After two weeks, Del'rania had adapted to her surroundings, and her surroundings, in turn had grown used to her. People continued to give her dark looks in the hallways, but there had been no "accidents" the past few days, and, in a way, she had found her own place in the Temple. For Jinz did not know the meaning of the word no. He followed her around for several days, badgering her to aid him further in his translation efforts, pleading, demanding, begging, bribing, and, in short, harassing her until she gave in out of sheer exhaustion. Men in Zorin'zaal did not behave like this, even to a commoner sneak like her. Commoner men knew their place, and nobles had far subtler ways to get what they wanted. In some ways, though, it was almost…flattering. Someone aside from Riko wanted her here. That was strangely comforting.

Today they were covering a chapter detailing dwarven relations with other races of the Underdark. Del'rania grew more and more annoyed as she translated the part about the drow; the section was full of ridiculous inaccuracies. By the time they reached the part explaining the sacrifice of dwarven captives, supposedly dictated to the author by some escaped prisoner, she had had enough of the nonsense. "I'm sick of this!" she snapped at Jinz, waving her hand at the book, "It's all shochai!"

"Shochai?" the man repeated dubiously, raising an eyebrow at the drow curse. "Would you care to explain what, exactly, is incorrect about this information?"

"Everything!" she cried, completely missing the trap in his words. "Like this idiocy about sacrificing captives, that's blasphemy, d'you know that? Only drow are permitted to offer themselves up to—urk—" She broke off, coughing furiously.

Jinz waited patiently for her to finish. When she looked up, she found him eyeing her expectantly. "Do continue," he said.

And so began another aspect of her "scholastic pursuits" (as Jinz termed them): the frequent interviews about her life. At first she answered his questions only reluctantly; however, she soon realized that most of his questions were harmless and of innocent intent. Usually he asked about her life, and Zorin'zaal, and religion, especially religion. Were there cults devoted to any other gods in Zorin'zaal? Was Del'rania a cleric herself? Stupid questions, through and through. Did she sound educated to him? But she was no fool, and she answered only the questions she deemed safe enough to answer, and then only guardedly. Knowledge was money, and no matter how naïve Jinz behaved, she could never be quite certain what he would do with her answers. Still, she grew used to him, even occasionally enjoying their sessions together.

And thus two weeks passed in peace.

Del'rania slept.

They were surrounded, backed into a corner with enemies all around. They huddled together, for protection and for warmth, for the night was cold and her companions were unclothed. And for comfort too, for when the protecting moon set, the enemy would come and devour them all. She clutched at her companions, frightened, and they patted her and stroked her hair, cuddling her as if she were but a babe.

"The Goddess will protect us," said one, gently chiding her for her fear. "We have faced worse, and yet survived."

"What goddess?" she demanded angrily. For the first time, she realized that this was one of those dreams that haunted her nights, and found that she was furious with these strange maidens hijacking her sleep. "What goddess shields us from their wrath, hmm?" She waved her hand at the masses waiting outside their refuge.

The others stared at her, faces unreadable. "Little one is growing up," one said at last. She shook her head in wonder. "In such a short time!"

Another raised her head to look at the night sky. "Moonset comes," she said softly. The others nodded. The speaker stepped forward and pressed her lips to the angry one's forehead. "Blessings, sister," she murmured, and leapt into the sky, evaporating instantly into moonlight.

"Wha—wait!" cried the angry one, afraid once more. "C-come back! Don't—don't leave me here!"

The others shook their heads, muttering and chuckling a little. Another stepped up and seized the angry one's head. "Blessings, sister." And she too leapt into the sky.

One by one they came to her, kissed her forehead, bestowed their blessings on her, and vanished into the sky. She trembled as they came, frightened by the bizarre ritual, and astonished by her companions' disappearance into the sky. "Come back!" she called after them. "Show me—how are you—where can I go?" But the few remaining refused to answer as they trailed by.

Finally, only one lingered behind. "I was the one who picked you. You face your first real test. Do not prove me wrong, little Raine!" she said in a fierce undertone. "Blessings, sister." And then the angry one was left alone.

