Solara's luck was a pendulum that swung between two extremes.

As a child, her homeland had been massacred by the Duke of Dread. She'd witnessed countless of her kind slaughtered, their bodies desecrated, as Green Isle was burnt down to nothing but ashes. Why, Solara had thought at the time, must I be subjected to this injustice? Why couldn't I have been born at a different time? Be born anywhere else but Greenisle?

The pendulum swung the other way shortly thereafter.

After the tragedy of Green Isle, Vasco adopted her. The Lord of Gama made an elven war orphan his legitimate heir, giving her a life most others could only dream of.

Unfortunately, seeking the power to one day rule the land fairly and justly, she was tricked by a monster and ended up haunted by the Ghost of Flames. Solara's newfound freedom was torn from her as quickly as it came. Now her fate was to stay locked in a tower lest she murder everyone around her.

The pendulum swung the other way shortly thereafter.

So she remained until Adam one day found her. He freed Solara from her curse, then soon proved to be a reliable, powerful ally willing to aid her in avenging her fallen comrades. Together, the two of them had a real chance at striking back against Emperor Ciro.

They even planned how to meet with him. Adam would confront the Emperor alone, attempt to gather intel, and fulfill his duty-bound curse with his former friend. At the same time, Solara would escape Ciro's castle before the showdown proper by feigning illness or death. This, surprisingly, had worked out quite well.

But of course, the pendulum swung the other way shortly thereafter – and in a way that felt close to mockery. Because Solara had been escorted out of the castle, just as planned.

She simply hadn't expected her escort to consist of a Hangman.

Why would an Imperial Hangman of all people volunteer to escort me? The thought was almost enough to drive her mad. This task is beneath them. Does he suspect something?

Even if that were the case, her luck's pendulum had not swung entirely to the other side just yet. The man supposedly escorting her back to her ship – as per her request not to be treated at Ciro's castle – was a Hangman, true, but he was not their Captain.

While this Hangman, Nayt, was of high rank and had an odd set of mannerisms, he was not the unbeatable wall of death that the Dark Captain Valente would likely have been. If worse came to worst, she still had a chance of making it through this dilemma with her head intact.

Do you earnestly believe that you can survive a Hangman, elf? The Ghost of Flames spoke up inside her head, his voice a dark venom. You will die. First you, and then the Painter. Both of you shall pay for what you've done to my brother.

Bark as you wish, Solara retorted. My Talent has a stronger Rank than before, and you aren't possessing my body anymore. Even your ability is merely being shared through Adam's tattooed painting. Your influence on my mind is nearly nothing.

The moment I get my chance, Elf, I shall rip you apart piece by–

There was a lazy knock on the carriage window. Solara tried drawing the curtains, but could barely see beyond the storm outside, much less hear anything. She opened the door to see a man standing before her.

"Heiress of Gama?" Nayt the Hangman stifled a yawn. He didn't look like the harbinger of death that Hangmen were supposed to be. Instead, he appeared closer to a sleep-deprived gentleman wearing a rather odd top hat that was too large for his head, going over his forehead and covering his eyes when he failed to lift it up. "Forgive me for waking you."

"It is no problem," she quickly replied. In truth, she hadn't been asleep to begin with, and the sound of a nearby explosion would've woken her long before the gentle knock on the carriage window. "Pray tell – what is the issue, Lord Hangman?"

Nayt raised an eyebrow at her. "Must we really play this tiresome game?" When she stared at him blankly, he shook his head and heaved a heavy sigh. "Understand my position, Lady Solara. You and your friends are planning to give the Hangmen quite a bit of work, yes?"

"I...I'm afraid I know not what you mean." Solara kept her voice meek, but inside, she exploded with a hot fury. I can use Resurrection to counter the Hangman's certain-death strike. In the back of her mind, a more violent voice shouted, Use me, elf. Let's burn them to the ground – if you wish to indulge in foolishness.

She suppressed the Ghost's urging, not letting her consternation show on her face. "My health has always kept me in the dark, my lord. Few dare share their plans with one who needed be confined in a tower for so many–"

Nayt held up a hand and sighed. "No. Listen here, Princess." His eyes widened as his mouth crept down into a frown. "I know you're going to start some sort of mess here...and then it will be my duty to clean it all up. That, Princess, is an issue. Do you know why?"

