Isaviel's dreams were unrelenting in their horror. The fires were hot all around her, and although they did no damage to her she could see Neeshka…sometimes Daeghun or Duncan or Sand…screaming, trapped somehow. She could never help them, could only watch as their eyes rolled in their heads, crazed, terrible screams tearing from their lips as the fires blackened their skin and their bones and all that they were, flesh peeling back. The smell of burning bodies, of hair and skin and boiling blood… Sometimes this would shift, so that she was chained to a table or a wall, Githyanki all about holding daggers or shards of glass, stabbing her, stabbing her. This night she dreamed that Bishop was holding her still while one monster tore at the scar on her chest. Its nails were digging into her skin, clawing at her, burrowing through bone, and the agony was terrible, there was nothing she could do…

The Moon Elf woke with a scream, thrashing herself awake and sitting up, clutching at her chest, where sharp pain did still rage. She had collapsed to sleep on her bed still fully clothed in tunic and leggings, clutching her belt with its weapons and shards to her side. Pushing aside the neckline of her top, she saw that the area around her scar where it ran down the centre of her chest was red and inflamed. Hissing when even the slightest touch sent a jolt through her torso, the Moon Elf stood in her dark room, seeking to console herself with the familiar humming heat of the three shards in the pouches on her belt. Always they resonated when she touched them.

The fire was still smouldering in the hearth as she padded across the cool floorboards, giving it a wide birth after those dreams. The window just past it was generous both in height and breadth, affording a good view of the city walls towards Neverwinter Wood. Looking around the rim a little, she could make out the full moon, setting the world aglow with its silvery light, trailed by the twinkling Tears of Selune. Looking down at the belt in her hands with a sigh, she fastened it about her waist, not trusting herself to even let it go for a moment, and began the stretches Merring had taught her, closing her eyes and focusing on the stillness. Calm began to spread, too, and the pain started to ebb with it. An hour later, as the sun was starting to rise and spread the Docks District in the crisp, early light of dawn, she sat cross-legged on the woven rug by the cold fire, her hands lightly resting on her knees. Feelings were inconsequential, and sense was everything.

It was in this state that Isaviel sensed it; the uneven footsteps on the floorboards overhead, and the ring of steel in the aftermath of a scuffle. Her eyes snapped open as she realised that the Githyanki were there, in The Sunken Flagon. Running footsteps and then sounds of battle were suddenly very close and the Moon Elf leapt to her feet as she heard Duncan's voice.

"Alarm! Alarm!" he sounded panicked.

She heard Neeshka swearing loudly, her door crashing open, and the Tiefling's steps were temporarily audible. Duncan's voice still rang out, and he had now started hammering on doors, telling people to grab any weapon they could – yes, the Giths were here.

"The Flagon is under attack!"

As if he needed to say that. The Moon Elf unsheathed a kukri and flung open her door…only for a dead Githyanki to collapse at her feet, gurgling, Duncan panting, wild-eyed behind it, hefting his greatsword which now dripped with thick yellow blood.

"You alright lass?" he asked urgently, "We need to get to the tavern hall. Sounds like the fighting's pretty bad back there," and he took up an awkward limping run which Isaviel easily overtook.

Duncan had been right, the tavern was the main focus of the battle. Once more caught out in his night attire, Sal was battering valiantly with a rolling pin at the few Githyanki that turned his way as he ran for the kitchen, managing to bar himself inside before any could follow. None tried too hard to pursue him, for their enemies' main focus was on the better armed adventurers. Neeshka snatched a glittering dagger from one foe's belt and laughed with delight when her new weapon easily cut through leather, flesh and bone, slicing the Githyanki clean in two, magical acid quickly eating up the corpse. It left little more than a red mess as a memory.

Casavir was fighting with Elanee's defensive spells to aid him, and he was the only member of the group who remained fully armed. It was as if he had never sought sleep. As for Qara, she appeared to be having the most fun of her life, raining down spells on her enemies and laughing almost madly as she did so.

"Take that! And that!" Grobnar cried, hacking at Githyanki legs to try to reach Khelgar, the most hard-pressed of the group, who had been caught out with no armour, just his tunic and trousers, and not even he could hold back the numbers thronging him.

Isaviel pounced, laying into the ring of Githyanki at the opposite side from Grobnar as Duncan joined them. The Moon Elf could feel the lightness flickering on and off through her body and she used her semi-invisibility – though unexpected this time – to her advantage. Dancing around her enemies, vanishing from their sight only to appear behind them and plunge a danger into their backs or sever limbs with a kukri, she found this battle oddly exhilarating where others had been fraught.

Soon every Githyanki lay dead, Duncan leaning on the bar as he tried to catch his breath.

"That lass, Shandra, has been taken" he panted as the others grouped around him, looking for answers, "How in the Hells did that many Githyanki get into the city?"

"Does that matter?" Bishop's voice cut in, coldly amused, and Isaviel turned to see him sneering at Duncan from the other side of the room before bending to brutally retrieve an arrow from a fallen Gith, "You'd best hurry if you want to get her back. And oh, look, this one has a sprig of Duskwood trapped in his boot," he turned to face them all now, scowling darkly, his voice just a growl, "That means they came from deep within Luskan territory…and that's where they'll be returning to."

