Complete Summary
She was the Daughter of the King. But like most, she did not choose her heritage. Leaving her faithful Hljodhr Evarinya behind her and with her unknown family before her, Taya Corsallen is thrown into a world of turmoil to battle death, love and her father where her previous life has no effect and her destiny will unfold, allowing her to lead an Unknown and Forgotten race back into the history of Alagaesia. She is the Flame to Heal. She is the Bearer of the Gifts...She is the Daughter of Light and Darkness.
Prologue
Unknown to the history of Alagaesia, a race had become extinct, the companions of the Grey Folk. The were called "Phyro" which in their own tongue meant 'Flame to Heal'. Their line did not die out, as the Grey Folk did, but continued in a long line of descendents who did not dare to speak of their forefathers and so their history became buried in the sands of the Hadarac Desert, the forests of the Beor Mountains and the beaches of Illium Island, where they once lived and thrived. Except, passed down from mother to daughter, father to son, was the book that contained what was left of their peaceful but fierce race. It was no ordinary book, but was made to look so, in the disguise of a diary. The elders of the race new that one day, when they were spoken of in nothing, and remembered nought, one of their own would spring forth and the Phyro would once again walk the land of Alagaesia under new guidance. The Grey Folk agreed that they would watch for the one, and so the Phyro slept, awaiting the one who would be chosen and the race became forgotten even in the oldest texts.
But what they were not imagining was the circumstances of the one, or ones, that had been chosen to be born under. A son to the father was invaluable, but a daughter was to him worthless. The mother was afraid for her children, and the First was sent to an elf that was unknown by even the elves of Du Weldenvarden, the Second was made the Bearer of the Gifts and the Third was sentenced to a life of hardship and fear until the second could find the third, and perhaps one day, the two would meet the First. But after thousands of years the Phyro and the Grey Folk combined and created the woman who would call their people back.
But you may think that the Phyro died...in a way they did, like the Grey Folk, but they found a way to watch over their precious lands from afar, unable to make a difference, unable to stop the slaughter in the days of Galbatorix. One stepped forth from their ranks to help her daughter, changing all that they'd carefully preserved for thousands of years. But they came to realize what she did was for the best and watched with satisfaction at the turn of events that changed the worlds history. Yet one thing bothered them...it was the one the Bearer had chosen to love. Evil was his heart, but they could not percieve what really lay inside him as she could. So they watched as while all found their true partners, she watched as her's began to slowly turn away from her and she could do nothing but watch and it would be her hand that decided his fate from the tip of the sword.
These words did the Phyro speak under their breaths when they beheld her, the woman with her life hanging on the edge of many threads that wound around her tortured fate
"Shovala, Daughtrona Sileno Saturas, thono qora delva waturan conar telva gfi sumasrs. Ofefthyn duifol ekyd asysdiv ilugue ohwym yasgolfdi bosdweq faf srrweo otuvm dautgun yeovxns pihtola. Zofav duifol losdigaten likq rown iliwin duifel dezta sada ethala sodes tyail oftar gora kelqen xeqtar?"
These fateful words mean:
"Watch, daughter of the silent stars, as your love waists away before you're eyes. Yet you still have faith in his heart that still has even a little good in it. Can you call that good out or will you die as he does at the tip of your own blade?
So they watch from their prisons as their Race becomes the Flame, and once more the world is peaceful and for a time no extraordinary evil walked the earth.
Daughter Of Light And Darkness
By:
DragonRider2000
It was the day after the Battle of the Burning Plains. The sky was a hazy red and the sun was setting beyond the sea. It was a glorious, yet painful sunset for the man seated on the magnificent dragon as they flew in the cloudless sky towards pain and suffering that was sure to greet them at their journey's end.
It had been Thorn's first battle, and Murtagh's first battle with his newfound powers... in the beginning part of both their lives, neither had thought the world could be so painful. But what they had experienced together was sheer torture. Both were unwilling servants, both had to do things that their consciences rejected. Although, the man was slightly elated by his powers. He was no longer weak, as some had dared to call him before. He was strong and powerful, and no magician could stand in his way any longer and render him defenseless. All except one... his master.
Yet, he was going back without the prize he could have easily acquired if his conscience hadn't been screaming at him enough to overrull his orders.
His brother.
His brother who had every right to hate him with every fiber in his body.
