It was difficult to think about Tressa's crypts without first considering its lengthy history.

The crypts came before Tressa. Both of the boys knew this, and indeed every other person in the city did as well. Before Tressa had come to be, there were three towns that had all agreed to bury their dead in the same place. To that end, they had built a system of tunnels that hadn't stopped growing for nearly four hundred years.

Now, the crypts were an expansive network of far-reaching tunnels that were more maze than anything else. They went deeper than the sewers and stretched out farther than even the city's length. If a person travelled along the long road that led up through the Further Kingdoms and to Tressa's gates, chances were they dragging their horses over miles of dead bodies.

The main entrance to the crypts was accessible through a small temple of Jantarri. That was suitable enough as Jantarri is the Goddess of Death and guides the passage into the afterlifes. Roland knew of other entrances, but they were messy, and each one made it harder to navigate the tunnels than simply stepping through the front door.

Roland spotted it across the road from a dark alley, Holsley peering over his shoulders. The temple was a small building that had been worn by both and centuries of age and the weather. It wasn't hard to see why. There was barely anything between it and the edge of the cliff. Wind and salt spray had worn its keen edges away and time had worn away what was left after that.

He sighed.

This wouldn't be so much of a problem if it wasn't for the Gravewatchers, the ragtag group of quasi-guard officials who kept an eye out for robbers. They weren't exactly the hardiest bunch, they weren't even trained, but that made them dangerous. If they recognised Holsley or Roland, they could call the guards, or worse, beat them to death themselves.

They would have to sneak into the crypts on their own terms.

That's when Holsley had an idea. The young bard had a little money left from his goblin treasure windfall and, against Roland's protests, Holsley found a down-on-his-luck street urchin and gave him the coins in return for creating a distraction. It worked better than either could have hoped. The Gravewatchers suddenly had an irate older gentleman, skinny as a rake, with wild hair and wilder eyes shouting at them for an audience with Jantarri.

Holsley and Roland slipped inside without so much as a glance in their direction, especially when the older vagabond pulled out a knife and the Gravewatchers were forced to rush and grapple him.

Getting inside was the easy part, though. The hard part was actually navigating the crypts. Even with the right coordinates in hand, the pair had to contend with endless chiselled corridors that didn't change from one area to the next. The Gravewatchers may have been a necessary obstacle to avoid, but they possessed intricate knowledge of the crypt's layout.

'Bet you a crown I'm the first to find the crypt,' said Holsley as they slipped down the stairs and through the doors into the hewn tunnels.

'I'd take the bet, but I'd have to owe you,' Roland replied as the young bard summoned an orb of light on the tip of his lute's neck. The cat on his shoulder gave a startled yeow. 'Pocket is a little light right now.'

'Suits me.'

Holsley had taken to whistling in the tens of minutes that followed. The tunnels had a nice echo to them, and he liked hearing the tune bounce back to his ears. Occasionally, Tiacat would add a little mew while rubbing up against his head. He kept giving her affectionate pats.

'The cats riding on your shoulders now then,' Roland observed.

'Yeah, I think she's warming up to me.' Holsley smiled.

'More warming up to the food in your pocket.'

'That too.'

The crypts were spaced out in rows with people buried in the walls. Little plaques marked who they were and provided other bits of information like their names, birth dates, death dates, professions, and the manner upon which they had died. Roland read a few of them as they passed and stifled a few giggles.

'Beheaded by a beaver,' he half-laughed. 'How? He was a baker?'

'Check out this one,' Holsey said just a little further along. 'It just says "spider brains". What does that mean, Roland. What does that mean!?'

'At least it wasn't "death by fart smelling",' replied Roland, wincing. 'I've always thought the people of Tressa were unlucky, but by the Gods.'

They continued on, occasionally observing a strange circumstance of death, but otherwise treading lightly through the never-ending tunnels. Eventually, the silence got too much for Roland.

'So, what did Daldorra want?'

'What? Oh, nothing much,' replied Holsley, pausing. 'I suppose she just wanted to say goodbye before I left.'

'You really don't know anything about Dan Biggens and why he might have faced the noose. Nothing?'

'No,' replied Holsley. 'To be honest, it's boggling my mind. To even think that he did something that deserved death, it's just…well, I don't even know how to put it. Crazy is the only word that comes to mind.'

They quickly got turned around in the crypts. It wasn't difficult. Some tunnels were so old that instead of using one system to categories their dead, they used something completely alien. The boys spent a lot of time trying to make sense of it, then doubling back and starting from scratch. It took them hours to get anywhere.

