Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

The Helm of Giants

Eragon jumped up, startled awake by his dragon as she growled, battling great and terrible foes in her sleep. He watched her before sliding out from under her wing. Everyone else was awake, already woken by the Saphira's little fits.

Nightmare was surprisingly, in his small, purple and gold themed passive form, absentmindedly fiddling with a gold crown in his hands as he was lost in thought.

"What is he doing?" Eragon asked. Dust shrugged while Murtaugh answered. "I'm not sure. He's been like that since we woke up."
Error shook his skull while knitting armbands for some reason. "We need a new name for ourselves."
"What do you mean?" The Rider faced him.
"I mean," The glitch glanced up from his work. "We aren't the Bad Guys we used to be anymore. We've changed; become part of Alagaësia."
"And? What does that signify?" Murtaugh questioned.

Nightmare shifted, looking up thoughtfully as Saphira woke and blinked. The dragon settled down in front of the door while he spoke.
"We are not going to join the Varden. We are going to ally ourselves with them. We are still our own army. Now that we know there are other monsters and skeletons that understood who we were in the Multiverse, we can officially have them join our forces. We need.. our people. Things are very different here than they were back home, we need to reflect that."

"So… we aren't really the Bad Guys anymore?" Dust asked in a guarded voice.
"No, Dust. We are our own race, and they will respect that. This world has pulled us into it's timeline. We can all admit this. We are different from the other races; we are made entirely of magic, and it is beginning to tug us along. Fate, as it exists here, is no living being. It is merely an indifferent force that has made us it's tools. We all know we have become tools of Wyrda, correct?" He asked his boys, Error, and Blue.
"Yeah."
"I guess."
"Kinda."
"Yes."
"I don't mind this one so much."
"As long as we're together, Boss."

"Yes. You know we're guiding Alagaësia in it's fate now. We have inserted ourselves in all the right places, particularly with Eragon here. We're new players in the conflict, but we are also pushing it along."
"So we're not dark anymore?" Dust pressed.
"... No. Not entirely."
"Vandr wyrda..." Blueberry muttered to himself, despite everyone hearing him.
"It's part of us, now." Error spoke, his face that of confusion.
"It was part of us the moment we fell into Alagaësia." Horror corrected sharply.

"Yes. Because of our nature, we are now more like gods and demigods. We are changing everything purely by existing, but the effects won't be noticed till far in the future. We are the new gods, greater than even the Älfakyn and Skulblakar, who are still made of flesh. Here, we are stronger because of our nature rather than weaker."

"So what are we, Nightmare?" Error inquired in a hushed voice. The dark King considered this. Then his eyelights pierced every skeleton in the room.
"Wyrdaí."
"Fated?" Cross translated, puzzled.
"Er thornessa du thorta?" Error asked back, not even aware he'd switched to the other language.
Nightmare shook his skull, then amended. "Du Islingrya."
"The Illuminators?" Blue now questioned.
Nightmare nodded. "Wyrdaí Islingrya."
"Fated Illuminators…" Dust stared at the floor, thinking.
"Wyrdaí Islingrya…" Cross tested the name out, the others following.
"It... fits." Killer admitted. "In a really weird way, but it fits."

They were snapped out of their collective reverie by voices outside. Eragon closed his mouth, having apparently been considering speaking. The door opened, revealing soldiers that balked at Saphira's presence before entering hesitantly. Behind them were Orik and the bald human, though he looked haggard and distant from his encounter yesterday.

"You have been summoned to Ajihad, leader of the Varden. If you must eat, do so while we march." He spoke as if it were rehearsed, weary and hollow.