"Oh, Cess," Galen said softly when he stepped into the mess that was his sister's quarters in the barracks of the Yath-Abban. Books lay scattered across the floor, some of them singed. The wall hangings had been torn by a weapon that scored the stone behind it. Glassware and plates were shattered, their shards strewn about the room. The dead body of an aasimar lay sprawled across the floor in a pool of his own blood, covered in gaping wounds. An assassin, probably. He was dressed the same as those Matron Siniira had dispatched.

But that was not the source of the paladin's pain. He was focused instead on the evil divine magic he could still feel clinging to the room. It reminded him too much of a demon's corruption. Not Lloth. The Demon Queen of Spiders would never allow the worship of a half-elf, no matter how well disguised. What had his half-sister fallen into here away from the sunlit world she had called home?

There was a gurgle from the other room. A few seconds later, Cessair emerged, wiping off the blade of one of her long knives. She stiffened slightly when she saw someone and then relaxed when she realized who it was. "Sorry, Galen, I thought you were another one of them for a moment. I'm afraid I'm not really going to be a proper host until I can get all of this cleaned up."

"We need to talk, Cessair," he said quietly, combing his fingers through his gray hair. She hadn't seemed to age a day since they'd come down into the Underdark. The changes came in the way she moved, the way she spoke. The rogue had not been so comfortable, so confident, so driven, on the surface. But then again, Galen knew he had changed too. This place had shown him new shades of gray that existed between the old black and white. It had calmed him and made him cautious where once he had been brash. More than that, it had given him something to care about more than an abstract duty.

"I love hearing those words," Cess said, stepping over to the decanter of spirits still sitting on a side table. Glass crunched under her boots, but she ignored it. There was still one undamaged, so she poured a healthy measure of liquor into it and then made her way back to the couch. "What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said quietly, sitting down on the other side of the couch. "Dark gods and demons, Cess?"

The half elf toyed with her obsidian shard necklace for a moment before looking over at him. She seemed so tired now, probably because of her battle. He could see a bruise forming on her cheekbone, a smear of angry red swelling and starting to turn dark. "So you know, then," she said with a resigned sigh.

"You don't sound surprised," he said, expression stern. It reminded her almost painfully of their father's disappointed look when she used to be dragged home by various members of the town watch.

"Should I be?" she countered softly, eyes focusing down on her glass. She swirled the amber liquid and searched the spinning whirlpool of brandy for an answer. She looked very much the part of a tiefling here, her tail tapping gently against the couch. She even rubbed at the base of one horn, so accustomed to it after thirty years of hiding. It was as if she'd lost the ability to tell where the mask ended and her face began. "I never really planned on keeping it from you. I just couldn't find a way to tell you. Or anyone, honestly. The rest, as they say, is history."

"What's happened to you? It isn't like you to be swayed by promises of power or material things," Galen said, keeping his reproach gentle. He knew she'd never taken well to sharp criticism given in an angry voice. That was why she'd left home to go wandering, after all.

"It's not like that," Cess said sharply. Her expression softened again after a moment. "I expected you of all people to understand faith, Galen. I wasn't offered anything. I chose my mistress. Now I serve out of love. And that's all. I don't expect to gain anything. She protects me without needing to be asked."

"Who?" Galen said quietly.

Before Cessair could answer, there was a sharp knock on the door. Cessair stood up and padded over to open it. "Lirayne," she greeted with comfortably familiarity, smiling again. "I see you brought my hounds with you. If you're looking for the assassins, I'm afraid they're indisposed. Galen's here, though."

Sabal smiled faintly out in the hall. Only the strange tiefling would refer to her and Aly as 'hounds'. She caught Lirayne's reaction out of the corner of her eye. As soon as the priestess heard mention of her bodyguard, her whole aspect seemed to soften for just a fraction of a second. The cleric was actually fond of her protector. "You've been giving us quite the run-around, Honored Cessair," the wilder said politely.

"Come in," Cess said, stepping back to allow them entrance. "It's a bit of a mess right now, I'm afraid. They were quite skilled. And perhaps I did, Inquisitor A'Daragon, but not without reason."

The three stepped in, Alystin wincing a little at the damage clearly done. She found the tiefling likeable, if enigmatic. It was unfortunate that her personal belongings had been damaged so severely. The fact that Cessair served a demon lord was somewhat uncomfortable, but still better than the almost crippling unease she felt around Lirayne Duskryn.

Lirayne went straight to Galen's side. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly, her back to Alystin and Sabal so they wouldn't see the faint worry lines appear in her forehead and around her eyes. She had no permanent lines yet, but with a daughter approaching priesthood it was only a matter of time.