Finally, near the end of the third hour, they heard voices. Roland heard them first and put a finger on his lip to quiet Holsley. At the end of a long hallway, bathed in the wavery lights from their burning torches, were two blue-skinned tieflings. Roland raised an eyebrow. Ravenpeak house guards. He could tell by their livery.

'What are they doing so deep in the crypts?' Roland whispered.

'You don't suppose they're looking for us?' asked Holsley. 'Maybe one of the Gravewatchers noticed us come in?'

Roland shook his head. The crypts were massive. Guards wouldn't come down here unless they knew where the boys were. It was easier just to wait up top and apprehend them when they left. No, there was something else going on here. He was sure of it.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The rogue checked the plaques and etchings on the walls. They were close to Dan's coordinates. If he had the money to bet, Roland would've put it all on the guards standing outside the crypt they were looking for. Every last crown.

'We need to get them out of this corridor.'

'Oh! I have an idea.' Holsley shambled forward. He brought up his lute and Roland frowned. 'Stand back.'

'What are you going to do?'

'This place is supposed to be haunted right?' Holsley grinned. 'I'm going to scare them.'

Casting illusions was easier when the illusions were simple. The more complex the design, the better you had to be at playing. So, Holsley kept it simple. He played the strings softly, quietly, and manifested a floating sheet above his head. Nothing more than a napkin. Two holes had been cut out for eyes.

'What in the name of good is that!?'

'It's a ghost.'

Holsley hovered the illusion towards the tieflings.

'I refuse to believe you don't know what a ghost looks like, Holly.'

'Just. It's okay. Shut up, I'm working.'

It didn't take long for the guards to catch the floating hankey dithering nearby. Unfortunately, the sight of it didn't quite have the effect Holsley was going for. Instead of screaming and fleeing in terror, the guards pulled their maces and charged. That was fine. Holsley flew it around the next corner and dispelled the illusion before the guards could take notice.

They went around the corner and didn't stop. The boys grinned at each other. Hopefully, they'd be chasing their own forked tails for some time before they returned to their post and resumed their clandestine duties.

'Well, if it works, it works.' Roland shrugged, then pulled Holsley forward. 'Quick. Before they come back.'

They half-jogged down the corridor towards where the guards had been standing. The lineage of this section of the crypts became obvious instantly. Stone ravens perched in small alcoves suddenly stared down at them, and every bust they passed was carved into the likeness of a tiefling. This was where the Ravenpeaks were buried.

'There!' Roland rushed over. The coordinates matched Dan's supposed tattoo. Before them, tucked away in an alcove that was taller than either of them, they found a bust of a happy looking tiefling with a sweet tooth grin. One of the horns was bent at a weird angle.

'Tallhi Ravenpeak.' Holsley read the plaque beneath the bust out loud. 'Hey. Isn't this the tiefling from that painting we found?'

'It is,' replied Roland, leaning in. 'It says she was hanged.'

'What does this mean?' Holsley asked, then pointed to the floor. A chain was running from down the corridor and right through the wall. 'What's this chain?'

'Oh, I know what this is,' said Roland. He stepped up to the bust and looked at the bent horn. 'Her horn wasn't bent in the painting.'

The rogue touched the horn and found that he could move it. He bent the article upwards and Holsley let out a squeal. Behind the bust, a secret stone door popped open and revealed a hallway beyond. Roland stepped through it, followed closely by Holsley.

'I can't believe we found a secret door,' he said, barely containing his excitement. 'I've always wanted to find a secret door.'

'I remember my first time,' Roland laughed.

The boys followed the corridor and the unusual chain that ran its length. Not soon after, they discovered voices coming from up ahead. They passed by more alcoves, these ones empty, and brushed the many hanging cobwebs from out of their pathway. The closer they got, the more obvious one voice in particular became. It was none other than Love Ravenpeak.

At the sound of her master's voice, Tiacat jumped to the ground. Holsley was quick. He grabbed the feline before she could scurry away. The cat struggled in his grip, even hissing, but he held her firm and apologised for the inconvenience. If the cat rushed back to Love, she'd know they were close.

As the feline writhed, they came to an open door and peered through the gap.

Two figures, one of them Love, were standing around an open coffin. The lid obscured their view of the corpse inside, but both of the boys assumed it was Tallhi.

The other figure they didn't recognise. He was older, ancient even. He had sunken silver eyes, a gaunt face, and wore a magnificent robe that fit him remarkably well for someone that was skin and bones. As he moved, he jingled, and the boys saw why. He was covered in chains and the chain they had been following ran right up to him.

