Eragon's POV
I woke to sunlight on my face and Oromis's note on the table: When you rise, hasten to my home.
Saphira's mind flooded mine before I even sat up.
Are you hurt? Are you well? Little one, why are your ears so pointy?
Pointy?
I stumbled upon the polished silver mirror. My reflection stared back—ears tapered to delicate points, every scar and blemish erased on my face. Excited, I tore off my shirt, twisted, and nearly dropped to my knees. My back was smooth. No trace of the searing scar Durza had left. I laughed—raw, relieved, half a sob—and Saphira's joy crashed over me like a wave, bright and boundless.
We flew to Oromis's house grinning like fools. Percy and Annabeth arrived ten minutes later, Shorai and Furnöst's wings filling the sky. Their ears were pointed too, but the faint white lines of old scars, probably from when Percy lived his all so amazing and peaceful life before this, still crossed their skin—Percy's forearm, Annabeth's shoulder. The magic had chosen differently.
Oromis's explanation was quite long, but I'll give you the short version(4th wall break!!!): the Menoa Tree and the elves' oath had poured centuries of dragon-magic into the three of us. Eragon healed completely; Percy and Annabeth gained elven grace, speed, and centuries of life, but kept their hard-earned scars.
———————————⁄ ⁄ A month later ⁄ ⁄———————————
One week remained until we would leave Du Weldenvarden forever and rejoin the Varden.
Oromis gave us one week and one choice each.
We trained together, but every spell carried the name of its chooser.
I wanted to project an image onto a surface.
Oromis set three slabs of black marble before us. "Hold the image perfect in thy mind, then speak skölir naeth and pour your will through your palm. The stone drinks memory like water."
I pictured Carvahall at dawn—smoke curling, river glinting. Light surged from my hand; the marble rippled and caught the scene forever.
Annabeth chose a beautiful temple like structure which I later found out was called the Parthenon, a sunset behind it, golden light on broken columns. Percy, chose the moment he and Annabeth had kissed underwater at their camp. The marble caught even the shimmer of her hair in the current. Oromis actually smiled. "A memory worth preserving."
Annabeth's eyes gleamed like steel. "Can you teach us illusions?"
Oromis conjured a single word—möblith—and the clearing became a battlefield: burning catapults, charging Urgals, a second sun in the sky. My stomach lurched until he snapped his fingers, and it vanished.
"The spell bends light, sound, scent, even the sense of touch. The stronger the caster's imagination, the deeper the deception."
Annabeth wove a perfect replica of her camp—orange shirts, strawberry fields, and a three-story house with a porch swing creaking. Percy added a thirty-foot statue of buff looking dude that looked ready to kill anyone on sight, but somehow still held a calm and easygoing appearance with a trident in his hand. I managed a convincing image of Tronjheim's great hall, dwarves cheering. Oromis nodded approval. "Galbatorix's spies will see ghosts and run."
Percy's grin was all teeth. "Show us the least painful way to kill a ton of people effectively... Even if it disgusts me to do so."
Oromis's face grew grave. He led us to a barren ridge overlooking an empty valley. "There are twelve words that can kill hundreds," he said quietly. "We will learn three, and you are right to feel disgust for they stand no chance against you; however, they have picked their side and will pay the price one way or another for their cowardice."
Jierda Brisingr – a lance of blue fire that punched a ten-foot crater in the valley floor. Brakka du vanyali – a sphere of force that flattened a stand of pines like grass. Slytha brakka – chains of lightning that danced across the ground, leaving only scorched earth. Shordia du branyi - Stops the hearts of those you are thinking of
Percy's eyes held sadness as he spoke the words in the ancient language with a perfect Greek accent and turned half the valley into a smoking crater. Annabeth followed, precise and terrifying, carving neat trenches where enemy lines would stand. I managed the lightning chain on my third try—blue-white arcs leaping between invisible foes.
Oromis watched us, pride and sorrow mingling. "These are tools of last resort," he warned. "Wield them wisely, or you may very well become the monster you are here to defeat."The
Percy's POV
The morning we left Ellesméra felt like the forest was hugging us goodbye. Pines whispered overhead, lanterns dimming as if sad to see us go. Arya led on her horse, all graceful and silent. Eragon rode beside her on a borrowed steed, trying not to stare (failing, as usual). Saphira circled above, golden scales flashing.