"Luskan," Duncan spat, "That's your territory, Bishop."

"Yes, but it's not my problem. I'm not going into Luskan for some farm girl, and certainly not with any 'kin' of yours Duncan."

"Oh, really?" Isaviel looked to Duncan, feeling the sting Bishop had intended those words to have as acutely as she knew he'd hoped, and absolutely determined he would only see her anger instead, "You say he's the only one who can get us on the right trail."

"Aye, lass, but…"

"Alright then, ranger, how about in exchange for your worthless hide?" she hissed. But Bishop just laughed, glancing disdainfully at her kukris and daggers.

"Is that what passes for a threat from a Harbourman? Ha! I'd have you pinned to that wall…a nice new trophy for dear Uncle Duncan before you could even take two strides."

"Who said you'd even hit me?" Isaviel snarled.

"Is your whole family deaf, Duncan?" Bishop jeered, "Like I said: not my problem."

"You're helping us whether you like it or not, Bishop," Duncan growled, and the ranger lowered his bow to glare at the half Elf.

"And what makes you think…" he snarled, only for his gaze to be met by a cold stare from Duncan, and he laughed with understanding, "Calling it due, are you Duncan? Are you sure?" he mocked as he approached, kicking a charred Githyanki corpse out of his way as he did so.

"A woman's life is at stake, Bishop. If that's what it takes to make you do the right thing, then so be it," Duncan answered instantly.

"Fine," Bishop said stiffly, "It will be a small price to pay to be rid of you. You're a fool, Duncan."

"So be it," the barkeeper repeated firmly, and Bishop sighed dramatically, turning to the others.

"Alright," the ranger growled, "Pack your bags and grab your weapons. We're bound for the Luskan border. Follow my lead and don't try anything stupid," he levelled his gaze pointedly at Isaviel, who glared back – which only seemed to make him smirk, "If the Luskans catch us they will use us for target practice. And I know who I am standing behind when they try."

"Fine. Let's go everyone," Isaviel nodded to the group before turning back to Bishop, "Just try to remember that I give the orders around here, will you?"


A little more than a day's hard travel north, roughly parallel with the High Road, saw Bishop leading the group east, up towards the other side of the mighty Crags and over the Luskan border. He insisted that they stay off the path generally, but the others were not so quick to listen to him as they had been to Isaviel – something which she was greatly relieved to witness. Qara (and probably Neeshka, too) wanted to sleep in a bed for a night, Khelgar wanted a tavern brawl or some ale…or both. Grobnar had insisted on coming along, as well, and it had turned out on their first evening that for all of his apparent innocence he was a far better shot with the bow than Isaviel, successfully felling a deer.

So it was that once they were clear of the shelter of the south side of the Crags, walking right across the face of the howling northern wind, their path up into the foothills was met by a small town. It was built on the edge of a cliff with a steep, twisting path leading up from the High Road where the eerie still darkness of the Duskwood began. They had reached a high vantage point, with the woods around them marking a curve up into the hills leading to the Crags. Below them, to the west, she could see the distant twinkle of the Sword Coast and its Sea of Swords. Over in that direction Isaviel could just about make out the greyish shape of a town, maybe the ghostly sail of a ship. Somewhere further to the north lay Luskan, the City of Sails, and its massive docked fleet which gave it such a name. Beyond that the perpetual snows began, those icy winds they were feeling came roaring down over The Spine of the World and the closest settlements were disparate and small; Nesme, Silverymoon, Mirabar. Beyond that, to the west, lay Icewind Dale and its Ten Towns.

Shivering in the cold, Isaviel turned away from the vantage point to see the others just reaching the border of the town, and quickened her pace to reach the sign as they did. Nailed to a tree, it proclaimed 'Ember'.

"Strange name for a very flammable village if you ask me," Neeshka noted uneasily.

"Now that would be satisfying," Qara smirked, flexing her fingers.

Bishop sent her a strange look – one of incredulous amusement that somehow still bordered on rage. There was always fury blazing in his eyes, desperate to be let loose – especially now Duncan had called him up on that debt, whatever that meant. He spoke little in front of the larger group of travellers, always sitting apart from them when they rested - even if that meant he could not have the warmth of the fire – with only Karnwyr for company. The wolf, however, had proved less fickle and was increasingly permitted to wander between Isaviel, Elanee and its master.

"Hold on," Bishop sighed, taking Isaviel by the arm, "Something isn't right," and the others came to a clanking stop behind them.

The ranger guided the Moon Elf closer to the mouth of the road, staying under the cover of the trees thinning to this point, and they stopped on the border of the woods. The town was utterly deserted, all but silent save for the whistling winds. Doors were shut tightly, shutters closed resolutely. Nothing moved. Nothing seemed to live. Even the birds had stopped singing.

"You're right," Isaviel hissed, and he nodded, looking a little surprised, "There are no villagers."

"Now you're learning, good. Keep listening to me and you might stay alive," he smirked – did Isaviel detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice? "But it's not just the villagers," he continued, pointing towards the empty pens, "Where are all the livestock? They didn't take them all to market, trust me," he straightened up, easily looking over her head, "We're on the trail of our friends, though. They're moving fast but it seems we've closed in a bit."