It seemed there was little point in denying it. "Because you hate killing?" Solara asked, in a dry tone.

The Hangman's eyes lit up with surprise. "Oh, no. I'm fine with killing. I just hate work." He shivered more at the word than at the pouring rain. "I've been working for 10 hours now – was supposed to go earlier this afternoon." He shivered again, then scowled harder. "But then you lot showed up and I had to work more."

Solara sent him a blank stare. His words were clear, but their meaning was foreign. "What are you getting at?"

"Only this–" he nodded vaguely behind himself–"steal the horse and run."

Somehow, the man said this without a hint of irony in his voice. "Are you...are you mad?" Solara asked, baffled.

Nayt shook his head. "I have plans today. Important plans." His voice was harsh, his tone was serious, and his words were anything but. "I have a book, a bath, and a cup of tea awaiting me at home. I won't spend a single minute longer that will keep me from that."

He adjusted his falling top hat and looked at her expectedly. "So I'll just tell everyone that when I entered your carriage to search for Lady Solara of Gama, she used the other door to loop around me, untied the horse from this accursed vehicle, and escaped in the rain."

Solara could scarcely believe her ears. This man is a Hangman – a living incarnation of death. With the most mild of efforts, he could kill hundreds of people.

Accompanied by an eerie echo, the Ghost of Flames echoed inside her thoughts, sounding just as astounded. Even that mild effort is too much for him. This man simply...does not care. In the slightest.

"Do you not think others will question how you let me escape?" Solara asked, in a voice of undisguised confusion. Fool! The Ghost of Flames shouted in her head. Why press him? Let him partake of his stupidity! There's no way it's this easy. He's waiting for me to drop his guard, imbecile.

"Ah, fair point," Nayt muttered, holding his chin thoughtfully. Then, as if suddenly falling dead, he collapsed onto the cobblestone beneath the heavy rain.

Solara hesitantly stuck her head outside the carriage to inspect him. The Hangman's eyes were wide open, his gaze fixed on the clouds above. Most impressively of all, his hat still remained over his head, shading his eyes slightly and threatening to go over his nose.

"Now it looks like I got knocked over," he explained. "Story change. The explosion we just heard gave me a splitting headache. It hurts, you see? So after you escaped, I went home to heal up."

He lifted his neck – and only his neck – to look at her with lazy, half-lidded eyes. "Does that work?"

"I...believe so?" Solara tilted her head, getting lost in the logistics of absurdity against her wishes. Why am I taking this farce seriously? I don't know, elf! Go kill yourself, Ghost.

She smirked at the thought. Temporarily sharing her mind with the Ghost was hardly an issue when it couldn't take over her body anymore. The fact that it was powerless to do anything but rant and rave amused her to no end. After spending years locked in confinement due to the Ghost's presence, she was more than happy to bequeath the same punishment onto it as well.

Drawing herself up, she nodded at the Hangman. "Then would you like me to go steal the horse away now?"

"That would be great – wait!" All of a sudden, Nayt called out. "Kindly place your boot upon the side of my face."

Solara stared at him, her face torn on whether to twist in disgust or plain disbelief. "I'm...sorry?"

"In case I'm questioned. Easier for me if it seems as though you bested me in a fight. I mean nothing suspicious by it." He paused with a thoughtful sound, his eyes narrowing as his gaze met hers. "Although I can't say I'm entirely averse to – GAH!"

I understand the desire, but I'm not certain that was wise, the Ghost of Flames remarked, as Solara stomped on the Hangman's head and broke his nose. He can still kill you in a single move.

She ignored its infuriatingly reasonable advice and peered down at the writhing man. "I'll be going now, my dear Hangman. Thank you? I suppose?" With an air of exasperation, she gestured wildly at him. "Or, you're welcome? I'm not – I'm not really sure. Nonetheless, I shall take my leave." She started to walk away.

"Yes," the Hangman said, with a voice filled with either pain or drowsiness. Solara could not tell which one. "Leave. And once you enter your ship, do not wait for your companions. Leave then as well."

Solara stopped. "You think me so low as to betray my friends?" Foolish elf, run now! The Ghost screamed in her head. I cannot let that claim stand, she thought, in stubborn response. "Do you mistake elves for cowards?"

