Holsley gagged as he wiped the slime off his boot.

Once again, the boys had found themselves trawling through the sewers. They had entered through a convenient grate near a pub in the Unending Alley and had followed the rivers of rancid waters until the walls became more familiar. Holsley squeaked as a row of rats rushed past him and disappeared into a hole in the cracked stone wall behind.

Tiacat eyed them with hungry eyes from the tops of his shoulders.

They had been this way before quite recently. Just a few days ago, Holsley, Roland, and Merhim had come through these tunnels looking for a potential exit from the city. They had found a busted old iron grate and a ladder bolted into the cliffside. Unfortunately, they hadn't got far. The Hangman had appeared shortly after.

Holsley shuddered. The young bard wasn't very keen about coming face-to-face with the Hangman again. He was even less so excited about seeing Dan's face in the few seconds before Holsley had left him to die. Even the thought was making his stomach turn, not helped by the raw putrid smell attacking his nose from every direction.

'Do you actually think they'll give up any—ARGH!?' Holsley wiped the sole of his boot on a nearby ledge. 'That's three times that's happened now.'

'I'm not sure.' Roland looked back. 'Something tells me she just might. They're trapped and looking for a way out, just like us. Maybe we could help each other out?'

'I don't think you understand the kind of spell that's binding their soul.' Holsley jogged up to him. 'Love has complete control over them.'

'From what we heard in the crypts, it sounded to me like she was losing control.' Roland took a moment to take in the marking etched into the next corner. He nodded to himself before confidently going to the right.

'Who does the Hangman conjure for you?' Holsley asked then. He had been a little curious about that ever since their last encounter with the Hangman. 'For me, it's Dan.'

'Berry Kellam,' Roland muttered. He closed his eyes, willing the image of her out of his mind. For three years, he'd tried to get clear of that name. All it did was follow him. Everywhere he went he couldn't get away from the things she'd done.

'You're afraid of her then?' Holsley had said it with sympathy, but it was hard to keep the curiosity out of his tone. 'Sorry, I'm overstepping.'

'It doesn't matter anymore.' Roland continued on, head high. 'She's gone. I won't ever be seeing the real Berry Kellam again. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore.'

'Merhim said we have to face our fears if we're going to beat the Hangman,' said Holsley. 'I'm sorry she made you afraid, but if it's any consolation, you're one of the bravest people I've ever met. I have a hard time believing you're afraid of anything.'

'Thanks, Holly.' Roland frowned, rubbing at one of the scars on his arm. It was a deep one, and it didn't come with a pleasant memory. 'She was a cow. That's the truth of it. Vindictive, greedy, and cruel. I've never met a person I loathed more than her, and I'm glad she got what was coming to her.'

A second passed.

'What was coming to her?' Holsley raised an eyebrow.

'Never mind.' Roland rushed away. 'It doesn't matter.'

Holsley saw the cue to back off and did so without complaint. Still, those scars he had seen the other day riddling his friend's body were continuing to invade his thoughts. The more he considered them, the more he knew they were lashings. Someone had been whipping his friend.

They rounded the final corner and came to the wreckage they had left behind. Where there had once been an iron grate at the end of the tunnel, there was now just a pile of rubble with spots of sunlight shining through. That was about all that did manage to get through. Not even the water could contend with the rubble; it was pooling around the floor.

'What now?' Holsley asked as they splashed their way over.

'I doubt the Hangman will come unless I'm actively trying to escape,' replied Roland with a sigh. 'We've got to try and make a way through.'

'Do what now?'

Roland rolled up his sleeves. 'We've got to reveal the exit.'

'That sounds an awful lot like moving heavy rocks for the next few hours.' Holsley crossed his arms. 'How about you do it while I supervise?'

Roland gave him a hard look and Holsley quickly relented.

Over the next hour, working together and moving the rubble piece by piece, they managed to free up enough space to wriggle out. It was backbreaking work, but the more they moved, the fresher the air became. With one last rock, they could finally see and hear the ocean crashing below them. They could feel the chill breeze coming in from the North.

