The flight went by in a blur, the ground speeding below beneath us. Ormis and Glaedr allowed us to fly along ahead of them when I told them I had to be back to Ilirea before the ceremony. If they hadn't, then I feared we wouldn't have made it in time.

But, we were able to ride a gust of wind all the way back to the city, allowing us to move faster than we ever had before. Vascar loved the thrill of being able to fly so quickly, but I honestly felt the slightest bit queasy when we finally touched down in front of the Eragonian Training Center.

'That was amazing,' I said to Vascar, 'but I wouldn't mind not doing that for the rest of the day. Or month. Whichever works best.'

He rumbled deep in his chest, his mind still buzzing from the rush of our flight. 'Whatever you say Little One, but I recommend not dwelling on it if we are going to make it to his ceremony in time.'

I ignored the slight amount of annoyance in his voice and agreed with him. He takes off into the air once more, and angled himself towards the large crowd of people in the center of town. I did not know why we had landed in front of the Eragonian Training Center, but I put it out of my head.

As my thoughts began to become increasingly more scattered, I came to realize the reason for my random topics. How my mind could not settle and focus on a specific topic, or how I was thinking about mere observations for prolonged periods of time. I was staling. Doing everything in my power to prevent myself from thinking about the upcoming encounter.

But, as Vascar landed, I could not help my eyes landing upon him. He wore a forest green cloak that flowed down his back, accenting his broad shoulders. He immediately recognized Vascar and met my gaze. Behind him stood Jarnunvösk, her scales perfectly matching his cloak color. Her amber eyes also stared pointedly at us, almost making me cringe.

Ripping my eyes away from rider and dragon, I focus on the rest of the scene around me. About ten riders stood upon a raised platform, their respective dragons standing behind them. Each dragon was of a different size, Jarnunvösk, surprisingly, being one of the smallest. Yet, her proud demeaner could not be matched by any of the dragons next to her, making others know to not underestimate her.

The riders stood in groups, and each group was separated by one of the Elders, their master, who did not have their dragons behind them. Directly to Galbatorix's right stood Alaric, who smiled broadly at the crowd, as proud as could be. Next to the Elder who rode the brown dragon, I recalled him being extremely cocky, stood Perdaen, his blonde hair wild and eyes glancing at Galbatorix every so often. Behind him, Cordus overshadowed all of the other dragons next to him, easily dwarfing them in size. I moved my eyes along, not wanting to meet his piercing gaze.

The crowd watching the ceremony were mostly humans from the city. Children darted around their parents, the excitement in the air seeping into their already hyper minds. I was among six other riders who were at the ceremony with their dragons. Vascar stood in the back of the crowd, me atop his back, and we watched everything from their. It was easier viewing, and I did not want to have to push through a crowd in order to get close enough to actually see what was happening. No, I would stay on top of Vascar's back.

Several tense minutes passed, anticipation thrumming through the atmosphere. No one moved yet they seemed to stare intently at the left side of the stage, the side Alaric and Galbatorix stood on. They were the last group until the end of the platform. Finally, I made the connection as I noticed three dragons, but only two riders.

The dragon without a rider looked behind itself expectantly, waiting for its rider to arrive, while Vrael shifted slightly awkwardly at the front of the stage. He was an impressive cloak of a white color that shimmered so much one would think it was made of actual dragon scales. The light danced across its surface, shifting almost as much as my ever changing emotions. Excitement coursed through my veins, looking upon the riders before me. Someday I would be in their spots. Maybe it would take years, but one day I would be a full Rider. Not simply a trainee.

Finally, Vrael seemed to decide that the missing rider was not coming. He stepped forward towards the crowd, his arms spread wide in welcoming. As he lowered his arms, all of the soon to be full riders held out sword sheaths matching their dragon's color in front of them, the blades inside. Each was held flat in both of their hands, offering their blade to the Leader of the Riders. Galbatorix pulled his blade out of the sheath ever so slightly, revealing a blade of a forest green color, slightly lighter than the sheath. The jewel in the pummel was a deep amber color matching Jarnunvösk's eyes, and the hilt was wrapped in silver wire. The crossguard was dangerously beautiful. It's curves were graceful like a dragon's wings, yet they seemed radiate a painful aura. It was intimidating. I couldn't figure out why Galbatorix had pulled part of his sword out. He was the only one who did it. It was a ridiculous thing to do for no reason at all.

