throne.
Each footfall echoed throughout the chamber.
"Deserted."
The word sounded almost curious.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Galbatorix stopped several feet from the kneeling mages.
"How?"
Aisk answered immediately.
"She acquired a dragon."
The King's expression finally changed.
"A dragon?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Now Galbatorix became interested.
A Rider beyond his control.
His mind immediately began examining possibilities.
Mella.
Her true name.
The commands woven into her very being.
The chains that bound her loyalty.
Galbatorix understood true names better than anyone alive.
A person could change. Most did not.
But occasionally something significant happened.
Something powerful enough to alter the very core of who they were.
When that happened, a true name changed.
And when a true name changed, old commands became meaningless.
Old chains broke.
Old masters lost their hold.
A dragon could certainly cause such a transformation.
Galbatorix smiled.
It was not a pleasant sight.
Predators smiled before they killed.
"So," he said softly, "Mella has changed."
Neither mage answered.
Had she remained loyal, she would have returned to Urû'baen.
She would have brought the dragon.
She would have delivered the Eldunarí.
She would have presented every discovery from Vroengard.
Instead she had fled.
That alone proved enough.
The King's expression hardened.
"Tell me everything."
For nearly an hour they recounted the expedition.
They spoke of the cursed island.
The ruined palace of the Riders.
The hidden vaults.
The Eldunarí.
The mysterious mage named Harry.
The destruction of the palace.
The escape.
Mella's betrayal.
Galbatorix listened without interruption.
He asked no questions.
When they finally finished, silence returned.
The King walked back toward the massive window.
Below him, Urû'baen continued its daily routine.
But Galbatorix's thoughts were far away.
A Rider he did not control.
A mage powerful enough to survive Vroengard.
Powerful enough to oppose his servants.
That was troubling.
But the Eldunarí...
Hundreds of dragon hearts.
A treasure beyond measure.
Power that rightfully belonged to him.
Now lost.
Beyond his reach.
Galbatorix slowly clenched his fist.
The air inside the room seemed to vibrate.
The torches flickered despite the daylight streaming through the windows.
Both mages immediately lowered themselves further.
Fear radiated from them.
They had seen the King's anger before.
"Mella must die."
The words were spoken calmly.
As though discussing the weather.
"The dragon must die."
He turned toward one of the servants waiting near the entrance.
"Send a message to the Surdan front."
The servant immediately bowed.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Recall two of the Forsworn."
Even Puth could not completely hide his surprise.
Two Forsworn.
For a newly hatched dragon.
Galbatorix noticed.
The King smiled coldly.
"You think that excessive?"
Galbatorix continued.
"A Rider left alive becomes a problem."
His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon.
History itself stood as proof of those words.
Galbatorix had once been a Rider.
And the consequences of that single fact had reshaped the world.
The King had no intention of repeating old mistakes.
"Find her."
"Kill her and the dragon."
"Bring me the Eldunarí."
The commands echoed throughout the hall.
The servant bowed again and hurried away.
The hunt had begun.
Only then did Galbatorix return his attention to the surviving mages.
"You failed."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You lost the Eldunarí."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Galbatorix nodded.
Then he raised one hand.
The screams echoed throughout the throne room.
The punishment lasted only moments.
When it ended, both mages lay collapsed upon the stone floor, drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably.
No permanent injuries.
Galbatorix stared down at them.
"You are fortunate."
Neither man dared speak.
"You are still useful."
Relief flooded through them.
They were alive.
For now.
"Do not fail me again."
The guards dragged the trembling mages from the chamber.
The doors closed behind them.
Galbatorix stood alone before the great window.
His city.
His Empire.
Yet somewhere beyond the horizon, a new Rider lived.
The King's gaze drifted northward.
Toward lands unseen.
Toward enemies not yet fully understood.
A cold smile slowly spread across his face.
Sooner or later, every road in Alagaësia led back to him.
And when that day arrived, he would ensure that neither Mella nor the mysterious Harry escaped his grasp.