'What if the Hangman doesn't show up?' Holsley asked as Roland sized up the hole they had made.

'Holly, that's a best-case scenario,' Roland replied with a laugh. 'If they don't show up, we can just leave the city. I mean, I've got everything I need.'

'Yeah, I guess—Oh!' Holsley straightened. 'I don't. I need to get my lute, the one I came into the city with.'

'You already have a lute?'

'This is Dan's lute,' Holsley replied, tapping the redrose lute. 'I need my lute. I broke it when I was being chased by goblins. I left it to get repaired in a shop in the markets. I'd completely forgotten all about it until just now.'

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'Is it important?' Roland asked. 'Isn't that lute way better?'

'Well, I need to return this one,' Holsley said. 'And yeah, it's really important to me.'

'If we can get out of the city, I'll pay someone to retrieve it for us. Sound good?'

'I guess,' Holsey said, kicking the floor.

Roland squeezed into the gap they had tirelessly made together. He pushed his hands through, and they came clear out the other side. He could feel wind blowing against his fingertips. For a moment, it felt like he could move out further, then he felt something coil around his wrist. A rope. Suddenly, he was being thrown back into the sewers.

'Roland!' Holsley gasped.

The rogue shot out of the hole and square into Holsley. They were both sent careening back, the redrose lute flying out of the young bard's hand to tumble something down the tunnel.

The pair looked back and gasped. Lengths of living rope were working their way through the many gaps in between the rocks. They hung there in the air, as if waiting for a command to strike. Once again, Holsley couldn't help but compare them to pythons by the way they moved. The pair waited as moments passed by.

Then, all at once, the ropes attacked.

Roland dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a strike. Holsley wasn't so lucky. A length of rope wrapped itself around his ankle and hoisted him into the air. He swayed this way and that, as if the rope didn't know what to do with him. Meanwhile Roland ducked and dodged more incoming attacks.

He rolled out of the way and reached for his dagger. It only took one quick glance to know where he was throwing it. The clean slice of the weapon cut the air and slipped through the rope like a knife through butter. Holsley landed in a heap of groans but was otherwise unharmed.

Then, the Hangman came.

Like a ghost, they walked through the rubble as if it had been an illusion all along. Their cowl was over their face, hiding it, and as they moved the rope around their neck swayed. Roland couldn't see the eyes, but he knew they must have looked determined. Roland slashed against another rope, then another.

He was masterful, but there were too many lengths of rope. They got him and lifted him into the air, coiling tightly around his throat. Roland groaned against his restraints. Gods, how he hated this. The pair had come looking for the Hangman, and by ill-fortune, they had found them.

'You won't kill us!' Holsley stood up, breathless. 'Well, I mean, you won't kill Roland. Not until midday tomorrow.'

The ropes coiled tighter.

'We've come here to talk,' Roland gasped. 'We're not really trying to escape.'

The Hangman looked from one boy to another. The way their head tilted told them that the supernatural being was confused by the statement. The ropes eased a little. Apparently, and perhaps unsurprisingly, they were the first criminals to ever try and engage the Hangman in a little conversation.

'We know who you are,' Holsley said as Roland was gently brought down to the floor and released. The ropes receded. 'You're Tallhi Ravenpeak, aren't you? Daughter of the High Warden of Tressa.'

The Hangman stood there for a moment. The pair could practically hear the grinding of unoiled wheels turning against one another. Finally, and to their surprise, she reached up and pulled back the cowl that had hidden her face. There was a woman underneath. A pink tiefling. A dead ringer for the bust they had seen in the crypts, or the painting adorning the walls of the keep.

'You have learnt my name,' she said then. 'Am I supposed to be impressed?'

'No.' Roland straightened. 'We've come here to talk to you. Honestly, we're just looking for some answers.'

Tallhi stood there, breathing in the fresh air. 'You can't evade your fate, Roland Darrow. By this time tomorrow, you will be dead.'

'We read how you died.' Holsley took a step towards her. 'You tried to take down your mother, didn't you?'

