No, he thought, watching Saphira fall. No. This can't be happening. I'm dreaming. But then he felt the blinding flash of pain at the base of his neck before all turned to darkness. Before he was alone. No! No no no!! No!! SAPHIRA!!!!
Eragon fell to his knees, Brisingr dropping from his numb hands. The sapphire sword clattered on the bloody rocks. He stared blankly at Saphira's life-less form crumpled on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Eragon saw the black king smile; grip his sword, Deyja, and turn to face him. Galbatorix lifted the glittering bloodstained black sword high above his head. Just as the stolen sword started its downward arc toward his chest, Murtagh, son of Morzan and Rider of the dragon Thorn, leapt in front of the evil king in an attempt to save his brother. Zar'roc and Deyja clashed in a shower of crimson and black sparks. Galbatorix snarled, hate twisting h