Okay, so this is my new story, Shadow In The Light. I hope you all like it; please read and review! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle...but I do own Ayla :D

Chapter One

"Ayla Sharmila, if you don't get down here right now then I swear, you're gonna get it good!" my father bellowed from the kitchen at the opposite corner of the house. I sighed and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. His threat did nothing to hurry me along; I knew I was 'gonna get it good' many times today anyways, so why rush? With a sigh of impatience, I stood and walked over to the basin of dirty water by my door. The water was freezing, just like the rest of my room. Winter was almost upon us, and my room upstairs was the only one without a source of heat to keep the biting chill away. It didn't really bug me that much anymore; my heart and my skin were of even temperature: Ice cold.

Not wanting to anger my father any further, I quickly dressed in some patchy leather pants and put a homespun wool shirt on that had long sleeves, putting my dirty leather jerkin on over it. I slipped my boots over my bare feet and padded quietly down the hallway to the stairs, making my descent as silent as a mouse. I turned left into the warm kitchen full of delicious smells and went straight to the counter to make a plate for myself. My mother and father were sitting at the table, both quietly eating. My father showed immense impatience, annoyance, and anger while my mother showed that she was oblivious, or uncaring, of the emotions on her husband's face.

As I was making my plate, my father asked quietly "Aren't you forgetting something Ayla?"

I refused to respond and cut a slice of bread in silence. I heard my father's chair scoot back and his feet thudding against the wooden floor as he walked towards me. He spun me around and glared at me as I stood there silently, my face a solid mask of indifference. There was a loud whap as my father smacked me across the face. I could feel the stinging pain of the already-forming bruise, but I didn't dare say a single word.

My father looked me dead in the eye and said quietly "You will always greet your mother and me when you enter the kitchen each morning, and you will apologize for your tardiness. Understand?" he asked.

I nodded and replied mechanically "Yes sir."

He nodded and sat back down at the table, munching at his hot bacon. I finished making my plate and sat down between my mother and my father. I saw my father glance my way menacingly while my mother quietly chewed on some cold fruit. I ate my meal quickly and quietly, not glancing at either of them in the process. When I was finished, I stood and pushed in my chair, going to the sink to wash my plate in the bucket of cold water and dry it with a clean cloth before putting it away.

Without a single word, I walked past the table and in front of the steps to the other side of the big room, going out the front door and shutting it softly behind me. Knowing my father wouldn't allow me to just sit around and wait, I went to the forge and started up the fire, warming up the tools and various metals and checking for any overnight changes in the forgery. Everything was the same as it had always been.

My life was not an easy one. Every day I would wake up at dawn, eat breakfast, and then work the morning away inside the forge with my father while my mother ran the clothing store just around the corner from us. At noon I would eat cold bread and cheese and then go work for Haberth, the man who owned the largest stables in the valley and sired the best horses a man may ever see. I helped him work in the stables with the horses and he would pay me a small amount each day for my service. I didn't earn very much, but I was smart enough to save my money for something important. I had been saving money for years now.

We lived in the small town of Therinsford, near the very end of Palancar Valley. Our town was bigger than our northern neighbor of Carvahall, but it wasn't as docile. Our town was known for its larger businesses and not-so-friendly folk, and for the occasional rough-housing in the local tavern. My father was the biggest man in town, and he had a certain boiling hatred for his only daughter: Me.

My father had always wanted to have sons. When I was born he was overly disappointed, but kept a bright outlook. He figured that he could have one daughter to dote on and a small array of sons to help him work and keep order. However, after I was born we learned that my mother couldn't have any more children. My father never got his wish for sons; all he ever got was me. So he made me grow up more like a boy, making me work early and never allowing me the simple joy of being a child. When I turned eight, he began to get angry and was often violent. It was not uncommon to see me covered in fresh bruises of deep purple, or thick scars that took weeks to heal.

The abuse from my father became a part of daily life, and I knew it would never stop. While this bothered me, I was used to it by now. The bruises were easy to avoid, and the scars never really hurt anymore. At one point in time, my father had considered marrying me off to some stupid man for some reason, but he took one look at me and knew that not even the drunkest of all people would ever take me in. My body was so discolored with bruises and so marked up with cuts and scars that my face would give many children nightmares. Whenever I walked through the streets people would greet me cheerily, but none ever mentioned to my face how afraid and disgusted they were.

They all knew the cover-up story; although they still thought it was the truth. I was apparently a 'naturally clumsy' person, and often injured myself by running into things and tripping over my own feet. That's where they thought my scars came from. Only my family and I knew that they all came from my father. The worst of it wasn't the scars though; it was the burns that people never saw. Whenever my father was really angry with me, he would burn me with the white-hot metal in the forge and leave permanent scars on my arms and back. My body was covered with them, though I always wore the kinds of clothes that made the scars and burns invisible.