Isaviel shook her head now, feeling a little dread creeping in.

"The trail has been too obvious. It's all too easy."

Again, that surprised look, and now the hint of a smile.

"Just what I was thinking. Seems you really do know your way around the wilderness…" an almost honest grin flickered across his face, "I wonder how you and Duncan could possibly be related," he mocked softly.

Isaviel felt the rough warmth of his hand brush against her back as he stepped back to let her pass, heading back to the others.

"Keep your eyes open and your weapons handy. I smell an ambush," he warned, pulling his bow free and notching an arrow, "Wouldn't want that pretty head of yours to hit the ground before it's due, eh?"

Isaviel glanced back at him and grinned when his eyes watched her long midnight-blue curls tumbling down her back in a loose ponytail before his gaze wove its way back to her face. He regarded her with a fierce, dark look for what felt like several long seconds before growling and turning away, whistling for Karnwyr. Right, Isaviel reminded herself as they went to warn the others, they had a probable ambush to deal with – and Shandra to save.

An arrow whistled through the air to land, quivering, just inches in front of her, buried deep into the earth. Alright, make that a definite ambush, she thought as the others formed up about her, calling curses. More arrows came, and Isaviel had time to just make out over a score of Githyanki materialising out of the woods around the town before Casavir's shield came rushing in front of her, one heavy plate-clad arm crushing her back against him. Three distinct thuds sounding against the barrier immediately afterwards as arrows intended for her peppered that shield. She had felt the impact of each one, jarring them both.

"Thanks," she admitted as he released her, and somehow he found time to incline his head to her before dodging a few more projectiles – and one of Qara's fireballs as it went crackling through the air to scatter Gith at its landing.

Isaviel dived for the cover of the trees as she saw Casavir and Khelgar rushing into the open ground of the town, Grobnar having the sense to shelter behind a rock to shoots his arrows. Qara was wreathed in flame, eyes glowing just that little bit too madly. She for one was certainly enjoying herself. Elanee had armoured herself in conjured bark and had joined the two warriors, showing surprising dexterity with her wicked double-edged sickle. But she looked vulnerable nonetheless, and Isaviel could see that consideration was hindering Casavir's accuracy. They were hard put upon, even as Bishop and Grobnar continued to systematically take out the archers who crouched poised on roofs with their own arrows. Luckily for Isaviel, her companions proved better shots and harder targets.

As the Moon Elf finally understood the real threat at work there, a Githyanki mage deep in concentration on the far side of this main section of the town, she threw herself into a run, dodging behind the backs of houses as she came clear of the woods. Her louder, more immediately brutal friends were keeping all of the focus out in the open, though she had spied Neeshka joining the battle from the shadows and smiled to herself. In that short time they had come closer to significantly evening the odds.

Isaviel's path was swift, and those foes who lingered in her path soon fell to her blades, caught unawares as she materialised from shadow to deal death. As she went she finally began to notice pale, frightened villagers' faces staring at her through the back windows. It sickened her to think of how hard the people of West Harbour had fought, and how afraid and impotent these people were. There were no signs of a struggle, and she felt wilfully betrayed.

For the moment, the Moon Elf shrugged aside her anger, knowing that it would not help her like it did Khelgar or Qara. She had recognised the real threat, for power was building in a shimmering wall around that Githyanki wizard and she could not risk his magic being unleashed on her friends.

"Hey! Aren't I the Kalach-Cha? Isn't it me you want?" Isaviel cried as she turned the corner around one house and threw herself towards the wizard, giving him pause enough for his barrier to fail, just in time for her to barrel into him and utterly ruin his spell.

Under her slight weight, and despite her speed, the wizard barely staggered, but the impact had been enough for her to bury her kukris deep within his gut. Weapons certainly not intended for such an attack. She did not linger on the gory details as his eyes went wide in horror and pain, for she heard the high hiss of an approaching arrow behind her and ducked just in time, allowing the projectile to pass over her, into the Githyanki's chest. As he crumpled to the ground, the built up energies of his spell, perhaps some fire invocation, backfired, its energy playing out over his skin as yellow phantom flames.

Isaviel watched in amazement as the hilts of her kukris sparked with power, the magical energy being visibly sucked into the blades in a rapid out-pouring. Gingerly, hearing the sounds of battle decreased significantly behind her, she pulled free her weapons and marvelled at the change in them. They were warm to the touch, their blades shining brightly once she had wiped them clean, a strange yellow sheen remaining in the sunlight. Tiny sparks formed in the air around them as she performed an experimental swipe…right into the body of another Githyanki who had thought his prey distracted. Screaming, he had no time to observe his charred wounds before he too died.

"Ha. That was fun," Khelgar grinned as the group gradually began to gather by Isaviel, the last of the Giths slain. She quickly sheathed her kukris when she saw the Dwarf eyeing them with new distrust.

A swift survey of the group told Isaviel that no one was injured, fortunately. Somehow Grobnar had ended up covered in mud and Khelgar had gained a black eye, but that seemed the worst of it.

