Beautiful songs which can capture the heart. Sounds so soothing that can make even the hearts made of ice melt.

She was a nightingale, a pure spirit of the forest which loved to sing. She and her kind were one of the most ancient shifters, capable to transform and aid the forest and sometimes the humans who would visit it.

Every night, she and her companions would transform into humans and create lullabies, singing for the moon, the nature, and love for the forest, the only home they knew. They would let the waterfalls wash their feet, the flowers bloom even at night and the stars glimmer, accompanying them at their joining of voices under the moonlight.

But then the prince of the kingdom, where the forest belonged, decided to destroy it and built a new factory, making weapons for the war he was planning to go. The prince was a young boy of seventeen, eager to fulfill his ambitions, with no love for nature or singing.

The forest fell the day the Nightingale flew above the tiptop of the trees. She saw how cruel the prince was and sorrow filled her tiny, pumping heart; for she had seen that the prince didn't know how beautiful life could be.

Bearing the sadness of seeing her people and her forest disappearing under the hot tongues of the man's inventions, Nightingale decided to reach the prince and teach him the value of life.

She flew towards his palace and started to live close to him, watching over the youth. Closely she observed him from the window of his room, which was facing a large garden.

The nightingale had found shelter there, hiding both day and night, hoping that no one could find her. In the nights, on her human form, she would gaze the moon and cry silently for the loss of her home; she had stopped singing afraid of the prince's fury.

One night the prince decided to scroll the garden thinking of a way to win over the enemy kingdom, far in the south. The garden was quiet, with the blinking stars lightening the sky like fireflies in the summer.

With the white lilies and night flowers in bloom, this small part of his palace looked like a bed made of beauty and petals. He would find peace in here. Surrounded by officials and being the only heir to a throne, the Prince could feel the stress building up to him. So he walked by the soft grass, feeling the fragrance of the night flowers filling his nostrils.

Suddenly he heard a voice, a sound so beautiful which made him shiver from bliss. He had never heard anything like that in his life. Moving closer to the source he saw the beautiful girl, singing loudly. Her hands were stretched towards the sky, her brown long hair with some of her tufts dyed blue was a mass of light and color falling to her back.

Her skin, white like the moonlight, was reflecting upon her gown, a mix made of brown and green leaves, decorated with fragments of green and blue topazes.

Nightingale had decided to sing at least once; she could feel the moon crying together with her, feeling the pain of the dying earth.

"Who are you?" the prince asked and the Nightingale stopped abruptly her singing.

She gazed at him for a moment, staring at his piercing blue eyes, so intense, so different than her own brown.

"I apologize for disturbing you, your Highness." She spoke gently and bowed to him.

"Were you singing before?" the Prince asked, still surprised by her polite behavior.

"I always sing at the night; I sing for the moon, the flowers. I hoped to sing for you if it meant to make you happier."

"Why wouldn't I be happier? I have everything I wanted. Power, gold and a kingdom on my feet." The prince pouted with pride at her.

She lowered her gaze and moved her head in disagreement.

"But there is something you are missing, young prince."

"And what is that?"

Her lips formed a smile and the prince was left breathless staring at her.

"You will find out someday."

"What is your name?"

"Nightingale."

-------------------

Many days passed; the prince would come only at night, after the nightingale's request, and listen to her singing. And as the flowers bloomed and withered with time, the prince was falling more and more in love with the beautiful spirit.

But he became greedy; he wanted Nightingale to be with him day and night. But she would deny his questions and demanding propositions. She didn't want him to learn the truth, that she wasn't human, afraid that he might detest her.

One morning she heard that the prince was going to destroy yet another forest, searching for precious stones. Nightingale couldn't be sadder, for her music and pleads hadn't reached the heart of the young prince.

So she flew away, far away from his kingdom and him, hoping that he would forget her and that she could soothe the pain in her longing, for his heart. A part of her was angry because of his greed, but another was still holding hope. Nightingale hoped that her Prince would be able to learn from his mistakes.

And with that thought, she gave more strength to her tiny wings.

When the prince found out that she was gone, he ordered the best of his merchants to make a mechanic bird, one made of gold and rubies, with a voice unmatchable to any of its kind. No singer or instrument player could beat the sound this mechanic bird was making and the prince never left it away from his sight. He wanted Nightingale back, and the bird was a reminder of her ethereal figure and her divine singing.

Years passed and the prince became a king. He was feared and respected by everyone in his kingdom. He had destroyed many forests and created even more space for his peasants and his cities. He had almost forgotten about the beauty who sung in the nights, having only the mechanic bird filling the emptiness in his heart.

The illness found him unexpectedly, making his strong body crumble on his bed.

"Stress and tiredness" the doctors had said and requested him to rest and recover.

"No one can order the King!" he had roared at them and closed both his doors to them and his heart.

The King continued attending his duties but the burden in his heart had become heavier and heavier. In the nights, he would crawl to his den and wound the key in the mechanic bird, longing to hear its song.