"Fine. By the time I arrived, they were dead," Galen said. He motioned for her to sit down and resigned himself to the fact that his conversation with his half-sister would have to wait for another day. "What brings you here?"

"Killers and demons," Lirayne said, taking a seat next to him and leaving a proper amount of distance because there was an audience other than just Cessair. Aly's eyes widened a little in surprise, but she didn't say anything. It was odd for any priestess to be so attached to her bodyguard and even stranger that she would be to a human. "Cess, what do you know?"

"Well, Lloth has always wanted a real war with the Seldarine, one she can win," Cess said, dropping into an armchair. She motioned for Aly and Sabal to find a seat. "Looks like she's getting it."

There was an audible hiss from Alystin. "That's what this is? Why target House Duskryn and Menzoberranzan? The whole of the upper realms should be taking the fight to the Abyss."

Cessair held up two fingers. "One, they have been. Remember Sehaneth and how she mentioned her mistress was taking to the field? Angelic forces have been making war on the Abyss, but they can only enter through Vallashan, domain of the Lady of Sacrifice. They have a snowball's chance in the Hells of making it through there without falling to corruption. Sehaneth herself was an angel a couple decades ago." The rogue cleared her throat. "There's also the matter of the Material Plane and the way the pieces are moving here. They must think that House Duskryn has something special that the Demon Queen or her allies need."

"Cessair," Lirayne said in a low, almost threatening voice. She knew that her old friend definitely had some idea of what that was but intended to keep it close to her chest.

The disguised half-elf knew that tone. "You're not going to like it, Lirayne."

"And I'm not going to like you if you don't spit it out."

"Fine," Cessair said, playing with a lock of her blonde hair. "The House does have a conduit for a demon lord that the Spider Queen may have claimed. With a little magical assistance from her new ally in the Abyss, of course."

"What?" Lirayne shrieked, both aloud and psionically. Everyone jumped and Aly even flinched back away from the priestess.

Sabal massaged her temples, wincing at the aftershocks of the powerful thought. That was a little more distress and anger than she'd been prepared for. "I take it you know what she's talking about," the wilder said gingerly, not wanting to set off Lirayne's infamous temper. The last thing she needed was to limp into Yvonnel's office and catch the unpleasant end of a snakewhip because she'd set off a powerful noble.

"Yes," Lirayne forced out from between gritted teeth. She stood up, clearly ready to go do something. Only Galen and Cessair knew that it was to go check on her daughter.

The paladin reached up and caught her arm gently. "If you're still being watched, you could put Faen in more danger," he pointed out, knowing that would cut through her protective instincts.

Lirayne tensed and for a moment, Aly thought she was going to backhand the human. But instead, she slowly relaxed and nodded. "You're right," she said reluctantly. "The last thing I want to do is put her at more risk."

"I think we've missed something," the wizard said.

The priestess sat back down and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "Our assassins are trying to kill my daughter and they're apparently willing to work their way through the family tree until they get to her," she replied. "Why is a long, complicated story that I'd rather not touch on. Cess, are you sure the Spider Queen took over what Shami-Amourae...set in motion?"

"Not perfectly, obviously, but enough that She could feasibly use the vessel. For short periods of time now. Later? Who knows," Cessair said. She carefully avoided alluding to the fact that Llolfaen was that particular vessel. No need to have House Druu'giir too well informed of what were basically Duskryn secrets.

"Matron Siniira will want to hear this," Lirayne said. She looked tired, like this had somehow taken something else out of her. The cleric looked over at Galen. "Are you going to stay here and talk to your sister?"

"I'll go with you," Galen said, recognizing a subtle 'I don't want to be alone' when he heard it. Lirayne would never ask him to be with her for fear of showing weakness, so she hinted at it in ways he'd learned to read. He stood with a little bit of a groan, feeling the strain in his knees and back. All those years of running around in armor, jumping around and swinging a sword, had proven to be hard on his bones and joints. But when he saw the little flicker of insecurity in Lirayne's eyes, he wanted nothing more to go and put his arms around her. Unfortunately, that would hardly be appropriate.

Lirayne stepped out into the hallway with him and turned, looking into those familiar earnest eyes. "Why is what happened at that temple never over?" she asked quietly. A little tremor had escaped with the words and she hated it. But some wounds ran too deep to completely heal. She still had nightmares, even with thirty-one years behind her. Llolfaen and Galen made it easier, serving as a reminder that something good had come out of it. But life was threatening to take at least one of those away from her.

