They gathered in the courtyard before the colonnade of the Great Temple of the Vigilant Maiden as the earliest rays of light heralded daybreak. First, it was only the paladins, with Virginia leading the way, clad in full armour, her shining lance clutched firmly in her leather gauntleted fist. By her side were Syf and Marséna, with Friyya behind, her longbow in hand with fair, blonde Ithunn to defend her. The previous evening had been a fitful one, full of anxiety and trepidation, but Virginia's presence and Friyya's tactical mind had reassured them, so that they were ready to depart with only one objective: neutralise Isolde. A few first rays of light fell upon their shining breastplates, emblazoned with the starburst insignia of their Goddess. Their open-faced helms, girdles and armguards bore the delicate, but steel-hard blue and silver filigree of all their equipment. This was not patrol armour, but the arms that the paladins of the Maiden carried into full battle.

Virginia looked uncharacteristically fierce, a determined look in her emerald-green eyes as she surveyed her Sisters-at-arms. They were ready, she could see it in the grim determination in Syf's severe, noble beauty, or in the silent dignity of Ithunn, who looked every bit like a Valkyrie of old, her hands resting on the pommel of her longsword. Their plan had been worked out to the last detail and messages had been sent through a reliable courier, courtesy of Ithunn's lover Verden, who had taken her entire thieving enterprise off their pilfering and swindling just to relay carefully worded instructions to the Order's allies.

"Sisters," Virginia announced, her voice ringing out clear as silver on crystal in the deserted courtyard, "I thank you all for being at my side today. It has been said many times, but I think it is my duty to say it again: the moment we swore allegiance to the Blessed Maiden, we also pledged our lives - lives that we may have to give freely to her cause. But Sisters, I promise you, if you should fall on this day, your memory will never be erased. You will find rest by the Pool of the Maiden and we shall all be made whole again when we pass our mortal coil. I have embraced each one of you and each one of you I love as if you were my own sister. If I do not embrace you again in this life, I swear it shall be in the next."

Then, Virginia removed her helm and fell to her knees before the Great Temple, hands clasped over her heart in prayer. The others followed their commander's lead and knelt silently on the smooth stone, still cold with the chill of night, silently mouthing the prayers they knew so well, but with a renewed fervour. They knew that the Vigilant Maiden was listening, that She, as always, would be merciful and provide for them. All this they knew in their hearts, for their faith had never wavered, yet, like wayward daughters, they begged to hear the comforting voice of their mother to lead them through the night.

"Sisters, are you ready?" Virginia said with determination, clasping her helm in her hands.

"Sword in hand, we are our Goddess' handmaidens." they replied in unison and rose to their feet.

At the far end of the courtyard, Astrid and Elyszara began to make their way towards the party. At Friyya's suggestion, Elyszara had asked Cirily to alter her appearance as deceptively as possible without the aid of magical disguises. In that way, she would be an ideal decoy for Isolde without running the risk of detection. As the pair approached, Virginia realised that the new Elyszara would be utterly unrecognisable. The aasimar wore a drab, grey clerk's robe, which was most unflattering, had her hair gathered up in a rather frumpish, librarian's style, wore minimal cosmetics and even, for added effect, bore a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles. Astrid, as ever, was functionally and sensibly dressed for action and wore simple, skin-tight, sleeveless white blouse and dark brown leather leggings

"Tell Cirily she did an outstanding job..." Virginia said in wonder. She could barely recognise Elyszara herself. But that was the point: the aasimar had to blend in perfectly with the bureaucrats and administrators in the Clerk's Ward so as not to arouse Isolde's suspicion.

"I look appalling." Elyszara whined, her melodious, cultured voice torn with the agony of looking so ordinary.

"I tried telling her she looks pretty cute, but she wouldn't listen." Astrid chimed and greeted Virginia with a kiss on the lips.

"Thanks for coming, sister," Virginia said gratefully.

"It's bad enough we lost track of each other for so long, Virgie, I'm not going to let it happen again. Sisters stick together, otherwise, they become like Issie." The joke was a grim one, but Astrid always had a wry, irreverent sense of humour.

"By the way, Virg, where's Lily?" Marséna interjected. She was eager to get moving as soon as possible. According to Friyya's estimates, Isolde would set off to work before the seventh tolling of the Bell-Tower, which meant that time was beginning to grow short.

"Still in the armoury, I guess, why don't you go and see if she's managed to find a decent suit of armour?" Virginia replied, somewhat irritated by Elyszara's petulant sulking.

"I'll go!" Friyya volunteered, surreptitiously nudging Syf with her elbow.

"Fine, but we don't have much time." Virginia nodded.

Friyya made her way across the courtyard and towards the fencing yard, where the armoury lay, with Syf discreetly behind her.

"Hmm, Virgie," Marséna purred sardonically, deliberately using the diminutive that Virginia privately detested, "I know Lily can be a handful, but Friyya and Syf?"

"Maybe they need a little more time together." Virginia noted sagely.

"You were happy with ours last night?" Marséna inquired, gently patting her blonde lover on the shoulder.

"Yes, very." Virginia smiled. "And thank you for telling me how you and Lily...uh, became friends."

"So you're not jealous?" Marséna teased.

"Not at all. Drow show affection differently and I understand and respect that."

"Virg, what happened to you last time we confronted Isolde?" Marséna queried, suddenly changing the subject. Virginia's apparent manifestation of an aura of great power had left even Friyya perplexed. Put simply, there was no precedent to be found in the Order's library and even Astrid, when questioned, could not supply a convincing explanation.

"I shall say it again, my love, I don't know." Virginia answered evasively. "Something gripped me. A sensation of sadness filled me even as I felt myself lighter, stronger and faster than ever before. I felt as though something had been separated from me, as if something had been irrevocably lost. It wasn't a good feeling, but, in an odd sort of way, it was a familiar one. As if whatever made me manifest that strength, that speed, had been with me all my life - like an old, but ambiguous friend."

"If it happens again, we'll be in luck. You looked invincible."

"I felt it, too." Virginia said pensively. "But I cannot help but feel there is more to this than I want to know and that whatever dark puppetmaster has willed this situation on us knows things that I would rather thrust knives in my ears than hear..."

"Virgie!" Astrid called and Virginia instinctively smiled. It was exactly the same tone she had when she was a girl, seeking her sister's attention.

"What is it, treasure?"

"Could you tell Lys to stop fretting about the outfit, please? She's going to drive me barmy if she keeps on like this..." Astrid protested.

"Elyszara..." Virginia called, her tone firm with authority. "Come here." A little taken aback by the strength of Virginia's tone, the aasimar complied.

"You are not really concerned about your appearance, are you?" Virginia said.

"No..." Elyszara breathed, almost inaudibly, her eyes downcast.

"This could be a dangerous mission and we are grateful for your participation. But you are not a warrior and it would be irresponsible of me to ask you to risk your life. It was good and honourable of you to volunteer, but I know you to be a good and honourable woman. If you wish to prove your worth, there are other ways you can do it..."

"No!" Elyszara interrupted, raising her striking, blue-violet eyes to meet Virginia's gaze. Her fists clenched and unclenched nervously, but her voice was clear and trembling with emotion. "I want my mother and Cirily to be proud of me. I will do my duty as the daughter of a vassal of the Vigilant Maiden. On my honour, that is what I shall do."

"Then take heart," Virginia said softly, taking Elyszara into a reassuring, almost maternal embrace. "The Blessed Maiden watches over us." She planted a soft kiss on Elyszara's hair, black as midnight streaked with violet, navy blue and silver strands. Even the perfume was conservative, with just a hint of camomile. But Elyszara's body was elfin perfection, even with such a dull outfit. Virginia could not help but remember that passionate encounter she and the aasimar had shared in Arborea.

"Milady Virginia..." Elyszara sighed, not altogether chastely, as she nuzzled the paladin's breastplate - inhaling that intoxicating scent of metal, polish and leather. The aasimar made a mental note to ensure that her next knightly lover was dressed in full armour.

***

"Lily, did you find what you were looking for?" Friyya called as she opened the door to the armoury. Long rows of pikes, lances and swords arranged on immaculately polished racks greeted her, while the central aisles were reserved for various pieces of armour and body padding.

"No!" the dark elf growled, rummaging through the armour stands. "You have the nerve to call this chainmail?" Lily said, running her onyx-black fingers over a silvery shirt of armour in dismay.

