All the mortals attending Lolth's ascension ritual had thought it would be over quickly.
Yet, to everyone's surprise, the Chosen who entered Lolth's Refuge fought in the Phlogiston Sea for a full sixty-six days.
Ever since she had lost a divine body and a true incarnation at Aaron's hands, Lolth had adopted an entirely passive stance, avoiding all combat.
Aaron was using the Slaanesh Temple to corrupt the essence of her refuge? Fine!
The Chosen were loving and killing one another, with a few strange characters even sneaking into their ranks? No problem!
Some Chosen without even a trace of elven ancestry had entered the refuge? Absolutely okay!
Even when Aaron seized thirty percent of her Chaos domain, Lolth hadn't so much as made a peep.
No one could understand what Lolth was thinking.
The only thing everyone understood was that they could either kill eighty-eight holy spirits to earn an audience with Lolth, or kill a Chosen and offer them up in Lolth's name to leave the refuge.
Suspicion, confusion, chaos, slaughter, madness, betrayal.
All the seeds had been sown.
Now they only had to wait for harvest day.
The Chaos refuge, sixty-six days after Lolth's ascension ritual began.
At last, the first Chosen to collect the heads of eighty-eight holy spirits appeared.
Quenthel of House Baenre arrived at the Soulfire Plains, the final stop on the way to the deepest reaches of Lolth's Refuge.
Words could scarcely describe Quenthel's exhaustion. The Spider Matriarch had fought for countless days and nights. She no longer trusted anyone, not even her own people. She had lost faith even in Triel Baenre and Gomph Baenre.
She reached the Soulfire Plains alone.
Yet upon arriving, Quenthel discovered, to her shock, an angel blazing with hellfire, leading two Pit Fiends on a rampage!
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