The Realm of Memory
To mortals shadows are fleeting things, here one moment gone the next, moving with the dusk and dawn, yet to those of us not trapped in ever-rotting flesh the patterns stand revealed. Every dawn is alike to a thousand others, every dusk brings the same night, in the conjunctures of the heavens and the slow grinding of the earth shadows are akin over the span of ages. Shadows remember.
-Tor, the Unshackled Mind
The Realm of Shadows has never been apart from the world in the lessening of magic, for it is from it that the Shadowbinders drew their powers when most other magics were spent, it was there that the damned and the desperate fled for a long age of the world. Thus it is filled with the echoes of lost realms, grand sepulchral monuments to people gone to dust. Here the Rhyone still flows unhindered through Ny Sar and the thousand fountains yet sing, though softly, here stand the labyrinths of the nameless ancients who left no writ. Only Valyria alone of all the great realms of the world casts no lasting shadow, for its end was fire eternal that dispelled all memory. Yet the seekers of wisdom lost had best be wary here, for in this place truth and illusion flow together like water. One might easily spend a dozen mortal lifetimes studying some idle flourish of a bored or malicious spirit. Little wonder the Shadowbinders seek life eternal.
Yet not all who may be found here are curious scholars. Whether with intent or fel mischance there are conjunctures where things of matter and physical may fall into their own shadow, creating islands of the real amid the shades of yesteryear, preserved as greedily as any other treasure by the Dark Realm. Those few mortals blessed or cursed to find their way there are usually summoned from the very moments when their realms fall into Shadow, a Sarnori town about to the sacked by Dothraki, a village of the Hairy Men about to the put to the torch, and many stranger still. Almost without fail they cling to their past, as a drowning man does to a lifeline, preserving it as is the nature of the realm. Are they real these custodians of lost history, or are they just another aspect of the Shadow, deceiving even itself?
The City of Tears
The westernmost city in the Realm of the Bloodstone Emperor, this is the trading port where souls are traded as freely as gold, and memories of anguish are as pearls in the dust. Night-hags, haunts, and Kytons vie for power and prestige while other older damnably transcendent horrors lie in wait and claim their due.
Sarnath
A city of the dead and the dead keep it, here old bones are draped in veils of illusion to live for but one instant the lie of mortality. They dance and they die, then dance again. Dragons and tales of dragons are common here, likely a sign of the workings of Tiamat's favored and many mages wear the mark of the wyrm to gain entrance or favor with the Dead Kings.
The Western Reaches
Beyond Essos the Realm of Shadow seems to end like waves lapping upon the shore, for there it is the Feywyld that is closest and the ether where spirits dwell, but the cunning Shadowbinder may yet find his path and all the more potent the power for being unexpected.
OOC: @Absylon Quilby here's that information. I still need to work on the cities some though. This is pretty bare bones.