The Unclaimed
In life, her service had been impeccable. Daily did she devote herself to the Lady of Loss. Daily did she free herself from the tyranny of memory. All, in time, was lost to her - her relations, her preferences, even her own name. Upon the altar of her devotion placed she the ultimate offering: her emptied mind. And when she died, when she awoke in death and found herself standing in the pale and faded City of Judgement, she waited for the Lady of Loss to retrieve her. A million souls and more passed her in colourless gusts, but no hand materialised in her hand; no voice whispered instruction in her ear; no guidance proffered itself from the bleached and barren sky. Time, immaterial time, passed around her like air, coming and going. And still, the goddess did not come for Her devotee. Kelemvor pitied her, as much as the Lord of the Dead is able, but could not intervene. This cleric of the Lady of Loss, unclaimed despite her worthiness, might yet have one more lesson to learn: that not of forgetting, but being forgotten.