"No," the Hangman said honestly. "But Prince Tenver was given the mission to capture Adam the Pretender, False Son of Aspreay, and bring him back alive for torture and questioning. He'll be granted ample reward for doing so – enough that even I would be tempted to do some work for it."

From his spot on the ground, Nayt shrugged. "Evidently, not enough to actually perform the task, but I earn no more Orbs regardless of how hard I work. Tenver, however, will do it. He longs for the throne, and the Emperor has no children."

"That's not true," Solara immediately corrected. "The Emperor does have a child."

"No, he doesn't." Nayt turned on his side as if the wet cobblestone was a comfortable bed, pulling an invisible set of sheets over himself. "Trust me or not, it matters very little to me. I grow tired. Let me sleep."

What about your book and warm bath – wait, why am I attempting to find the logic in this fool's mannerisms? Solara shook her head. "Emperor Ciro does have an heir," she continued. "His concubine perished in unfortunate circumstances, but I remember him and the boy visiting Gama once. Surely you mean not to imply he also fell to an accident? ""

"Oh, no, no – I killed him."

Nayt's declaration was spoken in a drowsy, listless tone. After several seconds, he slightly lifted his head to peer at her. "Hmm, right, that's a secret – the Emperor isn't supposed to know of it. Hm. Hm. Hmmm."

With what appeared to be a monumental amount of effort, he shifted his gaze to look directly at her. "Maybe I really should try to kill you. Eh. Sorry for giving you false hope. Long day. Blame my hours."

He never really meant to let me live, Solara realized. Was this all just a game for him? She wasn't sure if that was the whole truth, or merely part of it, but either way it served to heighten her emotions to a fever pitch.

Good. I prefer to be running hot at times like these. Frustration built within, burning her words into more venomous and biting versions of themselves. "Your plan was insane, anyhow. It's not as though I could have escaped this chaos on horseback. I'd be caught by any passing guards all too easily. And you're not nearly injured enough to sell that story of yours – that you happened to be damaged by the explosion and couldn't bother to fight me afterwards."

"Regrettably true," Nayt muttered. "It seems that unfortunately, I'll have to do the barest amount of work before I can return to my leisure. But fear not."

He lifted the tip of his hat. Underneath, his gaze was piercing, like an arrow that had already gone through her heart. "I will be efficient."

In that one moment, the coldness of his gaze heralded the harshness of their reality for her. Call the man eccentric, odd, or just plain mad – be as it may, he was still a Hangman, a living incarnation of death. If he wished, he could kill her at that very instant. The only thing keeping him from doing so was his deep lack of motivation.

If he tried to kill me, what could I even–

Death hit her three times.

It wasn't true death, and Solara was among the scarce few in the world who knew the difference.

Three sparks of flames touched her simultaneously; in the right forearm, the left leg, and the right shoulder. Every one of those limbs just...stopped working, seemingly unhurt yet reduced to limp lumps of flesh, their soul now dead.

His Hangman Talent is partial death through flames, Solara calmly. Then, less calmly, she called upon her own Talent in her mind–

RESURRECTION!

Solara was not one to waste gifts. The Rank she'd received from Adam had been put to good use – she had practiced hard to master the new heights of her Talent. 'Partial Resurrection' didn't use a full charge of her Returns, and could be used to heal herself, after a fashion. She had trained herself to 'kill' a limb, then use Resurrection on it and nothing else.

She'd hardly expected to skip the 'kill' step entirely, but such was the fight before her now.

"Huh, you can come back after I kill your limbs? That's annoying." The Hangman still laid on the ground, having only raised one hand to launch his attack. "Can you do that forever?"

No. I have a total of three charges, but Adam and I are sharing my Talent, and he used up one full charge to survive the Emperor. Bringing my limbs back costs about half of a charge. "I can," she lied.

"Can you?" Nayt extended his open palm at her. From each finger, a jet of open flames spiraled outward, washing over Solara. "Let's see if you're telling the truth."

The inferno would have turned her into elven kindling if not for the Ghost of Flames keeping them from inflicting too much harm. She was resilient to most burns, although not immune.

Were I to have your body, I could make the Flames your slaves, even with both you and the Painter inhabiting my Canvas.

No thanks. I'd rather die.

That means very little coming from you.