"Yeah, that was fun," Qara declared, "Like target practice but with real targets."

"We must not forget we are out here to save a life, not for sport," Casavir interjected as Bishop brushed past him to reach Isaviel's side.

"They left a large force here," the ranger noted with a frown, looking at the fallen monsters scattered all about.

"…which means we'll face less of them later," Isaviel added for him, and this time his answering smile, though hard, was genuine.

"Exactly. As long as we catch them before they go to ground and there is a 'later'," Bishop added.

"Something's tellin' me that won't be a problem, since they seem to be wantin' Isaviel here dead as surely as they wanted to capture Shandra," Khelgar pointed out.

"Still, there are less of them now, which means they'll travel faster and could become harder to track," Bishop warned, "We'll need to work twice as hard now to catch up with your precious farm girl." He sneered pointedly at Casavir, "And that means no hope of staying the night in this wretched place. What a shame."

"Well, I'll be glad if we don't have to deal with another fight like that one," Neeshka put in, wincing as Elanee applied a bandage to her leg. So, not all unscathed then.

"A little difficult, but we handled it," Bishop shrugged, "More than could be said for the villagers here, giving up their home to the enemy. Surprised those Gith left them alive…it's more mercy than I would have shown them."

As the ranger spoke, the doors of the houses began to open, locals leading pigs and goats out from their own houses to replace them in their pens. Shutters began to swing wide, and people seemed to be preferring to ignore the dead monsters on the ground. Casavir and Elanee began to move among them, offering comfort to those frightened by the attacks and removing the horrific corpses. Isaviel watched it all in silence for a moment, seeing Khelgar joining the clean-up effort as well now, but all she could imagine was West Harbour, how the people had fought and still burned, how they had returned and begun to rebuild, by all accounts. She felt angry, and guilty. How could she have saved this town, and not her own when her own had fought so hard and this one had not?

"Gods," she spat, turning away from it, from Neeshka's understanding eyes, from Qara's gloating, "If the people of West Harbour had behaved this way…they fought and they died trying to defend themselves when they had to. These people did not…how do they live on when they just stood by? They would have rather we died. A little help from some of those pitchfork wielding fools and we could have repelled them easily."

Bishop nodded, but his eyes stayed on her face a moment longer, as if he saw through her anger. He was quick to hide his understanding with brutal words of his own, however.

"How important can something be if you won't fight for it? They all deserved to die for that," he agreed, then raised his voice so the others could here, "Alright, let's head out. Forget the unsightly dead, these pathetic townsfolk should learn how to deal with that which they cause. We've a lot of ground to cover, and…"

"Forgive me," a high, nervous voice interrupted as a young, blonde woman stepped forward, having to lift her skits to uncomfortably step over a dead Githyanki in her path, "You are…are you hunting a woman named Shandra Jerro?"

"We are, and the longer we stand here talking to you, the further she gets," Isaviel snapped, moving as if to pass her by, but the woman put a gentle hand on her arm and the Moon Elf's hands reflexively went to her weapons.

"Wait," the woman flinched, backing up, "Those creatures…we heard her screaming as they carried her off. I did not recognise her at first, but she makes a merchant run through Port Llast and Ember every Harvest Season and had not been through here yet this year."

"You give us hope, young lady," Casavir's deep voice resonated with gratitude and soothing calm that Isaviel could never have even considered giving. It made her feel sick…and guilty.

"Oh, forgive me…I am Alaine," the young woman, perhaps in her late teens now Isaviel looked more closely, blushed a little at the paladin's words, or maybe just his presence, "Please, I saw those beasts taking her to the mountains to the north and east. They have barely an hour on you but were moving fast. And thank you for saving us from the creatures, I can't th-"

"Oh, don't thank us," Bishop snarled, "You deserve to die here for surrendering to the Gith. Now, can we go without more mewling dogs getting in our way? Every moment we wait the trail grows colder."

As they resumed their walk to the end of the town it seemed Bishop's wish was not to come true, for a boy, perhaps in his early teens stepped out before them. From that distance his blue eyes seemed almost purple, his voice oddly calm as he pointed at Isaviel and spoke a proclamation.

"You. You are the one who will destroy Ember."

"What?" Isaviel stopped in her tracks, "Why would I do that?"

"That boy's got a lot of power streaming off him," Qara whispered in Isaviel's ear, "I almost can't see him he's burning so brightly…it's blurring the air around him."

"Wait…no…" the boy mumbled, "I was mistaken. Strange. The killer looks like you but is not you. Regardless, Ember cannot be saved – all within will perish when the time comes. Except one: me. You are carrying something that will help me survive but you cannot aid me in any other way."

"Is this some game? Because if it is, we've not patience – or time – for it," Isaviel warned.

"No," the boy said firmly, "Ember's fate is set in stone, but mine is not. However, I will share Ember's fate unless you help me."

"Very well," Isaviel approached him warily. There was something in his manner…he seemed too old for his age, too certain. And she could feel the magic on him, too – it filled her with a creeping dread.

The boy shook his head, pointing towards Bishop instead.

"Him. He carries something that will save me."

"Try to take anything and I'll have both your hands as trophies, got it?" Bishop told him coldly, but the boy approached him anyway.