"Welcome all," Vrael began, addressing the crowd of people, "to this years Rider Ceremony. Before us we have-"

"Wait!" A cry went up from behind the platform. Vrael turned, as did everyone in the crowd, to watch as a short, young girl with curly brown hair bounded up stage to stand in front of her dragon. Her eyes danced with curiosity and spunk. Despite being late and interrupting the whole ceremony, she looked at ease and not the least bit nervous.

"Oh, you can continue now," she said to the leader of the riders. Vrael looked taken aback by her comment but shook his head and turned back to the crowd. I was shocked as well. This girl had not only drawn every eye in the area to her, but she had not flinched under the attention and acted casual about the whole situation.

"As I was saying," Vrael began awkwardly again, "The riders standing before you have proved their worth through years of intense training. They are now ready to embark into the land of Alagaësia and fulfill their duties."

A wave of excitement passed over the crowd as each of the spectators shifted. Vrael smiled, as if despite the countless ceremonies he had conducted throughout the years, he still enjoyed each and every one of them. Which, was probably true, for with each new rider he was able to watch his domain grow.

"Let us begin," he said dramatically turning to the line of riders.

"Elders," he began, "step forward and introduce your pupils."

Five masters stepped forward. The one farthest to the right spoke first, a female with hair like starlight, introducing the three riders they had taught. She held her head proud as she announced each of her students, which was expected and only reasonable. After she said her piece about her three students, the elder next in line spoke. He was the rider of the brown dragon, the one who seemed too confident. He introduced his only pair, Perdaen and Cordus.

After that, the two elders who stood in the middle introduced their students and only Alaric remained. His smile was large and wild. His eyes danced with an intense euphoria as he gestured to his students.

"Three of my students have now completed their training," Alaric said, "each of them have given their all through many years of hard work."

He gestured to Galbatorix, "my first student, Galbatorix rider of Jarnunvösk, has trained for three years, the shortest training I have ever given. He has excelled through every challenge I have thrown at him, and has been one of my most successful students."

Galbatorix's chest swelled in pride. I could not help my eyebrows from raising upon hearing the rest of the Elders speak on behalf of their students. Most riders were in training for five to eight years. For Galbatorix to only train for three years, he must have been truly gifted.

Alaric continued, gesturing to the elf next to Galbatorix, a male with midnight black hair and a dragon of a soft white color. Not blindingly white like Vrael's dragon, but more like a cloud on a peaceful summer day.

"Saernon rider of Detlorn has been under my tutelage for six years. They have been a joy to teach, and honestly have made my days quite interesting," Alaric said with a playful smile.

Finally he gestured to his last student, the girl who arrived late with the curly brown hair. She bounced nervously on her heels, her hands behind her back, while her dragon looked down at her sternly, as if reprimanding her for her behavior. Her dragon was like a crystal, its scales shimmered as if transparent with a green and black tinge beneath them. It was as if the surface of its scales were crystallized and had a green and black base. It was beautiful and mesmerizing to stare at.

"One of my most intriguing students," Alaric said with a playful wink to the two, "Atala and Tírlan. They have been my students for five years, and each year has been even more eccentric. I would almost bet they have taught me just as much as I have taught them. They, and the rest of my students, will all be honorable riders."

The crowd, including I, clapped loudly as each of the elders stepped back into place. My heart began to beat faster as I sensed the big moment approaching fast. Vascar snorted, and a tongue of flame licked out his nostrils. I could sense in his mind the amount of pride he felt, being able to now produce flames at will.

Vrael turned away from the crowd and angled himself sideways, so he could see both the riders and the crowd. Motioning with his right hand, the first elder to speak walked to his side, her students following behind her. As she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, the three soon to be full riders knelt in front of them, each offering their blade up to the Leader of The Riders. He took the blade of the first rider and pulled the elegant blade from the sheath.

"Do you," he said two names I did not understand, "pledge yourself to keep peace in the land of Alagäesia?"

"I do."

"Do you pledge to be honorable and justified in your actions?"

"I do."

"And do you pledge yourself to the riders, and promise to uphold any and all laws laid down by the kings, queens, and elders of the land?"

For the final time, they repeated the line. Vrael nodded, satisfied with their answers before holding the rider's sword out in front of them, towards the rider's shoulder. His hand gripped the sword's hilt tightly and for a moment nothing moved or happened.

