Llolfaen folded her arms, watching Jhalass as the first of her classmates to try to summon a planar ally. Revered Drisinil was nearby and watching with hawkish eyes for any sign of something going wrong. A failure would suit her, the young drowess reflected as she looked at her rival. However, the ritual seemed to be going exactly as it was supposed to. Seemed being the key word.

There was a brilliant flash of light and a loud thunderclap that sent Llolfaen reeling backwards, clutching at her eyes. She could hear the shrieks of the others, but her jaw had locked closed so she couldn't scream in pain. Another of her mother's lessons. Never give your enemy the satisfaction. It would take minutes for her vision to fully clear, so she opened her eyes and tried to see around the brilliantly colored afterimage of the flash. There was a glowing figure standing among them, white-feathered wings spread as the creature moved fully into their plane. It looked almost like a flawless silver statue save for the fact that it moved and wielded a flaming sword. A celestial...never in her life had Llolfaen expected to encounter one of those. And unfortunately, it seemed to be headed straight for her.

I am sorry, little drow, but you are too dangerous to let live, the creature said as it approached her without needing to move its lips. Its sword flared to life and Llolfaen flinched a little, the horrible ache in her head surging.

"I'm unarmed!" she shouted at the creature, staggering back away from it as she tried to figure a way out of this. Magic was the only tool she had, but her aim was not going to be precise without the use of anything other than her peripheral vision.

That is...regrettable. But this is necessary, the celestial said, swinging that long, deadly blade

Llolfaen dropped to the ground in a crouch as the blade whipped at where her neck had been, then sprang. She had to get in on that sword or she would die. Her shoulder slammed into the creature's hard breastplate, but she succeeded in knocking it off balance and grabbed onto the creature. With just a barked word, ragged wounds tore open along the celestial's strange silvery skin. Llolfaen bared her teeth instinctively, refusing to let go no matter how much the winged creature tried to shake her off. Distance would be the death of her, and since she was had fought her way to between its arms, her body was preventing it from wielding the sword with any great dexterity. "Drisinil!" the young drowess shouted, slamming her forehead into the creature's nose. Something gave under the blow, so she knew she'd managed to crush its nose.

The priestess had to have recovered faster than they had. Why wasn't she doing something? This was no Academy test and Llolfaen knew it. She was up against an opponent more powerful than herself, so her only hope was remembering her mother's lessons and getting lucky.

A foot caught behind hers and Llolfaen hit the ground on her back with a crash. The explosion of pain was enough to knock the wind out of her and stun her for a moment, particularly when the armored body collided with her in a crushing landing from above. She kept her fingers locked around the straps of its armor somehow, the sword skittering away across the floor. The celestial grabbed her by the collar and jerked her forward only to slam her into the ground again so hard her head snapped back and met stone. The whole world swam and spots of black tinged the edges of her vision. Llolfaen felt herself barely clinging to consciousness.

Can't move, can't breathe, can't see, can't fight, her mother's voice said sharply in the back of her mind. Immobilize them. Go for the hands, the head, the ribs, the throat. In combat, the only rule is survive.

Llolfaen let go with one hand and twisted her body, rolling them both over so she was above the creature. She punched at its throat, her hand pounding again and again and again. Adrenaline and magic were surging through her veins, the power bursting into a dark flame of divine energy around her hands. The Spider Queen's gift was burning the celestial, charring that silver flesh to a smoky black. There was a satisfying crunch under her hand and then the smite hit her.

Another flash of light illuminated the whole room for a brief second as the celestial power seared through Llolfaen and set every nerve in her body on fire. She was half-blind again, just when her vision had begun to return. Despite herself, she flinched back enough that the celestial could hurl her off like she was a rag doll. It was stronger than it looked.