"Well, Lily, that's what it is." Friyya said, her tone dripping with patronising sarcasm.

"I find it heavy and...how would say...restrictive." Lily snapped. She still wore her form-fitting, black assassin's outfit which, though stealthy and full of pockets and useful compartments, also offered scarce protection.

"Some would say that's the purpose of armour." Friyya retorted.

"Actually," Syf noted, privately relieved that the conversation had strayed towards a topic she knew far better than Friyya, "elven armour and, I imagine, drow armour as well, is constructed so as to act like a second skin. Their chainmail weighs virtually nothing and is as protective as ours. It's natural that Lily is unaccustomed to our bulkier equipment."

"Precisely." Lily concluded smugly. "So I shall have to surrender myself to Fate and place my confidence in the incomparable natural agility of my kind. Then, if I perish, you may apportion the blame to inferior, human workmanship." With that, Lily breezed out of the armoury. Her sharp mind knew the odds and she trusted both Virginia's leadership and Friyya's tactical planning. The first thought of any responsible drow female the moment she woke up each day was what that day's odds of survival were. As far as Lily was concerned, she had worked herself out of more desperate situations than the one she was about to confront, so fear had no place in her heart.

The moment Lily left and soundlessly closed the door behind her, Syf seized Friyya by the waist and thrust her against the wall. Friyya moaned, only to have her sensual, pink lips devoured by a burning, wet kiss. Carefully setting her bow aside, the auburn-haired beauty submitted to Syf's hungry probing tongue. Friyya had never felt such need, such urgency. But Syf was magnificent in her armour - tall, haughty, powerful, her body hard, yet undeniably female. A sharp, surprised gasp escaped Friyya's lips as Syf's smooth, leather gauntlets roughly forced her thighs apart.

"My love..." Friyya sighed, her heart hammering in her chest. Syf's breathing was ragged. The taller woman was sublime, her strength irresistible. Each laboured breath that the auburn-haired paladin took drew in the clean, flinty smell of soap from Syf's skin - for she never wore perfume -, the bloody scent of steel, the dusty scent of the lining of her helm from which only a few, stray strands of raven-black hair flowed. Friyya leaned back on the armour rack and spread her legs. They had to be quick. Syf swiftly discarded her leather gauntlets and reached under the gold-hemmed white fabric that ringed Friyya's long, lithe thighs, just beneath the silvery metal plates of her girdle. The skin was bare there, milky-white and smooth.

Strong, smooth hands trailed upwards until they found a soft, downy thatch of auburn hair. Friyya whimpered, her breath misting in the cool air. All she could hear was her pulsing heartbeat ringing in her temples. She knew she was wet, her sex tensed and ached with need at the approach of Syf's fingers. There was only one way mighty Syf, clad in full armour, could take her.

"Syf, please...don't make me beg for it, there isn't much time." Friyya gasped, before Syf's lips covered hers once more. The auburn-haired girl felt the heel of Syf's hand grind hard against her sodden sex. Her inner lips parted, rich with pearly dew. A new scent was mingled to that of iron, armour and leather - something earthy and musky. Friyya's pussy was ripe and needy, moist and begging to be entered by her love. Struggling to resist the urge to thrust her face against the rich, steamy heaven of her lover's sex, Syf bit down on Friyya's lower lip, drawing a tiny rivulet of blood. They kissed, the blood on their lips mingling on their duelling tongues.

Then Syf thrust in: three fingers at first, hard and deep. Friyya's thighs tensed, pulled taut under thing white fabric. She did her best not to gasp in pain - she had to be strong for Syf. Twisting her fingers in the auburn-haired girl's soft, pliant, lust-sodden canal, Syf slipped a fourth finger in and flared her fingers outwards, stretching her lover's aching sex to its very limit.

"I'm sorry, there's no oil." Syf muttered apologetically.

"I don't care!" Friyya growled between gritted teeth.

Syf nodded and pushed her hand, thumb and all, inside Friyya's channel in a hard, lunging thrust. Friyya exhaled sharply, her loins aflame with need. There was no pain, there could be no pain: that hot, aching, tearing sensation was not pain, it was the most sublime and cathartic of pleasures. Slowly but steadily, Syf worked her hand in deeper, until she could feel that familiar, sweet spot under her fingertips. She pressed down, hard, a merciless, rolling massage as her hand mastered Friyya's spread, juicing pussy. Friyya grunted and thrust her hips back against Syf. They rolled against each other, breastplate pressed against breastplate, the metal scraping together as Syf's fucking increased in pace. Friyya braced herself as she felt a first, pulsing wave overtake her, followed by a succession of jarring, hard jarring climaxes that rolled down into the pit of her belly.

The moment she knew Friyya was coming, Syf silenced her lover's moans with her lips, and enjoyed the sensation of the auburn-haired beauty's pussy contracting helplessly around her invading hand. They were joined - and not even death could sunder them apart. When their lips parted, Friyya was panting, her melt-water blue eyes filled with adoration that defied words to describe it. Syf withdrew her hand from her lover's sex, letting stray droplets of cloudy nectar fall onto the stony floor beneath.

"Never leave me, Syf." Friyya whispered, more as a prayer than an order.

"As long as the Blessed Maiden grants me life, I shall be at your side." Syf said fervently.

"And after?"

"We shall meet again in the realm of the Goddess and never again be separated..."

"Syf, Sister it is time for us to...oh Goddess!" Ithunn exclaimed, the moment she threw open the door to the armoury. "Apologies...I should have knocked, I...I am mortified beyond..."

"At ease, Ithunn." Syf said amiably. She slipped her gauntlets back and helped Friyya compose herself. "It was our fault for keeping the party up. I shall go join Virginia, you attend to your mistress." With that, Syf strode out without a hint of embarrassment.

"Uhm...should I call you mistress, or Sister or Friy-" Ithunn began, trying hard not to meet Friyya's coolly contemptuous gaze.

"Mistress. Since you are to be my Shield Maiden, we shall use the old protocol." Friyya's said, smiling triumphantly. It was a shame Ithunn could not be a permanent Shield Maiden, that would have been very gratifying indeed.

"As you wish, Mistress." Ithunn replied demurely.

"Clever girl." Friyya said, taking up her longbow and making sure her quiver was sufficiently stocked with long-range, piercing and signalling arrows. "Now, if I may ask, did you perhaps think that what Syf and I were doing was inappropriate?" Naturally, this was a trick question and Friyya had every intention of launching into a scathing, patronising lecture regardless of the answer Ithunn supplied.

"No, Mistress, because..."

"Because what?" Friyya snapped.

"Because if my beloved Verden were here, I would have done the same." the novice replied, her voice tinged with regret.

"I heard she is a capable thief, why did you not ask her to join us?"

"Forgive me, Mistress, but I would never put my love in harm's way. I love what I do and my bladecraft has few equals and I would gladly give my life for my Goddess. But sometimes, for Verden's sake, I almost wish I could be a seamstress again, so we could both have a safe, quiet life together."

Friyya, despite herself, felt disarmed. "Syf was right." She conceded, leading the way out of the armoury and back towards the courtyard. "You are a very sweet girl."

"Syf said that about me?" Ithunn probed enthusiastically. The very thought put a spring in her step.

"Yes, which I suppose confirms what I've always thought all along: my beloved is a good judge of character."

"Thank you, Mistress...and, I am sorry I was disrespectful in the library. I truly always admired you for making such a wonderful couple with Syf." Ithunn confessed, hoping to defuse any remaining tensions between herself and Friyya.

"Perhaps it was I who was disrespectful. When I heard you mention that you had eloped with an aasimar, my mind was cast back to an....indiscretion between Syf and Elyszara. Back then, the anger was still ran raw, though, in fairness, Elyszara has personally apologised to me on a number of occasions, so I would like to think that there is no more ill-will between us."

"Well, Mistress..." Ithunn began hesitantly. "I do not quite know how to put this to you, but the aasimar I was referring to in the library was Elyszara."

Friyya took a deep breath, cleared her mind of negativity and thought of an Elysian field, full of golden flowers and swaying cherry trees. "I...I am beginning to feel left out." she said with well-guarded venom. "It appears that I am the only one in the Order with whom Lady Elyszara has not..." here Friyya had to do her lady-like best to stop herself from using an expletive she found infinitely more descriptive, "been intimately acquainted."

"Well, Mistress, if it makes you feel better, it is almost certainly not a question of appearance..."

