"Let me come with you," Sabal said quietly. Her voice wasn't quite pleading, but it was close as she watched Aly shut her books. The wilder sat on the very edge of her chair, hands knotted into fists and pressing against her thighs. Her whole body seemed tense now. "Cessair is a known quantity, but those other cultists could turn on you in a heartbeat. Please Aly."

The mage looked up. "No, Sabal. If I walk in there with an inquisitor, they won't trust me." Aly was a little frustrated. First Nede had been worried about her after the brush with Lirayne's assassins, and now Sabal didn't seem to trust her on her own. "Maybe it is dangerous, but I'm a House Wizard. I'm more than equal to the task."

"I..." The wilder's brow did not smooth out of its worried furrowing. "I know that. But I have a bad feeling."

"And a feeling is just a feeling," Aly said as she stood. She stepped close and took Sabal's hands in her own. "Don't worry."

Sabal sighed. It was strange how far away Alystin's thoughts felt to her now. "You're distancing yourself from me," she said, allowing the wizard to let go of her hands. All she wanted from the mage was trust, but that wasn't possible for Aly any more.

"After thirty years, I think I deserve to be a little distant," Aly said defensively. Immediately, amber eyes dropped to the ground and she felt a sympathetic pang. That had been unfair, even if accurate. "Sabal..."

"You're right," the wilder said, standing up and heading for the door. It didn't matter if it hadn't been her choice. She had still been gone too long. She had to find some way to fix it, but now was not the time. If this was what Aly wished, she knew she would only make it worse by putting her foot down. "Yvonnel will have things for me to do. Please hurry back."

Sabal left Aly to the last of her preparations without looking back, uncertain of where she was heading. She let her feet take her to a familiar place: the steps leading up the hall to the Chapel of Lloth, one of the places Xullae had loved to make her scrub. She brushed a thumb over the smooth stone as she sat down to think. It must have been fifteen or twenty minutes she spent there alone on the steps unmoving, her amber eyes staring off into space.

"Someone looks thoughtful," a silvery voice said.

Sabal's head snapped up, eyes almost narrowing slightly when she saw Yvonnel there. If she hadn't been so thoroughly punished by the Revered Daughter... "Is this cause for the Church's concern now?"

"No," Yvonnel said simply, combing her fingers through her thick hair. Her crimson eyes were thoughtful as they pondered the wilder sitting in front of her. "I spoke to House Duskryn's Matron. She wanted to convey her gratitude to you for aiding the defense of her daughter. It is a rare thing to have the thanks of any Matron Mother. I thought you would appreciate hearing it. May I?"

Sabal softened slightly. Hearing news like that was enough to ease part of her less than stellar mood. After all, perhaps that meant she had something approaching an ally in Siniira Duskryn. "Of course."

The two of them had never gotten along well, but how many female drow did? They were hardly rivals, either. More master and servant than anything else. But the moment Yvonnel sat down next to her, the playing field seemed to level ever so slightly. "You seem distracted."

"It will not detract from my duties."

"Ah, so it's your pet heretic," Yvonnel said as her lips quirked up at the corners into a small smile. "Sometimes I almost worry about you, Sabal. You seem to actively seek out pain."

Sabal frowned faintly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ah, to be young again." The priestess sighed with something like nostalgia. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees with a soft rustle of fabric from her robes. "What did Xullae teach you about matters of the heart?"

"That caring is pain." The wilder closed her eyes, willing away the feeling of Xullae's last moments. "And that it is sacrifice. Letting go of your life so they may have theirs."

"It may be time that you follow that example, no matter how painful. Alystin's path is not yours. It never will be," Yvonnel said quietly. She rubbed her palms against each other in slow circles. "I know what it is to let go of something like that. But sometimes it comes back to you. There is only one way to know."