Withstanding Nayt's fire itself was only part of it, though. These flames carried death. Solara could have stopped the pain at any moment by killing her burning limbs and bringing herself back to life, but she would not waste this chance.

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Before, you killed my right shoulder and right forearm...but not my upper arm in-between those two. I could still feel it; even move it to a small degree. Where's the line? How many flames need to envelop a limb before you can 'kill' it? What separates your definition of 'limbs'?

The Hangman seemed to catch on to her efforts. His eyes widened, the air around them stilled, and he leapt to his feet. It was like watching a shattered boulder sit up, as if the motion was not something created by nature. A sudden sense of solemnity and urgency burned in his eyes. "Stop this foolishness," the Hangman warned.

He really wants to keep his Talent a secret, she mused. It makes sense. While Hangmen have the same innate Talent, it manifests differently for each. This information could kill him one day if it gets out.

Heal now! The Ghost of Flames screamed in her head. If you die permanently, my soul dies with it! Now – heal now!

No. Even if I die here, a part of your soul – and your memories – will carry over to Adam. Better if I find out what the limits of this Hangman's Talents are.

Are you insane?

She wasted not the brainpower to reply. Instead, Solara focused on the state of the flames covering part of her body. Her right arm was on fire, yet it wasn't dead yet – the fire was merely burning her flesh away. Interesting...why hasn't it been killed? Is it not about surface area coverage? What else, then?

Evidently, Nayt didn't want her to find out. He lunged forward at her with the speed and the might of a high-ranking Hangman.

Solara lifted her burning fist and threw it forward in an uppercut, connecting with the man's chin.

The world's most lethal instrument of death recoiled back, his head whipping as far as his neck would allow it to stretch, before snapping back into place as the rest of his body landed on the ground.

Interesting. So he's not used to fighting hand-to-hand, she thought, calmly. He's a Hangman – if he had stayed back, I could never have gotten this close to him, no matter how hard if I tried. But if he's gifting me this opportunity...well, I'm not so rude as to turn it away.

The fire on her body grew hotter, and the pain became practically unbearable. She didn't dare to unclench her fist, certain that would not be able to re-clench it in her present condition.

Your skin is melting off of your hand! The Ghost of Flames shouted. Stop this! Heal yourself!

It went ignored once again. Her resolve burned as brightly as the flames searing her flesh.

I will not let go of this one chance.

Solara was moderately skilled at hand-to-hand combat. Not much more than the average soldier, yet a veritable monster compared to typical heiresses of Lordship. Elves were naturally agile, and she'd found that courtyard practice did wonders to ward off her nightmares of the Green Isle massacre. She was as comfortable using her fists as any competent fighter of her age and expertise. It explained why she didn't hesitate when charging a Hangman of the Empire.

It did not explain how she retained her composure while wreathed in flame. That, more than anything, came down to one unavoidable truth.

The fact that she had died countless times to this day.

Sometimes in accidents.

Sometimes in fights.

At times, when possessed by the Ghost of Flames, by her own hand.

It had been a long, painful road to get here. But her reward for that thorny path was plain and simple. No matter what she endured, no matter how severe the agony she was subjected to became–

Solara of Gama could take it.

"STAY DOWN–" Solara shouted. She leapt atop the fallen Hangman and brought down her burning left fist, connecting with his nose.

"BECAUSE–" Nayt raised his hands to protect his face. The elf threw her right hand in a cross around the man's guard, landing a sideways blow to the head.

"I WILL NOT–" The Hangman tried to raise his hips and throw her off, but Solara hooked her heels under his thighs. He lifted his back off the ground, yet she maintained balance, then came back down with a fierce strike.

"–STAY DEAD!" She pulled his guard open with both hands, then brought forth her exposed, flaming skull in a headbutt against Nayt, sending him crashing to the city streets.

Despite having become forcibly re-acquainted with the ground, the Hangman seemed more concerned with her injuries than the beating she was doling out to him. "Heal now!" he pleaded, echoing the Ghost of Flames' warnings.

If I take the time to Resurrect, Nayt will have time to build distance between us. Considering how much stronger he is than me, I won't have a single chance after that. It was a simple thought, yet following through with it despite the mounting agony would have proven impossible to anyone else but the Lady of Death.

