Sabal could barely think clearly, her control held by a thread. The need to revenge a wrong so great was almost overwhelming. But behind that were all the feelings that made her the most dangerous: pain, betrayal, anger. She could acknowledge that she was in the Fane, standing before a few priestesses. Quenthel Baenre was there, eyes constantly measuring every little movement the wilder made. Yvonnel on the other side, faint amusement easily readable in her smile.

They felt so unbelievably fragile to Sabal now, like leaves in front of a hurricane. So blissfully unaware of the storm that was just feet from them. But she forced herself to ignore everything but the priestess who was standing behind the altar: a female drow with strange, shifting eyes.

There was nothing remotely drow-like about the mind, however. Waves of twisted power rolled off the surface of a mind that was feline in its malevolence, something that would not only kill, but toy with its prey first and thoroughly enjoy the sensation of the twitching body bared to its claws. So this was Lloth's handmaiden—a yochlol. It seemed to notice its disguise wasn't fooling her, white teeth flashing into a grin that stood out in stark contrast from its ebony face.

"So the initiate returns to the fold at last," the creature purred, stepping forward. "But is she ready to take her vows? To dedicate herself to the Goddess?"

If I do not take my vows, they will force them upon me or strike me dead, Sabal knew. And there was no part in that for choice.

The amber-eyed drowess had to force her jaw relax enough to speak, though she could barely hear herself over the roaring of her own blood in her ears. "I am," she said. The tone was flat and sharp in a way that no one in the room had ever heard her speak.

"Prove your devotion. Shed your own blood for the Demon Queen of Spiders as easily as you mean to shed the blood of Her foes."

Her sword was slung across her back, but her hand moved automatically to one of the knives she kept just in case. It was hard to keep the trembling out of her hands, not from fear, but from barely contained power that was burning through her veins. She drew the blade from its sheathe without a thought, bringing it hard across the palm of her hand. The pain of the gash as it bloomed open beneath the edge tethered her to her body. She could even focus long enough to register the blood welling up and dripping to the floor.

She did not drop the blade until she was close enough to leave it at the yochlol's feet. The creature in its drow form chuckled softly.

Very good. Kneel. I will not speak to you aloud until your vows are complete—this contract is between you and the Demon Queen of Spiders. Not these priestesses.

Sabal obeyed.

Do you vow to hunt down the enemies of the Spider Queen wherever they may hide and destroy them without mercy, no matter the cost? The question may have been telepathic, but she could taste the raw, abyssal magic that came with each syllable.

I do.

Do you vow to serve the Goddess faithfully, body and soul, in life and in death?

There was no room for doubt in the question or its answer. I do.

The yochlol's smile broadened slightly. Do you vow your unswerving obedience to Her divine will?

I do, Sabal said.

Do you understand the price of failure?

I do.

A sudden burst of divine magic hit her like a river breaking free from a dam, coursing through her with enough force to etch itself into the fibers of her being. Sabal was grateful she had been on her knees, as it was far less distance to fall. She hit the floor without being able to throw her hands out to catch her, barely aware of anything around her. She could feel her a presence that had to be her vows curling around her being as burning chains, shackling her. The fires grew only more intense and searing as what felt like an eternity passed.

But finally, as quickly as they had come, they were extinguished. She realized she was lying curled on the cold stone, her throat scratched from her own fingers. It was like she was trying to claw a collar from around her neck.

There was a dull ache in her mind, her powers reigned in by powerful divine bonds. The only way her mind could think to describe it was like the collars around troublesome slaves, cutting in just enough that they would always know it was there but never so much that their body would become accustomed to it.

I know what it is to be a prisoner, Xullae had said.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth as she picked herself up from the ground, spitting out blood.

"You survived. Many do not," the yochlol commented. It smirked slightly, well-formed lips curving upwards with a demonic humor. "Now let us teach you to respect the leash."

Sabal bared her teeth furiously, throwing herself mentally at her restraints. The shock of psionic force couldn't budge it an inch.

"Are you angry, little spider?" the demon purred, reaching out and running a hand down the side of her face. "You've never really felt what it's like to be wholly under another's control, have you? You'll find it's easier to just surrender than to fight. Someday, you'll be so well trained that it won't even occur to you to disobey."

The amber-eyed drowess's response was a dangerous silence.

"Oh, but I forget. You're a wilder, aren't you? All those emotions just make you stronger. More powerful. Let's put you through your paces. Xullae A'Daragon was the inquisitor who brought you here, yes? The one who trained you?"

"Yes," Sabal bit out.

"I can see how angry you are. You wish she had never found you in the House of Abandonment. You wish her gone. Deny it all you want, but I can see how you wish to take revenge. And so it will be. She has served her full purpose in this world. You will usher her into the next," the yochlol said smoothly.

"No."

The handmaiden shook her head slightly with a cluck of her tongue. "You do not refuse the Goddess."