She hit a person, but instead of pulling away, she grabbed them and fumbled for their belt. As soon as she felt a weapon's hilt under her fingers, she clenched her fist and drew the blade before whipping around. She had to turn her head to see the creature, which was reaching for its sword. Llolfaen again darted forward to close the distance. The wicked dagger arced in the air, punching through armor to stab in at the celestial's ribs. Blood ran all over her hands and almost made her lose her grip on the sacrificial dagger.

Lloth! the young drowess cried out in her mind, uncertain if she was asking for assistance or dedicating the battle to her goddess like she'd been taught to. She wasn't even entirely loud if she'd said it aloud, only that she felt her lips move along with the thought.

She knew she had to keep stabbing. The angel had turned on her, so she went for any gap in the armor: the throat, beneath the arm, up under the breastplate. She also slashed at the creature's limbs to try and hinder or maim it as the creature rained blows down on her whole body with the pommel of its sword. She felt her collarbone snap under the assault and one arm go dead, fortunately not the one she was wielding the dagger with. It was agonizing, but she felt it in a distant way now. All she could taste and smell was wet, salty copper.

Finally, her blade punched through the armor again instead of skittering off and slipped between ribs. The creature dropped over and Llolfaen almost collapsed as well. Even after a particularly rough session of practice with her mother, she'd never been in so much pain. The dagger slipped from numb fingers and she stumbled backwards. A hand covered her shoulder and there was an audible crack as her collarbone jerked itself back into place and mended abruptly. The afterimage of the flash faded away along with her horrific headache.

"You impress," Drisinil commented, moving her hand away once her student was healed. The others had all crowded to the edge of the room, most with wide eyes. Jhalass had been smirking at the pounding that Llolfaen was taking, but the expression faded when the youngest Duskryn managed to actually kill the creature.

"I expected you to help," Llolfaen said through gritted teeth, watching the lacerations on her arms knit together swiftly. She would have a few new scars, but faint ones.

"The job of instructors is not to fight students' battles for them. How else would you have learned?" Drisinil said sternly. "Certainly, death was a risk. But death is always a risk, a punishment for those too weak to fend for themselves. Besides, you have survived where another student would not have."

Llolfaen wanted to argue, but she knew when to bite her tongue. The priestess did not look terribly welcoming at the moment, her crimson eyes narrowed at her troublesome student. The favored soul had not won many friends with her many failures to study spells and prepare them, even though she was able to cast them effortlessly. It baffled her instructors. "Yes, Revered Drisinil."

Drisinil smiled faintly. "Even if you lack aptitude as a cleric, your manners improve."

This time Llolfaen bit the inside of her cheek, feeling her temper begin to rise. The priestess could kill her as easily as the angel would have if she'd stayed in sword range. That said, she didn't have to appreciate the backhanded compliment, only acknowledge it. "Yes, Revered Drisinil."

"Good girl. As for the rest of you...that was a golden opportunity missed," Drisinil said, going over and tugging her dagger free of the angel's chest. "Any one of you could have just removed a powerful rival, as Llolfaen has proven herself to be. Remember this moment when you have to face her in the proving grounds. Now, we will try this lesson again tomorrow. You are all dismissed."

Llolfaen looked down at the ground, trying not to think about the fact that her instructor was actively encouraging her peers to kill her. No wonder so many priestesses lived in a state of constant paranoia. This meant it was time to raise her guard even higher. She gathered her things together and walked gingerly out of the room.

"Hey!" Jhalass called after the favored soul.

"I'm not in the mood for your particular kind of conversation, Jhalass," Llolfaen snapped, turning around. Her temper was still running high.

The Xorlarrin noble sped up to fall in step beside the Duskryn noble. "Truce?" she offered. "I don't want you as an enemy after that little display."

"No," Llolfaen said bluntly. Drisinil's words were still burning in her ears. How could she trust anyone not to stab her in the back? "I'd rather be a more difficult target for your knife."

Jhalass opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when she saw who was waiting ahead of them in the hallway. "Revered Daughter," she managed to greet weakly. Yvonnel X'larrez'et'soj was one of the most powerful women in the city, even if House Baenre would rather not acknowledge that, face of the Church itself. "Revered Drisinil is back in the classroom."