Friyya clenched her fist and soldiered on. Even if Isolde did not manage to kill her, it would still be a very long day indeed.

***

The tactical layout had been worked out with meticulous precision by Friyya. Upon leaving the Temple, the group immediately split into three, in order to avoid undue suspicion, with the order to proceed directly to the intended rendezvous point, but taking different routes. The idea was to isolate Isolde and her armed escort in a relatively quiet, darkened alley with multiple points of access to close off, and a vantage point from which the scene could be surveyed.

Elyszara, in particular, would be crucial to the timing. She was to approach Isolde on the pretext of having once met her and strike up a conversation. Since Virginia had already disclosed that Isolde was not exactly over-fond of conversation, the proceedings had to be quick, just enough to stop Isolde for a few moments in order for the groups to take up position. Syf, Marséna and Virginia would approach from the front - as they were the most capable melee fighters, that was the logical choice. The rear group would be composed of Astrid and Lily, while Friyya would take a vantage point location on first-floor balcony with Ithunn to guard her. Together, they would help pin Isolde and her escort down and ensure no-one called for reinforcements. In the meanwhile, Min, who had scouted the alley beforehand and would meet the party on the scene, would be charged with the sole task of dashing in to rescue Elyszara once the deception became evident and bring her to safety.

So the party set out, with Astrid keeping each moment counted with her miniature mechanical clock. Everything would need to be timed to the tiniest instant in order to guarantee success. In the meanwhile, in the Clerk's Ward, the entrance to Isolde's cramped, spartan apartment was being presided by two powerful, monitor-lizard like khaasta clad in full black platemail. They had been instructed by their employer at Civic Security to ensure that no harm came to Isolde in her transit to and from work. Since the khaasta were a brutal, violent race, the notion of guard duty irritated them, so they stood tense, their frilly crests bristling, long, spiny tails lashing into the air. The other occupants of the apartment building passed them by, trembling, backs pressed as close to the opposite wall as possible. This pleased the khaasta; they enjoyed the fear of lesser beings.

"Is the Boss nesting in there? What is taking her so long?" Fourth Phalanx hissed, clutching its wickedly serrated glaive tightly in its scaly, mailed fist. The khaasta was salivating. Long droplets of viscous, caustic, poisonous spittle falling from its massive, toothy jaws.

"It is said that mammal females often take longer with their morning ablutions than males...that said I am still not entirely convinced the Boss is female." Third Pike replied.

"She is," Fourth Phalanx bellowed, flicking out its forked tongue to indicate certainty, "I smelled blood yesterday. Live blood."

"So?"

"Mammal females bleed intermittently from their egg-canal." Fourth Phalanx explained.

"Really? Disgusting. It makes me glad to be khaasta." Third Pike snorted. "Now you will spoil my appetite the next time we gorge on the entrails of a mammal female. Speaking of which, you are salivating again."

"I hunger."

"Did you miss breakfast again? How many times do I have to tell you it is unhealthy not to feed at daybreak. Otherwise, you gorge excessively later in the day and that makes you sluggish."

"But it is difficult to find good, fresh meat so early." Fourth Phalanx protested. It was so hungry, it could almost stomach the thought of eating Isolde.

"What are you two always chattering about?" Isolde snapped as she stepped out of the door. The two khaasta quickly drew their tongues back into their slavering maws. To their senses, the human woman smelled disgusting: she reeked of antiseptic and emitted a hideous, almost metallic aroma.

"Nothing, Boss." Third Pike hissed, struggling to imitate the sounds of human speech.

"Then off we go." Isolde ordered. She took a final moment to check that her gloves and boots were spotlessly polished, before giving her uniform top one last, corrective tug and proceeding, with military precision, down the stairs. They exited the building and went out into the bracing, early Sigil morning air. The hordes of clerks and minor officials quickly scampered to make way for the two eight-foot tall khaasta and their mighty, oversized weapons. Isolde walked between them, her mind absorbed in thought. Dassau had told her to expect something soon, but the old dog had been deliberately economical with the details. Whatever he was plotting, it would no doubt soon come to pass.

Isolde and her escort marched down the orderly cobbled streets of Lector's Way, a wide, densely populated boulevard with its numerous typographical and bookseller's stores. They then turned left into the Pendulum, a side-street known for its clock-makers. Isolde stopped once, as she always did, to purchase a cup of warm water from a tavern in which to dissolve her morning glucose tablet. The breakfast of fruit and fresh bread Lirai always left her was, as always, left uneaten on the bed. Subsequently, the contingent turned left once more, into a quiet, residential alley called Five Moons Lane which, at that hour, was normally deserted. It was thus with great surprise that Isolde noticed a female clerk approaching her from the other end of the street.

***

The Library of Sensation was more tense than it had ever been in a long while. In the midst of shelves stacked high with dustbound tomes and hardwood desks, dimly lit with enchanted lamps, Aerylle sat nervously at her usual place, presiding over the Arcana sub-section of the East Wing. Her desk was scrupulously ordered, as always. Her inkwell was full, her quill fitted with a new tip, her registers and catalogues updated, her ample selection of tawdry elven romance novels neatly stacked in their usual drawer. This morning, however, she was in no mood to work. She was far too busy worrying about Min. In order to minimise liabilities should anything go wrong, Virginia had instructed Shesayne and Verden to join Aerylle in the Library - at least, that would be a comparatively safe location and neutral ground to which they could withdraw in case of emergency. Shesayne, however, seemed to be taking matters far too lightly.

"So...Aerylle, you're telling me that all you do all day long is sit here and help people track down, find and read books?" Shesayne inquired. The petite half-elf lay on Aerylle's desk, legs crossed, eyes fixed at the Library's great domed ceiling with its constantly shifting frescoes depicting allegorical scenes of learning and science.

"Yes, dear. That would be what a librarian does." Aerylle replied, a bit more impatiently than she would have wanted.

"Assistant Librarian." Verden corrected with a snide smile. She leaned back on Aerylle's desk and looked around herself with palpable contempt. All that worthless, mouldy knowledge - knowledge with no practical application whatsoever.

"Thank you, Verden." Aerylle sighed wearily. She opened the register of newly arrived volumes and tried to concentrate, but could only think of Min and how, if Fate was ill-disposed, she could well lose her lover a mere day after finally earning the profession of her love. Then, of course, just thinking of the night they had spent together after Min had brought those fateful flowers made Aerylle smile guiltily in spite of the situation, just as it made her sex tighten at the sheer sensuality of that memory.

"Hey, c'mon Aerylle," Shesayne said, smiling serenely as she rolled over on the desk to face the grey elf, "we're all a little concerned, but there's no use in worry-worrying about it now. I've got faith in every single one of them and, if all else fails, I know Min's going to be there to find a way out. This isn't a sodding funeral - let's have some fun."

"With books?" Verden snorted and crossed her arms around her full, heavy breasts.

"Aw, she's just sore, bitter and frustrated 'cause she can't read." Shesayne teased and pounced with effortless grace onto the floor by Aerylle's side.

"Is that so?" Aerylle said, a little malicious smile on her lips. "Well, I suppose it all makes sense now."

"Is that so, princess?" Verden snarled. "You're as dried out and dusty as your precious fucking books." Verden detested all full-blooded elves, but grey elves were the worst - especially the chattering, gossipy, judgemental women.

"Quite," Aerylle said - she unaccustomed to such barefaced insults, even if, on balance, the icy, dagger-sharp social ostracism adolescent grey elven girls practised when they needed to put one of their peers in her place was probably worse - "but I would rather have a well-developed brain than...well, I shall let you finish the analogy, Verden, provided that you know what an 'analogy' is."

"Oh these?" Verden snapped, back turning to lean forward on the desk, her impressive breasts straining against her olive-green top. "That's how you tell the girls from the boys, 'course, with grey elves, you've got to take a peek under the skirt, just to be sure."

"I tire of your vulgarity." Aerylle retorted haughtily.

"Oh, wow, Aerylle, what have you got stashed up and stowed here?" Shesayne interrupted. It was then that Aerylle noticed that the impish half-elf had managed to pick the lock to her private drawer.

"Why, nothing dear and it is not very polite to go through someone else's business..." Aerylle said quickly, reaching out to close the drawer.

"Hey, what's in this book? Sod it, it's in Grey Elven, I can't read a word."

