Murtagh (The Inheritance Cycle #5)

by Christopher Paolini

during their height, the fish would throw themselves onto the decks of the boats, driven to insanity by the intensity of their spawning urge. There was a lesson in that, he felt.

He wished Thorn could eat every living thing, should the need arise. But it still would not save either of them from their fated end, for the doom of all things was to die and be forgotten. Even dragons.

Memento Moria.

Sometimes it felt to Murtagh as if the whole of Alagaësia were a graveyard, laden with history’s sorrows.

Was wrong to live apart. I could not help clans, and clans could not help me.” He shook his head. “Is better to find way to be close to ones we care for, even if not always fit in easily. The bees know it. The wolves know it. Now I know it.”