[AUTHORS NOTE] All 'Tales of Tamriel' volumes have been written and tailored for the website, WattPad. Therefore, all chapters (except the chapters titled Part 1/ Part 2 etc.) are approximately between 2000-2200 due to the larger font size and navigation system WattPad uses. This means that some of you may feel that my chapters are shorter than you're used to.
To find this Fan-Fiction on Wattpad, follow this link: www.wattpad.com/story/37664656…
"Aya?" The man addressed as his daughter entered the room. Her mother had been preparing them both for Molag Bal's summoning day, and the poor girl shook like a leaf. Noticing her distress, her father waved her over. Although she was well into adulthood, she glided over to him sat on his lap, wrapping herself in his calming smell and warm embrace.
"Daddy, I'm scared." She admitted.
"I know you are." He sympathised, stoking the blonde hair that her mother had styled. "You would be a fool not to be."
She sniffed as she held back tears.
"Can you tell me a story like you use to do when I was young?" She asked. The hint of hopelessness in her voice completely melted her fathers heart.
"I will show you my latest project." He said, leaning over to the small table by his regal armchair. "But you must not tell anyone. No one can know but us. Agreed?"
She smiled, enticed by the memories of the stories her father had told her.
"Agreed." She said as he tapped her nose like he had done when she couldn't sleep.
He lifted up a small blue journal whose spine was on the verge of exploding under the pressure of the many loose sheets he had crammed into it. He opened the journal and fished out a sheet folded in half. He flattened it and allowed it to fall into her lap.
"It's beautiful." She whispered in delight, leaning forwards to see the painting in more detail. Green, grassy hillocks stretched as far as the eye could see while thick, puffy clouds formed a wall on the horizon. A large, almost harsh orb of thick white light floated in the place of the sun, illuminating the plains below and the thirteen arches made of stone and arranged in a circle.
"This is Inovion." His father told her. "The realm of the gates. Getting here will be my last mystery."
Inovion. Although she wasn't sure how, the name held a strange aspect of purity.
"What are those?" The girl pointed at the thirteen stone arches.
"They're the Inovion gates." The man's large finger ran around the circle in awe.
"Inovion Gates." She repeated, remembering the stories her father had told her. She had preferred tales of Tamriel's past strife's and the heroes who worked hard to quell them. Her father told her tales about places as far away as the Elsweyr, as grand as the Imperial City and as old as the Falmer, but the name Inovion hadn't appeared in any past stories.
"I'm too old to be adventuring now." He admitted. "But maybe, if you gain the gift of Molag Bal, you will have the strength to travel there someday."
She breathed deeply as she looked at the painting, committing every detail to memory.
"Where do the Inovion Gates lead?" She asked. He replied with a smile that spoke volumes about his love of mystery and adventure.
"That is something you must discover on your own."