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She headed back toward the portal, once again using her magical boots to cross the ground in long, graceful leaps. As she did, she peered between the spires of rock, trying to see where Halisstra had gone. She also attempted to send a message to Halisstra, but the sending met with silence. Perhaps Halisstra had already used the portal to return to the Prime Material Plane. Once she was through it, a sending wouldn’t necessarily reach her.

Even if Halisstra hadn’t reached the portal yet, Cavatina was certain the former priestess could take care of herself. Halisstra had survived, by her own account, for two years in Lolth’s domain. She was as adapted to survive there as any demon—her immunity to the acidic rain had proved that.

As Cavatina passed the last of the spires, she saw something in the distance that sent a chill through her: a spider so enormous that she could make out the details of it, even from so far away. Its body was crowned with a drow head, and it reared back on six of its eight legs. The two front legs held weapons that glinted a dull red in the ruddy starlight, a straight steel sword and a thicker knob-headed mace.

By his weapons alone, Cavatina would have recognized him. It was Selvetarm himself, champion of Lolth, and no mere avatar—not at home in the Demonweb Pits—but the demigod himself.

Cavatina whispered a fervent prayer as she drifted to the ground. Her heart pounding furiously, she stood, utterly motionless, as Selvetarm turned. It took all of her willpower not to cringe as the demigod’s gaze swept over her. Would Eilistraee hide her from sight? Could she, from a demigod in his own domain? Selvetarm had the power to see the invisible—and would immediately spot Cavatina if he so much as suspected anyone was there. She only started breathing again when the head turned away once more.

Her relief at not being spotted drained away as she realized where Selvetarm was standing almost exactly on the spot where the portal was, and he wasn’t moving.

Cavatina had been feeling certain she could defeat anything Lolth could toss at her, but suddenly things had become complicated. To escape the Demonweb Pits, she was going to have to fight her way past a demigod.

You can do it.

Cavatina blinked. Had that been the sword talking—or her own pride?

Her grip tightened on the Crescent Blade. She could do it. The weapon in her hands had been forged for exactly that purpose, to kill deities.

Yes, the sword whispered.

Cavatina smiled grimly and thought, what a hunt this is going to be!

If she succeeded in killing Selvetarm, her name would be praised forevermore from the Promenade to the smallest shrine.

And a demigod’s head would be her trophy.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Malvag waited impatiently in the cavern. It was difficult to keep from pacing back and forth, though his surroundings helped. It was peaceful there. Dark. Separate. Silent. The only sounds were the thud-thud, thud-thud of his heart and the soft exhalations of his breath. The darkstone crystals that lined the walls created a void of utter blackness around him, drinking in even the darkfire that danced like a shadow across the skin of his right hand, yet the shadows weren’t quite enough to calm him.

It was the night of the winter solstice—the longest night of the year—and midnight was rapidly approaching. The moment he’d been waiting for was almost at hand. In just a little while, Urz, Valdar, and Szorak would arrive with their soul-impregnated masks, and the conjuration could begin.

At midnight, according to the astrologers, Toril’s shadow would fall fully across the moon, completely eclipsing it. The darkest hour of the longest night of the year would begin with Eilistraee’s holiest of symbols completely enshrouded in shadow.

Malvag stared down at a drift disc, no larger than a dinner plate, that floated in the air before him at waist level. On it was a treasure he’d spent the better part of a century searching for, a prayer scroll from ancient Ilythiir. It was