"Don't leave me here!" she shouted at the empty sky. "Come back, damn you! I'm alone and I'm afraid…" The words died on her tongue. It was useless. Shivering, she hugged herself against the cold.

On the horizon, the moon set.

Shaking, the one called Raine turned to face the enemy's onslaught.

Del'rania awoke, gasping for breath, sweat streaming down her face. They had returned, returned to attack the one place she had thought was safe. Only this time they were an army, and they would wipe out everyone here. Everyone, all to ensure that she died. The men who cursed her, the women who muttered dark things. The Temple children who snickered, even jeered when she passed. With a curse she pulled herself from her sheets. She had to get out of here! Dressing quickly, Del'rania gathered herself and crept out into the dark hallways.

But even as she hurried down the hallways, something in her rejected her chosen course. They'll surround the Temple, she found herself thinking. There's no way you can get out, at least not alone. And what about Riko? What about the others in the Temple? Can I just…ABANDON them to die at the hands of MY pursuers? What about them, indeed. She had found refuge here, after all, even if the people had only reluctantly acquiesced to her presence. It did not feel…right…somehow to simply abandon the Temple to its fate. Muttering further profanities, she changed directions and headed for the paladin's quarters. The soldiers and the clerics would listen to Riko. It would only take a couple of minutes to warn them, and then they would be gone.
He had shown her where they were located, the day he let her out of her cell. "This is where my room is," he had told her. "If you ever need me, come here."

Several minutes later she found the arch with the stylized sword of lightning above it. Easing through it, Del'rania eyed the various doors presenting themselves to her, numbered one through twenty. Now what was his room number again? She paced back and forth, running a hand through her hair, trying to remember, all to no use.

The only thing to do is to check each room until I find the right one…with my luck, all the doors will be locked. Scowling fiercely, Del'rania turned towards the nearest door, the largest and fanciest of the lot, Room #1.

Trelle Shi'ranne was a hard man, given to a strict discipline that he imposed on himself and on the paladins under his administration at Esrai. As the head paladin, he was in charge of the forces stationed at the temple, and was frequently kept up working by candlelight long past First Bell, as was the case tonight, especially in times of unrest, like now. He had been reviewing since dinner reports received from scouts, patrols, and the paladins in the field. There were several skirmishes with the drow on the Ralgir Plains, but they appeared to be retreating back into the Forest, hopefully to return back to the stony Underdark they had come from. Still, according to his calculations, there were quite a few dark elves remaining in the Forest, hundreds perhaps. Refugees continued to pour in, either fleeing an attack, or fleeing in fear of one. But that was not his problem, thank Heironeous.

The door creaked slightly, and he leapt to his feet, grabbing his sword. Very few doors in Esrai were locked, based on the concept that Trust should be widespread throughout a Temple of Heironeous. But the small temple bell had already tolled once—soon it would be Second Bell—and no one had any business wandering the halls at this time of the night. The door had been opened only a crack, but that was enough by his standards. Someone had been spying on him.

He moved quietly to the door, then flung it open suddenly, hoping to catch the sneak in the act. At first he could see nothing, but as he scanned the wall, he noticed that the door to Room #2 (currently unoccupied) had been slightly opened—and that someone with a mass of silvery hair was flattening themselves against the wall.

"You!" he growled, seizing the collar of the drow's shirt and crushing her against the wall. "I should have known!"

Trelle had been delighted when he learned that Tamariko had brought back a female drow prisoner when he returned from his most recent sae'kun, and furious when he learned that the man then convinced Oshid to release her. He had argued angrily with the Jarrin against her release, but Oshid had refused to listen even to his plea to interrogate her first. "We already know all we need to know about her," was all he said. The Jarrin usually kept his own council, a fact that occasionally annoyed Trelle. But the release of a drow during such troublesome times (especially considering that those troubles were caused by drow) truly infuriated him. Frustrated, Trelle had done his best to keep an eye on the dark elf, memorizing her room's location and ordering Riko to tell him her movements. It was the reasonable thing to do, he thought, but Riko seemed affronted by the demand, and complied very reluctantly, giving only the barest details. That he had found the dark elf spying on him during the night only proved the worst of his suspicions.