Galen let his hand rest on the small of her back for just a moment, gently guiding her to start walking again. He knew it would remind her that he was there. "I don't know. What I do know is that we can protect Llolfaen until she's strong enough to hold her own. Which probably won't be long now, honestly. Drow grow faster than I realized."

"It's all the murder," Lirayne said. She tried to make it light but couldn't really manage. "Let's go home."

The human nodded. Thirty years ago, he never would have believed the Underdark could ever be his home, let alone a drow House in a drow city. Now? He was glad it had happened this way. "Do you want me to check on her at the Academy? You can't go, but I can at your request. No one pays attention to a servant."

"I do," she said, bumping him with her hip as they walked. The gratitude was enough to lift her bleak mood for at least a few moments. "And yes, I'd like that very much."

Back in the room, Cessair looked over at Sabal. "Yvonnel will want to know," she said. "I need to talk to Honored Alystin, if you would be so kind as to share all this with the Revered Daughter in my place?"

"Very well," Sabal said, standing up. She didn't have a good reason to refuse, no matter how wary the wizard looked. Besides, if anyone was going to find out more by investigating the cult, it would be Aly. "I'll make sure to give Matron Nedelyne some kind of excuse for you."

"That's appreciated," Cessair said, walking Sabal to the door and closing it behind the wilder. She turned around. "Do you remember the last time we spoke, Honored Alystin? You told us what you needed."

Aly relaxed a little now that she knew where the conversation was going. "I did," she confirmed.

"What would you say if I told you that the Queen of Sorrows could give you what you wanted?" Cessair said.

"I would say 'Why?'," the mage said, crossing her arms. It was a thoughtful gesture more than a defensive one. She wanted Sabal free, but a deal with a demon always came with the strings attached.

"Because you can be so much more than what you are," the tiefling said with a twitch of her tail. She walked over and picked up her glass, sipping the brandy pensively.

Aly felt a little shiver run down her spine. "At what cost?"

"It is a favor that cannot be bestowed on a follower of Eilistraee. It would never be allowed. You would have to leave the Dark Maiden's service."

"And have no one to protect me from Lloth? I may be foolish at times, but I'm not completely stupid."

Cess gave her a crooked smile. "And how protected are you, exactly? Left to fend for yourself and live forever in secrecy, always fearing for your life and watching over your shoulder. You can't even trust Sabal completely, can you? She knows it," the rogue said. "How long do you think that can really last?"

"You-"

"I'm offering you a way out, Alystin Kenafin," Cessair said, using her real name so frighteningly casually. "Everything requires giving something up. What I'm asking of you is something better lost than held: let go of this life you already hate. Serve the Lady of Sacrifice instead and you will have what you have asked for. She watches over Her followers."

Aly stopped and took a deep breath. It was true, she was tired of hiding. And sometimes she did feel as though Eilistraee had abandoned her. Rationally, she knew it was her fault for deciding to stay in the Underdark, but that didn't change the niggling little sense of betrayal. "I need some time to think about your offer, Cessair."

"Take all the time you need. If you decide in favor, go to Niar'hannenlyn. Just tell them I sent you. If not? Continue on as you have and I will not mention this conversation or any of what was said again. You can rely on my discretion," the tiefling said. She winked at the wary drowess. "Unlike most of this city, I can keep someone else's secret."

"I...believe you." And as strange as it sounded, Alystin really did.

"My Lady, you have a visitor," Sehaneth said, watching as her demonic mistress took off her helmet and shook out her white hair. Where once Valyne had eschewed armor because her body couldn't handle the weight and casting spells at the same time, now she had no need to worry. Her unholy strength could more than compensate. The demon lord's bloodlust seemed sated for the moment as only battle could. There were still spatters of foes' blood and bone across her dark face but they didn't seem to bother her. The former angel regretted that she had not taken the field alongside her lady, but Valyne had insisted that it wasn't time yet. Sehaneth was still adjusting to her new form with its new strengths and weaknesses.

The former angel still retained her beauty, but it was crueler and harsher now. She had taken the form of a succubus, albeit one more suited to battle than manipulation. She combed clawed fingers through her golden hair and tried not to think of how unsettled the particular guest had left her. Graz'zt was a hard creature to put off, no matter how unwilling the object of his desire. She'd fled to her mistress's protection as soon as Valyne returned from battle.

"Is it important?" Val asked, white eyes narrowing at her faithful servant. She still appreciated loyalty for its rarity, much like veins of precious metal among otherwise unvalued, rough rock. But even with that said, she did not bother to conceal her displeasure. She'd been looking forward to a bath and a chance to dine with her own court uninterrupted.

