Halisstra had her back to Cavatina. She stared intently at something on the far side of the throne. Cavatina cautiously circled the room, keeping near the wall. A crouching figure came into view. Half the size of the hulking Halisstra, the creature had dull white eyes and skin covered in boils. So misshapen was it that its gender was impossible to determine. At first, Cavatina's mind insisted that this couldn't be Qilue, that it was some blasphemous blend of drow and demon. But the "demon" held the Crescent Blade in its hands, and wore the amulet Laeral had described around its neck.

It was Qilue.

A lump rose in Cavatina's throat as she beheld what the high priestess had become. Cavatina had been raised within Eilistraee's faith. Her earliest memories were of her mother singing the high priestess's praises. Centuries ago, as a girl, Qilue had rekindled Eilistraee's faith from the ashes in which its spark had smoldered for millennia. She had conquered Ghaunadaur, established the Promenade over his Pit, and set up shrines across the length and breadth of Faerun. But now the Promenade had fallen and Qilue had been reduced to…

A tear trickled down Cavatina's cheek. She wiped it away. This wasn't the time for tears, but for action. It might not be her destiny to save Qilue, but she could take Halisstra down. Not permanently-unless Lolth had abandoned her, Halisstra wouldn't die-but at least long enough for Laeral and the others to whisk Qilue out of this foul chamber and attempt an exorcism. Cavatina would likely die in the battle she was about to undertake; her communion with Eilistraee had hinted of this. But that didn't matter. After the horrors she'd experienced during the fall of the Promenade, she was ready to dance at the goddess's side.

Halisstra seemed to have at last remembered whatever song she'd been attempting to play. Her clawed fingers settled into a rhythm, and the music became more melodic. Slowly, lest she make any noise, Cavatina drew the wooden sword. The fact that it didn't kill no longer mattered, since Halisstra couldn't die, anyway. It felt better to have a sword in her hand, even if it was only a wooden one. As the weapon cleared its sheath, Cavatina began the prayer that would send a bolt of twined moonlight and shadow through Halisstra's heart.

Halisstra ended her melody with a single, shrill note. The Crescent Blade suddenly shrank and transformed, becoming an assassin's strangle cord. Halisstra leaped down from her throne. As she reached for the transformed weapon, Cavatina unleashed her spell. Her moonbolt bored into Halisstra's broad back, sending her staggering.

Halisstra whirled, her face twisted with rage. Her eyes widened as she spotted the now-visible Cavatina. As Cavatina sang a second moonbolt into existence, Halisstra yanked the assassin's cord from Qilue's hands and flicked it upward. The weapon transformed back into a sword once more. She raised it above her head with a manic grin. "Yours," she said, her eyes wild, "will be the first soul reaped. Cast aside your feeble goddess, and pay homage to the Lady Penitent!"

Cavatina hurled her second moonbolt. It slammed into Halisstra's chest, sending her staggering. Cavatina leaped in close, thrusting with the wooden sword. Halisstra grunted as the point of it entered her body.

"Surrender," Cavatina told her, "and I'll show mercy."

"Never," Halisstra hissed. She leaped back, unwounded- the wooden sword penetrated flesh, but left no mark-and lashed out with the Crescent Blade. Cavatina instinctively parried-and suddenly was holding nothing but a wooden hilt. Furious, Cavatina dropped it and danced back, resolving to give her opponent no further chances. She sang a circle of blades into existence, and they whirred around her like a disturbed nest of steel-sharp bees. Qilue was directly in their path, but by the grace of Eilistraee she remained unharmed; the magical blades glanced harmlessly off her time-frozen body.

Halisstra seized upon Cavatina's momentary distraction and sang a harsh note. The magical blades that had been protecting Cavatina exploded into shards of light and vanished.

"Redemption is at hand!" Halisstra shrieked, the strings of her throne reverberating in time with her cry. Spittle flew from her lips, and the spider legs twitched madly against her chest. She menaced Cavatina with the Crescent Blade, springing-fast as a spider-to block the chamber's only exit. "Kneel before me, mortal!"

The words slammed into Cavatina's mind, forcing her to the ground.

Halisstra sprang back to her throne and raked its strings with her clawed fingers. Random notes jangled together. "Dance!" she screamed.

Cavatina shuffled forward on her knees across the flagstone floor. She tried to lift her hands to direct a prayer, but they rose above her head, twisting in a terrible parody of the sword dance. "Laeral," she cried. "Halisstra has-"

"Be silent!" Halisstra screeched.

Cavatina's throat tightened, preventing her from completing her warning. Where was Laeral? What was keeping her? She glanced at the room's only entrance, but it was empty. It was, however, faintly lighter, as if moonlight were filtering in from outside the mound. The spiders that had been in the outer chamber burst into this room in a wave, as if fleeing something. Cavatina heard a faint sound that might have been a song, drifting in their wake. The sound gave her hope.

Halisstra loomed over Cavatina, weaving the Crescent Blade back and forth, mockingly directing her "dance." The strings of her throne reverberated in a dismal, unending chord. Cavatina fought with all her will as she scraped across the floor on her knees, but to no avail. Halisstra had grown strong-more powerful than Cavatina had anticipated. Had Halisstra truly been elevated to the status of demigod, as she claimed?

"Who's the master now?" Halisstra asked mockingly. "I was your plaything once, but no more! Lolth's cast you aside. You're mine!"

Cavatina realized Halisstra wasn't talking to her, but to the Crescent Blade. Halisstra stood, caressing it, oblivious to the dribble of blood the blade had just opened in her palm. "You will serve me," she told it. She fingered the spot where the blade had been mended. "Or I will break you. Toss you away, like a piece of trash. Would you like to see how that feels?" She tilted her head, as if listening, then laughed. "Why should I believe you?"

She listened again, stared thoughtfully at the Crescent Blade, and smiled. "Yes. I can kill you, can't I? I can kill anyone!"

She strode over to Qilue, and touched the blade to her throat. The high priestess remained as still as stone. Cavatina, mute and shuffling on bloody knees, felt a rush of fear. Laeral had said that nothing could harm Qilue while she was frozen in time, but that was before Halisstra had found a way to tease the Crescent Blade from her hands. She watched, horrified, as Halisstra slowly drew the blade across Qilue's throat.

Eilistraee! she silently cried. Your high priestess needs you! Save her!

The chamber brightened slightly. Eilistraee, answering with moonlight?

Halisstra abruptly stopped cutting. She pulled the sword away and inspected Qilue's neck. The blade had left a hair-thin line of red, but no blood flowed from it.

Praise Eilistraee! Laeral's spell had saved Qilue! Cavatina wept with relief-but then the Crescent Blade began to glow with a ruddy light. An instant later, it burst into flame. Halisstra cocked her head again, laughed, and touched the sword's edge once more to Qilue's throat. The fire licked across the curved blade, and slid from it onto Qilue's neck, encircling it in flickering orange light. Then it disappeared into the cut on her neck.

Qilue's eyelids fluttered. Her head twitched. A creaking sound filled the air as wings burst from her shoulders and unfurled, and she rose. Her mouth opened, and a gurgling laugh came out. Low, deep, masculine.