The drow gibbered at him in Goblan, a language he did not speak. "Taeki, taeki! Idr k'vikvi ni'slarr, zuri! Idr sikt ee, please! Mikka'i t'Riko!"

"What the hell were you doing here, sneaking through these halls and spying on us?" he snapped. "And for gods' sake, speak a normal language!" he added as she continued to jabber.

"Mikka'i t'Riko, zuri! Slitza-ku slarr iki d'kush roh, please! Kyrinin dri!"

He pulled her away from the wall, swiveling her around to face the exit. "Go on, get out of here. You have no business being here, especially at this time of night." She squirmed out of his grip and tried to dodge around him, but he blocked her at every move.

"K'zuxa'an dhao'rissen, a'shakshi'an xu mi-Jheselaan! Kuva ee d'kush Riko d'tuvrin roh! Vash-ku isa!"

"Enough of this nonsense!" he exclaimed. Pointing beyond the archway, he said slowly and clearly, "Out." She shook her head. "Out!" he repeated, shaking his finger. She shook her head again. Trelle closed his eyes, massaging a temple in frustration. He did not need some insolent, obstinate drow sneaking around and spying on him at night. "Out," he said one last time, "or I'll take you back to your room myself." When she did not move, he seized her shoulder and marched her through the doorway. She struggled, dragging her feet and cursing him furiously.

It took him fifteen minutes to haul her back to her room. "You're staying here the rest of the night, drow," he growled, pointing at her and at the floor. She gave him a malevolent look. "Here. Do you understand me? Here." He jabbed at the floor several times to make sure. "If you leave—kkkt!" He slashed his throat with his finger. "Understand?"

"Jha'kuul raitza, nu jha'suul eilai!" she spat.

Halfway out the door, he paused. Should he bind her? It was quite possible that she would still try to escape. But tying her seemed a little extreme. Yet he fully intended to bring her before the Jarrin tomorrow, and as the head paladin he had a responsibility to the rest of Esrai…With a sigh, Trelle tore a strip from his tunic and returned to tightly tie her hands behind her back before leaving the room.

He was half the way back to his room when he heard the explosion.

Del'rania had waited for the man's footsteps to fade before going to work on the knots. The man knew his knots, but she had escaped worse. Undoing knots was a survival skill for sneaks.

It took her several minutes to loosen the knots, and two more to completely free herself. Rubbing her wrists to get the circulation going again, she got to her feet and crept out the door.

Should she get Riko, or leave by herself? Too much time had passed, but to leave him without at least warning him…but that, that man might catch her again, and the gods only knew what he would do to her…She shivered, squeezing her shoulders. She could still feel his hands, gripping her…But to abandon Riko…Frustrated, she hurried in the direction of the paladin rooms again. If that man touched her again, she would fight, really fight, or at least run before he saw her. Riko, you owe me for this…

And then she heard the explosion.

Del'rania froze, then broke into a run. The time for secrecy was over. They were here at last, here to slaughter the Temple and her.

People spilled into the hallway as she ran, shouting and screaming. Another explosion shook the Temple, and the occupants moaned.

By the time she reached the paladins' rooms, men were already tumbling forth from their, longswords gleaming in their hands. A frightening thought occurred to her—what if he had already left? She would have to escape alone, and now she was unsure she could flee successfully without help…

A mailed and grabbed her and spun her around. She screamed in surprise—a passing paladin gave her an odd look—Riko was shouting something at her over the noise.

"What?"

"I said, you have to get out of here. Look. Esrai has been attacked before. There's a secondary exit near the library. They'll be herding the refugees there. Escape with that group. Um. You might want to leave the main group after a few days…no one will want a drow around after this…"

"Okay, let's go." She grabbed his hand and pulled, but Riko stayed put.