But then, a voice rippled through the air, coming from Vrael. I did not understand what was happening at first, but Vascar was quicker at realizing things than I was.

'He is speaking in the ancient language. I do not understand most of it. Actually, most of the words slip my mind. He is speaking too quickly.'

'Ah, yes, I knew some of the words sounded familiar,' I commented, 'I think I heard dragon and rider somewhere in there.'

'Well that would make sense, Talia,' Vascar teased.

I did not respond but instead focused in Vrael once more. His voice carried easily through the air and sounded so elegant, even more so than normal. He seemed to glow with power. Actually, he seemed to glow a lot.

My mouth dropped open in shock as the jewel set into the pummel of the sword began to glow, suffusing the new rider and Vrael in a bright light of a yellow color, the color of the jewel. The glow continued to grow and I barely caught the words of agreement in the ancient language from the rider due to the slight hum coming from the blade. As the final words were uttered and the student agreed to everything Vrael said, the Leader of The Riders touched the blade first on his left shoulder, then finally on his right. As the bright yellow metal made contact with his last shoulder, the glow stopped instantly, making the land seem just the slightest bit darker without its warm light.

The process continued, moving along through each of the students. As soon as Vrael finished each passage, and the glow stopped, a change seemed to overcome the students. They seemed larger, more confident, even the slightest bit older. I was fascinated by their expressions of relief, of joy, and most prominently, of pride. Vascar also told me that he noticed changes in the dragons' demeanor so as well, how their shoulders broadened and they stood taller. He even thought their scales seemed to brighten, as if the glow of the sword had not simply disappeared, but instead infused into their scales.

Finally, Vrael came to Alaric's students. Galbatorix presented his forest green blade to him, his chiseled features set into an excited and proud expression. Vrael once again repeated the lines, and Galbatorix agreed to them loudly. It was not until the last that he hesitated.

"And do you pledge yourself to the riders, and promise to uphold any and all laws laid down by the kings, queens, and elders of the land?"

He did not speak for a moment, and due to his quick responses to the first two questions, his hesitation was immediately noticed. But, he answered in the affirmative after a slight pause, and they continued on to the ancient language.

Even though I had seen every rider before him go, I was still anxious to see the light from his sword. It seemed more personal, for I did not know who any of the riders before him were, with the exception of Perdaen.

I tried to focus and actually attempt, in earnest, to decider the passage Vrael spoke in the Ancient Language, but I was no more successful than the first few times. I perhaps recognized a few more words, but nothing to help me understand what he spoke of as a whole.

Finally, the part I had been anticipating began. The amber jewel in the pummel of his sword began to glow a green color. The same color of Jarnunvösk's scales. How an amber jewel was able to shine a green light, I did not know, but then the light began to change.

The green aura grew outward, and a black coloring began to tinge the middle the very center of the light. It was almost unnoticeable at first, but as Vrael continued to speak, the black glow seemed to expand. Spikes of black streaked through the green and the two colors faded together, clashing and infusing until swirls of black and green made up the entirety of the light from the jewel. The dark onyx color seemed to absorb the light, while the green shone brighter then the setting sun.

The black color seemed to infect my thoughts, and my mind became slow and blurry. The darkness took my breath away, and soon it felt like it was filling my lungs. It was beginning to become impossible to focus on anything except my rapid approach to complete oblivion.

I could feel Vascar's panic welling up in his mind, but was unable to respond. It was as if my mind and body were out of my control. All I could do was try and hold back my rising fear. Vascar's words rang in my head, but I was too confused to comprehend what he said.

Finally, I could not take anymore. My last conscious thought was the sight of Galbatorix's sword on his shoulder before my vision turned as black as the aura infusing into my body. And, if I had not been strapped into the saddle, I would have fallen all the way to the ground below.

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AN: IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT, LIKE SERIOUSLY SORRY. COMPLETELY UNPROFESSIONAL. BUT, LIFE CAUGHT UP TO ME QUICKLY.

OK, WATTPAD WAS HAVING TROUBLES SO I HAD TO REPOST THIS CHAPTER. MAYBE I WILL ACTUALLY HAVE AN ENDING NOW. BUT PLEASE...

READ/COMMENT/VOTE

~Bert