The party returns to Sandoval with prisoners in tow. Sorin confronts them at the cathedral, demanding they hand them over for justice. The apprentices are relinquished to his authority, but as for Ileana, Dalia claims the right to deal with her personally, as she is a member of the order. When the duke presses, she claims right of sanctuary; he is thwarted, for now.

In Sandoval, peace has been restored. Images of the Savior Queen have been torn down, corrupt officials have been arrested, and those who suffered under Ileana are finally free. Kids are laughing, the folk are dancing, and everything's just merry. Too merry.

Tamlin feels it first--and the departing Kurn travelers confirm his suspicion. Soon, it is all too obvious, as dark storm clouds roll over the land: the Malevolence comes, to balance the scales, as too much peace and happiness cannot last long in this place. Surely, Ileana's fall must have something to do with it.

He sneaks into the undercroft of the cathedral, a nominally open space that was converted into a makeshift dungeon by the bishop. Flaws in its design allow him to bypass the guards and confront Ileana directly. She explains that, by setting her free, Dalia has doomed the land...her contract with Balaur was powerful, and his rage at seeing it broken will not be easily quelled. She had offered to release him...never intending to do it, per se...but a broken oath of such magnitude, especially in a place such as Uldenor, can lash back with great fury. And so, it seems, Balaur's cage weakens, and the earth will shake as he tries to rip himself free.

Meanwhile, on the surface, Sorin's men are setting up an array of pikes upon which to roast the witches. Their execution is scheduled...the only question now is whether or not Ileana will be among them. A great fervor erupts among the people as they learn of the witch's stay of execution. Sorin appears again at the threshold of the church, this time with an angry mob behind him, demanding her head.

Dalia confronts Ileana, explaining the situation. She seems demure at first, unwilling to play a part in her own destruction. But what Tamlin reveals changes the game--the stakes are higher than ever, and Ileana's knowledge is essential to preventing a catastrophe. Yet, she is not willing to see her apprentices burn, only to turn around and help those who destroyed them.

The party strikes a deal with her; they will spare the witches, already cursed by Tamlin against further evil deeds, but as they cannot afford to enrage the people with such an act, they will use illusion to present them as if destroyed in the fire. The witches, including Ileana, are strung up on pikes in the public square; with some pyrotechnic trickery, they cause the "holy fire" to burn too bright to see, concealing the witch's use of their hearthstones to spirit back to the safety of the Twisted Tower.

At the appointed hour, in the crossroads beyond the city, Ileana appears to make good on her bargain. And so they set off on the road to face her misdeeds, and to quell an ancient evil that threatens to destroy the land, with its folk none the wiser.

Returning to the east, against the better judgment of Tamlin in particular, the party approaches the source of the building cataclysm. It is a few days' travel to return to the heart of the Dead Bog, giving them plenty of time to converse with their new captive and traveling companion.

Ileana, as she still prefers to be known, was indeed once a sister of St. Devorah, taken as an orphan to serve God's will. Her upbringing was harsh--her stubbornness and will saw her in trouble more often than not, forced to live in a dungeon and recite prayers constantly to atone for her wickedness. When her youthful indignation was finally beaten out of her (or, as it would prove, beaten into her), she served with the sisters as they quested forth, confronting monstrous threats and corrupt servants of the cloth. She learned to wield the True Flame, but thirsted more for knowledge; and though her order would deliver folk from monstrous threats, the order would do nothing for the social injustices of the land, "rendering unto Kings" and all that...an evil Ileana never forgave them for.

In secret, she managed to accumulate knowledge she was not meant to have--spiriting a way a scroll from a felled warlock here, a forbidden tome from a corrupt church there--and slowly the wider possibilities of magic dawned upon her. She pacted in secret with outsiders, gaining powers beyond the simple fire of her order. To escape the perils of bondage with outer beings, she would pit one against the other, leveraging a bond with a higher being to overcome a lower one, quickly climbing the ladder of power. Until the time came when she discovered the sleeping giant beneath Innistrad, and entered into unholy congress with Balaur, a being she could never hope to control.

And it was with his fury inside her that she lost herself...pushed just an inch over the line, she let go her inhibitions, her fear of Mother Superior, and unleashed hell upon the unsuspecting order. She had never intended to kill anyone, and certainly none other than Mother and some of the more petty elder sisters. She had many loved friends among the order, and she had to watch as Balaur rendered their flesh into char and ash.

And yet, though her faith in God was long shattered, her faith in herself burned with ever-greater intensity. She refused to surrender to this fate, to be a servant to darkness. She began to rebuild the order, taking in all the dispossed women of the land, whose magical talents would be squandered or beaten out of them. She addressed the social injustice of the land, deposing all those who she had known to abuse their power, and finding it convenient to install loyal proxies in their place. Soon, even the Duke of Innistrad was in her thrall.

