An icy wind swept through the cathedral, and a faint, sickly sweet smell pervaded the nave. Cold, hissing laughter whispered in the gloom.

"Ah, krekk," Kieran muttered.

"We've got company," Gaelen said. He turned to face the long, shadowy nave, all five magics blazing to life at his fingertips. "Demon." Narrowed ice-blue eyes scanned the cathedral. "Make that two.”

Bel's heart thumped heavily. It was a trap. And with the twenty-five-fold weaves surrounding the island, the Fey had woven their own cage.

He rapidly channeled every ounce of power he could summon into yet another weave. "Chakor! Five-fold weave, now!”

Even before he finished the first word, Kieran's powerful rope of Earth joined Bel's Spirit. Kiel's Water spun into the mix, then Fire and Air from Teris and Cyr.

«There's an active selkahr crystal by that small altar at the back of the nave,» Gaelen said. «I'll circle around and destroy it so our friends here don't invite more company.» The temperature in the room plummeted. "Krekk.”

"What?”

"Add one very unfriendly dahl'reisen demon to the mix.” Gaelen swore again. "Don't speak on the common path. He'll hear you. I've got to smash that crystal. Keep these fellows occupied.”

Bel nodded. He'd fought demons before in the Mage Wars, but few of those deadly creatures were as dangerous as the spirits of dahl'reisen who'd surrendered their souls into dark service. "Go. We'll give you what cover we can. And hurry. The Feyreisa needs us." As Gaelen bolted off, Bel gathered his strength. "Remember, Fey ... five-fold weaves only. Steel's useless. And for the gods' sake, don't let them touch you.”

Bel didn't wait for the others to acknowledge his words. Two dark shapes gave a hissing screech and shot out of the shadows towards Gaelen. Bel grabbed command of the five-fold weave and flung a burning net to block their path. The demons shrieked as their formless evil sizzled against the shining webs of power.

«Rain! Bel! Gaelen! Someone help me!» Despite the sel'dor burning against her skin, Ellysetta flung desperate, pleading weaves of Spirit against all corners of the room, hoping the call might escape through some small chink in the magical cage imprisoning her.

"Be calm, daughter," Greatfather Tivrest said. "Do as Father Bellamy commands. Forsake your demon magic and put your faith in the Bright Lord.”

"The magic my mother fears is my natural birthright, Father, not demon possession. You've got to believe me." She held his gaze. Her voice throbbed with earnestness and compulsion. Doubt entered the archbishop's eyes, and she pressed her advantage. "Look at me, Father. I'm telling you the truth. I was raised in the church. I celebrated my first Concordia here in this very city. I follow the Way of Light." Her breathing grew ragged as the manacles' burn intensified. "Let me go, Father. Don't do this to a child of Light.”

A shadow darted in her periphery, followed by the crack of flesh hitting flesh. Sudden, sharp pain set the side of her face aflame, bringing an abrupt end to her attempt at weaving a shei'dalin 's compulsion. "Careful, Greatfather," cautioned the white-blond exorcist. "Even now, when you offer her mercy, she would steal your soul if she could." He slapped her again, this time with enough force to wrench her head to one side.

"That's enough, Nivane," Father Bellamy commanded. "Our goal is to drive the demons from her soul, not to brutalize her. There is a better way to silence her witch's voice." Bellamy gestured to the third, still-hooded man. "Gag her.”

"Yes, Father." The third exorcist approached, a corked gag in his gloved hands. As he neared, Ellysetta's nose twitched in distaste. This exorcist reeked of onions and bacon, a smell she would forever associate with the despised Den Brodson. At that very moment, gloating satisfaction and hatred rolled over her in waves.

"Gods save me." She stared in horror at the third exorcist. He was close enough now that she could see beneath the shadow of his hood. Blue eyes surrounded by stubby black lashes stared back at her above a nose that had been broken more than once in childhood bully brawls. "He's no exorcist, Greatfather! He's De-”

The second exorcist, Nivane, grabbed her manacled wrists and pushed a small hidden button. Tiny spikes shot out all around the inside of the cuffs, piercing her skin. A scream strangled in her throat, cutting off her voice. "If you do not weave magic, the bracelets will not punish you," Nivane proclaimed loudly. "Cease your lies. Give up your unholy ways. Beg the Bright Lord to forgive your sins, and join him in the Light.”

Ellysetta tried to force him back with a thrust of Earth and Air, but the instant she called magic, debilitating agony wreathed her wrists with fire and sent red-hot razors of pain vibrating up her arms.

Den grabbed her roughly and shoved the corked gag in her mouth. "You'll regret rejecting me," he hissed in her ear. "I would have honored you as my wife. Now I'll command you as my whore." With his hands hidden from view by the folds of his red robes, Den squeezed her breast so hard she could not hold back a muffled cry. "Before I'm done with you, you'll plead to lick my feet.”

"Lay her on the altar," Father Bellamy ordered. "The bracelets will contain her demons for the moment, but we must hurry to begin the exorcism.”

Hands grabbed her and lifted her off her feet. Her struggles were no match for the four men as they carried her easily across the short distance and laid her on the altar.