"It's Lord Graz'zt," Sehaneth admitted. She knew her mistress wouldn't be happy to hear that, but she'd be even less happy to walk into the audience hall without knowing.

Val sighed. "Thank you, Sehaneth," she said with a hint of resignation, continuing to strip off her armor. When it was all discarded onto the floor, she motioned to it with her hand. "If you would take care of this?"

Sehaneth smiled, exposing sharp white teeth. She knew well enough that the Lady of Sacrifice had just given her an excuse to completely avoid the audience hall and any undue attention. More than that, it was a task that implied trust-the demon lord was confident that the newest addition to her household would not sabotage her armor in an effort to ensure her defeat. "I am ever your servant, my Lady," she said, bowing before going to pick up the armor.

Satisfied that at least something would be taken care of the way she liked it, Val turned on her heel and strode into the audience hall. She knew her clothes were still blood-stained, but making Graz'zt wait would only be disastrous for her retainers. While it had been strange at first to be in a position so like her mother's, now she found a certain pleasure in tending to her estate. The hall of Vallashan's capital were almost elven in their beauty and aesthetic tastes, slender pillars of light gray stone rising into vaulted arches adorned with spiralling incantations in Abyssal. Vibrant tapestries adorned the walls while banners hung above in the audience hall, invaluable rugs leading the way to a dark throne inlaid in silver with words of power in the Black Speech. Wide windows looked out onto gardens filled with flowers and trees caught in eternal autumn, their leaves red and gold as they trembled and rustled in soft breezes that danced across the mirror-like surface of reflecting pools.

"Ah, my favorite temptress. You've done a wonder with Vallashan," Graz'zt said, standing near the basin of water perpetually scrying on the battlefield that stood in the center of the room, supported by two carved onyx statues of angels. He found it delightfully ironic, almost as appealing as their owner. She still smelled like blood and smoke, intoxicating things to a demon. "Far more tasteful than what your father would have done. There would have been slime and crawling things everywhere."

"Everyone has told me I favor my mother," she said noncommittally, well aware of how the handsome demon was looking at her with those emerald eyes. She was still as disinterested as she had been the day he first made his offer.

"How fortunate for that," Graz'zt said, smoothing his dark hair with one hand. It brushed across the six horns with an expert touch-he was a creature accustomed to vanity. "It seems you're regrettably interested in business at the moment."

"That would be an accurate interpretation of my mood, yes," Val said, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. "What can I do for you?"

"What is Malcanthet up to?" he asked with narrowing eyes. "I know that you know. You're helping her."

Val laughed softly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said with a rare smile that exposed her fangs, looking so amused as to almost be delighted. "But since you asked, you're going to have to be a little bit more specific. I honestly don't have the time to even count every scheme she's involved in."

He sauntered closer, halting at an arm's length when he saw something dangerous flicker in her expression. Graz'zt was powerful, yes, but he knew the ruler of Vallashan was not to be trifled with. She had been in the Abyss only a little more than what seemed like a few moments and already she was perhaps even more in tune with its nature than he was. Certainly, the plane seemed to surrender many of its secrets to her patient unraveling of the truth. "Why is she courting the favor of a greater deity and stringing along your father even as you erode away his foundation from the shadows? It seems so much work for the petty Abyssal schemes she's usually occupied with." It always satisfied him to no end that she had less than no familial loyalty, at least where her father was concerned.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Graz'zt. Demogorgon, on the other hand…" Val said, letting it trail off suggestively. She didn't know how much of that was true or not. She knew that Malcanthet was arranging who would be the Prince of Demons to unify the Abyss and thought Demogorgon was unsuited to the task of taking on the higher realms, but whether the Queen of Succubi had chosen Graz'zt or Orcus for the position was unclear.

"How very...cryptic," Graz'zt said, narrowing his eyes.

"What, am I her keeper now?" Val asked. She was still in a fine humor now that she had him irritated and perhaps even slightly confused. "Now, if you don't mind, I have generals to entertain while they're off the field and plans to make. As much as I adore your company, Graz'zt, duty calls."

He knew an evasion when he heard it, but he was unable to really complain as she motioned for Ezaror to show him out. The glabrezu was a giant figure, two of its four arms ending in powerful pincers while the others ended in claws. Despite its frightening appearance, however, it moved easily and obeyed its mistress almost docilely. "I will have an answer out of you," he said over his shoulder as he walked out with the monstrous demon at his side.

"Someday," she agreed, confident that he would only have his answer when Malcanthet's plans had come to fruition.