• Born from the shores of Leyawiin,
    A light appears from within the waters.
    Glistening beneath the moon,
    the Moonchildren emerge.
    Pale and fragile,
    they can only pray in silence.

    Born from the mountains of Bruma,
    Feathers fall like snow
    From the beholders of air
    Whom dance only at day—
    They are the fallen angels.

    Born from the woods of Elsweyr,
    they protect Mother and its inhabitants.
    But the Gates of Oblivion open,
    burning everything to the ground.
    Taken by revenge she raises her bow
    and calls forth her fellow companions.

    Born from the depths of peoples hearts,
    the Gates of Oblivion appear to punish.
    Covered in scarlet crimson
    there is no end.

    But from the shores of Leyawiin,
    the woods of Elsweyr,
    the mountains of Bruma,
    the fallen have risen.

    To the depths of Oblivion,
    to the stone slumbers of the Prince,
    they have vanquished evil
    and restored Cyrodiil.

    And back to the shores of Leyawiin,
    the Moonchildren no longer weep.
    To the mountains of Bruma,
    there is no snow.
    And the woods of Elsweyr,
    are still scarred—
    in history.