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She had been spending a lot of time outside at night.
She would, of course, get up in the mornings and go about the day, tending to the farm and the cottage and the animals and you. The evenings she would spend preparing dinner at your side and huddled at the small altar of Selûne in your main room. But, at night, she would sit at the bench in the garden and stare at the sky.
It wasn’t unusual to behold the moon, tonight a beautiful waning crescent. The light shone down upon her, setting her hair aglow where the black hadn’t yet outgrown the white from over a year ago. But her brows were still black, and the whiteness of her illuminated face only made her sorrowful look that much more evident.
You watched her on and off like that for hours. Even when you yawned and it hurt to keep your eyes open, still she was there, motionless, a statue gazing longingly to the open. It wasn’t until you finally shook her on the shoulder with gentle calls of, “Shadowheart, Shadowheart, let’s go to bed, love,” that she broke her reverie and went inside.
This sort of thing had been happening for months, but it had only gotten so bad over the past tenday. Every time the sun set, you would find her on that bench, and you would have to go collect her eventually. You had the feeling that, if not for your interference, she would have stayed out until the next morning. It was beginning to take its toll, as the both of you would wake up groggy and ill rested. Your homestead didn’t deserve that, but, moreover, you worried that her behavior would slowly run her down.
One evening, before she went to her altar, you clasped her softly at the arm and said, “I think we need to have a talk.”
Shadowheart looked at you warily, knowing you well enough to tell that you weren’t upset with her, but going on guard nonetheless. “What about?” she asked.
“I am just concerned for you. If you can spare a minute after your prayers, I would appreciate it.”
She looked at you intently, searching for any indication of what you meant, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll come to you after.”
She shook her arm as you released her. You trusted that she would keep her word, and she trusted that you wouldn’t disturb her until she did, so you left to the garden to wait.
You were plucking out stray weeds that had gotten into the carrot box when Shadowheart cleared her throat behind you. You turned to your partner to see her standing in the dim starlight. Tonight was a new moon, so her face and hair did not glow, but you could read her anxious expression in pitch darkness.
“You wanted to talk?” she said.
“Yes,” you said. You walked to the bench and sat down, patting the space next to you for her to do the same, which she did.
There was a stretch of silence, neither one of you yet broaching the subject. You leaned against the backrest, and she folded her hands on her lap. Shadowheart’s eyes drifted upward, taking in the black sky. It was when her expression started to grow distant, as it had so many nights before, that you spoke.
“Are you all right?”
“Hm?” she said, almost startled. “Oh, I’m fine. What was it you wanted to say?”
She faced you, but wasn’t wholly there. You pursed your lips. “You’ve been out of it, for lack of a better term. You’re out here every night for hours at a time, staring at nothing. You aren’t sleeping well, you’re not fully focused. It feels like half of you is gone most days.” Your lips turned to a frown. “What’s going on?”
She opened her mouth like she was going to answer, but hesitated. “I…” she stammered.
You took her hand, squeezing it gently. After a moment, she squeezed back. She said, “I have been wondering if this life is for me.”
“What do you mean?” you asked. “Do you want to move back to the city?”
Shadowheart shook her head. “That’s not it. I love our little home here. I meant I’ve been wondering if I made the right decision in turning to Selûne.”
She looked back at the darkness. “I’m still drawn to the night. It feels warm, almost comforting. And yet, when I look at the moon, the symbol of Selûne…” Her expression shifted. “… it feels as though a part of me wants to revel in hatred and chaos.”
You were no stranger to those emotions; there were many times over the course of your campaign against the Absolute that you wished flaming death upon others. Not all of them deserved it, but it was a highly stressful period only worsened by terrible attitudes.
Shadowheart did not mean it in the same way you had though. Hers were altogether deeper, in an unreachable place that you could never hope to know. She might have not even known herself, given that her past life had been lost in the House of Grief. She had woken up in tears for months afterwards, unable to explain why.
“Do you think you should have stayed as a Sharran?”
“No!” she shouted immediately. “No. Shar took everything from me. My friends, my parents, forty godsdamned years of my life that I can never get back. She took everything except the pain, and now the doubt. What does it mean for a follower of the Moonmaiden to hate the moon?”
You loathed that you couldn’t respond. As much as you would have liked to, you had no real answer for her.
She wasn’t seeking an answer from you though. “When I hear the wolves, I want to run. I want to scream. I want to hide, but I told myself I was done hiding.” Her hand tightened. “Hiding is what Sharrans do, and I’m not that anymore. But I don’t feel like a Selûnite either, so what does that make me?”
Shadowheart let a great sigh through her nose. “When I’m out here, I try to figure that out. It keeps me awake, but I never get any closer to the truth. Do I need to suffer a trial, like I did with Shar? Do I need to sit in prayer until it’s suddenly revealed to me? Am I just too far gone with everything I’ve done to be happy in the service of a benevolent goddess? I just…”
She pulled away from your hand to bury her face in hers. Her voice became thick. “I wish my parents were here. I wish they could tell me what to do, or why I feel this way.” Quietly heaving into her palms, Shadowheart cried.
Your heart ached for your love. Your arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close. You kissed the top of her head. She reached around your middle and hugged back, her tears wetting your collar. One of your hands lifted to her hair and petted. “It’ll be all right, sweet. We’ll find out. It’ll be all right.”
As her body racked with sobs, you couldn’t quite tell if she believed you. Even if she didn’t, still, you knew that it would be all right, and you would be with her.
The next morning, you awoke tired and in a daze. Shadowheart had spent the hours she would have been staring at the sky instead crying in your arms. She looked it too, as her eyes were puffy and red, tear stains running down her cheeks. But, in the effort to encourage normalcy, you kissed her on the cheek and set to making breakfast.
She was picking at her plate when she addressed you.
“About last night, I think I know what to do,” she said.
“Oh?” you said, taking a sip of your tea. “What’s that, love?”
Shadowheart looked at you resolutely. “I want to go east, to Moonhaven.”
“Moonhaven? That blighted village we passed near Elturgard? Whatever for?”
She put down her fork and turned to you in her seat. “Don’t you remember that there was an abandoned Temple of Selûne nearby? That place used be full of her worshipers, and, considering I was taken to be part of the Sharran sect in Baldur’s Gate, it seems likely that that’s where I was born. My parents might be gone, but there’s bound to be some answers in Moonhaven.”
You took another sip. It made a lot of sense, and, if this was the conclusion she had come to, who were you to argue? You set your cup on its saucer and looked at her.
“Well, we’ll have to find someone to take care of the farm while we’re gone. But, once that’s sorted, I guess we’re off to Moonhaven.”
You wouldn’t have traded the toothy, hopeful smile she gave you for every gold piece in Faerûn.