You cannot blame him, Murtagh. You enjoyed inflicting that pain on him too much. Our friend will not be happy. Thorn's deep voice reverberated through Murtaghs mind in a soft tone.
Don't mention her. Leave me be, Thorn.
Sometimes being a rider had a hitch...his thoughts were never his own as they had been before Thorn had hatched for him. The dragon always made it his job to interrupt Murtagh's train of thought with a sly, rediculous and annoyingly to the point comment that had Murtagh scrambling. Thorn was right. She would not be happy with him. But that did not worry him as much as the repercussions of her father's dissaproval.
Murtagh groaned.
How would he explain this to the King? He was ordered to capture Eragon and Saphira, and he'd had them. He'd had them in the palm of his hand, but he'd let them go… and he'd have to face the consequences.
Eragon could never understand. No one could. Eragon had said Murtagh had had a choice. Well, he had. And it wasn't an easy one. The choice to live or to die was not really a choice at all. To live would mean serving Galbatorix, and if he didn't, death was his only option. He hadn't given in to Galbatorix... only when the King had threatened the life of those he cared about did Murtagh finally crumble. And that was after weeks of torment. And the pain had not only affected him, but it had also hurt the woman who had kept him alive and breathing through those weeks of pitiful anguish.
Thorn looked back at his rider.
Murtagh, you cannot dwell on this subject. It is unwise. Galbatorix will only use it against you.
Murtagh didn't immeditley reply, but after a minute of silence and contemplation, he said
"Thorn, remember what she said? That there was only one way combat ones emotions, and that was head on?"
Thorn chuckled. I remember. I cannot forget the look on your face. You were speechless.
"Thank You, Thorn. I was trying to be serious."
So was I.
Murtagh emphasized his sigh.
"Do you get the feeling that she's planning something? Before we left for the, I could tell she was on edge. The things she said..."
Thorn laughed again. She is wiser than her years. For only being eighteen, she carries herself as if she was much older. But you are correct. She was on edge. You know how she is with battles.
"No I don't actually. She is not the type to run from a fight, or to quirk at bloodshed. She might be a woman, but she could just as well have been born a man. She's been mostly raised by men."
True, true. But I do not think it was so much a battle, but us being in the battle. Still, though. Why would she be planning something? What would she be planning?
"That's what I would like to know." The conversation paused for a few minutes, each deep in thought, when Murtagh finally stated,
"She's different than she was 2 years ago."
Thorn replied while rolling his ruby eyes.
Of course she's changed. So have you. So has everyone. She had to go through a lot while you were gone, since she was the one who helped you escape in the first place. And when you were brought back she held her head high through the whole ordeal and has been right there next to us all the way.
Murtagh started and asked quickly,
"How do you know that she helped me escape? No one but either of us should know that, and I've never told you."
She told me. The ruby dragon huffed, and stopped speaking.
Murtagh rolled his eyes, and settled back in the saddle.
"You're impossible, Thorn."
Thank you. As are you. Came the reply, dripping with sarcasm.
Murtagh didn't bother to reply.
It was a long time before either of them spoke again, and when Murtagh did say something, it was more of an annoyed demand. The dragon could tell his rider was nursing half closed wounds, and he wasn't in the mood the have a constant battle of words with Murtagh.
"Fly until after dark. We'll catch a few hours rest, and we can get to the castle tomorrow evening of the morning of the next day. What are you sulking for?"
Thorn turned his head and glared back at his rider, but he noticed the haggard expression on Murtagh's face.
Be quiet. You try getting into a fight with a mad female... dragon. Thorn could feel Murtagh about to say 'already have', so he improvised.
"No thank you. I would like to stay in one piece, believe it or not."
I suppose you would. You are rather fragile, after all.
Murtagh narrowed his eyes at the dragon's head and chose not to reply. The sound of Thorn's wings beating steadily filled his mind, but he could tell by the extended strokes that the dragon was tired.
Murtagh kept his eyes narrowed but the dragons comment had thrown him a blank. He let his mind wander back to the battle and forward to the woman who awaited his return...and he shuddered at the fear coiling around his heart at his return to the castle... to the king.
The king would not be happy. He'd made Murtagh as powerful as he was so that he could capture Eragon and Saphira, and yet Murtagh had defied him. It would not be a happy return.