'…but this still does not explain why it is not obeying my orders?' Love said, her voice stern. 'You promised me a loyal servant in death, Kolveric.'

'I mean, I did give you one,' he replied with a shrug, his voice like stretched rubber. 'The trouble you're having is from the rules you laid down as the ritual was cast. When it was bound in spirit form, you told her that hangings must always go ahead as planned. That's simply what it's doing.'

'I know that.' Love straightened her back, raised her chin. 'What I do not understand is why it isn't responding to my calls. A week ago, I could summon it as quick as a snap of my fingers. Now—'

'It's because you moved up the Darrow hanging,' replied Kolveric. The boys looked at one another nervously. 'You've never done that before. Unfortunately, you have created a moment in which the Hangman can disobey a rule, and it has sparked some rebellion in the spirit. This will pass when the Darrow boy dies tomorrow at midday. They'll come, hang him, and you'll regain control. Probably.'

'Probably?'

'Best I can do.' Kolveric patted the coffin. 'You've seen the runes, three times in as many days. They are intact. The spell is still strong.'

'Is there nothing I can do to regain control now?' she asked. 'Recast the ritual?'

Kolveric let out a whistle. 'You could, but I wouldn't advise it. See, I'm not sure a binding ritual would work a second time.'

'Then I have no choice,' Love huffed. 'I will have to take charge of apprehending the Darrow boy myself.'

Holsley and Roland exchanged another glance.

'What of your son?' asked Kolveric. 'Is he not leading the chase?'

'I've already destroyed his painting and written idiot across it,' she replied with a huff. 'A few weeks in the dungeons should sharpen his wits.'

'That's interesting,' Roland whispered.

'What?' Holsley asked.

'Kythos has been let go from the guards,' replied Roland, voice hushed. 'I don't think we'll be seeing much of him anymore.'

'She said his painting was destroyed,' Holsley added. 'Like the ones we saw in that corridor.'

An awful thud bounced off the walls. The pair looked back around the corner to see Kolveric close the coffin lid. They panicked. Love was heading right for them. There wasn't enough time to slip out of the crypt, but there was just enough time to hide in one of the alcoves. They dove for it. The door behind them creaked open and heels tapped against the cobblestones.

They crouched low.

Tiacat doubled down on her efforts to escape. She bit Holsley's hand and scratched him for good measure. He forced down a squeal of pain. The cat was desperate to get free, so, seeing no other option, Holsley stuffed the thing down his shirt front and pushed his palm against her mouth.

Fortunately, even with this struggle, Love and Kolveric moved past without seeing them. They were engrossed in another conversation, this one concerning chocolate. It wasn't their business. They waited until the secret door was sealed again before springing into action and rushing into the other room.

Roland lifted the lid but soon frowned. 'It's just a corpse?'

Holsley didn't hear him. The young bard was too preoccupied with the runes and symbols that marked the inner edge of the coffins lid. They made him queasy. It was at this point that Tiacat finally managed to struggle out of his grip, though, she didn't disappear. She stood around watching them.

'Why would Dan have coordinates that lead here?' Roland asked. 'How is this going to help us stop the Hangman?'

'I recognise these runes,' said Holsley, taking a cautious step back. 'This isn't good. When you start leaning magic, the first thing you learn is what magic never to cast. That's this right here. It's all over the inside of the lid.'

'What?' Roland asked. 'What are you talking about?'

'This is necromancy, Roland.' Holsley stole a deep inhale. 'Dark magic. Forbidden magic. The kind of magic you use to desecrate corpses.'

'How do you know that?'

'Well,' replied Holsley, pointing with his fingers. 'Most of the symbols are like skulls and stuff.'

Holsley stood up a little straighter, but it was clear his friend just wasn't getting it. He didn't know how. It was all as clear as day to the young bard.

'I'm lost,' said Roland. 'What are you getting at, Holly.'

'It's her.' Holsley gestured to the skeletal remains of Tallhi Ravenpeak. 'This is the Hangman of Tressa, Roland. Love, through the dark arts of necromancy, has brought back her daughter's soul and now serves only at her pleasure. That man she was with, Kolveric, he was probably a necromancer.'

'Wait. Tallhi is—'

'Yes.'

'But, how?'

'Magic.'

'That's crazy.'

'We need to get to a library,' said Holsley, his eyes wide and urgent. 'If we want to defeat the Hangman of Tressa, I need a tea, some biscuits, and a place with a lot of books, and I need it all about ten minutes ago.'

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