She admits that, by the time the party arrived, things had gotten out of hand. Her network of servants and spies stretches across the principality, a thing unto itself, the day-to-day operations long since given over to local lieutenants--including Narcissa, bride of the fallen Duke, whose overreach led to many tragic fates. Ileana could scarcely notice such things, distracted as she was by her greater quest to free herself from bondage.

Alone, she quested into the Dead Bog, finding Harodhai and Ondine, and the elves who had long protected the vale from Balaur's menace, though he had destroyed their realm and ended their mortal lives some eight millennia past. The water-priestess chastised her, but forgave her error as the foolishness and impatience of youth; in her day, none so talented should be so misguided and poorly trained, lest her people learn the error to their cost. She taught Ileana much, emphasizing the importance of meditation and harmony to avoid the perils of such an infernal influence within her.

Admittedly, she has little patience for such things, seeking a more decisive and rational approach to her freedom. And she learned of such a method...the underpinnings of the Vale create a powerful foundation for great magic rituals. She hasn't a name for it, but some grand force permeating Uldenor seems to empower stories, legends, and myths, making them more real. And so, she would create a myth...of herself. She would use the minds of Innistrad to propel herself to heights she could not hope to reach alone, with Balaur ever nipping at her heels. And thus, her campaign for the hearts and minds of the people began.

It is not clear if her plan would have worked or not, as it has been roughly dispelled by the party's intervention. Still, it is not one the wise priestess might have suggested. They seek her aid and counsel in the depths of the Dead Bog.

At the outskirts of Harodhai, they are set upon by an army of elves, who see the party only as outsiders and enemies who might disrupt the delicate balance keeping the land safe. They do battle with the party, who holds their own, but cannot overcome the immortal defenders. The stalemate is broken when Nuala, harnessing new magics taught to her by Ileana, shifts herself into the spirit world. She sees the elves as they were in spirit form, and sees the reality of their world, an eternal memory of the fall of their realm, and the horrors of Balaur's rage. In turn, they see her as she truly is: a high elf, a servant of Morrowyn, and not some corrupt dragonling.

With the illusion dispelled, they escort the party to Ondine, who dwells deep beneath the water. She easily parts them, providing an erstwhile path into the sunken temple below. The twisted, undead bodies of the soldiers give way as they re-enter the waters of the temple, revealing their spiritual forms. There are many others, innocents, who swim in the depths, the sacred pools within the temple. And then there is the priestess herself--her beautiful spirit emerging from the life-giving waters to rejoin her mummified body.

Ondine explains the history of this place, and of Balaur:

Older than the race of Man on Tellandor, Balaur is an ancient enemy of the elven people, and indeed of all who live. A fallen dragon, Balaur succumbed to a depth of rage no man, no elf--indeed, no living dragon--can comprehend. He gave himself to the Fury, and became a thing of fire, of smoldering ruin...a thing of pure hatred, pure destruction.

The people of the Dreaming Valley fought for their lives. An entire tribe of elves, one that had bested many dragons in their time, fought for their very survival. Ondine of the Life-giving Stream, High Priestess of Lorien, led a Grand Circle, who invoked the most powerful spell the people could muster. At an unfathomable cost of life, Balaur was subdued, and imprisoned beneath the earth. She interred herself in the earth as well, vowing never to rest as long as there was threat of his return.

And so she has stood guard over him, for countless long cycles. She has seen her people fade from the Valley of Dreams. She has seen kingdoms of men rise and fall. And she saw the Mist Cataclysm, and what it unleashed. The merest crack in his cell, the tiniest fracture in the binding magicks, has allowed him to slowly wriggle a fraction of his will through, and into the world beyond. In the centuries since, he has tempted all those who would hear his call. Men, he found, were particularly vulnerable to his call: all wanted easy power, and would gladly trade of their own will for it. With each transaction, he gained strength; with each new mind accepting him inside, he slipped just slightly further out of his prison.

And now, he stands on the edge of release. A few years ago, a foolish girl named Cosmina, noviciate of the Sisterhood of St. Devorah, seeking release from the strictures of her faith, and an easy path to power, accepted him inside her. He found her to be an apt pupil, an immense natural talent whose progress was hindered by her own lack of discipline. In her, he has reached new heights, and the world will soon know the true depths of his power and rage.

That is, assuming nobody comes along, sees through the facade of charmed and entangled men she has created, sees past the terrifying visage of the baelnorn and her servants, resurrects an ancient elven high magic ritual encoded cryptically in folk songs, and manages to reinvigorate the seal keeping Balaur inside the earth, where he belongs.