Annabeth and I mounted Shorai and Furnöst—our dragons now the size of small mountains, wings casting shadows over the path. The elves bowed as we passed, eyes wide with that mix of awe and fear. Three Riders, three dragons. Yeah, we had presence.
"Think they'll miss us?" I asked Annabeth, grinning as Furnöst rumbled agreement.
She smirked, gray eyes sharp. "They'll miss the chaos."
We flew low at first, skimming the canopy. The air smelled like pine and magic one last time. Then the trees thinned, Du Weldenvarden falling away behind us. Open sky ahead. Freedom, but the heavy kind—war waiting.
Hours later, we touched down in a dusty village on the edge of the plains. Humans stared—farmers, merchants, kids peeking from doors. Our dragons folded their wings, making the square feel tiny. People backed up instinctively, whispering "Riders" like it was a prayer or a curse.
An old mapmaker shuffled out, parchment in hand, eyes bugging at the dragons. "Lords... ladies... Riders," he stammered, bowing low. Arya asked for directions to the Varden, voice cool.
He unrolled a map, finger tracing south. "The rebels? Burning Plains, m'lords. Smoke on the horizon last fortnight—big battles brewing. That's where they'll be, mark my words."
Eragon leaned in, serious. I exchanged a look with Annabeth—Burning Plains. Sounded fun. Not.
"Thanks," I said, flipping him a coin. He caught it, still staring at Furnöst's sea-blue scales.
We mounted up. Shorai and Furnöst launched, Saphira joining. Wind roared. The village shrank below, the mapmaker waving like we were gods.
Annabeth's voice in the wind: "Burning Plains. Fitting."
"Yeah," I yelled back. "Let's go crash a war."
All four of the dragons roared. The sky was ours again.
The Burning Plains stretched below us like a half-baked Tartarus: cracked earth, sulfur stink. However, there were no monsters, and thousands of tents were sprawled in every direction.
We dropped lower. Three dragons. One roar each.
The camp lost its collective mind.
People scattered like ants. Horns blared. Then the arrows came—hundreds whistling up at us. I almost laughed at their attempt, but decided against it.
"Why are we going this way if they're shooting at us?" I yelled at Eragon.
"They don't know if we're with Galbatorix or not!" he shouted back.
I threw up a shimmering shield of magic, the arrows disintegrating as soon as they touched the shield. Annabeth and Eragon snatched the few that slipped through the edges.
I brushed the camp with my mind quickly. No killing intent, just panic turning to wonder. Word was spreading: Eragon's back.
"Everyone seems to have recognized you!" I shouted.
Eragon nodded, eyes focusing again on the people below. Furnöst, Shorai, and Saphira touched down just outside the perimeter, wings kicking up dust devils. Annabeth hopped off, still holding a fistful of arrows. She tossed them to Eragon.
"Here!" she said. "Give those back to the archers and give a speech to get better PR!"
Eragon blinked. "What's PR?"
"Public relations," she said, rolling her eyes. "Basically, how people see you. They already know you—now do something nice, so they remember you're one of them, even if you're half-elf now." He stared at the arrows, then at her, then shrugged and walked towards the group of people gathering, while Arya stayed with us.
"I will introduce you to the Varden's leader," she explained as we dismounted, and Shorai and Furnöst followed us as we followed her. Walking through the Varden felt like Camp Jupiter's invasion of Camp Half-Blood, except ten times bigger, and everyone looked like they'd seen a ghost. Kids kept darting toward Shorai and Furnöst, trying to pet them like they were oversized horses. One snarl from either dragon and the kids bolted back to their parents, who stared at us like we were walking grenades.
"Why's everyone acting like we're about to eat them?" I asked Arya.
She actually laughed. "Percy, you and Annabeth are terrifying on your own. Add two house-sized dragons..." She gestured at Furnöst and Shorai looming behind us like living siege towers. "Intimidating is an understatement." We stopped outside the biggest tent—crimson fabric, banners snapping in the wind. Arya opened the flap. "Let's introduce you to Nasuada."
Inside, six guards snapped into a protective ring around a dark-skinned woman on a simple camp throne. Their glares were supposed to be scary. Instead, all they did was look constipated. I snorted. Annabeth elbowed me so hard I shut up instantly.
I flicked my wrist; 2 comfy-looking chairs appeared for Annabeth and I. Gasps everywhere. Two figures melted out of the shadows, giving off magic vibes. Then Furnöst and Shorai poked their gargantuan heads through the tent flap like curious cats. One councilor hit the floor in a dead faint.