"I...will consider that," Sabal said, ignoring the knife twisting in her chest at the idea. The priestess had a point no matter how unpleasant it was to consider it. Being near Alystin was painting a target on the mage's back. There were more than enough people who would love to cause a wound through the House Wizard. And how happy did was she? without trust, there could never be anything more than the physical, if even that. She looked up as the Revered Daughter stood up. "Where are you off to, Revered Yvonnel?"

"I'm a busy woman, Honored Sabal. You should know that better than anyone," Yvonnel said brusquely as if they hadn't even spoken. She grinned. "But if you must know, sabotaging a rival's reputation. I intend to savor every moment."

And that was the nature of the woman in a nutshell, Sabal decided. Thoughtful, almost approachable one moment and then a typical, if frighteningly cunning, priestess at the next.

Niar'hannelyn was little more than a crumbling ruin in the darkness save for a few buildings that looked like they'd been restored more than a decade ago. The area seemed to have been reclaimed by the wilderness. Monstrous spiders spun their webs in what had once been the main street as their goblin prey chattered and darted among the outlying buildings. Nothing in the Underdark remained unoccupied for too long. It was a mercy there was nothing particularly powerful making its home here, though Alystin did see the two-legged figure of a drake perched up on one of the slowly decaying towers.

It was only when she reached the very heart of the city, a strange circle of plate glass as dark as obsidian that still thrummed with Abyssal magic, that she saw signs of life. Braziers stood on either side of a perfect replica of the statue now standing in the depths of Arach-Tinilith's vaulted records. The weeping face of the demon lord seemed almost alive. She was so busy looking at it that she didn't even hear the approach of others behind her.

"What is your business here?" a sharp but very familiar voice demanded.

"Jhaele?" Aly cried, spinning around. Out of all the people in the world she expected to be approached by in this place, it was not a High Priestess of Eilistraee. A grin broke out across her face and she almost sprang forward to hug the woman. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same, Alystin," Jhaele said, raising an eyebrow. She was smiling now. And she was not alone: two male drow and a slender female svirfneblin stood behind her with weapons drawn. The drowess motioned for them to put them away.

Aly cleared her throat. "I'm looking for a group of people here in Niar'hannenlyn. Cessair, the tiefling that works with the Revered Daughter sent me. Not that it means I'm in good with the Church."

Jhaele's expression changed and she shifted from foot to foot almost as if nervous. "Well, this is...awkward. We're the ones that you're looking for. There are more back in the refuge, but-"

The mage gaped. "You?" she managed. "Jhaele, how? You...the Dark Maiden..."

"Aly, you know what it's like to hold to that faith down here. I was hounded out of the city, stripped of everything I owned, my friends and family put to the question. It's fortunate you were not included in that, probably by virtue of your status. But for a commoner like me, it is not so easy to avoid scrutiny. Eilistraee is a fine goddess, but she is a distant one here in the darkness, or at least she was when I was forced into exile. Perhaps she is focused on Lloth. I do not know. But when I stumbled into this place, I knew I was home. You must be here for similar reasons," Jhaele explained with her trademark patience. She had always been gentle and even-tempered for a drow.

Aly felt like she was doing a fine impression of a fish out of water. After a moment, however, she managed to collect herself and her thoughts. "They haven't found me out yet, though I think the Revered Daughter has her suspicions," she admitted.

"Unfortunate. That said, we can protect you," Jhaele said. "Come with us back to the refuge and we'll explain more. Everyone who comes to the fold has questions and I imagine you'll be no exception. Also, if Shyn relaxes enough to come close, don't panic."

The wizard looked puzzled. "Who is Shyn?"

"Shyntafay. Let's just say not all of the webs in this place were created by the spiders," Jhaele said, her expression sympathetic towards the absent friend. "Now come on."

That was how Alystin ended up sitting on a comfortable couch in one of the ruined buildings, surrounded by a small, mixed group of races. Apparently the Lady of Sacrifice wasn't bothered by the worship of creatures other than drow. The only unnerving one was Asaron, an undisguised succubus comfortably seated in lap of one of the male drow. "Don't mind me," the succubus practically purred. "It's delightful to have a new face around."