"Shesayne, my sweet little treasure, give it back..." Aerylle pleaded, but to no avail. The half-elf quickly scampered off, a handsome book, bound in creamy white suede with a gilded spine in hand.

"Oh what, a shame," Shesayne pouted as she paced around, flicking through the pages, before finally coming to a realisation that made her face light up with joy, " but it's got pictures!"

"I know..." Aerylle said, blushing furiously as she slumped back, defeated, into her seat.

"Hey, let me see!" Verden called gleefully and dashed to Shesayne's side.

"Bells of the Nine Hells, I've got to absolutely, positively try that one!" Shesayne squealed, pointing at an illustration, while Verden looked on, a smug, superior smile on her face. "C'mon, Aerylle read it for us...tell us what's going on!"

"I imagine you can deduce it from the illustration." Aerylle whimpered.

"C'mon, Aerylle, pretty-please, please. Y'know, just to take our mind off things." Shesayne implored, smiling sweetly.

"Must I really? Oh...fine, then, bring it here." Aerylle relented. Shesayne brought the open book in front of her and crouched expectantly by her side, while Verden hopped on to the desk and peered curiously at the exquisite, flowing elven calligraphy that seemed to flow naturally on the page, like water coursing on marble.

"Is it wise to start half-way through," Aerylle began, clearing her throat and pretending to think. "You would be missing most of the story."

"I'm sure you can fill us in." Verden said sardonically.

"Right then..." Aerylle took a deep breath and looked down at the illustration. It depicted a beautiful, lithe wood elven ranger, her leather jerkin pulled down, revealing her breasts, lying at the root of a massive pine tree, her thighs spread while a lovely platinum-blonde grey elf sorceress knelt in front of her, thrusting what appeared to be an elongated lotus-bud into the wood elf's sex, drawing forth a thick squirt of clear nectar. Predictably, Shesayne had chosen one of the most embarrassing illustrations in the whole book. "Ah...so, this one is about a grey elven sorceress called Elinthana and it is set in a world before the arrival of other races, populated only by elves. Elinthana searches for a book of arcane knowledge which has been stolen by her drow rival through treachery. So she sets out and...finds many friends on the way. Here, she spends some intimate time with the wood elf ranger, Isila, who just saved her from a pack of Dire Wolves."

"So, what does it say on the page?" Shesayne asked excitedly, huddling closer to Aerylle to peer at the indecipherable script.

Aerylle sighed and began, translating as literally as possible. "Beautiful, Isila, her hair green as a summer canopy, rocked against the delectable lotus-bud, the petals of her Temple of Hanali loosened and dewy with her desire for fair Elinthana. 'Look, my cherished beauty, as I thank the Forest Mother for Her aid.' Isila said and tenderly caressed her own Hanali's Jewel, lustrous and perfect as it poked through its sheath. Elinthana pressed the lotus-bud in deeper and rolled it against the gorgeous wood elf's Hanali's Heart. 'Yes!' Isila gasped. 'Here is my offering!' A great wave of pleasure flooded Isila's loins, for they were ablaze at the sight of Elinthana's heart-rending beauty. The moment Isila reached her peak, her hips tensed and thrust forward wantonly and, much to Elinthana's delight, a trail of thick nectar, warm like fresh honey, gushed forth from the wood elf's Well of Hanali and coated the ground, her hand and the insides of her lover's firm thighs, so fitting for a ranger."

"First-rate, superb and amazing!" Shesayne said in wonder, even as Aerylle blushed violently and Verden giggled conspiratorially to herself. "I didn't know elves wrote whole books on fucking..."

"Now, that is hardly all there is to it," Aerylle protested weakly, "this is a very romantic story about a woman trying to find true love while bridging the cultural boundaries that often separate elven cultures from one another. Elinthana has such a sweet, loving relationship with Isila and their lovemaking only makes it all the more wonderful."

"What would you know about that?" Verden snapped. "As far you berks are concerned, wood elves are servants and savages..."

"The first person I ever truly loved was a wood elf." Aerylle said quietly.

"What?" Verden exclaimed in disbelief.

"Her name is Mjrina and the moment this mess is over, I shall return to Imej - with Min - and find her."

Verden's demeanour softened almost immediately. "Was...was she pretty?"

"She was the loveliest person I had ever set eyes on." Aerylle replied reverently. "In truth, you reminded me of her and I could not stand that...well, that a thief from the Hive could evoke the memory of my adored Mjrina. But I learn something new every day in Sigil. I am certain that you are as devoted to Ithunn as Mjrina was to me."

"I thought you would be different." Verden said, allowing herself a thin smile. "I s'pose I could live with seeing you more often, you and Min being an item and all..."

"Sorry, Verden, treasure, just a moment." Aerylle interrupted. Something had caught the grey elf's attention. Verden whipped around to look. It was Shesayne, who was standing rooted to her spot by the side of Aerylle's desk, her breathing laboured, her face as white as an ice drift on Pelion. "Shesayne? Is everything all right?"

"Fuck, something's not right." Verden said grimly, striding over to the slender half-elf and seizing her by the shoulders.

With an ashen face, Shesayne turned, very slowly to Aerylle, as if every movement were painful. "Who just walked by now?" she whispered, her voice low and distant.

"Why, that was Inge..." Aerylle replied, somewhat uncomfortably. Verden was right - something was amiss.

"Stop her!" Shesayne breathed. "It's with her."

"Oh no..." Aerylle said, feeling her veins tighten in fear. "You mean your nightmare?"

"Yes." Shesayne hissed. "I saw it, everywhere around her."

"Verden, seize that priestess!" Aerylle cried and Verden rushed to comply, too terrified to object.

The voluptuous half-elf dashed across the carpeted library floor, and instinctively followed the sound of footfalls through the labyrinth of dusty, heaving bookshelves. She spotted the azure-haired initiate priestess making her way to her habitual desk and pounced on the surprised, and very irritated, Inge who struggled helplessly against Verden's superior strength. Aerylle followed soon after to find Verden with Inge pinned, protesting, on the ground.

"What in the name of the Goddess are you doing?" Inge growled feebly, struggling against Verden's weight.

"That book you were researching. What exactly is it for?" Aerylle demanded accusingly, even though she was beginning to realise the answer.

"My ends are my own..." the noviciate snapped, before going still for just the briefest instant. Then, she spoke again, but this time her voice was not her own - it was deep, jarring and mechanical, as if her vocal chords had been replaced a whirring clockwork mechanism. "I am...Inevitable."

A burst of crackling blue light shot from Inge's slight frame, casting Verden into the air like a rag doll, sending her crashing against the bookshelves. When Inge rose, she no longer had the visage of a human, but that of something hard, geometrical - almost like a sentient spider's web. Tentacles of blue light, arranged like spider's legs, surrounded her, holding her frail body aloft seven feet in the air, so high she almost touched the ceiling. With a haughty swipe of a tentacle, Inge cleaved a bookshelf in half, slicing through it like a vorpal sword through flesh. She then began to advance on Aerylle.

"Silly little elf!" Inge thundered, her voice distorted and mechanical. "You would have done well to accept my favours. But no...heavens forbid that a mighty elven lady find solace in the arms of a human. Now perish for your arrogance!"

"Inge, please!" Aerylle cried, desperately scampering out of the way to avoid a crushing tentacle. Thankfully, her studies in the Divination school of wizardry had given her a good insight on magical thought patterns, so that she roughly knew how Inge would move in her new form. "You need not do this."

"Silence!" Inge thundered. "I have had enough of being treated with contempt, as a child. Whenever I offer my love, I am only good enough to be cuddled like a little girl or bedded out of pity - never to be loved." Two more tentacles lashed out, slicing a chair and a desk clean in half. Aerylle scrambled desperately to crawl out of the way, rose quickly to her feet and began to withdraw as swiftly as possible, never turning her back on Inge.

"Nonsense." Aerylle said defiantly, before realising that she had backed into a bookshelf. "I would have happily given you my love and treated you with the respect you deserved. I admired...I admire you, but this is not the right way Inge, your gifts...cannot be perverted to this end. Have you considered what you will do after you have killed us all? Will you return and be the slave of whatever it was who put you up to this? The brilliance of your mind should free you, not shackle you to something you cannot control."

Inge paused, hovering above Aerylle, her tendrils of light flailing angrily, as if they had a will of their own and thirsted for blood. "You...you could have comforted me. We would have made love so sweetly, amongst the books, then found a nice inn with a big, soft bed, just for the two of us. Why was I unworthy of you?"