Nasuada recovered first, chin high.
Annabeth stood, calm as a general. "I'll explain it to you so we don't have to kill you all. Short version: Percy and I aren't from Alagaësia. We arrived here two months ago. Two dragon eggs hatched for us (Furnöst and Shorai). We trained with Oromis and Glaedr in Ellesméra, the same as Eragon, and we have decided to help you with your quest to finish Galbatorix."
She gestured at the dragons filling half the tent. "We're here for one reason: Galbatorix dies. That's it. Once he's gone, we're gone, no sooner or later."
I leaned back, arms crossed. "Also, hi. Percy Jackson. That's my wife, Annabeth. The blue one's Furnöst, the gray one's Shorai."
Furnöst rumbled agreement, smoke curling from his nostrils. Shorai just showed way too many teeth in what might have been a smile.
Nasuada stared for a long second, then did the last thing I expected—she laughed, low and fierce.
"Then the gods have finally taken pity on us," she said. "Welcome to the Varden, Riders."
"Whoa, whoa whoa, back up a sec, we aren't joining the Varden, think of us as an allied army to the Varden," I clarified, Annabeth nodding in agreement.
"That's a rather high opinion of yourself," Nasuada replied, "A married couple for an army?"
"That's actually an understatement, but we'll ignore it," Annabeth replied smoothly. We continued on with our conversation, Annabeth working on our living arrangements while I talked to the guards and the two magical people in the corner.
The little magic girl started yapping about my fears and how I would get hurt, but I just shrugged it off, saying, "Elva, your so called 'abilities' doesn't mean you could just try to subjugate (I'm not always a Seaweed Brain!)others. Also, don't try that again on Annabeth or me or else the consequences will defintely not lean in your favor." She looked at me, surprised, before returning next to the other magic wielder.
"Nice to meet you Trianna," I said, shaking her hand.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, worry and anger creeping into her voice.
"I read your mind," I replied. "Not anything private, I just did a quick scan of everyone's intentions and got the names of those with magic." Still looking surprised, she nodded, and Annabeth finished talking to Nasuada, figuring out our living conditions.
"So, we have decided that you and Annabeth will be sharing a tent closer to the outskirts so your dragons can have room to move freely, and of course, anything, such as food and new clothes, has been provided to you in your tent," Nasuada explained. "Also, we shall need to have a meeting to introduce you both to the other important figures of our resistance."
Annabeth and I nodded, and we headed out, Shorai and Furnöst leading the way.
Our tent was bigger on the inside than it looked, thanks to the magic Annabeth applied to it. We dumped saddlebags, set a couple of quick wards, and Furnöst curled next to the whole thing like a living wall. Shorai sprawled on the other side, tail flicking happily.
An hour later, Nasuada introduced us to the command circle: Angela the herbalist (who took one look at me, smirked, and said, "Ah, the one who drowns his enemies in sarcasm"), King Orrin of Surda who was quite stiff and boring, and a dozen captains who kept staring at our pointed ears like we were exotic birds.
By the time the sun dropped, we were starving. We flew the dragons a few miles out, let them hunt deer while we sat on a log sharing trail bread. Furnöst came back with a twelve-point stag and a smug grin. Shorai just licked blood off her snout and declared venison "acceptable."
Back at our tent, we collapsed. I was out before my head hit the pillow, Annabeth's heartbeat under my ear the best sound in two worlds.
The next morning, we wandered with Eragon, playing friendly ambassadors.
First stop: the Urgals. A massive Kull named Garzhvog ducked under a tent pole to greet us. I shook his shovel-sized hand and tried not to wince. "Heard you fought fair at Farthen Dûr," he rumbled. "We fight with you now, not against." I grinned. "Well, I didn't even know you existed, so that's good. Besides, I'd hate to ruin that pretty face." Annabeth elbowed me. Garzhvog laughed so hard the ground shook.
"He seems friendly," I said to Annabeth as we headed elsewhere, "He seems to be the most straightforward out of everyone here."
Then Angela dragged us to her tent for tea that tasted like battery acid with a touch of Phlegethon. "Did you know that toads actually don't exist?" She asked me merrily, petting a werecat while sipping her tea. We laughed at that, and started talking. Before we knew it, night had fallen.
We retired to our tent, glad for the relative peace and quiet after a long day.
A/N: Sorry for the short chapters, but this one is kind of a filler.