The right questions were being asked. The pair could see the inner turmoil as clear as day on the tiefling's face. They were wrestling with emotions they probably hadn't experience in over a decade.

'I did,' she finally admitted. 'She is a cruel woman that should have been removed for her position a century ago.'

'Why?' Roland asked.

The Hangman turned to him with a scowl. 'Days make a person naïve. Years make a person wise. Decades make a person worthy. Centuries make a person grow cold, Roland Darrow. My mother was entrusted to keep the peace in Tressa, which she did valiantly in her youth. Now, she had grown too uncaring for the people of the city.'

'That's why you tried to uproot her,' said Holsley. 'I don't get why she would turn you into this, though? Why a glorified executioner?' he stammered at the sudden glare. 'Uh, no offense.'

'I am a product of the time,' Tallhi replied sullenly, looking down at her hands. 'During the last war, Tressa's citizens tried to evade the draft. The punishment of doing this was a hanging. I was ripped into the world to hunt down these dodgers and ensure they hung. Once the war was over, I became, as you said, a glorified executioner. Now, I am nothing more than a legend.'

'That is all fascinating,' said Roland. 'It's not why we're here, though.'

'You're looking for a way to escape me?' Tallhi said, staring at him with unblinking eyes. 'You think I will tell you how?'

'Dan Biggens escaped you,' said Holsley. 'How?'

'I won't tell you that,' she replied. 'I won't tell you anything.'

She turned away from them.

Roland stepped forward. 'What if we were looking for a way to free you instead?'

She stopped.

'If we freed you, there'd be no need for you to kill us, right? You wouldn't be bound to the task anymore.'

'Go on,' replied Tallhi, glancing back over her shoulder.

'If we found a way to undo the ritual binding your soul into service,' Holsey said, joining Roland's side. 'If we did manage it, what would you do next?'

'If you could free me…' It was quite clear that she had given up on thinking about this a long time ago. Her voice was wistful, perhaps even hopeful, with the tiniest shard of cynicism. 'I would kill my mother. It would be painful too and only at a time when it would most harm her. I would steal a triumph from her, same as she did for me. I would make her fear me.'

'Now we're getting somewhere,' said Roland, almost jumping for joy. 'How can we free you? What do we have to do?'

The Hangman stared at him, going through the motions in her mind. 'The necromancer that bound my soul in the first place. His name is Kolveric. If you can get him to talk, he can tell you how to undo the ritual.'

'Kolveric?' Holsley repeated looking to Roland. 'That was the guy from the crypt, right? The one wrapped in the chains?'

'How do we find him?'

'My mother keeps him hidden,' she said. 'As you are probably aware, necromancy is forbidden in the city. Most magic is. If she were ever found to be using that foul magic, she would pay the price for it.'

Tallhi looked around, cautiously, and then suddenly she was between the pair breathing whispers into their ears. 'He is chained up in a part of the crypts known as the Black Garden. To find it, you must go down to the lower levels and extinguish all light, blind yourselves, and move until the fell the rattle of chains beneath your feet. Follow them to his lair.'

'Got it,' said Roland.

'Wait!' Holsley exclaimed. 'Let me get a pen, I need to write that down!'

'I will leave you now but know this. Should you fail, the next time you will see me is when it is time for your life to end.'

She was gone. The pair turned around once and then again. If there was any evidence of her having been there, they couldn't find it. They both shared a knowing glance. Holsley was the first to start laughing, then Roland followed suite.

'We can do this,' Roland said, finally. 'We can free her.'

'We can?' Holsley questioned. 'You say it like it's already done. We're up against a necromancer, Roland. One that lives in, oh yeah, the crypts! The place where all the dead people are? We can fight guards all day, but this is a wizard. A dark wizard with undead skeletons most like.'

Roland put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. 'Do you know why we can fight guards all day?'

Holsley shook his head.

'It's because fire can fight fire,' replied Roland. 'My sword meets their sword. In this case, it'll be his magic versus your magic, and if I had to bet on one or the other, I'd bet on your magic, Holly.'

'Please tell me you have a Plan B.'

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