As soon as the forge was heated up, I broke out of my reverie and began heating up the base of the long metal sheet that made up the blade part in a sword. While heating that, I poured the molten metals into the base of the scabbard, filling it up most of the way and then sliding the burning metal of the blade neatly into place, pushing it deep in so that when the metals dried it would be strong and sturdy. As I was laying the sword on the rack to cool off, my father walked into the forge with an angry scowl on his face. He glanced over at the sword and nodded once to himself before going to work on other small items the townsfolk would need.

As the morning slowly progressed, a few of the local townsfolk and a few travelers would come in and buy some of our wares or request a special order. When the sun had risen up in the noon sky, we stopped our progress and I ate a cold lunch of bread and cheese while my father went back into the house for some smoked meat. When I finished eating, I stood and walked out of the forge towards the other side of the village, to Haberth's stables. It took me a good fifteen minutes of steady walking, but I eventually made it.

When I entered the stables, the fresh aroma of polished leather, dirty coats, manure, and old hay hit my nostrils. I inhaled deeply; glad to be away from the smell of smoke and searing metals. I walked confidently past the two rows of horses in their stalls, looking for Haberth. I didn't see him anywhere, so I sat down in the tack room and began to clean and repair the equipment. Not much later, I heard someone walking down the aisle of the stables and I continued to clean, listening for the sound of horses being messed with. No thief could ever be silent when they were trying to steal a horse.

After a moment of silence I heard a voice calling "Ayla? Are you here lassy?" I sighed in relief; it was only Haberth. I silently put away the most recently mended and cleaned tack and stood from the bucket I was sitting on, walking out into the main of the stables to see Haberth standing there with his hands on his hips. I kept my face expressionless as I walked past many horses towards him, halting about two feet before his glaring form. It was highly unusual to see a glare on Haberth's face, so I was inertly cautious.

After a moment he cracked a wide grin and said "For a while I wondered if you had dropped out on me. It's good to see ya lass." He said, walking forward a few steps and embracing me tightly. I smiled and embraced him back. Haberth was like the Uncle I had never had, and I was more than happy to spend all my time with him. He always seemed to be cheerful, and I loved working with the horses. I helped him to breed, raise, train, clean, maintain, and look after the horses he kept, along with managing the tack and working around the barn. He was the only one that I dared to tell my dreams and secrets to, and the only person I could ever trust.

Haberth released me and said "Come. We have much work to do today. The horses and tack have to be cleaned, and they each need to be ridden for at least an hour to exercise them. Also, the roan over there needs to get a firmer grip on his manners." He said, his eyes flickering a few stalls up from his left, where a large roan horse was stomping a hoof impatiently in his stall.

I nodded to Haberth and said "I'll see what I can do about him later. For now, I'll let him cook in there until I deem him ready to come outside. Should I tie him to the back bar of his stall sir?" I asked Haberth. He scratched his chin as he thought it over and finally said "You might as well. It may do him a bit of good." I nodded and silently walked to the locked door of the roan's stall. Producing a key from one of my pockets, I opened the stall door and entered, grabbing a rope on the way in. I easily tethered the worrisome roan to a bar in the back of his stall, but once he realized he had been tied up he tried to kick at me.

I got right up next to him and held his snout firmly shut as I looked straight into one of his eyes. "No sir, I will not have you kicking at me. You will behave or I will strap every hoof of yours to the wall so you can't move a single inch. Got it?" The horse reluctantly calmed down, watching me exit the stall with an unfriendly stare. I rolled my eyes at the roan as I locked his door. I stepped back and was about to clean the stall of the stallion that Haberth was cleaning up when I felt a faint buzzing sear through my senses. The result was an instant migraine, and it was so painful that I fell to the ground clutching my head.

Everything was fuzzy and distorted, the colors mixing together and my eardrums exploding with pain. I could faintly hear Haberth's voice calling to me, asking if I was okay. I saw him run towards me and drop his brush, kneeling beside me on the ground. As the pain grew deeper and louder in my skull, I tried to concentrate for fear of the sound ripping me apart. I wasn't entirely sure what it was or what was causing it, but I knew that it couldn't be anything good. The only other time I had felt such immense pain was when I was about five years old, back when I had come into direct contact with the shade Durza.

I remember that confrontation clearly now, even through the searing agony...

*Flashback*

I was a small five-year-old child, and I was standing on the grassy knoll just outside our town of Therinsford. My mother and father had not seen me leave the town, which was good. I didn't want to be in trouble; I just wanted to see what was on the other side of this hill, for I knew it must be something great. And oh, how beautiful it was! A vast distance of grassy plains and yellowing meadows, all surrounded by the lush green forests with the tall mountains looming over them. It was a sight to behold!