Sabal's mind exploded in agony, her own psionic powers being forced in upon themselves. She dropped down to one knee, cradling her head in her hands. Something told her this was only scratching the surface of the suffering that waited her if she continued to refuse. How long until she was torn apart completely?

"Stop, please." Her voice sounded so weak and child-like to her own ears, pleading for mercy.

"Only you can make it stop," the yochlol said, turning away indifferently.

A foot caught the amber-eyed drowess sharply in the shoulder, spinning her around. "Do you remember what I said about swords, Sabal?" Xullae said quietly, drawing her own blade. "Fight, or die. It is as simple as that."

"I will not," Sabal ground out, raising her head. But before the pain could worsen, Xullae's blade snapped out, laying open her face. The gash ran from one cheekbone to the next, following seamlessly over the bridge of her nose.

"Now," Xullae ordered, both aloud and psionically. Her student obeyed on reflex, just as she had so many years ago under the inquisitor's stern tutelage.

The lessons that had been drummed into her for her entire life were hard to ignore. Sabal had always learned that survival was first and foremost. Why hold back, for the sake of someone who did not exist any more? The visage of her mentor that she saw before her was not the one she had grown up with.

And that was when all hell came loose. As skilled as Xullae was, she did not have the power in her being to withstand the maelstrom that was a wilder unchecked. The first blow from Sabal did not come with a blade as she had expected—instead, a psionic assault so powerful it cracked the stone between them asunder took Xullae clean off her feet.

I trusted you! Sabal snarled, stalking forward. She'd drawn her sword, but it wasn't in use at the moment. While she'd been taught out of telegraphing in her youth, it was almost necessary to physically guide this kind of power. Anything you asked of me, I would have done!

Xullae scrabbled up to her feet, barely managing to keep a shred of the walls around her thoughts. Sabal, I—

You what? You didn't think I'd be strong enough to prove a challenge?

Every priestess watching, regardless of station, had drawn as far back as the Temple's main chamber would permit. Not even the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith had been quite prepared for this kind of display. It was difficult to be even remotely comfortable when confronted with so much raw power. Whether or not they were intentionally targets, one sideways blow would be extremely difficult to shake off.

Xullae was no push-over, of course. She could beat Sabal on blade work, at least. But every time their blades crashed or they struck each other with limbs, psionic blows were traded as well. Not to say that old age and treachery couldn't win the day. The inquisitor made certain to maneuver her student into precarious positions, forcing Sabal to take several agonizing wounds even with her narrow escapes.

Sabal staggered back when Xullae's pommel smashed into her jaw, cracking a tooth and splitting her lip. Her fingers grasped for air, but found no purchase as Xullae closed for the kill. Her back hit stone, knocking the wind out of her lungs in one painful blow.

She lashed out with everything she had, twisting her body to avoid the sword as she tangled her legs with Xullae's and brought her mentor to the ground. This was how so many of their training fights had ended, but now with clawing nails and teeth and furious psionic attacks, it seemed far cry from the old days. Sabal slammed her head up into Xullae's, crushing her mentor's nose flat with her forehead even as she grasped for any weapon.

For a brief second, Xullae's defenses flickered. That was enough for Sabal, who struck and drove straight into the exposed mind, inflicting as much pain as she could. Her fingers closed around a knife, maybe Xullae's or maybe hers, and she thrust it as well.

Everything hit her senses in a flood—glimpses of memories, thoughts, feelings.

"I...y-you lost th-that knife, remember? The one you r-really liked? I w-was trying t-t-to make a new one for you, so y-you'd feel better. It h-had a sp-sp-spider t-too." Big amber eyes... What was I thinking? What have I done? Goddess, I don't deserve her...

Her hand was hot and wet now, her breath coming ragged in her own throat just as it was in Xullae's.

"You are trying to wound me!" Not so young any more. I just want to protect you, Sabal. Can't you see that? No...no. It's better that you don't. Better you prick at my touch than bleed your all at Lloth's. Hate me. Hate me so it won't hurt later.

"You knew," Sabal choked out, eyes wide as she slammed back into her own body. She and Xullae were both bleeding, still tangled together on the floor. The dagger had buried itself up to its hilt in the inquisitor's throat, but Xullae managed to focus her eyes on her student's.

Yes. You...needed...not to...stop... I...didn't mean...it. So...proud...of...you...

No! She grabbed with her thoughts, trying to trap the life she could feel fading away. But it was like a child trying to hold water in her hands. If she had thought she knew pain before that, she realized how wrong she was. Xullae!

The cry was so powerful psionically that it shattered the thoughts of everyone nearby. But she doubted it could go far enough to be heard. Sabal grabbed her mentor's still form, holding it close. I'm so sorry...I can't... Why did you do this? It should have been me!

From where he was standing in the shadows, Ryld looked away quietly. Sometimes it was still painful to see an inquisitor begin down their path.