Once again, the Professor scorches one of the swarms in front of him, and once more he escapes being harmed as Francis and Sir Richard provide him with even better protection. Borric attacks the second swarm while being joined successfully by Kindroff. Francis misses with his swing of a torch, but is satisfied that he kept his comrades out of harm's way. As Sir Richard puts his flame to the swarm the Professor had been attacking he starts a small fire which leaps from hairy spider to tiny hairy spider, causing most of the swarm to harmlessly disperse in a chaotic flight.
The remaining swarm is made quick work of as the scouts surround it and eliminate the majority of the spiders inside, causing the rest to flee, although not before an almost human-like death cry is shouted out from inside the writhing mass. The cry continues to resonate, weaker each succeeding time, as the wailing echo is carried by the swarms' remnants into the shadows and finally ceases altogether.
As the panting men catch their breath on the slightly overgrown cobblestones the throne begins to illuminate with pale light from the rays of some invisible moon. A tall man sits there, his body and face hidden underneath a dusky set of robes and hood, the type sometimes worn by poorer monks. He claps his hands three times in a slow and loud manner before rising. "Good, good! Well done! You have proven yourselves worthy to become my new servants. I, Varath, will readily make you priests of the Dreaming!"