Behind the ranger, Neeshka made a disgusted sound and stalked past them, soon followed by Qara. Elanee was quick to take that path as well, happier in the wilds beyond, with Grobnar in tow.

"Your knife," the boy was saying, and suddenly he was holding up a small, curved blade, "It can save me."

"My…"

"Just give him the knife," Isaviel groaned, "You have so many others."

"No," the ranger refused flatly, turning to face her angrily, "Not unless it's going between his – or maybe your – eyes."

"Please, we haven't much time to waste, remember?" Isaviel told him quietly, coming to his side and putting a hand on his arm, feeling him tense drastically, "Keep travelling with me and I'll make sure you're rewarded ten times over," she promised the ranger, nodding to the boy who turned and ran back the way he had come.

"That so?" the ranger smirked, hardly seeming to notice the child leave, his dark eyes locked in a long stare with Isaviel's golden ones, "I won't forget that promise," he whispered, one hand running slowly through her unusual hair, then bunching it unexpectedly in his fist, "Or how much you owe me," he added in growl, releasing her violently, and turning away.

The sound of her laughter mocking him as he walked enraged him for its beauty.


Every step up the winding path deeper in to the mountains had been increasingly difficult for Isaviel. Not only did she have to contend with waves of pain from her scar but there was something new. A recognition of a presence, and tingling in her fingertips the she did not trust. It had nothing to do with the icy wind, or the threat of snow. Not even to do with how much Qara's indignation over such weather at Harvest Season annoyed her.

Her troubles only increased when she caught up with Neeshka and Bishop, standing by a small cave mouth as they were. The others were a short way behind, led by Elanee. They were typically struggling with their armour or lack of motivation in such difficult terrain, but Isaviel could see on Neeshka's face that her own lagging had worried the Tiefling. The Moon Elf had never been anything other than first in all of their expeditions.

"Your demonic friend had a little look around just before you got here," Bishop informed as she approached, and from the frown on his face she could tell that whatever the Tiefling had found, it was not good.

"It's looking pretty bad in there, Isaviel," Neeshka nodded, finally turning to face her friend, having been staring intently into the moss-framed tunnel beyond.

"What's wrong?" the Moon Elf demanded, crouching by the entrance to better look at the thin stream of liquid trailing from within. It did not take long for her to recognise the thick, yellow blood of the Githyanki, "Something's killing the Giths?"

She looked up at Neeshka in confusion to see her friend nodding again as the others arrived loudly behind her. The pass was narrow – she could hear Khelgar and Casavir's armoured frames scraping horribly against the bare rock.

"Yep. And whatever it is, I'd say it's worse than them, too. Just the air's making my skin crawl," Neeshka looked genuinely disconcerted, and when she turned back into the shadow Isaviel saw that her eyes were glowing deep red in the darkness.

"Devils, then," Isaviel understood instantly, "There are devils in there." She did not understand how she knew with such certainty, despite Neeshka's words, "There are demons, too."

"Don't tell me the Blood Wars have spilled over into our plane," Bishop hissed, and Neeshka's confused frown answered 'no'.

"They seem to be working together. And when we get out of this, you've got to explain to me how you knew they were there at all, Isaviel," Neeshka added.

"I wish I could," the Moon Elf sighed, glancing back at the others before approaching the tunnel, "Qara, I think we'll be needing some light. Whatever's in there will be able to see us either way – but I know most of us don't have that luxury."

"Oh, great. Menial labour," Qara flounced as the others presented torches to be lit, as provided by Khelgar – necessities for herself, Casavir, Bishop, Grobnar and, in utter darkness, Elanee, "I could have stayed at The Sunken Flagon."

The moment she stepped in to the darkness Isaviel felt something was wrong, her skin seemed to flare up momentarily and she let out an involuntary cry, recoiling back against Bishop, who cursed under his breath, but steadied her quickly with hands on her waist. Quickly she joined Neeshka in the more open space beyond the damp initial tunnel.

"Nice moves," the Tiefling sniggered at her friend, apparently believing she had simply lost her footing, then stopped abruptly, doing a double take, "Hey! You're eyes look funny…they're glowing silver, not red. They normally glow red in the dark, right?"

They did, it was true. She was not seeing in the infrared spectrum either, as would have been normal for a race with darkvision – which she technically was not known to be descended from, anyway. Now Neeshka's features were apparent in as much detail as if they had been in bright sunlight. Except everything was tinged in shades of blue…

"Gods!" the Moon Elf felt suddenly sick, listening to the others following, "What's happening to me?"

"Hey," Neeshka patted her shoulder awkwardly, watching an apathetic Bishop stalk past them, brandishing a torch, "Let's just focus on staying alive for now, ok?"

"Of course. You're right," Isaviel nodded firmly, "Let's go."

She was about to overtake the ranger, seeing that this cavern was void of life, save for some sparse glowing lichen, but Bishop put an arm out, stopping her. She had started to angrily push past when she saw his tense expression, eyes fixed on the gory scene half-lit beyond. Along the tunnel ahead lay strewn the bodies of several Githyanki, limbs torn off, bodies ripped open. Neeshka stood near them, looking even more uncomfortable than Bishop. Isaviel found herself gripping his restraining forearm, her nails digging into his bracer.