"You certainly were not. I apologise for not explaining and I understand that I hurt you and for this," Aerylle whispered, taking a wild gamble as she knelt down and raised her hands in submission, "I am happy to do my penance. I should have told you that my own sentimental life was convoluted and difficult at the time. Had you chosen a happier time for both of us, I would have been honoured to share your bed and your love. I still would, Inge, but this is not the way. Hurting my friends and threatening to kill me will buy you no greater love nor respect, in this world or the next."

Inge sighed - a low melancholy sigh, like a death rattle. In the corner of her vision, Aerylle noted that Verden was beginning to pick herself up, clutching her side in agony. The priestess paused and, in an instant, realised the futility of proceeding: even if others did not exchange her love, there was no point in destroying them. It was better to have unrequited love than nothing to love at all. So, Inge bade the forces that possessed to depart and collapsed, weeping and exhausted, onto the floor. A great moan was heard in the Library as the tendrils of light, snaking desperately like crackling electricity, made their way back into the opened book on Inge's desk. They flowed, intertwined and coupled frantically with one another, returning to their original form: that of oddly geometrical writing in bright blue ink on the page.

Verden, in the meanwhile, had risen to her feet and leaned, still winded, against a bookshelf, a viciously curved knife in hand. "I swear, Aerylle, I'll fucking kill her..." she snarled through gritted teeth.

"Verden, no!" Aerylle called as she rushed to Inge's side. The novice priestess instinctively lunged into the elven maiden's arms and held on for dear life, weeping hysterically.

"Please...please don't tell Gallia about this. They...they would throw me out of the Order for sure..." Inge whimpered, almost child-like in her belated guilt.

"Hush, my treasure," Aerylle cooed, still very much confused, but satisfied that the situation had been defused before Inge hurt herself or anyone else. "No one will need to know of this, we will just pretend nothing happened and that the bookshelf was destroyed by a misfired spell...it happens sometimes, you know."

Inge nodded gratefully and buried her face in Aerylle's breast. All she could see was beige fabric and golden-blonde hair, blurred by tears. "I'm sorry, Aerylle." she whispered, almost inaudibly. "From the first day I saw you, I used to daydream about us having a nice, cosy dinner together and making love, gently and slowly, until daybreak...I was so sick of rejection..."

"Hush," Aerylle whispered, planting a tender kiss on Inge's fragrant, azure hair. "All is forgiven. When this is all over, we will go out to dinner, just the two of us, I promise."

***

"Excuse me, Madam." Elyszara said amiably as she approached Isolde. Outwardly, she was cool and collected, affecting an intellectual tone and demeanour. Inwardly, the smell and presence of the two khaasta were almost enough to make her lose her senses from fear and sheer disgust.

"Halt!" Isolde ordered and the two khaasta held their position, their snouts lowered, forked tongues flicking out menacingly as they scented Elyszara. The secretary then turned to the aasimar, who looked remotely familiar, and said, "Do I know you?"

"As a matter of fact, Madam, yes." Elyszara said, silently praying to all the goddesses and gods who sprung to mind that Friyya would give the order to act soon. "We met briefly at the last Civic Security social evening, I'm Atrasia from Accounting." Elyszara beamed a demure smile and, since Isolde was - after all - a flesh and blood woman, that seemed to get her attention.

"Apologies, but I should be proceeding to work. I would be grateful if you stated your point as quickly as possible." Isolde said dryly. Fourth Phalanx had begun salivating again.

"Yes, quite," Elyszara said, desperately searching for a good hook - she mentally cursed Friyya, they should have acted by now. "Uhm...this is quite embarrassing," and here Elyszara resolved to do what she did best, "yet I could not help but notice a lady of such distinction as yourself, so...if you think you can find some free time this evening we could go for dinner..."

"Food revolts me." Isolde snapped. Nevertheless, she thought, this Atrasia woman has her charm.

"Dancing?" Elyszara ventured weakly.

Isolde was about to march straight on without further comment when a sparkling, violet flare-arrow landed a few feet to her side. She paused, gazed at the arrow and then turned to Elyszara. "Kill her." Isolde howled and the khaasta moved to comply.

Then a red flash leapt through the air and landed by Elyszara's side. The aasimar could already smell the spicy-incense scent of Min's skin. Reassuring hands gripped her and dragged her, running, into a wall. The masonry warped around them the moment they came into contact with its surface and they both slid into a darkened back-alley.

"Why didn't you tell me there was an escape hidden by an illusion?" Elyszara wailed hysterically as she gratefully wrapped her arms around Min. "You crazy fucking bitch!"

"Easy," Min answered, giving Elyszara an affectionate pat on the back, "so you wouldn't be tempted to run before everyone was in position."

Outside, the two khaasta looked at one another through slitted, reptilian eyes and then looked at Isolde. "She disappeared, Boss." Third Pike hissed.

"I know, imbecile, that would be what we call an illusion. Now after her!"

"Enough, Isolde." Virginia called, charging down the street with Syf and Marséna, gleaming swords drawn, in front of her. "You're surrounded."

"Yep, Issie, tell the lizard-boys to cease and desist, 'cause I'm right behind you." Astrid called, her enchanted, mithril pistol raised, with Lily by her side, her curved dagger at the ready.

"Lizard?" Fourth Phalanx roared. That was simply going too far. So it readied its glaive and charged at the approaching paladins. One mighty swipe cut through the air, like the sound of a great, thundering storm. Syf parried the blow, but only just. The sheer force of the impact sent sparks flying off her blade and knocked her clean off balance. Marséna swiftly intervened and veered towards the right to distract the khaasta's attention.

"Idiot!" Isolde growled and drew her rapier, taking care to take position between her two khaasta bodyguards.

Friyya, carefully hidden on the abandoned balcony Min had scouted out for her, carefully took aim and loosed an arrow that struck Fourth Phalanx in the back of its skull. The khaasta roared and turned around to dispatch the impudent mammal who had attacked him from behind. That gave Virginia her cue. She thrust forward with her lance and caught Fourth Phalanx at the base of its throat, just above where the blackened metal of its armour gave way to hard, scaly skin. The lance's tip tore through skin, flesh and veins, issuing forth great gouts of hot, arterial blood.

Marséna moved in to finish Fourth Phalanx off. But a wounded khaasta is a most dangerous creature indeed and so, with an arching slash from its glaive, Fourth Phalanx sliced through the air and met Marséna's strike, shattering the paladin's longsword in half and tearing through her breastplate. Marséna fell where she stood, clutching her chest in shock as blood welled forth. The shattered tip of the Mareterran's sword sailed through the air and fell a good seven feet away.

"Marséna!" Friyya cried from the balcony, hastily drawing another arrow. "Ithunn, help her!" she ordered and loosed another shot, striking Third Pike a few inches above its eye.

Ithunn scrambled to comply, and lunged forward at the khaasta's flank, easily slipping past Third Pike's angry halberd thrust and landing a clean blow against her foe's side. Her blade struck true, breaching the heavy black lacquer plate and slicing into the khaasta's scaly skin. Yet it was but a glancing wound. The enraged Third Pike lashed out again, his halberd expertly blocked by Ithunn, who was sent reeling by the force of the blow. Fourth Phalanx, for its part, had decided not to go down without a fight. It charged forward, bleeding profusely, salivating spittle and lifeblood in equal quantity, but hungry for revenge. Syf was its next target.

A wide, sweeping blow from its glaive was easily side-stepped and Syf moved to counter-attack, leaping into the air and landing a mighty finishing blow on its exposed neck. Fourth Phalanx's neck cracked under the force of Syf's blade and it fell, lifeless to the ground, its tail still thrashing in its final death-spasms. Syf fell gracefully onto the cobblestones by Fourth Phalanx's side, her hand stinging with the energy she had expended for the blow. Virginia resisted the urge to rush to Marséna's side and advanced to aid Ithunn against Third Pike. That was when she was intercepted by Isolde.

Meanwhile, Third Pike engaged Ithunn with gusto. The slip of a human girl was more skilled than it had imagined, but, as far as its cold, reptilian mind was concerned, the yellow-haired little beast would soon be a meal. Astrid struggled to take a clean shot while Lily's expert eye glanced over the scene, waiting for an opening. Third Pike lunged, its halberd wailing through the air and this time, Ithunn lacked the strength to absorb the full power of the impact. The angle of impact crushed her arm and sent crashing against the cobblestones. As quickly a she could, eager not to disappoint Syf, Ithunn picked herself up, only to realise the left side of her body was numb and that blood welled in her mouth each time she tried to breathe.

