The Story of a Nightingale. Cyrodiil Tales.
Set in the world of Tamriel, The Story of a Nightingale is not your typical fanfiction. By genre, it could be called an AU-a derivative epic. Yet in truth, it is a dark, lyrical journey through one of Cyrodiil's hardest eras, as seen through the eyes of a girl too wild to be tamed, too clever to stay silent, and too human to escape pain.
She was a Nightingale by birth, a thief by necessity, a prophet by vocation, and-eventually-an empress by her own hand. Along her trek through the mortal world, she met Daedric Princes, buried loved ones, defied gods, and built a new faith in a world that had forgotten what faith was.
But through it all, she remained, somehow, herself.
This is her memoir.
Written in her own words.
Sometimes naive. Sometimes cruel. Always real.
I told her that her writing is tender and naive.
Yet she firmly said: 'That's the world as I saw it, Daddy. Let it be.'
And so it shall be.
Her own blurb ( I didn't want to put it here, but Elsie insisted, even cried).
This is not a novel.
It is a prayer in the skin of a tale.
A lullaby sung in a voice not quite human.
A song whispered by a lost little girl
to the shadow velvet who called her daughter.
It is a secret left on the doorstep of night.
It is a psalm for the forsaken.
Read it only if you dare
Sometimes it is a whispered curse in silk and sorrow
Erratically, even a dusty grimoire.
Read it slowly. Or not at all.
It wasn't set down in writing for the impatient.