Yvonnel inclined her head as if in thanks or dismissal. Not willing to push her luck, Jhalass scurried off. The head of the Yath'Abban turned her gaze on Duskryn's youngest daughter. "You look...harried, Faen."

"Arach-Tinilith is not what I was expecting," the girl admitted. She wasn't certain why Yvonnel had taken such an interest in her, but she knew it probably had something to do with the priestess's cordiality with Matron Siniira behind closed doors. The cleric had taken an interest in her despite or even because of her nature as a favored soul, filling a role not like her Aunt Cessair's with some measure of support and a good deal of training. It was Yvonnel along with her mother and the Matron who had taught her all the rites and prayers of the Demon Queen of Spiders.

"Walk with me, Llolfaen," Yvonnel said, her expression still hardened into the mask of cool disinterest she wore out in public. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone here is like Zesstra," Llolfaen elaborated, walking with her mentor. She would always respect Yvonnel for the hours they'd spent together discussing religion and the nature of the divine. "Cruel, selfish, spiteful towards me. They want to throw me away just because I don't have to struggle for spells."

"Most priestesses are not like your mother or the Matron, Faen," Yvonnel said quietly. The hall was deserted now that she'd arrived, students taking refuge in the other rooms, the library in particular. They could at least pretend they were studying that way. "Infighting is natural to drow, as is the egocentric behavior of your fellow students. But now I have a question for you."

"Of course," Llolfaen said, looking up at Yvonnel. There was something terribly serious in the priestess's eyes now.

"Have you ever heard things in the chapel of the Spider Queen at House Duskryn or beyond its walls? A voice only you can hear?"

"Isn't that insanity?" the girl asked, looking over. She couldn't help the little flare of nerves. What would everyone say if she said yes? What would Yvonnel think.

"Not necessarily," the Revered Daughter said more gently. "Powerful clerics can sometimes hear the voice of the Goddess, particularly in their dreams. And favored souls, because their magic is more innate and their connection to the divine so strong, are predisposed to hear it."

"I...have," Llolfaen said, picking at a loose thread on her bag anxiously. Soon enough it broke and she was spinning the thread between her fingers. "A couple of days ago was the strongest it's ever been. I got into a fight with Jhalass Xorlarrin."

"I thought as much. I felt something change in the city for a brief time," Yvonnel said, avoiding the complete truth. It was better not to say anything until she knew for certain. She made a mental note to find a way to get the truth out of Jhalass. "What happened in your class just now?"

"She summoned a celestial instead of a demon and it tried to kill me. It said I was too dangerous to live," Llolfaen said. She paused thoughtfully, still spinning the thread between her thumb and index finger. "I don't know why it went after me and not Drisinil. She's far more dangerous. And bitter. I'm not certain what her problem is."

"She has a problem with House Kenafin, not you," the priestess explained to her younger companion.

"A dead house? Isn't it over then?"

"For her, it will never be over as long as one of their nobles lives," Yvonnel said. She patted Llolfaen gently on the shoulder. "Things will change, Faen. They always do. And with you, for the better. If you prove yourself to the Academy, the others will forget about the fact that you're a favored soul. Just work hard and punish anyone who steps over the line you set."

"Easier said than done."

Yvonnel just smiled. "It always is. Now, I have Church business to attend to. Fare well until I see you next."

When the priestess turned away, the smile faded from her lips. At this rate, it would be time to buy another favor from Ryld just to take care of this. It certainly confirmed her theory that something more was at work here and they were only caught in the middle. Something that both the Spider Queen and the Lady of Sacrifice were involved in. Something that angered celestials and revolved around Menzoberranzan. That was not a good combination, and as protector of the faithful, Yvonnel knew she would be the one tasked with doing something about it. Unless she could pawn it off on the Church's other servants, anyway. Sabal had already practically volunteered.