"I don't think you understand, Del'rania. My duty is to protect the innocent. You are leaving; I am staying behind." He patted her on the back, almost playfully. "Start running, little drowling. You'd best get out of here as soon as possible." He turned and strode after the other paladins.

Del'rania stared after him. "Are you insane? Riko? You're going to die!"

He didn't respond, and vanished around a corner.

With a curse, Del'rania broke into a sprint towards the library.

Soon running became impossible as people filled the halls. Women screamed, men panicked, children wailed and threw tantrums. Over the hysteria throbbing through the corridors, soldiers shouted instructions or perhaps information—Del'rania could not tell, nor did she care.

A cleric suddenly appeared, seemingly from nowhere. He bellowed over the noise, his voice magnified by magic, and the crowd quieted immediately, people wincing and rubbing their ears. Slowly, the cleric, backed by the soldiers herded the mob towards the eastern sector of the Temple, sweeping Del'rania along with it.

They were evacuating the Temple, she realized as they moved. No doubt their destination was the secondary exit Riko had told her about. Yes, there were the doors to the library…For now, she was satisfied to drift along with the crowd. After they got out, she would leave the refugees…and keep running. Perhaps she could find refuge somewhere else—somewhere far from here.

Someone was shouting her name over the hubbub. Del'rania paused, looking around for the speaker. A hand seized her arm, roughly hauling her through the horde. As they cleared the mob, she recognized Jinz. He pulled her through the half-open door to the library—why were the doors opened at this hour?—and shoved her against the wall.

"Jinz—wha—"

The dagger slid into her gut with a soft thunk. She groaned as he withdrew it and plunged it into her again, face impassive. An assassin, she dimly realized, as he destroyed her vitals one by one. Del'rania sank the floor, defeated. They had caught up to her at last, she thought vaguely. A silver light flashed suddenly beneath her neck, filling the room with light momentarily, and she tumbled into darkness.

WELL, WELL. THE NEWEST SAAN'RAINE'CUNTA. You are an odd choice, child.

She floated in the far reaches of space, surrounded by darkness; it was not that she not blind, she realized, but rather that there was nothing to see. "Am I dead?"

Yes and no. You are between worlds, child; I took your soul here just before you died. Do not worry about your body; time is different here. Between the ticks of a clock, as you mortals say.

She shuddered at the immense…presence. "You…you're a g-god, aren't you?" she stammered, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. A frightening idea seized her. "Y-you're n-n-not—not—"

I most certainly am not that…spider demoness. No, I am much…much…different. I am Eilistraee, goddess of the night skies and of the hunt. Lady of the drow who choose good over the evil of Lolth, who brave the light for the glory of the surface world. And you are wearing the necklace I wove from my hair and starlight. Child, do you know what you are?

"N-no."

That is no surprise. You are not what is usually chosen, but in desperate times…Well. Sielda came from the Underdark too, and she turned out very well indeed.

"Sielda?" She recalled the name from childhood stories; a woman abhorred and reviled for her sins, demonized as a traitor to her race. Children were still threatened with her name, and no one would ever give their daughter that name.

Yes. Sielda. I see you recognize the name. Mm. She was the one who chose you.

"Chose me? What do you mean?"

The spirits of past bearers inhabit the Raine'miande, as I'm sure you've noticed.

"Spirits inhabit—what? Those were the women haunting my dreams!"

But of course. "Training" is the best way to describe what they were doing. You show great potential as a Saan'raine'cunta, But you must be prepared to take the role.

"Saan'raine'cunta? What—what is that? And—what does it have to do with me?"

You are the Saan'raine'cunta, child. Or the intended one. Do you accept the burden?

"What…what happens if I don't?"

I shall take your soul to the next world, and move your body to where my followers shall find it. You will die, in other words.

"…And if I do accept?"

You become the Saan'raine'cunta, of course. My chosen, to lead my followers, to fight the hordes of Lolth, to tend to those who choose to walk in the light. You have a long ways to go before then…but you do have potential. And I shall guide you along the way. Do you accept the burden?

