Ehlno-meric Texts I: Children's Tale [Author Unknown]

Author: Unknown. Date: Unknown.

Listen now and hearken to my tale, my child.

A long time ago, the world was drenched in chaos. Our people had come from the stars, fleeing a catastrophe that befell our Home-Plane, when they fell to this land. On our world we had been as kings, powerful and noble and majestic, but in this new realm we were weak and powerless and pathetic.

We tried, my child, oh how we tried to hold on to the glories of who we had once been. But it was for naught. For we were introduced to a new agent, one which had not existed in our incubator void-dancers. In this new land, it was inevitable that we would fall to it. To the forces of quinoa, those of destructive change.

For you see my beloved, we were not the only ones to fall, and ours was not the only realm. Looking in from the outside were strange beings, beings with no concept of limitless immortality or mercy or compassion. They came in in their droves, heteromorphic entities with rending claws and faces like gods and smiles like abyssal horrors. We are a feast to them you see, and unlike in our lands we lacked the power to combat these horrors that preyed on our broken wings.

Our technology had been shattered during our fall, rays of crystal-like starlight and bridges of glass and dreams. Cities of everlasting light and celebrations, wheels of a thousand fires and chariots of deepest Dark. All of it, gone.

The [UNTRANSLATABLE 1] were weak. They were strong. Much as we tried, they changed and changed and changed and changed and changed and changed. We were lost to their orgiastic blood-fields, where they strung our innards to their infernal devices and our blood drained for their amusements. They cawed and cooed as our form-lights shone like stars, wearing our skins like clothing and our eyes like jewellery.

In our desperation we gathered around the fallen impaler, bleeding and sundered, and made a drastic and desperate decision. We, who once were mighty and brilliant and uncaring, gathered what remained of our mirror-like blood and coalesced it into a chamber filled with dark and elder secrets. Forbidden rites and sacred profanities and apocryphal horrors and obscene terrors. These were done to our very Being. Many were lost to this, some so consumed by the blood of the beyonders they lost any semblance of thought and form and memory.

But it was done. And in the secret chamber, from the blood and soul of the writhing horrors, and the blood and soul of the [UNTRANSLATABLE 1], were born the twenty-five and one Shining Stars of Hope. Synthetics, with the power to protect us in this new land.

For a time, my ignorant child, all was good. They set in orbit around our world, and gave us Time. For you see, my sweet child, as they were like the [UNTRANSLATABLE 2] they could change, but our hopes and dreams made them as immortal. For the first time in aeons we could grow again.

...BUT, we had sacrificed our heart in this, and only later would we realise what a mistake we had made. Our people forgot, and our tools became worshipped as Devil-Gods of the Abyss. They grew, and forgot their original purpose, corrupted by the weakening souls of our people. All, save the Keeper of Memory, for whom’s domain was the Aligned Crystal, and the Shaper of Song, who was trapped in the form of the Elder Trees. They grew proud and mischievous and sought to prevent our recovering.

The Gods are lies. They lure us with the promise of sanctuary and deceive us with false benevolence. They are broken and mad and treacherous, their purpose to protect and aid perverted into something terrifying. They, whom we created, now defined us.

My sweet child, they fear us. For who we once were. For who we might become. Even as the maws of [UNTRANSLATABLE 2] loom beyond us.

This is a very...curious text. So much so the Council of Acquisitions was hesitant to add it to the collections of Historic Analogues in the Crystal Tower. Still...it was unassailable that as part of the Aldmeri history this deserved it’s place in our greatest archives.

This piece was gathered from a Velothi merchant who claims to have been given it when he visited one of the Dwemeri Citadels. Upon further examination, it was verified to be even older than the Aldmer. We paid a fair price for it, allowing for his return to the Isles and upliftment in stature. Given the rarity of texts such as these, I believe it was worth it.

As we have been able to gather, this piece is part of a collection of ‘holy’ texts. This one specifically is a Children’s Tale. I shudder to think what the Dwemer consider appropriate for more mature audiences. When this text was first acquired it took the efforts of several highly skilled mages to ensure translators could even begin to decode the piece. Even then, a number of words could not be translated as they had various unpleasant...side-effects on those who saw them.

Edit: Cleared up a few errors.