Calm permeated Vroengard as always.
The calm always unnerved Eragon.
His choice to leave, he knew, was always meant to be though. He didn't quite regret it, for it was predetermined, but it left him isolated from the world save his dragon, Saphira. It also left him yearning for the one person he'd hoped would ease his loneliness: Arya Dröttning.
The queen of the Elves had been his companion from the start of his campaign with the Varden against Galbatorix, a ruthless Dragon Rider who had sought to control all magic before he was killed. Galbatorix, though, had found a way out by turning himself into energy and blasting nearly the entire city of Ilirea to rubble. In the face of death, he still controlled his fate.
His servants, Murtagh and his dragon, Thorn, had fled north upon the death of Galbatorix. In the end, Murtagh's true name had changed enough for him to strip the mad king of his wards and thus, Eragon was able to stab him. From there, Murtagh had left everyone behind for the north in order to give him and Thorn time to heal. Eragon had learned the name of the ancient language from him and therefore, was able to start to repair the damage the mad king had wrought.
Eragon replayed these scenes in his mind as he walked among the ruins of Vroengard. He spoke the name of the ancient language and started repairing Vroengard. If he was going to live here, he had to make it liveable. First, he cleansed the air of the poison left from the Riders' Fall. Hesitating, he took a deep breath and was surprised to find the air moist and cool. On top of that, it was the freshest air Eragon had ever breathed.
He heard the chattering of the shadow birds getting closer to him and Saphira. The birds never got close to Eragon. Saphira blew flames at them, but the birds absorbed the flames. Saphira snapped at the air in front of them to warn them off, but still they came closer. Before they reached Eragon, Saphira snapped up all three of the birds in one gulp.
Eragon watched Saphira warily, but the birds seemed to have no effect on her. Then, he looked down at her legs. Where her legs cast shadows upon the ground, two white orbs rested in three of them. The three birds then leaped out the shadows of her legs and took off. Eragon leaped back as they flew at him, but they flew straight up and vanished.
Eragon then felt other presences in the clearing. He reached out with his mind and found the elves that had accompanied him to Vroengard.
"They are not the creatures they once were," said Blödgharm, the wolf-elf that had accompanied him since his training with Oromis. The elves' presence made Vroengard even more otherworldly. Their pale skin and sharp edges made the island more ominous, accentuating the elves into something sinister. The way the elves floated over the ground without disturbing so much as a blade of grass with their passing created an image of elven spirits in his mind. Eragon knew better, but his mind could've been persuaded otherwise easily had he not known them for as long as he had.
Eragon led the elves to the center of the island to the Rock of Kuthian. He then spoke his name and Saphira's to enter the Cave of Souls. He restored the Eldunarí to their rightful alcoves within the pockmarked walls surrounding the molten pit. He then regarded the vast number of eggs that sat before him, unaware of how he'd changed their future. He'd felt it sink into the earth. He'd felt his magic seep into the veins of the soil, of the roots of the trees, into the very air. He wrought a future that now encased all the races, uniting all under one pact: the Riders. He couldn't wait to meet the first new Rider. He knew it would be a while. It had taken months for Saphira to get to where she could cross the vast distance to Vroengard.
That, however, gave him plenty of time to prepare. He had to find ways to expel such creatures as the sundavrblaka and the burrow grubs. Invoking their names would do the trick occasionally, but he had no way to know how powerful the sundavrblaka were. He had no idea what they fed on, what they were capable of, or even how they'd come to be.
Eragon had a secret weapon, though. All he needed was the name of the ancient language and a good spell and he could see what wrought the unnatural creatures.