Del'rania swallowed hard. The obvious decision was to choose life, but with the responsibilities that bore…She had never even heard of this goddess before. How could she become the de facto leader of some obscure sect she knew nothing about?

Do not worry about that. You shall not be expected to take on full responsibility immediately. You are only a mortal, after all.

Del'rania jumped at the answer to her unasked question. But of course, she realized. She can read my mind.

Accepting the burden is only the first step. Even now, my other daughters make their way towards you, feeling the call of the Raine'miande. You've led them on quite a merry chase so far. They will assist you…should you choose. And the spirits of the past have been helping you all along. Though once you accept, you'll be expected to access them on your own, rather than waiting for them to come to you in your dreams. And I will be there, of course. You will be provided for, have no fear.

"That's…that's good to know…" And if she accepted, she would hold great power, power to make any Archpriestess envy her. Admittedly, her followers' numbers would be much smaller, but the necklace—what did the goddess call it?—the raine'miande would be a mighty weapon, once she learned to harness its powers. The incident with the raiding party had been but a taste of its great potential. Once she might have leapt at the opportunity, but now…now she wondered.

And that is what this, this necklace has done to me, she realized. I'm so…different now…even if I could refuse and survive somehow, I would never be the same…and I could never return home…destined to live on the surface forever…An outcast from drow society, and what surface dweller would accept a dark elf into their home? She had seen the hatred they bore her, yes, and held that same hatred for them in her heart. Riko might help her, but…

But this is ridiculous. If I don't accept the goddess's offer, I'll die, and as for Riko…he'll die too, covering the refugees' escape…

"What about the Temple?" she demanded. "What will happen to it if I refuse?"

It will fall, of course, unless Heironeous should choose to interfere directly. Such intervention is unlikely, though, given the small role of Esrai in the great scheme of things. Some of the refugees will escape. Most of the warriors and the clerics will die, if not all. Including that human you've been traveling with—all of the paladins are staying behind to give the civilians time to escape.

"But—but the drow came here for me! I mean, it's my fault they're here! Shouldn't you do something?"

It is not my temple, and it is not my business to interfere, unless Heironeous sanctions it. Now, child—make your decision.

Del'rania shivered. So much bore on this decision. It was tempting indeed to forget all the trouble and drift into eternal sleep, but…

But.

There was so that should have been done, that needed to be done, and she did not like leaving matters unfinished.

"Alright. I accept," she murmured at last.

Excellent. Your body is a bleeding wreck with only seconds left to live, but that problem is easily taken care of.

The presence began to…condense, to coalesce into the shape of a giant nude drow female surrounded by billows of Her silvery white hair. The moon was Her crown, and in the quiver at Her side, starlight formed Her arrows. Terrified, Del'rania drew back, but the goddess reached forward to press Her lips to her forehead, whispering like the night winds.

Go forth, daughter, and send my fire unto my enemies. Remember, daughter, your name is Raine.

The darkness exploded with silver light.

Existence was an agony. Lying in red darkness, she could feel her life draining away with her heart's blood. She struggled for air, barely breathing, gurgling as her lungs deflated. Despite everything, she opened her eyes, to stare blankly into a pair of bright blue eyes hovering above her face. A hand was descending in slow motion to slit her throat.

She…tingled.

And gasped, as wounds knit together with lightning speed. Lost blood regenerated itself, ruined organ began to function, bodily fluids began to flow. A new vividness saturated her senses; her awareness grew and expanded.

The pale face above her frowned in annoyance. The dagger drifted closer. A bead dangled from a string around a neck.

She knit her brow, surveying the face with a canny eye. There was something, something wrong about the face…

She realized what was wrong, and decided to amend it.

A dark hand shot out and seized the wrist, twisting until the dagger dropped from nerveless fingers, squeezing until she heard a sickening crunch. Another hand grabbed the bead and broke the string with a quick, sharp jerk.

