The Pricolici begins tearing through the parishioners as the party scrambles to defend them. To make matters worse, the Bishop becomes a proxy for Ileana's magic, sucker-punching them with powerful and deadly spells.

Harnessing the power of the Oculary, they manage to injure the werewolf such that he cannot escape. The vast majority of the parishioners are saved, thanks to an impressive temporal power manifested by Nyx. Meanwhile, the Bishop's potent defenses are overcome by a last-minute architectural redesign, courtesy of Tamlin.

As the werewolf writhes in pain, unable to flee, but impossible to kill, the silver wolves arrive. They transform, revealing themselves to be a small band of nobles, under the leadership of Sorin Varcolai, younger brother of the lost Dragomir. He explains that only inherited silver can end the curse...he happens to have some of that with him. He plunges his dagger into the beast, destroying the magic that sustains it, and it dies...

Narcissa flees the city, scouts from Sorin's band tailing her discreetly, as Sorin returns triumphant to Castle Sandoval. He quickly rounds up the most treasonous lords, even as Dalia does the same to the corrupt priests of the church.

By morning, the court is restored to some sort of order, and a long line of courtiers await their chance to prostrate themselves before the prince, just as the common folk queue up to confess their infidelity to the monks.

That day, the party meets with Sorin, who thanks them for their aid, and offers rewards. He then explains that the root of the problem--the witches--have yet to be dealt with. His scouts tracked Narcissa to their lair: the Twisted Tower, also known as Blackthorne. He pleads with Dalia, for he and his people lack the magical ability to face her--she having rounded up everyone meeting that description and either conscripted or executed each of them. She agrees that the witch must burn.

Before leaving, Dalia learns that there was once a chapterhouse of the Sisterhood of St. Devorah nearby. On a hunch, she sets forth in search of it...

Finding the chapterhouse is not hard, but seeing it is. The keep was burned, down to the foundations of stone. Every inch of land in the garden, every fencepost, every conceivably flammable object burned to ash. Though it happened years ago, the smell of smoke and the distant heat of the fire seem to live on.

At first, it seems there is nothing of value or interest in the ruins, but then Tamlin stumbles across a trap door, concealed by rubble. The keep had a dungeon of sorts, and worthy of the name: inside they find cells, evidently meant to house troubled or defiant novices of the order.

And in one of the cells, behind a secret door, concealed with startlingly sophisticated magic, is a tiny room, a secret sanctuary. Within, they find inumerable charcoal drawings, baubles and knick-knacks squirreled away by a small and nimble young novice. The centerpiece to it all: a child's prayer book, the pages well-worn; and on a secret page, an awkwardly-scribbled drawing of a young girl, with parents, siblings, and a family...one she never knew.

The name on the book was "Cosmina", though Dalia immediately knew...it was Ileana.

The drawings and psychic impressions painted a clear picture: a young girl, defiant and proud, possessed of once-in-a-generation magical talent, refusing to yield to the sisterhood's dogma. She wanted to learn, to grow, to act...to be free. And though she suffered greatly, though the Mother devised ever crueler punishments to break her will, she remained unbroken. Her spirit only grew, her will multiplied, until...

Until the fire. Until she lost control. Until she found a way out. A way that did not end well for the rest of the order.

Leaving the ruined keep, they set themselves toward Blackthorne, toward an end to all this misery.

Blackthorne Castle was less impressive up close. Standing on a hilltop cleared of black, twisted, dead-looking trees, a modest tower abuts a house. Solidly-built, it looks to be a reconstruction of an old elven lookout tower. Invisibly, the party ventures forth, seeking entry. The powerful wards around the tower give way to the holder of the prayer book--a powerful fetish linking them to its master--but the front door is not so forgiving. They face the backlash of master-level wards should they violate it.