"Asar is in charge when Cessair is gone," Jhaele explained gently to the somewhat nervous noble. "She isn't going to do anything uncouth to you. Unless you ask. Then she'll be on you like goblins on garbage."

"Isn't that flattering," Asaron pouted, voice sarcastic. It vanished when she turned her bright smile to Alystin. "Welcome all the same. It seems the hardest part is over-Jhaele is already willing to vouch for you. The only thing that hasn't happened is your...let's call it a rebirth into this delightful little family. Sacrifice means leaving your old life behind you, Alystin."

The House Wizard took a deep breath. "I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be," she said, glad she managed to keep the tremor out of her voice. If this proved to be a terrible mistake, surely she could return to Eilistraee penitent. But Jhaele's presence, her seemingly whole-hearted endorsement of the group, spoke volumes.

"Very well," Asaron said. She hopped up gracefully, barbed tail flicking with catlike interest. "You know what that means, everyone. Go to the circle and wait for us there. I'll be teaching Alystin the house rules, so it might take a minute or two."

Great, alone with a succubus, Aly thought. That was not a place she wanted to be, but the others filed out and left her with Asaron unsupervised.

"Don't look so frightened, Alystin," the demon said, smiling faintly. "You'll be seeing a lot more of me, after all. Don't bite...unless you like that. I take requests."

"I think I'm alright," the drowess said, holding up both hands. "House rules?"

"That's what I call them. Jhaele refers to them as tenants, which is far more impressive in sound and probably accurate. There are five, so it should be easy to handle. First, you are never to turn upon your brothers and sisters. Betrayal is not the way of the Queen of Sorrows," the succubus said, her tone turning to instructive. There was a hard undercurrent to her voice. It indicated in no uncertain terms that Aly did not want to find out what the punishments for breaking the Tenets were. "Second, Lloth is to be respected and venerated as an ally of the Lady of Vallashan. You don't have to like it, but you are not to dishonor the Spider Queen, nor desecrate her holy places or items. Third, an exiled soul in need is never to be turned away without assistance. You must aid them in some way, no matter how slightly. Fourth, the existence and location of the cult's refuges are never to be divulged to anyone who is not a member of the cult. If you have a potential convert, introduce them to Cessair. Finally, you are expected to give no quarter and no assistance to the forces of the celestial realms unless necessary to obtain information. Easy enough?"

"I think I can remember that," Alystin said. Her skin crawled at the idea of paying homage to Lloth in any fashion, but she knew it was necessary. They were approaching the circle now and the aura of demonic magic was even stronger now. Both braziers had been lit and candles marked the points of a pentagram painted onto the black surface with a dark red pigment. It looked intimidating, potent and ancient magic that drew the planes closer together.

Asaron nudged her with a wing to stand before the statue and the pentagram. "Lady of Sacrifice, Queen of Sorrows, Mother of the Exiled, Heart of Vallashan, bestow your attentions upon your servants. We bring a new soul to your embrace," the succubus said in a loud, clear voice. Almost immediately, a wind picked up around them and whipped in a howling circle centered on the statue. Alystin felt a flood of divine magic rush into the area, something like she'd never sensed before. They certainly had the attention of something.

Jhaele stepped up next to Alystin. "You need to be certain you want to do this, Aly."

Alystin pulled in another deep breath. "I am. Tell me what I need to say." She listened, then nodded and focused on the statue. "My Lady, accept me into your arms that I might serve you in this life and beyond. Make your children my brothers and sisters in spirit. Bless me so that I may take my place in your service."

A soft whispering in some language older than even Abyssal started, emanating out from the statue, growing louder and louder. The darkness deepened until not even drow could see and wrapped itself around the wizard like a second skin. Aly felt it like the softest fabric in the world against her skin. It set every nerve in her body on fire, as if burning away past scars with divine magic. She could see the bond, shining in the darkness, linking her to the statue and the distant figure beyond it.

Welcome home, it whispered.