Eilistraee's sacred Evensong.

Cavatina was outraged. "What are you doing?" she shouted.

The creature slowed. Lowered its hands. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You profane our holy song."

"I sing it as I learned it."

Cavatina blinked. "But you're not… You can't be one of Eilistraee's worshipers."

"I was."

Cavatina gripped her sword so hard her hand hurt. Mute with horror, she shook her head.

"Oh, yes," the creature said, its face lit from below by the sickly green glow. "I once danced in the sacred grove. I rose from the Cave of Rebirth, sang the song, and took up the sword."

Cavatina felt numb with shock. "You… were one of the Redeemed? A priestess?"

The creature nodded.

"But… but how…"

"I was weak. Lolth punished me. I was… transformed."

Cavatina allowed herself to drift a little lower, but she was careful not to get too close to the sickstone. The glow must have been affecting the creature. Its legs were visibly trembling, sending tiny ripples through the filthy water.

"And now you want to be a drow again?" Cavatina guessed.

The creature gave a bitter laugh. "If only it were that simple."

Cavatina lowered her sword-but only slightly. "Sing with me," she said. "Pray for Eilistraee's aid."

"I can't. Every time I try, my throat fills with spiders and I choke."

"A curse," Cavatina whispered. Part of her wondered if that wasn't a ruse to draw her closer, but the teachings of Eilistraee were clear. Mercy had to be extended to those who pleaded for it, and the creature, in its own unique way, was all but begging. Cavatina reluctantly extended her hand. "Curses can be removed. Let me-"

The creature reared back, water sloshing around its ankles. "Weren't you listening?" it howled. "This isn't just a curse, I've been permanently transformed. Nothing-nothing!-can redeem me now."

Cavatina's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes suddenly stung. She could feel the cursed priestess's anguish as if it were her own. She suddenly understood why the creature had left a trail for her to follow, why it hadn't simply fled. She wanted Cavatina to end its misery, and-Cavatina stared at the spot where the singing sword had pierced its chest, a spot where not even a scar remained-Cavatina had failed her.

As if hearing her thoughts, the creature looked up. "You're powerful," she said. "I can sense that about you. I thought you might have a spell that could end this, but you're as much of a disappointment as Eilistraee was."

"Don't say that," Cavatina gasped, shocked.

The creature laughed. "Why should I stay my tongue?" it mocked. "Will Eilistraee punish me? She's already punished me enough for my failure. She's abandoned me."

"No, she hasn't," Cavatina said fiercely. "As long as you hold her song in your heart, Eilistraee is with you still."

"No, she isn't," the creature spat back. "Once I was her champion. Now I'm her greatest disappointment. She abandoned me-and Lolth claimed me."

Cavatina stared down at the creature. The face was vaguely familiar, despite its elongated shape and bestial spider fangs. She tried to imagine the creature with hair that wasn't sticky and matted, with a body the size and proportion of a normal drow. It proved impossible.

"Who are you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The creature gestured at the glowing green platform on which it stood. "I, too, once tried to kill a god, but unlike the bard who destroyed Moander, I failed."

Cavatina's eyes widened. "You're…"

"I was Halisstra Melarn."

Cavatina reeled. "But you were killed! At the very gates of the Demonweb Pits. Qilue saw it in her scrying."

Halisstra shrugged.

Questions tumbled from Cavatina's lips. "How did you survive? Where have you been? What happened?"

"I told you, Lolth punished me."

"But surely…" Cavatina paused. Shook her head. "It must have been Eilistraee who restored life to you after you were struck down. Why didn't you call upon Eilistraee's aid?"

Another shrug. "By then, I'd already lost my faith."

"You can still be redeemed," Cavatina insisted. "If you just-"

Halisstra gave a bitter laugh. "That's what Seyll said, and look where she wound up."

Cavatina felt a shiver pass through her. "What are you talking about?"

Halisstra stared up at her with eyes hollow as an empty pit. "Seyll sacrificed herself-she let her soul be consigned to oblivion. And for what?" Halisstra's eyes suddenly blazed. "Nothing! I failed."

Cavatina spoke softly, as to an injured child. "They asked too much of you. You were a novice priestess, and they asked you to slay a god."

Halisstra shuddered. Weakened by the sickstone, she sank to her knees on the glowing platform. Water rippled across its sickly green glow.

Cavatina extended her hand. "Come away from there. You've suffered enough."

Halisstra gave a heavy sigh. "I tried to serve Eilistraee. Even after I knew I'd failed her-after Lolth had her way with me and cast me aside-I tried to redeem myself. The Crescent Blade was broken, but I picked up the pieces and carried them to the temple that Feliane, Uluyara, and I had consecrated when we first entered the Demonweb Pits and laid them down inside it and watched as the sword mended itself together and-"

"What?" Cavatina shook her head. Halisstra was telling her too much, too fast. "Are you saying you created a temple sacred to Eilistraee within the Demonweb Pits?"

Halisstra nodded. There was a light in her eye.

"And that the Crescent Blade-a weapon capable of killing Lolth-still exists?" Cavatina asked.

Halisstra gave a trembling nod. Then a sly smile. "And it's somewhere that Lolth can't touch it. The temple we created is still standing, and the Crescent Blade is inside it."

Cavatina let out a long breath. She held up a hand. "Just a moment." She spoke Qilue's name, and an instant later felt the high priestess link minds with her. In a low whisper, Cavatina sent a message back to the Promenade.

"I found the creature. It's Halisstra Melarn, her body corrupted by Lolth. She said much that you should hear."

The reply was a moment in coming. Take her to the shrine in the Velarswood. Wait for me there.

Cavatina nodded. Qilue had sounded worried about something. Distracted. Cavatina wondered what new threat had arisen since she'd left the Promenade.

She extended a hand to the creature that had once been a priestess like herself. "Come," she told Halisstra. "Your chance for redemption may be at hand."

Szorak crept through the darkened forest, muttering to himself behind his mask. He didn't much care for the Lethyr, even though the thick canopy of intertwined branches above screened the moon's harsh light. Despite the magical ring that had turned his skin and clothing the exact color of the shadows he passed through and the boots that enabled him to move in utter silence, stilling even the crack of a dead branch underfoot, he still felt as if he was being watched.

Which he was. The very trees were alive. They whispered the whereabouts of all who entered the forest to its guardians.

Fortunately, his mission that dark night had nothing to do with either trees or druids. It wasn't a druid's soul Szorak was after, but that of a priestess.

As he drew closer to Eilistraee's shrine, the spell he'd cast a few moments before picked up the first of the wards: a dim glow coming from underneath a pile of dead leaves, several paces ahead. Szorak pulled out a rod of black iron and held it at the ready. Then he walked forward. As the ward was triggered, sparkles of frost-white light erupted on his skin, causing him to gasp from their cold. The wand, however, drew the bitter cold down into itself, and after a heartbeat, it was gone.