That instant, however, gave Astrid the opening she needed. She took the shot, aimed at the side of Third Pike's head. The bullet sailed through the air and lodged at the base of the khaasta's head before detonating, blowing a dark red hole, pulsing in blood and grey matter, where the rear of Third Pike's skull had been. The mighty khaasta took two heavy steps, gasped and collapsed heavily onto the ground, the life quickly draining from its emotionless, reptilian eyes. Astrid and Lily moved in to support Virginia against Isolde.

"Now, Isolde, it is well and truly over. Give yourself up." Virginia ordered, pointing her lance at her sister. Friyya, from her vantage point, was already aiming a shot at Isolde's thigh.

"Never to you! Liar! Traitor!" Isolde howled, her eyes wide with fury. She swiftly withdrew a syringe from within her uniform jacket and thrust it into her breast. Thick, red liquid drained down the glass tube, directly into Isolde's heart.

Friyya knew something was wrong the moment Isolde effortlessly side-stepped her meticulously-aimed arrow. In a blur of black and gold, Isolde dashed past Virginia and lashed out, with blinding speed, against Syf. The hapless paladin parried the first few blow, but Isolde was lightning-quick. Two sharp thrusts cut through Syf's defence, leaving her bleeding and disarmed on the cobblestones.

"Isolde!" Virginia called defiantly. "This is between you and me. Leave them out of this."

"No." Isolde hissed, her voice seemingly vibrating throughout the air like the beating wings of bees. "One at the time and then you."

Friyya had already descended from the balcony and was running desperately to lend her aid. In the darkness of the side-alley, Min and Elyszara waited. They could not see anything, but could only hear the clashing of swords, cries of agony and fragments of Isolde's furious exchange with Virginia.

"Isolde! This is my final warning." Virginia said firmly. That strange feeling was possessing her again. A sensation of sadness and longing. She instinctively knew that Isolde and Astrid felt it, too.

It was then that sky went dark. The buildings faded and everything became silent. A world where only Isolde and the party that had come to track her down existed. A cool, musty smell filled the air, the smell of something left in the cellar for too long. Elyszara cowered in Min's arms. They could finally see the scene in front of them, because the protective illusion had been blown away, replaced only by a forbidding darkness, broken only by a dull, lunar glow. Min reached out to the side and felt something cool, smooth and hard. It was full of liquid. She tugged the object and withdrew something out of the darkness. It was a wine bottle.

"Isolde. Please, no more bloodshed." Virginia begged, but her eyes had already become golden and she gave off a light that could have been that aura of a goddess.

"No, Virginia," Isolde replied, more calmly this time - she knew exactly where they were, "either way, this must end." She lunged, faster than the mortal eye could see, but Virginia was faster still. The paladin's blade sliced through the air with a shear of golden light and Isolde fell, dying, to the floor, a long burning gash seared in her abdomen.

"Issie!" Astrid cried and rushed to her sister's side, while Lily moved in to tend to Ithunn's wounds. Friyya, for her part, was desperately trying to deal with Marséna's bleeding, her prayers for healing issuing desperately from her lips. The sooner Marséna was stabilised, the sooner she could get to Syf.

"I am...free." Isolde sighed, looking up almost lovingly at Virginia and Astrid. "Virginia...you never managed to free me. The day before you left to join the order, you held a weeping girl in your arms and told her that you would come back, because sisters love one another and sisters never break promises. I held on to that promise and no matter what Mother did to me, I always told myself that Virginia would come back and we could finally be happy together."

"I'm sorry, Issie," Virginia whispered, instinctively fumbling for her sister's wounds.

"No...let me die." Isolde said, her breath laboured and ragged. "I no longer recognise myself."

"Fuck, Issie," Astrid interrupted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You're our sister, no one is going to let you die."

"It is inevitable." Isolde whispered. "The serum I took will destroy me from the inside. Even healing magics cannot repair the damage it will continue to do to my very essence. Even if you were to heal me now, I would soon waste away. Please, Virg, let me rest." She smiled weakly and, for the first time in years, took Virginia's hand and held it.

"If that is your wish..."

"No, Virg, help her!" Astrid whimpered.

"Thank you, Astrid," Isolde said weakly, feeling the delicious sensation of the pain of life flowing away from her with each breath. "Thank you for loving me when I don't deserve it. Tell Lirai...tell Lirai I'm sorry, too. Tell her that, in a better world, I would have told her how much I loved her. But now...now my breath fails me and I'm free...do you hear that, you old dog, I'm free..."

"Not quite." A low, unpleasantly cultured voice interrupted. "Isolde, as usual, you are far too presumptuous for your own good." Dassau, immaculately clad in his menacing black military uniform materialised in front of Isolde. He was snarling. "You may think that death will bring you freedom, but you shall soon stand corrected, because, Isolde, I know what your final destination is."

"You!" Virginia said, springing to her feet, while Astrid, still bleary eyed, reached for her pistol.

"Guilty as charged. I believe Sister Friyya identified me as the 'puppetmaster'. Something of a misnomer, but evocative nonetheless." Dassau said. "Allow me to explain, puppetmasters directly control what their instruments say or do. I, on the other hand, merely happen to know the most probable course of action at any given moment and build my plans accordingly. In truth, I am more of a risk management consultant, if that means anything in this dimension, than a puppetmaster."

"Worm!" Virginia snarled and lunged, her sword drawn. Dassau parried Virginia's blade with a gloved hand, tore the sword out of her grip and cast it aside, before striking her on the side of the face with such force that she felt her jaw crack. Each motion was cruelly elegant and performed almost as if it were a military drill.

"The next rude little girl will drown in her own bile." the arcanoloth said amiably. "Now, as I was saying before Milady Virginia engaged in this appalling breach of protocol is that I welcome you all to my little wine cellar. Regrettably, this is the most dramatic setting I can offer at this juncture. When I was still in favour with my former employers, I lived in a House with forty-nine rooms but no windows or doors. At the centre of the House, the centre which is both its entrance and exit and which is connected to all forty-nine rooms at once, yet is not any one of them, I sat on a throne of lying tongues surrounded by a lake of tears. Those who dared approach me on my throne, did so on a bridge of broken promises. But circumstances beyond the comprehension of mortals impelled me to relocate." With that, Dassau tapped his silver-tipped cane on the ground.

In an instant, the cane re-materialised as an oversized, sabre composed of blackest darkness and so thin it seemed one-dimensional. "Now it is time to end all of your sorry existences. But death, in itself, is trite. I wish to amuse Mesdames Virginia and Astrid with a little story first. Imagine if you will," Dassau said grandiloquently, his demonic eyes blazing with the fury of the Furnaces of Gehenna, "a brilliant botanist who spent her life perfecting plants. One fine day, she realised that humans, too, could be perfected by creating a master-clone: the first in a series of genetically superior beings which would eventually extirpate the old, flawed variety. In order to bring her plan to fruition, she dabbled with forces that botanists should, in all probability, leave undisturbed and something answered from the other side. The result of this alliance was a single, perfect female foetus. The Synthesis of Woman: superior in every way to the common mortal."

"Virginia..." Lily whispered, Ithunn still cradled in her arms.

"What did I say about interruptions?" Dassau snarled. A vile, demonic symbol, carved out of red light manifested around Lily's mouth, silencing her. "The foetus," he continued, "unexpectedly split soon after implantation. Instead of a single, superior being, the botanist gave birth two three highly talented, but otherwise rather ordinary girls, each encapsulating only a shard of the Synthesis of Woman. Astrid was born with the innovative dynamism of the Maiden, Virginia with the power and leadership of the Mother, and dearly departed Isolde with the intellect and introspection of the Crone..."

"How tiresome." A clear, musical voice which carried the command and authority of a fine general interjected. A blizzard of flower petals began to whirl near where Elyszara and Min were crouching. The petals flowed in separate, multichrome strands - red, white, pink and deepest blue - before coalescing, to assume the shape of an elfin woman of ethereal beauty. Her skin was as pale as the moon, her hair like the sky at night - streaked with vivid silver. She bore a breastplate carved out of adamantine that generated light even in the darkness and carried a shimmering, curved sword, seemingly fashioned out of crystal which dripped cool droplets of dew. Wherever those droplets fell, tiny white flower sprang from nothingness.

