Gaelen skidded around a marble column. There, in the center of the offering bowl on the altar of a lesser god, a dark selkahr crystal pulsed with forbidden power. A partially melted gold chain surrounded the crystal. The selkahr must have been disguised as some sort of pendant, the crystal itself lying dormant within its camouflage until the activation spell had been triggered.

A smoky tendril darted between him and the altar. Gaelen slammed to a halt, barely managing to keep himself from plowing into the lethal shadow of the demon. Magic burst bright around his hands. He threw a five-fold shield into the creature's path. It wasn't as strong as the weave forged by Bel and the other four masters of the Feyreisa's quintet, but it was still powerful enough to make the dahl'reisen demon hiss and shrink back.

Formless blackness shifted and coalesced into the familiar dark form of a dahl'reisen warrior. Smoky, translucent shadow blades were draped across the creature's chest and strapped to its back, exactly where Fey steel would have been, and in its dark, undulating face, two glowing red embers tracked Gaelen's every move. The shifting shadows of the creature's face sharpened into focus, forming a clear, dark image of mouth, nose, cheeks.

A Fey face. A familiar face. A warrior who'd been a long-trusted Fey friend, dear to Gaelen even when they'd both been outcast from the Fading Lands. Esan vel Morian, one of the Brotherhood of Shadows who had traveled into Eld on Gaelen's orders, never to return again. Gaelen's heart-so recently restored by Ellysetta's touch-felt as though it would break in two.

"Greetingsss, General," the demon hissed.

Rain stood in silence as one by one the lords of Celieria were called to vote. One by one, they stood and called out aye or nay. Three-quarters of the way through, his shoulders slumped. The majority of all undecided votes had been cast and tallied. He had failed.

The Eld would be coming to Celieria.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Father Bellamy set a small red leather case on one of the benches surrounding the altar and thumbed open the latch. Long, sharp needles, each topped by a small dark crystal, gleamed against ruby silk.

"Hold her still," he ordered.

Den, Nivane, and Greatfather Tivrest clamped down on Ellysetta's legs and her right arm. Father Bellamy pressed a hand hard against her left shoulder. "Forgive me, daughter. This will hurt, but it is for your own good. Adelis, Bright One, Lord of Light, drive the darkness from this soul." Chanting the prayer of exorcism, Father Bellamy plunged the first needle into her flesh.

Ellysetta's back arched, and she screamed against the corked gag. The needle wasn't steel or silver. It was sel'dor. Her flesh went cold around the puncture, and insidious runners of ice infiltrated her body, radiating outward. The dark crystal atop the needle began to flicker with deep ruby lights. She felt a terrible pull, as if the needle and the crystal that topped it were trying to draw her very soul from her flesh.

A choked cry came from the side of the room. Mama stood there, clutching Selianne, tears pouring down her face, one fist stuffed against her mouth. "Please, Ellie, please don't fight them. Trust your soul to the Bright Lord. Please, kitling.”

Anger burst into hot life. Mama had betrayed her. Selianne had betrayed her. Greatfather Tivrest had betrayed her. The people Ellysetta should have been able to trust, the two women she'd loved most, had betrayed her.

A second needle pierced her right shoulder. She screamed again against the muffling gag. Her fingers splayed, then convulsed, fingertips pressing hard against unmoving marble and adding the tiny agonies of fingernails cracking and splitting to a far greater pain. Her soul felt as if it were being ripped apart.

The glacial cold had invaded her entire chest now She gasped for breath, and her body shook uncontrollably. A dark, gloating sentience brushed across the edges of her mind, and she could have sworn she felt skeletal fingers dragging across the skin over her heart.

At the far end of the altar, Nivane watched her with eyes that, for a brief instant, glowed like twin firepits. Fathomless black, flickering with frightening red lights. White teeth flashed in a triumphant smile, and the familiar sibilant voice from her worst nightmares sounded in her mind. Hello, girl.

Stark terror flooded every part of her being.

Her heels shoved hard against the altar slab. Her tortured body writhed as she tried to scramble away from the exorcist's unholy eyes and the Shadow Man's hissing voice. Hands clamped down, holding her fast. Gloating laughter danced across her skin, vibrating along the ice-cold needles stabbing her flesh.

There was no conscious thought in her reaction. No control. No magic weave. Only stripped-down, bare, primal instinct. Ellysetta's mental shields shredded, and absolute terror gave voice to a silent, preternatural scream.

“Rain! Shei'tan! Help me!'

Shock stole Rain's breath.

His heart stopped in mid-beat. Around him, it seemed as if time itself had stopped. Every person in the Council Chamber froze in place, utterly silent, utterly still. For one instant, nothing in the universe existed except a single, desperate, terrified cry.

A soul crying out directly to his.

Her soul.

«Rain! Shei'tan! Help me!’

For one brief instant, she was there, sharing his mind, his thoughts, his entire being.

And then she was gone.

"No." His hands trembled. His blood froze with fear. "No.”

There was a great round skylight in the ceiling above Dorian's throne. Without conscious thought, deaf to the shocked cries of the mortals around him, Rain crossed the chamber in three Air-powered leaps and vaulted over the royals seated on the raised dais. A burst of strength and magic sent him exploding skyward. He smashed through the window as Fey and emerged on the other side of the shattered glass as tairen.