"You knew this would happen," Q'arlynd told the other master. "Didn't you? You saw what was to come, in one of your visions."

"Not quite," Seldszar said with a chuckle. He touched his forehead. "They told me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Q'arlynd cried.

We did, his ancestors answered. You agreed.

"Ease yourself, Q'arlynd." Seldszar said. "All is as was foretold."

"But we're blind!" Eldrinn blurted. "Helpless as surface elves. How can we possibly survive back in Sshamath?"

"We won't be returning there," Seldszar said. "Preparations have been made. The College of Divination is already relocating as we speak; the necessity of fueling our casting with magical items provided an excellent screen for getting out much of our wealth. We're going to start afresh on the surface, in the City of Hope. The College of Ancient Arcana will do the same. We'll be welcome, there. The sharn have promised me that."

Q'arlynd had no idea who the sharn were-but he had the feeling he was about to find out.

"What about the others?" Alexa asked. "In Sshamath… and elsewhere? Have all of the drow changed?"

Not all, the ancestors told Q'arlynd. Only those few without taint. Miyeritari, such as yourselves, and those who follow the dance. By Eilistraee's grace, they too will have transformed.

Q'arlynd glanced at his House insignia, then up at the changed moon. "Are you certain about that?"

Before his ancestors could answer, he heard the whisper of a thrown dagger. He grunted as it slammed into the back of his neck.

Halisstra lifted the blood-smeared Crescent Blade so Eilistraee could see it. "Wendonai said you would come. He said you couldn't bear to lose your high priestess." She smirked. "He was right."

"I came for another reason," the goddess replied. "To offer you redemption. Your heart aches for it." She held out a hand. "Reach for it!"

Swift as a hunting spider, Halisstra struck. The Crescent Blade flashed, and fingertips fell. They pattered to the floor beside the decapitated Darksong Knight.

Eilistraee's eyes blazed red. A bolt of braided light and shadow burst from her forehead and slammed into Halisstra's chest, rocking Halisstra back. The pain was intense, but it lasted only a heartbeat. Halisstra shook it off and menaced the other goddess with her weapon.

Eilistraee, however, didn't press her attack. She squeezed her hand shut and sang. A nimbus of moonlight played around her fist, and the blood flow halted as her wounds sealed shut. When she opened her hand again, however, the fingers were shorter than they had been.

Once again, the hand extended. "Come. Rejoin my dance."

Halisstra swayed forward-then angrily shook off the enchantment the other goddess had tried to ensnare her with. This time, she told herself, she would be stronger. She wouldn't kneel, wouldn't grovel. Not like she had before Lolth.

"I don't need your redemption," she snapped. "I'm stronger than you."

In one sense, it was true. Though Eilistraee glowed with an unearthly light, Halisstra wasn't blinded by it. She didn't wince and fumble about like a mortal drow. And though the high priestess's body had enlarged when the goddess stepped into it, Halisstra still stood head and shoulders taller. Eilistraee was the weak one, not her. Halisstra was stronger, swifter, and armed with the Crescent Blade. The other goddess was frightened of her. She didn't dare attack Halisstra.

"You can't kill me," Halisstra taunted. "If you could, you would have done it already."

"Are you certain of that?" A glint of blue danced in Eilistraee's moonstone eyes. She pointed at Halisstra's chest. "It looks as though Lolth is no longer healing you."

Halisstra glanced down. It was true. Black, tarry blood seeped from the wound Eilistraee's magic had bored-a wound that should have closed by now. That frightened her, more than she cared to admit. If she died, her soul would fly back to the Demonweb Pits. Back to Lolth's cruel embrace.

"I don't need Lolth!" Halisstra shouted. "I'm a demigod!"

"Then why do you pretend to be Lolth's champion?" Eilistraee whirled, her hair lifting like a skirt. When it settled again, tiny knots were in it. Inside each, a tiny figure writhed. "That's what these priestesses thought, wasn't it? They worshiped you as Lolth's champion, not as a goddess in your own right." She whirled again, and the knots disappeared. "And now they've gone to face Lolth's wrath."

"That's a lie!" Halisstra screamed. "They worshiped me! Through subservience to me, they'll be reborn."

Eilistraee's voice was soft and mocking. "If you're a demigod, then why do you need the Crescent Blade?"

"To kill you," Halisstra spat.

"Why haven't you used it? What's staying your hand?" Green-tinted eyes stared at her from behind the mask. "Could it be mercy?"

"Hardly that!" Halisstra laughed and brought the weapon to her lips. She licked Cavatina's blood from it, and smiled. "I like to savor my victories. I notice you weren't able to regenerate your fingers. I think I'll cut you apart, a little at a time. Make you suffer, just like I did."

Eilistraee didn't react to the jibe. "You're not Lolth's," she continued relentlessly. "You never were. You swore an oath to me. By song and sword. You bear my crescent on your knee."

"That was another me!" Halisstra snapped. "The mortal I once was."

Her knee, however, suddenly stung, as if freshly cut. She glanced down at the faded gray scar-the tiny nick Ryld's sword had made, when she danced around the blade to fool Eilistraee's priestesses. Ryld. The lover who had followed her into Eilistraee's faith, only to die. She shook her head. She hadn't thought of him in years.

"Do you remember my song?" Eilistraee asked.

Voices sang in Halisstra's memory. Trust in your sisters; lend your voice to their song. By joining the circle, the weak are made strong.

Had there been voices singing that outside her temple, just a moment ago?

Halisstra glared at Eilistraee. "Lolth did claim me for a time, but no more. I'm not hers-and I'm not yours. You abandoned me in the Demonweb Pits. You stood and watched as Lolth degraded me, consumed me. You watched and did nothing!" She was surprised at the vehemence that boiled out of her. She hadn't thought it would still sting. She gripped the Crescent Blade tightly, reminding herself that her mortal life was over. Done. She was Lolth's plaything no longer. She'd never have to look upon that gloating, Danifae-faced goddess again.

Until she killed her.

"Yes," Eilistraee said, softly as a sigh. "Kill Lolth. That's what the Crescent Blade was forged to do. That's what you were destined to do. You faltered, the first time…"

Halisstra snarled. She didn't like to be reminded of that.

"But I'm giving you a second chance," Eilistraee continued. "A chance to redeem yourself. When Lolth transformed you, she bound you with webs of hatred and guilt. But any web can be broken, if only you are strong enough. Take your revenge on the Spider Queen. Use the disguise she has unwittingly given you. Lolth will never credit you with the strength you truly have."

"Strength?" Halisstra shrieked. She rubbed a throbbing temple with a callused hand.

"Yes, strength. Your penance has tempered you, made you strong as darkfire-forged adamantine. But now that penance is at an end."

"My… penance?" Halisstra echoed hollowly. Her thoughts felt thick, snarled in web. How could Eilistraee possibly "end" anything? Lolth had been the one to twist her body, to break her spirit, to name her the Lady Penitent.

"Your penance began before that," Eilistraee said softly. "The moment you broke my sacred sword, it began. But now it can end. Rejoin me."

Could it? Halisstra wavered. Would Eilistraee truly take her back, after all she had done? Halisstra could feel the power of the goddess who stood before her. It radiated from Eilistraee, filling the chamber. Cleansing it. Turning a place of darkness and death into a place of moonlight and song.