Tamlin manages to scale the walls--no easy feat, given enchantments on the walls making them as slippery as black ice--and seeks an alternate route inside. He finds one, through the skylights above a greenhouse. Sneaking through the witches' hall, he doubles back to the tower's main entrance, but he cannot find a way to open the door and release the wards.

As he examines the interior for clues, he is struck by an inspiration--everything he sees is a lie. With an act of will, he forces himself to look beyond the superficial, to engage his secret senses, and simply know the lay of the lands around him. He opens his eyes...

To behold a massive, hollowed, twisted tree, towering a thousand feet above the landscape, into which a castle and stone tower has been magically interwoven. The wood is black, sinuous, and horribly alive, with tentacle-like roots reaching deep into the earth to suck out its life-force.

The front door is a lie...the party stands atop a thin branch, below with is a dizzying fall into spiked, poisonous roots. Opening the door would be their death. Instead, he feels for the true entrance, sensing the magic of a portal. He intuits a means of opening it, and creates a magical doorway, transporting the rest of the party inside.

No sooner do they gain access than the witches happen upon them. Utterly shocked and disorganized, they fall back after the first blows are exchanged, holing themselves in the greenhouse. Though they have the advantage of ground, they are inexperienced and unprepared, and fall easily to the party's combined might. They are spared, and taken prisoner.

The party ascends the tower, proceeding through a strange and myriad array of chambers--a puzzle-room of shifting cubes, a massive chess board, an atrium somehow lit by the sun--and in the penultimate chamber, they encounter a surprise:

The stone floor falls away from them, careening into a vast vortex of infinite storms. There is no ground, only a few chunks of stone floating in a static field, as a being of thunder, wind, and lightning takes form before them: Fulmina, bound servant of Ileana, an Esper.

The battle with Fulmina is quick and deadly. Her intense power eclipses their greatest defenses--instead, they must use clever tactics to redirect her wrath. Much of the party focuses on interrupting or blocking her blasts of lightning and wind. As her attention flickers from one distraction to another, Dalia channels more and more holy fire into her, until the magic binding her form is undone.

Defeated, Fulmina's essence crystallizes; her Essentia passes to the party, largely to Nyx.

With the elemental defeated, they ascend to the summit, where they find a twisted throne room. Ileana is waiting for them, face full of contempt and resolve. She is certain of her superiority, as she channels the might of her demonic patron, multiply her power tenfold.

But to her shock, the party matches her, revealing the truth behind their power, an unlikely coincidence: each is bound to an Esper. Dalia channels Gloria, spirit of St. Elys, whom she first encountered near her home town of Chedon. Nuala channels an aspect of Morrowyn, becoming The Effigy, She-Who-Suffers. HONN calls upon the fury of the deeps, becoming Vector, the Burning One. Nyx channels Fulmina, naturally, and Tamlin declines, feigning lack of ability, though he is aware of his connection to Druaga on some level.

So empowered, they match themselves against the witch. Her skill is evident--she wields exotic spells and complex techniques with ease--and she has no shortage of power, but she cannot match the party's combined might. She falls, spent, holy fire burning away at her mantle of demonic power.

At the party's mercy, she demands to know how they could cut through her magic so easily. Dalia reveals her secret weapon: the prayer book. She speaks Ileana's true name--Cosmina--and the witch understands. She had assumed all that was lost to her, and had unwittingly left a massive vulnerability. The power of the phylactery may as well have multiplied their power tenfold. Dalia insists that they were meant to find it, that God himself guided them to it, so they might defeat her...and so they might save her.

Brimming with holy power, and holding the key to Ileana's very soul, Dalia calls upon the power of The Light. Sacred flames tear through Ileana, but they do not harm her...instead, they burn at the hooks in her flesh, the chains that bind her. They burn at the wounds and scars made by hellfire, the injuries to her soul inflicted by so much evil.

She collapses, greatly diminished, but alive. Dalia takes her from the black tower, away from her old life of pain and misery, to a new beginning, a slim chance at redemption.