"Mother." Elyszara sighed in wonder. Min rose, almost reverently and Nerissa took the tiefling's hand in hers for the briefest moment. She then passed, approaching Dassau with graceful, yet commanding steps. Min gazed on in awe, clutching something cool and hard in the palm of her hand. It was a silver throwing dagger.

"How fortuitous." Dassau said imperiously, his snarl becoming more malevolent with each passing moment. His lip curled, revealing a row of sharp, vicious fangs. "Everything passes as planned."

Nerissa ignored Dassau and swept her hand out into space. A tempest of falling petals swirled out of nothingness, whirling vigorously, so much so that the mortals present had their vision obscured by a spinning kaleidoscope of shifting colours. Dassau stood unmoved, whenever the petals approaches his noxious aura, they withered and died, turning to brittle, black dust.

"Arise." Nerissa commanded and Marséna no longer struggled for breath against the rising tide of blood in her lungs; Syf no longer fought against the hot, heavy sickness she felt at the gash in her belly; Ithunn once again began to feel her hand, her fingers obey the instructions she imparted them. "The Blessed Maiden is well pleased with your faithfulness, but your time has yet to come."

"Sentimental harridan!" Dassau roared. "As has been written, you shall join them in oblivion."

"Yet the memory of our last encounter is not a happy one for you, is it, Asterion? Or do you go by another name now?" Nerissa challenged as the storm of petals died down, leaving Dassau's wine cellar covered in a thick, fragrant blanket.

"Enough." Dassau readied his infernal sabre and advanced on Nerissa. "I shall rend your soul."

"Bitter are we?" Nerissa taunted - the crystal in her sword melted to become a blade of shimmering, violet light - emulating the starburst insignia of the Vigilant Maiden. "Professional rivalry never dies amongst your kind. To think that you would destroy the fiendish plan of your fellow arcanoloth merely because you were jealous of his demonic brilliance."

"He cost me my promotion." Dassau snarled. He was no longer speaking a mortal tongue, but in the unimaginably ancient language of beings of spirit. "Now I shall erase Astrid and Virginia, too, so that there is no suffering to bear testament to the idea he pilfered from me." Dassau lunged, his sabre striking Nerissa's blade with a sharp, high-pitched hum. Whenever their weapons met, time and space themselves seemed to be rent apart, leaving the edges of reality blurred with each impact.

"Petty as usual. No wonder you wear the disguise of a dog." Nerissa snapped and dived headlong into battle. Her style was sublime and so quick even Min had difficulty identifying each graceful, dance-like stroke. Dassau fought with cold composure, rarely, if ever moving anything but his sword arm and relying entirely on foresight and precision. The clashing of their weapons rang out, Nerissa sought in vain to break Dassau's guard with a series of asymmetrical, lunging strikes. So she disengaged and floated backwards, seemingly borne aloft by a friendly wind, before suddenly manifesting a blazing aura of violet blue-violet light. She assumed the form of a blazing comet of crackling, divine energy, and sped towards Dassau.

In an instant, a trellis of black energy manifested in front of the arcanoloth and it assumed the shape of the face of a demonic clock, with the hands and hours distinguished by unmentionably vile symbols of primordial evil. The trellis of energy crackled spasmodically around Nerissa's assault. On the face of the demonic clock, the symbols were desperately shifting, re-arranging and re-sequencing, as if to find the frequency that would finally repel the eladrin's attack. Dassau struggled for a moment, battling to keep the trellis stable in front of him, before finally chancing upon the specific defence pattern and casting Nerissa backwards. The eladrin knight returned to her elfin form in midair and landed gracefully a few paces from Dassau.

"I had forgotten your kind could do that." Dassau growled with palpable irritation. It had been a close call.

"Nonsense, you never forget anything. You are just becoming slow." Nerissa retorted.

Dassau lunged, Nerissa parried and snapped back, slicing through the torso arcanoloth's uniform. Black ichor splashed onto the ground, emitting an ungodly stench. Pressing her advantage, Nerissa tried to open up the breach she had made in Dassau's defence, but the demon was not fazed. He knew when to keep his cool. Although wounded, he could still rely on his intellect. They battled on, Nerissa moving swiftly around Dassau's defences, only to be thwarted by swift, precise parries and counters. In the apparently free-flowing chaos of Nerissa's technique, Dassau's brilliant mind began to see a pattern. There was method to the madness.

It was when Nerissa struck a high, arching slash that Dassau decided to act. Summoning his remaining energies, he manifested a series of miniature demon clock faces on the edge of Nerissa's sword, blocking it in mid-flight. He then countered, slashing savagely at Nerissa's belly. The eladrin fell back, stunned, petals and clear nectar flowing from her wound. Dassau closed in and thrust his sabre between her breast and collarbone. A burst of light ensued, in which only Dassau's silhouette was visible.

A long, melancholy sigh filled the chamber, "Elyszara..." and then silence, followed by a rain of cherry blossoms.

"Mother..." Elyszara cried and dashed to where Nerissa's crystal sword still lay. Friyya tackled her and brought her to the ground before the aasimar could reach the spot where her mother had been slain. Elyszara fought, wept and struck out with all her might, but Friyya held her down. Dassau, however, was in no condition to intervene. He had fallen to one knee, his breath heavy, his gaunt frame bent over as he struggled to regain his strength. The fight with Nerissa had drained him of his considerable powers.

"Just...like that..." Dassau wheezed, this time in Sigil's lingua franca. "A few moments to recover and I shall dispatch you one by one...just a few more moments and I shall tear you, limb from limb." His wound still bled ichor, but in a demi-plane of his own creation, he would soon recover his strength.

Thus, Min decided to act. One attempt was all she had, so she decided to make it count. She flipped the throwing dagger in her hand and, with consummate skill, launched it at Dassau. It lodged into his chest, drawing forth a fresh burst of ichor. Dassau howled in agony - something raw, primal and unspeakably evil - and reluctantly let his plane shift enchantment drop to safeguard what remained of his vital energies.

The scene changed once more. They found themselves in the deserted alley again, the two dead khaasta still lying where they fell, and Dassau nowhere in sight. The only thing that remained to remind them of their nightmarish excursion to the arcanoloth's wine cellar was Nerissa's crystal sword, embedded in the cobblestones. Virginia looked around herself in disbelief. All her comrades were there, still trying to rationalise what had happened, while Elyszara lay cradled in Friyya's arms, weeping silently as she endlessly mouthed the same words, "I'll be a good girl, mother, I promise, just come back and I'll be a good girl..."

***

The ceremony took place on a cold, bright and dry day. It was only shortly after daybreak, but Aerylle was almost ready. Millidia, Essinea and Cirily fussed over the slightest details of her appearance, constantly re-calibrating and balancing chromatic schemes and variations in the same hairstyle. Verden watched on, silently bemused as she leaned back on an old cherry-wood dresser, smiling serenely to herself as she contemplated the beautiful follies of the Multiverse. Shesayne walked in and out, desperately trying to hide the fact that she could not stop weeping with joy and emotion. But Aerylle's dress was beautiful: pure silver and incomparably elegant, cut out of the finest gossamer silks. Tiny strings of pearl had been worked into the fabric, illuminating the grey elf's every movement with a fine, opalescent glow.

Min, who would never understand what all the fuss was about, settled for a more modest preparation. She had given Friyya full liberty with the wardrobe choice with the stern warning that it should not be 'too frilly or too girly'. In the end, she looked magnificent in a new white silk shirt and dark blue breeches, even if she had to be persuaded at length to have her shirt collar done up. The paladins all congratulated her in turn as they all filed out into the brisk Sigil morning and went, in procession, to the Temple of Hanali, where Aerylle was already waiting.

As was elven custom, the ritual part of the ceremony was brief and poetic. They were joined over a newly-planted sapling as invocations were read and a High Priestess sprinkled them with lymph from the World Tree. Much to Marséna's disappointment, there were no vows to exchange - for elves did not believe in anything so constricting or legalistic. The heart wants what the heart wants and, as was typical for the very peculiar elven philosophy of love, that was all there was to know. Once the solemnities were over, junior priestesses took to their flutes and the celebrations began. Elyszara had personally made sure that the turnout was as great possible and had appointed a master elven chef with the task of catering. Long tables were set out in the Temple's airy, artistically landscaped garden and filled with all manner of sweetmeats, cakes, fine wines and elixirs.