I had taken off down the far side of the hill, out of the sight of the inhabitants of Therinsford and towards one of the huge yellowing meadows I could see. As I ran and skipped through the meadow, I laughed with pure joy. The freedom of being out from under the gaze of my watchful parents was amazing!

As I was running through the center of the meadow for the hundredth time, my laughter cut off abruptly as a searing pain entered through my eardrums and bore through my skull. I felt my mind being practically torn open. I glanced up and kept wondering as I screamed silently, Where was that noise coming from? I looked up and saw the shoes of a person, a man perhaps. Maybe they could help me.

I looked up into the cold, careless face of the strangest man I had ever seen. His skin was the palest I'd ever beheld, and his crimson hair looked almost like the fire inside our stove! His maroon eyes blinked slowly as I gazed up at his tall features, and a small smile spread across his dark, thin lips. He smirked at me and took another step forward, and as he did the screeching pain increased dramatically. I continued to scream silently, wanting to make it stop.

It took all my willpower to choke out the words "Help me" to the man. He bent down and gazed into my eyes, but all I saw in his were a deep anger and violence, a lust for pain and blood. He reached out a cold hand towards my forehead and whispered menacingly "I am helping you."

The searing pain increased twice-fold when he touched me, and I couldn't even whimper from the excruciating feeling it gave me. His thoughts barged into mine, and he mentally gave me a small pocket of information, and then I knew what he was. A sorcerer almost, but a truly evil one, A shade. He was Durza, and all had the right to fear the very sight of him. As a small child, it was not him that I feared. All that I feared was the searing pain that was scorching through my mind. Never in my five years as a child had I heard of this kind of excruciating pain being caused by a shade.

Durza straightened back up and I saw a flash of something go through his eyes; pity, it seemed. Grief even. After a long moment of staring down at me in what could only be described as remorse, he fled across the meadow and into the cover of the dark trees. As he disappeared from sight, the searing pain left my mind and I was free of its agony. I sat up slowly and glanced around, looking for the shade. Where had he gone? Was he the one who caused all this agony?

I spent the remaining hours of that day searching through the forest for Durza, wanting to talk to him and find out where the excruciating pain had come from. Was it his doing? Was he helping me to escape the pain? I had no notion.

After that day, I had never been the same again. I was always silent and brooding, digging into books and focusing on only the smallest details. I had no care for spending time with people who wouldn't understand, and pain held a new meaning for me. I always wondered why I was different, and when I did I would remember the pain. And then I knew.

I was alone.

*End flashback*

Seeing the memory play once again through my mind brought a sharp sense of clarity to me, and I realized that this might mean the return of the Shade, of Durza. I still had so many questions to ask him, even though it had been ten years since I last saw him. My memory of our encounter had not faded in my mind as the other memories from my childhood had. It was now that I realized that Durza may have been behind the pain.

Either that, I thought to myself, or whatever did cause the pain before has returned. Either way, I intend to find out what it is. With that thought in mind, I struggled to stand back up, determined to follow the pain to its source. I could faintly see Haberth, but I paid no attention to him. My focus was on the pain, and where it was coming from. I stumbled out of the barn and followed the increasing pain to the other side of Therinsford, back towards my home. As I got nearer, I began to smell it.

Smoke.

I opened my eyes a little further through the pain and saw a house not far from me up in flames. With a small shock, I realized it was my house. I stumbled towards it, trying to keep my balance and consciousness. As I neared the flaming house, I noticed others trying to hold me back. I paid no attention to them, and managed to gain enough sense of mind back to fight them all off. The screeching sound was getting louder and higher in pitch with each step I took.

As I kept walking forward, I noticed people had disappeared for the most part. They were all huddled farther back, watching me with fearful eyes. Many made a sign against evil on their chests, ushering their children and wives backwards to the other side of the village. I continued to stumble forward, only stopping when I was right in front of the burning house. The door had been ripped off and many things inside were visible through the fire, some upturned and out of place.

I glanced backwards at the retreating crowd and saw the tallest head was not missing from the masses. So my father is alive, and probably my mother too I thought to myself silently. I continued to stare at the house, trying to force the pain back down, but it flared up brighter and more painful than ever before. I fell to the ground, clutching my head in pain. For what felt like a lifetime, I lied in the dirt and writhed in agony.

The heat from the fire was slowly edging towards me, and I could feel as it began to softly touch my arms, the heat travelling through my shirt to my skin. I didn't even try to move out of the heat's path, but simply lied there as agony ripped through me.

Finally, my hazing vision caught sight of something different. Someone was walking towards me. I felt the brief touch of cold hands and saw a pale blurred face before unconsciousness took over and I plunged straight into the welcoming darkness.