"By all the gods!" Khelgar cried, his loud voice echoing substantially and making the three scouts cringe.

"A terrible evil did this, one that must be stopped," Casavir put in.

Glancing around in irritation, Isaviel signalled for silence, something Grobnar did not instantly comprehend and continued a strangely tuneless humming until Isaviel's gaze met his. Turning back, she saw Neeshka just disappearing around the corner, Bishop following with Karnwyr in tow. His torch had been discarded at Isaviel's feet and she wondered how he could see with only the Underdark mushrooms and lichen as aids.

Signalling for the others to follow, with Casavir taking up the rear, Isaviel half-ran, on silent feet, dodging into the deepest darkness with every chance she got. To those behind her she was all but invisible; just a breath of air. Their path continued uncontested for a short but significant while as the branching tunnels took them ever deeper. It soon became clear that despite their labyrinthine nature, this set of caves did eventually lead to the same point. With every step her scar ached more, as if something was tugging strongly at her insides.

The way was littered with many more dead Githyanki, the pungent smell of their blood soon becoming all too familiar. Only as the ground began to level out again, the glowing fungi became more numerous – as they neared the Underdark, most likely – and helped greatly to light the way. Their torches could be put out and for the first time the eerie silence lifted, replaced by a distant, chorus of sultry laughter. At the sound Isaviel felt an unexpected anger well inside her, skin prickling.

"Oh my, look at this," Bishop whispered.

The ranger nodded towards three fallen Gith, all surrounding a fourth dead being. This one was almost human in appearance, a half-naked woman with icy white skin and large leathery wings splayed, tattered, beneath her still form. A Githyanki blade was still embedded in her heart.

"Hey guys?" Neeshka approached the two at the head of the group, "Maybe you should come and see this. You might want to keep the others close. This could get nasty."

Feeling her discomfort growing with every step, Isaviel joined Neeshka in silent observation of a more neatly hewn cavern below them, paved and tiled with carefully cut, polished stone. The way down was steep, descending into impenetrable darkness for human eyes. Isaviel could see steps cut into the rock beside them, curving steadily down, the ceiling of the vast cavern in places barely four feet above the top of the staircase.

At the centre of the cavern glowed a ring of deeply cut red runes, distorted by a shallow mote of water writhing above them. It took Isaviel a moment to correct this observation – the cavern floor was in fact an underground lake, not shallow at all, with small islands and walkways of carved rock dotted across it like stepping stones.

Two more female figures, Demons with sharp red talons on bare feet and hands, fiery hair and crimson serrated wings stood in the largest of these islands in front of the glowing ring.

"Succubi," Neeshka hissed, an unguarded look of pain crossing her face, "Glad I didn't inherit those wings."

"Well…that's quite something," Qara knelt beside the two, as if drawn to the power below them, "Can you see him? His power's lighting up this whole place. What is he?"

"Who?" Isaviel asked confusedly and received two equally incredulous stares.

"Can't you see him? The Devil, in the circle?" Neeshka asked.

Only then did Isaviel realise she could indeed see the one they spoke of, but for some subconscious reason she had avoided looking to him. The Devil, as Neeshka had proclaimed him, did indeed stand at the very centre of the circle, watching the succubi in front of him with a calm, unreadable air.

He was achingly beautiful, his skin fairly glowing with a bluish hue, long, glassy hair drawn back with fine jewelled golden chains, refracting the reddish light from the runes without taking in any of its colour. He was tall and powerfully built, dressed in a black tunic, its loose silver lacing matching his woven belt. Runes of this same colour adorned his midnight blue boots, with trousers to match. This 'devil' looked more celestial to Isaviel…until she saw his vast black-feathered wings, tinted with a deep crimson and lacking any lustre they once had. His eyes were rimmed with sharp red lashes, pupils large and vertical, irises glowing a harsh yellow. She caught her breath. He was looking at her.

"Ah, Sister, look at this one," one of the succubi was saying languidly, every sound, every breath, every motion intended to seduce.

"Such a handsome Devil…trapped here at our mercy," the other added pointedly.

"Won't you even look at us, Devil?" the first succubus asked, her voice dripping with sarcastic hurt.

"Well, even if he is immune to our advances, Sister, I wonder if he is immune to pain!" her counterpart cackled, her talon visibly cutting deep into the pale skin of his chest, drawing forth a glistening, silvery liquid which Isaviel could only assume to be blood. The Devil did not even flinch.

The Moon Elf turned around to her other waiting companions, signalling for them to attack the succubi. Khelgar had already begun a loud charge before she could advise him otherwise, Casavir close behind him, aglow with Tyr's might. Bishop knelt beside her as Qara backed up to send down fire upon their new foes. Karnwyr seemed unsure of what to do, a creature of the outdoors faced with a terrain it was not comfortable in. Watching Qara's spells raining down about the two female Demons, boiling water and sending stream hissing into the air – doing little damage to the actual succubi, Isaviel was glad the wolf had not joined the melee.

"Qara, stop!" Elanee cried as the two fighters reached the scene, reeling back from the heat.

