1982: The Summer of Stained Glass Silence

By 1982, Cleveland’s economic turmoil was palpable. The city faced bankruptcy, neighborhoods were crumbling, and the once-vibrant downtown arts scene flickered. That summer, a mysterious string of vandalism incidents struck churches, community centers, and aging public buildings—especially those known for their stained-glass windows. Media reports described the events as “ritualistic,” but no arrests were made, and the break-ins stopped as suddenly as they began.

To those with fae sight, the broken glass told a different story.

Throughout the summer, Cleveland’s commoner Changelings began reporting strange silences at former freeholds, hollow echoes at balefire sites, and a creeping void where once there had been Glamour. No Banality burst could be identified, no Dauntain trail followed. It was as if the Dreaming itself was… forgetting.

The first confirmed loss was Our Lady of the Hidden Flame, a modest but vibrant Boggan-tended freehold hidden behind a Catholic church in Slavic Village. When the stained glass depicting St. Brigid shattered, so too did the balefire vanish. Not corrupted. Not stolen. Gone.

In response, a ragtag motley of Commoners led by a Grump Eshu known only as Miss Bluebell began investigating. Their findings never made it to public record—but those who remember claim she confronted something that “walked with no story” and left behind “moths that whispered like sermons.”

By August, the phenomena ceased. Cleveland’s Commoners quietly held a wake for the fallen freeholds in the underground theatre space of an abandoned high school. No one has confirmed what was buried there—or whether anything truly was.

Some believe this was the first probing assault of something ancient from outside the Dreaming, testing the city’s defenses. Others say it was a punishment, meted out by nobles jealous of Commoner independence.

Legacy

• The East Side Faith Line (a loosely-knit alliance of Dreamer-laden religious spaces) dates its formation to the aftermath of the stained-glass disappearances. Its members refuse to install modern glass windows.
• Miss Bluebell left the city the following year. Some say she wanders the Dreaming now, seeking “unwritten books and unspoken names.”
• In Cleveland's changeling community, if someone stops speaking mid-sentence and looks toward a window without explanation, it is still customary to ask: “Did you see a sermon moth?”