"My… blood?" he muttered, voice breaking.
He looked at his trembling palm again, disbelief twisting into horror.
"It's my blood."
Then, louder, his voice turning wild, cracking with fury and humiliation—
"It's my blood! MY BLOOD!!"
His roar echoed through the valley, shaking the clouds themselves.
In Leon's mind, Originus spoke, his tone almost wary.
"What's wrong with him?"
Leon didn't respond. His eyes narrowed instead, calm and cutting.
He understood perfectly.
Eragon wasn't just enraged, he was broken.
This was the first time in his long, exalted life that his scales had been pierced… by a human non the less.
The reason he still lived was obvious to Leon.
It was because of the core, the very one Eragon had taken from Elizabeth.
Unlike beast cores that persisted after death, a professional's core would dissolve, and this one had anchored him to life.
Eragon's screams grew deeper and more guttural, his voice slipping into a bestial snarl.
