The
sun was setting as Eragon and Saphira finally arrived at the island
of Vroengard. It had been a long, difficult journey. More than once
they had almost met their doom, whether it be tossed about on the
winds of the storm or devoured by a hungry ocean beast, but fortune
had been with them thus far. I will have to
eat before we return, the dragon thought to
her rider as she glided to a landing, else I
may faint on the journey.
We’ll
have to worry about finding food later, Eragon
replied. Al

The
war was over! Throughout the streets of the Empire, men and women
discussed the news of Galbatorix’s defeat, although there were
noticeably fewer women than men. Queen Islanzadi had cast down the
tyrant, tapping into a power even her own people were shocked to
discover she had. Eragon and Saphira had never returned from their
journey to Vroengard, having been devoured whole by a Nidwhal and now
languishing in its belly at the bottom of the sea, slowly digesting.
Neither Islanzadi nor anyon

Exhausted,
Saphira coasted down to sea level, landing in the water and floating
atop of it like a water fowl on a lake. Eragon was on her back,
Brisingr at his side and Brom’s ring on his finger. If
we had any sense, we would turn around, he
thought to his dragon.
If
we had any sense, we would leave Alagaesia and never return.
Arching
her neck, she dipped her muzzle into the seawater, then shook her
head and ran her crimson tongue in and out of her mouth as if she had
tasted something unpleasa

Arya Svit’kona
feasted her way all along Alagaesia as she made her way ever so
slowly towards Du Weldenvarden. Every small inn along the road found
itself empty of female staff and guests. Every town she visited, at
least one poor girl turned up missing. By the time she had reached
the edge of the massive forest where the elves made their home, she
had the energy of at least a hundred women inside of her. And now
there she stood, the remains of the blacksmith’s wife from the last
hamlet stil

The hands
sticking out of Arya's mouth twitched, the fingers curling and
wriggling as their owner screamed futilely down below. Arya looked
down at the slender, delicate, pampered fingers with amusement. Lady
Clarisa was almost in her final resting place. The elf had entered
the tent unannounced in the night, after noting that the noblewoman's
guard had drifted asleep, overcome by alcohol and exhaustion. She had
stealthily bound both the noble and her handmaid and spirited them
off to her own te

Arya had to feed.
That was all the
beautiful, dark haired elf could think of as she strode through the
labyrinthine corridors of Farthen Dur. It had been mere days since
she had recovered from her ordeal in Gil'ead, and she needed to
recover her strength. But despite several hearty meals of the
conventional sort, she still felt weak, and she new that was the last
thing she could afford to be when battle next came to them. She had
been struggling to hold back the urges, but now...now was the time