Lore Sleep: Secrets of the Forgotten Realms is a sleep podcast designed to help ease you into a restful night's sleep while sharing the hidden histories and lore of the Forgotten Realms Dungeons and Dragons setting. The podcast is the brainchild of Mark Stiehl, whose voice you might recognize from your favorite indie game or audiobook.

Below are the transcripts for a set of vignettes I wrote for the podcast that follow the journey of Sharran cleric, which may or may not have been inspired by Faerûn's favorite goth girlfriend. You can check out the full episode on Spotify.

A Shadow's Path

Written by Fio LeFey for Lore Sleep: Secrets of the Forgotten Realms

“Mother of Night, darken my step as I walk among the light. Cloak me in shadow, and I will be your blade.”  Her words echoed against the cloister’s stone walls— Her soft voice the only disruption in a perfect pocket of silence. 

Her raven hair slid off her shoulder as she lifted her gaze toward the idol of Shar at the center of the room. Hewn from blackest obsidian, the goddess's likeness seemed to drink up what little violet light the chamber’s single brazier provided. 

She had been so frightened the first time she had stood before the Dark Lady’s altar as a child. She could still recall the sting of Mother Superior’s pointed fingernails as she clutched Shadowheart’s face in her cold hand to ensure her attention was fixed on the goddess’s stone visage.

This was the first of many lessons the Mother Superior had taught her. She had been forced to repeat Shar’s truth over and over until the Mother was confident she would never forget it.

The world was ripped from your sacred shadow,  so we shall suffer until we return to your umbral embrace. 

The moon witch’s light was a mistake- a discordant song composed of lies that shattered the peace of your endless void.

Only in darkness do we see clearly. 

Only when we become nothing are we truly free. 

By the time she was done, only a trembling whisper of her voice remained. She felt nothing. She was nothing— As if everything that made her who she was had been plucked from her body like a stubborn splinter. 

Her first taste of Shar’s sacred oblivion.

A silver-haired woman stands at the foot of a worn statue of the Moonmaiden. Time and erosion have worn away at the once fine details of the goddess’s likeness. The pale stone has turned gray after her long vigil in the shadows. The oversized moonstone that had adored her scepter had long since been plundered.

Like the rest of the village, this statue of Selûne had been forever altered by its exposure to Shar’s dark influence.  And though that darkness had receded, and the people of the village had begun to rebuild, there would always be reminders of how it had changed them.

A crisp breeze blows through the town Square, knocking back the woman’s pale blue hood. She tucks her behind the delicate point of an ear, a gentle smile creeping across her face as she watches autumn leaves flutter around what has become her favorite landmark in the village.

She reaches into the wicker basket hanging from the crook of her elbow and carefully removes a small bundle of night orchids bound together with a satin ribbon. They’re from the moonlight garden she and her mother planted when they arrived in their new home. It has become a sanctuary for both of them—a place to find themselves again after all they had seen.

The woman places the flowers at the statue’s base.  Gritting her teeth and sucking in a sharp breath. She cradles her hand against her chest. The stabbing pain in her palm slowly dissipates, but the ache is always there.

So much has changed in her life since coming here. There were days when oblivion seemed a better option than feeling all the things she had been taught to stuff down inside herself over the years. But as time went on, they were few and far between.

Her mother once told her that Selûne is the patron of those who wander. No matter how far a person might stray from the path of light, they could find their way back so long as their hearts were willing.  

She’s been many things in her life: a shadow in the night, a warrior, an outcast, a friend. But through all of it, she had always been a weary traveler—someone walking down a darkened path seeking the light without even knowing it.

Maybe she could never be what she was before the darkness. Just like the beautiful statue that stood before her, she would be forever changed. But perhaps that was alright. 

After all, what is a shadow if not a reminder that light is just behind you.