"I don't follow…" the girl began but Isaviel stood quickly, looking to the sorceress with a cold stare.

"She is right, Qara. You're not helping us, you're helping the demons. So unless you wish to be dragged to the Abyss to join the Blood Wars, I suggest you listen to her."

"Thank you," Elanee smiled, a little surprised by the Moon Elf's support.

But Isaviel waved the words aside, turning back around to see the succubi cackling gleefully among red hot stones, flitting through the air on powerful wings to bat at Casavir and Khelgar and retreat before the fighters could retaliate. Neeshka was also on the cavern floor, not joining the fight but stalking through the shadows around the trapped Devil, her eyes glowing an eerie red.

"Aim for the wings first," she whispered to Bishop as he drew back an arrow. In a rare moment of honesty he nodded quickly and did just that.

First one, and then the other, succubus tumbled shrieking to the rocky stepping stones, wings torn and pierced. Taking this as her cue, Isaviel vaulted over the edge of the high outcropping, nimbly making a quick descent to the rocks below, finally able to see that the water was indeed much deeper than expected.

The closest succubus turned to her while the other faced the two fighters' relentless assaults. Isaviel barely had time to dodge out of the way, drawing her kukris and almost losing her footing on the slippery stone.

"My, are you beautiful," the succubus smiled slowly, black eyes glittering horribly in Elanee's summoned light, "Or…you would have been, were it not for that scar!" She snapped out a hand, her arm much longer than a human's.

Isaviel felt an awful burning sensation on her skin as the succubus's talon travelled down her neck…and then she struck. The Moon Elf found herself smiling as her kukri bit all the way through the Demon's finger, the digit dropping into the water with an odd hissing sound. Inspired anew, she met the succubus's fearful look with a knowing one of her own…as two arrows pinned one tattered wing to the Demon's shoulder, only lengthening her agonised screams.

The Moon Elf simply dodged aside when her foe leapt for her next, knowing the largest unbroken area of water lay behind her. She was not expecting the succubus's talons to catch on her clothes, tearing the side of her tunic and dragging her back to land with a unified splash in the cold water. The unexpected iciness paralysed her body as the succubus writhed and thrashed to escape the liquid, Demonic skin bubbling and peeling away, bone corroding…

Isaviel shut her eyes tightly and finally tried to swim up for air, kicking away from the dying creature beneath her. Her lungs burned for air, her whole body was already numb with cold. Her head broke the water as her feet continued to kick wildly at the disintegrating body below. Isaviel found to her panic that her numbed hands could find no purchase on the slippery stone and several times she fell back in…until a strong hand hooked under her arm, pulling her up easily.

As she fell forward against a kneeling man, she had expected the one who aided her to be Casavir, but blinking water from her eyes, already shivering and gasping for breath, she found her eyes met Bishop's. Beyond him she could see the others dropping the other succubus, now, dead, into the water as well, and wondered which among them had known that it would dissolve. Meanwhile, Bishop's arm had slipped to her waist, the other instinctively rubbing at her other arm as she shivered so violently against him. She was so busy coveting his warmth in that moment that she hardly noticed the way he lingered, until his hand came up to brush her wet hair from her face, remaining there with the intention of drawing her to him.

"You wait too much for one of your kind," she told him with a smirk, "And you choose your times so badly."

She pulled herself back to her feet, trying to hide how much she was shivering, and turned away from his glare as Elanee rushed over to her, wrapping her cloaks around her shoulders. The Moon Elf smiled her thanks, relieved to discover the shards were all still with her as the others came closer. But as if pulled by a thought, she turned about and saw the Devil, still standing calmly at the centre of the cavern, a slight smile on his lips. And his eyes, terrifying as they were, had settled once more upon her.

"I must thank you for your…timely arrival," the terrible, beautiful creature remarked, his voice low and calm, echoing at the beginning of every word with a deep hum of power. Somehow he sounded familiar…but how could that be?

"We do not need your thanks, Devil," Casavir cut in, his voice as angry as Isaviel had ever known it, "Tell us how to reach the one we seek and I will grant you a swift death."

"Perhaps we should be a little more cautious, Sir Paladin?" Grobnar suggested, his voice high and nervous, "It is said that the Devils with feathered wings are those who Fell with Asmodeus, Lord of the Ninth Hell, even before Toril had been created millennia ago."

What does that make me, then? Isaviel wondered, subconsciously flexing her shoulders where the thick, jagged scars lay, the places that her own feathered wings had grown. Avariel, and nothing to fear? Or a Fallen Devil's daughter? If not…what else was there?

"His essence is at once perfect and rotten," Elanee sounded a little faint, "That explains it. But Isaviel, be careful," she added at a whisper, "Everything he does will seek to entrap you."

"Oh, the druidess speaks truth, Wild One," the Devil smiled slowly, showing two red-tipped fangs among otherwise perfect white teeth.

"You know the way through," Isaviel stated, hopping to the walkway leading to him and approaching as steadily as she could, trying not to shiver, and wondering how she was going to keep a level head when this creature before her was so overpowering. His lips twitched at her words and he bowed.