Instantly the illusion fell away. Blood-red eyes met hers now, widened in shock, staring from a dark face.

The bead crumbled in her fist. She held out her hand, as if in greeting, and silver fire shot forth, hitting him in the stomach. The body flew backwards, hit a bookshelf, and sank to the floor with a groan. The smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air.

Slowly she rose to her feet. Silver fire flowed down her arm, down her body, burning away her clothes in holy purity. She leapt into the air, punching through the roof into the night sky like a fiery comet.

Raine had Awoken.

Miles away, a small procession hurries through the woods. Dark hands flicker in fingerspeak; red eyes examine the surrounding trees. Occasionally, lips move in a language rarely spoken on the surface.

Six of the party are women, and nine are men. The women wear short silver tunics, embroidered in black, and three of them carry bows. The men all wear uncannily silent mithral chain, hefting their longswords with the air of a veteran. They are drow, and they are searching for something.

Jenemaia Sal'savia, misokun of the Laedia Temple, is very old, in her fourth century, but she moves as spryly as a young elf—a small blessing from her goddess. She has led her small temple for nearly 150 years, but nothing on this scale has ever happened in her reign or in those of her last thirty predecessors. Ever since Raine Isi'mende vanished in the depths of the Underdark, the Daughters of Eilistraee have held that the Starlit Lady will return, ushering in a new era of glory for Lady Silverhair. Jenemaia, always a sensible person, knows that such grand messianic ideas are delusional—the Starlit Lady is only a mortal, after all—but she has sworn to seek out the new Raine herself and see the elfwoman with her own eyes. Matters will grow mighty exciting, now that Raine has returned, she thinks. The queen is back on the chessboard now.

Because she is the one most attuned to the divine realms in the little group, she is hit the hardest by the ripples left by the Awakening. The other priestesses drop to their knees, clutching their head and looking wildly about, fingering prayer beads nervously. Jenemaia falls to the ground, prostrate. The men crouch over the females, frightened by their sudden affliction and eager to learn its cause. Sessamin Itzil, their leader, kneels by Jenamaia, patting her on her back with old familiarity. The misokun is murmuring an unending stream of prayers in a shaky voice. He has never seen her so unnerved.

"Jenemaia, ne'emasu altai, what is the matter? What has happened?"

"She's coming," the priestess says, sounding her full four hundred years. "The Lady is coming." She will say no more.

For miles around, devotees of the gods stumble, stop, stare. Something has happened; something has awoken; something has changed. They feel the difference and shudder.

At Esrai, the effect is staggering.

An eerie silence falls across the battlefield as combatants freeze and raise their eyes to the heavens. Then the drow cry out, their eyes burned by the blinding light.

A woman floats there, clad only in silver fire, as if a goddess has come down to enter the conflict. She surveys the fighters, and her eyes are the eyes of a Huntress.

"You've come too late," she smiles, and sends down her fire, burning into the center of the drow army.

And now the drow are running, fleeing the terrible fire of her wrath, but she follows, throwing bolt after bolt into the retreating army. Commanders shout orders and are ignored. Those who fall are trampled underfoot. The few mobile clerics are swallowed by the woods along with the rest of the army, swearing the awful vengeance of Lolth.

As they flee, the flame in the sky wavers and dims. The woman plunges across the sky, plummeting to earth like a fallen star.

Some of the defenders pursue the drow, but most stay behind, to bury the dead and comfort the living. The battle is won, but at dreadful cost.

As they move to salvage the Temple, one of the men looks up, following the woman's descent as she drops. He nods, marking the place where she falls in his mind, and returns to his work.

Insider the half-destroyed Temple, a body stirs. It curls into a ball, whimpering in agony. Fumbling in a hidden pocket, it pulls out a flask, uncorks it and drinks deeply. Finishing the potion, it throws the bottle aside, and it rolls to crack against a bookshelf. After a minute, it gingerly pushes itself to its feet and quietly makes its way out of the building. In the chaos, no one notices the figure slip away into the night.