Then, when Aerylle and Min paraded together in front of the assembled guests, traversing the garden hand in hand, the festivities began. Aerylle mingled almost effortlessly and was more than happy to meet all of Elyszara's Arborean friends, who all spoke perfect Grey Elven and who congratulated her using all the traditional felicitations. Min proceeded a little more stiffly, for she was unaccustomed to being surrounded by such a mass of people, though it did not take long for her to take a liking to being the centre of attention, surrounded by hordes of admiring, upper-crust elven and aasimar girls.

At one end of the garden, by a singing marble fountain of a naked nymph, Marséna sat at Virginia's side, pensively picking at a large slice of walnut pastry. Curious as ever, Virginia watched the unfolding scene, eager to uncover new cultural nuances and customs. Marséna ate in almost reverent silence, doing her utmost not to let the thick honey sauce spill over her good, white and gold dress uniform.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" Virginia teased, patting Marséna's knee.

"Yeah." the Mareterran paladin confessed sullenly. "But who wouldn't be? Didn't you ever dream of your wedding day when you were little?"

"Actually, no, I don't think I ever did." Virginia replied wryly.

"That's because you're strange." Marséna sulked.

"Come, now, my love, you know we can never engage in such ceremonies at the Radiant Path. But we have a bond that's just as strong as any ritual."

"I suppose." Marséna conceded, before taking a large, defiant forkful of her pastry. "But I sometimes I think I'd kill for the dress..."

"Typical." Lily interrupted as she stealthily interrupted the pair from behind. "Allowing yourself to be absorbed by this sentimental scene."

"Oh, so they let you in after all," Marséna countered, "you saw the look on that priestess' face when you came up to the Temple steps in your spidersilk dress - I thought she was about to have an apoplectic attack."

"How witty." Lily snapped, taking a seat on the fountain's ledge by Marséna's side. "The only reason I grace the temple of this surface elven goddess is for Min's sake. I certainly take no pleasure in being surrounded by odious, sickly-white elves."

"Be nice." Virginia warned. "Anyway, I heard Gallia was delighted with your conversion. Congratulations, when do you think you will be initiated as a full priestess?"

"Soon, my dear Virginia." Lily said with relish. "Soon."

“By the way,” Marséna noted, “next time you visit Isolde's grave, let me come along, too. I don't know why, but I think I'd like to pay my respects.”

“Please.” Virginia said. “Last time Astrid couldn't stop crying and Lirai just looked empty inside.”

“How is Lirai doing, anyway?” Marséna inquired. To think that someone working with Aerylle had known Isolde all along and been her lover to boot made her wonder about the cruel vicissitudes of Fate.

“Better now. I think she started seeing Inge, but nothing has been set in stone yet. Aerylle goes over to her apartment sometimes to keep her company. I should go too, it was Isolde's apartment as well.”

At the other side of the garden, Aerylle reclined on a silk-upholstered couch with Astrid and Shesayne sitting on each arm-rest and a steady stream of well-wishers passing by to pay her their compliments. In her heart, Aerylle knew that the ceremony was just the beginning of her journey and that there would, doubtless, be some difficult times ahead. Nevertheless, she gazed at the future with renewed hope and a sense of purpose.

"So, Aerylle, you're sure 'bout going back to Imej and everything?" Shesayne queried, peering down curiously at her friend. Although Aerylle had insisted that Shesayne would be free to dress as she wished, the half-elf had made point to turn up in her modest, lady-like best - much to Millidia's approval.

"Yes. I have given the situation much thought and, in the end, I think it only right to introduce Min to my family. You two are welcome to come as well, should you so wish."

"I'm there." Astrid said, her lightly freckled cheeks a little rosy from the epic quantities of feywine she had imbibed. "What about you, my rare beauty?"

Shesayne did not hesitate to answer, "Absolutely, positively one hundred percent with you. When are we leaving then?" she asked excitedly. She had never seen an elven city in her life and was dying with curiosity to see what it would be like.

"In a few days. As soon as my mother receives my letter, we should be off." Mentally, Aerylle was already preparing to introduce Min to her flabbergasted mother.

Cirily, who had been doing her utmost to avoid Elyszara's best friend, Faenya, finally found her way to Aerylle's couch. "I know I've said this before, but may Lady Goldheart's blessings follow you and Min always." Cirily said, with a formal curtsy.

"Come, Cirily, it I who should be signing your praises. This reception has been wonderful." Aerylle replied, as she shifted on the couch and invited the aasimar to sit down.

"Thank Lys," Cirily replied, settling in gracefully by Aerylle's side. "She gathered up at least half of the guests herself."

"I see." Aerylle said as she gently stroked Cirily's fiery hair. "How have you been coping?"

"Mother's passing was a shock, but our friends and the Order of the Radiant Path have been wonderful. Lys and I have finally decided to move permanently to Sigil. All our friends are here and that would give me the opportunity to continue my artistic work, while Lys is going to start helping out at the Order - she's back to her old self, you know, but so much more responsible this time. In the end, I'm glad to see her so happy again."

Min, for her part, had found a relatively quiet corner of the garden where she and Verden could share a confidential chat, far from prying eyes and ears. Verden wore a flattering and surprisingly feminine silver dress - the same she had worn for Ithunn's Consecration a few days earlier. Of course, 'flattering' was a euphemism, as much as they had tried, there was not a single elven man or woman in the Temple of Hanali that day who had not taken a guilty, but rewarding peek at the half-elf's stunning cleavage.

"Isn't she lovely?" Verden whispered, discreetly pointing out Ithunn, who walked, goblet of feywine in hand, with Syf by her side.

"Top-shelf." Min noted with admiration, draining her goblet in one swallow. "She looks like the sort that'll take care of you. She's a good cutter, I know it every time I look into her eyes."

"I'm quitting thieving for her." Verden confessed, almost as if she were ashamed to admit it.

"Serious?"

"Yeah, since Lily left, I think I'll join you and Shesayne in the retrievals business. Provided you put in a good word for me."

"I'm sure they'd be glad to have you onboard. Then it's the three of us again, just like old times." Min said, with some satisfaction.

"Just like old times." Verden replied, raising her goblet in acknowledgement. "And Min, from one old friend to another, this is the first and only time I'm falling for an Ortho girl. Put me in the dead-book if I make the same mistake again."

"With pleasure." Min replied amiably.

Unexpectedly, Friyya found herself lingering with Elyszara by the columns at the entrance to the garden. Together, they surveyed the scene before them. Their conversation had an unanticipated beginning, since Elyszara was technically covering for Faenya, who had disappeared into the Temple with two giggling junior priestesses and a jug of scented oil. But it took only a little while for paladin and aasimar to realise that there was much they could discuss. Even when the conversation shifted to weightier matters, Elyszara was glad to have Friyya's sagely advice to reassure her.

"You'll be a wonderful contribution to the Order, I just know it." Friyya said, smiling warmly.

"I just hope to become a woman my mother would have been proud of." the aasimar responded, her voice tinged with regret.

"She was always proud of you. I'm certain of it." Friyya reassured. It was beginning to grow dark, but the party continued unabated. "Look, the Seasons are about to begin their theatre and dance routine. Perhaps we should go and find some decent seats."

"Definitely." Elyszara said, nodding in agreement. She took Friyya's hand and led her back into the garden. "Tonight they're hosting a storytelling evening - would you like to come?"

"With pleasure and Marséna might come too, though Syf, Ithunn and Virg would probably prefer an early night."

"Sure, the more the merrier." Elyszara said, before pausing abruptly. "Say, Friyya, wouldn't you like it someone someday told your story?"

"It would be flattering, I suppose, but, either way, stories are far less important than the very lives those stories are about."

With the coming of darkfall, the first enchanted pyrotechnic displays had begun. The sky above the Temple lit up with impressionistic streaks of fire and illusion. Normally featureless, Sigil's sky was filled with a myriad of ephemeral celestial bodies that rose and burst, letting their brilliance light up the garden of the Temple of Hanali. Still, as the lamps lining the long tables in the garden were lit, the Great Wheel moved on. Tomorrow would be just another day.

Author's Note: Sigil ends here. Many thanks to those who have read this far. Rest assured, this may be the end of this story, but the characters will live on in other stories, stories that have yet to be told.