"Yes," he admitted as he stood straight, "But I can tell you nothing when a half-blood Demon seeks to drive a blade through my heart," he turned to face Neeshka and the hum of his voice grew briefly to a roar as he spoke one word, ringing with power: "Stop," and she froze in place.

"I've no time for your tricks," Isaviel shivered when the Devil turned back to face her. He laughed genuinely.

"But of course. You are wise, Beautiful One," and to her surprise he raised a perfect hand and touched one fingertip under her chin. An uncomfortable, conjured heat spread through her limbs, dispelling the cold that the water had brought and making her cringe, though she found she could not pull away. Only then did she realise that her feet had stopped just before the runes, half of her body effectively in the circle.

"And my, my, you are so beautiful," he smiled.

She felt a fire growing in her scar, blood rushing in her ears…and snatched his hand away, only to have her fingers caught in his and kissed with hot lips that left a burning mark. She would have cried out in pain if that contact had not sent the message it did into her mind. A message of seduction and dark power.

Isaviel's eyes rolled back into her head and she swayed on her feet, dimly away of her friends calling out to her in alarm…but the feeling of her mind disconnecting itself from reason was too much, and she forced herself back to reality, yanking herself free.

"Enough," she told him firmly, "Tell us how to get to our…friend," she demanded.

"Very well," the Devil seemed amused, "My master was killed by the Githyanki and so my bonds passed to their control. They have summoned this water from below to block the path to your captured friend…and of course to themselves. My presence here is maintaining the summoning, and if I were to be banished to my native Hell you would be able to pass more easily."

"And more succubi could follow us," Bishop snarled, but the Devil shook his head.

"You killed the last of them. With my master dead, there will be no more of my kind, or of the Demons…excepting that one, of course," he gestured behind him to the still frozen Neeshka.

"Well…" Isaviel shrugged, "I'm sure you're lying about quite a bit, but I don't think we have any options."

"You are wise, truly, Isaviel Farlong," the Devil smiled, acceding her point with a tip of his head, and ignoring her shock that he knew her name, "But before I give you the use of my true name, in order to give you power to banish me, I must have your promise that you will only use it once, and that you will only use it to banish me to my native Hell and nothing more."

"I promise," Isaviel flinched, half-expecting some kind of geas to attach to her soul.

"Good," the Devil smiled, "My kind are bound by laws, Beautiful One, and so with your promise, meant or not, you may only command me as I expect. My true name is Mephasm."

"Alright," Isaviel sighed, "Mephasm, I hereby banish you from this, the Prime Material Plane, to your native Hell." She wondered how she had known what to say.

With those words, the red runes faded to nothing between them and a great column of flame erupted beneath Mephasm, who remained untouched by the force, his vast wings opening out to flap slowly, keeping him from descending into the large, rippling hole in the earth to the scarred red land of the flat, barren Hell below.

"Thank you, Wild One. But know that whatever you learn beyond here will bear no comparison to your coming fate. Its chaos shall threaten us all. Farewell, for now…but we shall meet again, soon I think," his eyes surveyed her unashamedly, a smirk crossing his face, "You hold such deep mysteries in your blood, Fair One," his lips twitched, "Your father must have been of most...unusual…lineage. And they must have cut your wings off when you were very young."

"My father? And how do you know about my wings?" Isaviel whispered, heart lurching.

Mephasm smiled broadly, saying no more, and held her gaze as he swiftly angled his flight to dive through the portal below him, which closed with a vast roar following his passing. As soon as he was gone, Neeshka collapsed, gasping, to the ground, but waved away any help. All around the scattered group the water began to drain out of the cavern, revealing a winding passageway between the 'islands' on which they stood. There was now a broad opening beyond, from which came a low hum and an emanation of pale blue light.

With a resolute growl, Khelgar seemed to simply roll from his place to land with amazing ease on the tunnel floor, Karnwyr at least padding down the steps to come near him. Elanee soon followed him, displaying amazing agility previously unknown in her descent while Casavir and Grobnar prudently returned to the steps to follow a safer path. Qara continued to sneer down at the few inches of water remaining, while the others called for the four still above to follow quickly.

"What's the problem, little princess?" Bishop asked sarcastically to the sorceress as Neeshka nimbly descended, "Afraid to get those highborn ankles of yours wet? Afraid it might put your fires out?"

"Unlike some, I do not like to freeze in water," the sorceress shot back, nodding towards Isaviel.

"Well, there's nothing else for it. Paladin! Do your duty and catch the little wench," Bishop called down, and without further warning her pushing Qara over the edge. From the clank of armour and the sorceress's furiously shrieked insults, Isaviel assumed Casavir had indeed done his duty.

Isaviel was about to follow when Bishop caught her arm and pulled her back to him, where they were out of sight of those waiting below.

"You'd better survive this," he told her fiercely, "So I can stop waiting."

"Oh, Bishop," she smirked, pretending to flutter her eyelashes up at him, "I'm already done waiting," and with no more warning she pulled him down to her, pressing her lips to his hard and instantly feeling him respond with urgent kisses of his own. It only lasted moments, hardly even long enough for those below to begin to suspect anything, and they broke apart, gasping.

"Alright. Let's kill Giths," Bishop growled.