Nayt, muffled by his own blood, managed to shout, "Your face – your face is melting!"

YOUR SKIN IS GONE! THE RAIN NOW TOUCHES PART OF YOUR SKULL!

It was true. Solara could feel an almost overwhelming pain, her flesh running like hot wax. The sensation was nearly enough to shut down her brain entirely.

However...if she were to die, her Resurrection would automatically trigger, so why worry? Solara peered down at the Imperial Hangman, and not a hint of dread or fright touched her thoughts. Those basic instincts had been burnt out of her long before this fire ever graced her skin.

If I keep punching him, Nayt won't have the time to use his flames and kill me. Our difference in Rank won't protect him from raw violence. As long as she didn't stop, there was nothing to fear.

Pain didn't scare her.

Death didn't scare her.

But obeying a stronger existence did. She had gotten enough of that in the Tower.

Even as the fire grew hotter, even as the cold rain fell down on her exposed skull, Solara of Gama would not stop.

"Heal!" the Hangman cried out, his mouth full of blood. "That's – Elder's sake, that's agonizing to look at, in the name of Forest, please heal–"

"No." Solara grinned with whatever remained of her mouth.

"ELF–"

"Don't feel like it."

Solara had died enough times to know that she had a few seconds of life in her yet. Until the moment her Resurrection triggered, there was no way in hell she would take a single step back. She continued to rain her fists down on the man underneath her, a woman on fire mercilessly annihilating a screaming man, like something out of her favorite bard tales.

Show me. Adjust balance. Keep him from throwing her off. Punch again. Why are you in such a hurry for me to stop? Step. Balance. Punch. Repeat. Never stop. Why are you–

It was here that she died.

RESURRECTION!

Solara exhaled with frustration as she was restored to a hale, healthy state. She first noticed her surroundings. I'm not on top of the Hangman anymore. He threw my corpse away while I was in the midst of Returning.

Next, she studied her body – it was healed, as it should be, and the flames had been banished away. "Funny," she said, laughing weakly. "You didn't do anything, and I still had nearly a minute of life left in me...but I just died anyway."

The elf glanced at the rain above, then grinned at the Hangman. "I wonder what happened."

Mayhap it had been the rain, mayhap the Hangman had snuffed out the flames himself. It mattered not; the result was the same.

She laughed again, more loudly this time. "It's not when the fire burns – it's when it stops burning, isn't it? Your certain-death Talent triggers when the flames are extinguished."

The Hangman said nothing, but bit his lip.

Hmm. Very astute, Elf, said The Ghost of Flames. His first attack carried weak flames, meant to be immediately extinguished by the rain. His second attack carried heavy flames, hoping you'd recoil in pain.

And when I did, he could kill me – or wait until I'd erased the flames myself by using Resurrection, then triggered his Hangman's Death. He knows there's a limited amount of times I can come back to life, so he was planning on killing me until I was out of Returns.

A heavy rain still adorned the fight, washing away their regrets and burning their open wounds. Four meters set the duelists apart from each other. While the Hangman managed to build some distance between the two of them during her Resurrection, the damage from her onslaught had obviously taken its toll.

Nayt's eyes were swollen, his nose was broken, and he seemed moderately dazed, as if it was a mild struggle to focus his gaze on her. Solara doubted that he could easily hit her with his Hangman's Flames as he had before. The situation had changed.

And with change came the potential for revolution.

If he tries to hit me with fire from that far away...I'll have time to react. I'll enter his flames instead of letting them hurt me.

Using my power?

About time that the years I spent in that damned Tower proved useful.

You think it will be enough to avoid death?

No way to know for sure. But if I'm reading his ability correctly, then the Hangman's Death only triggers upon extinguishing his flames, and it only affects the area that the flames were covering before disappearing. If I'm inside of his flame, mayhap it won't be 'covering' anything.

It may also be that it will cover all of you.

It may, Solara acknowledged. So ideally, we'll exit the inside of his fire before it goes out – then snap his neck.

One way or another, this explosive, uneven duel would come to an end with the next move. It hinged on how grievously Solara had wounded the man's head and hindered his concentration.. Could he aim his flames at her while heavily concussed, beneath this heavy, thick mist of a rain? And if so, would Solara have the time to enter his Flames and escape its deathly effect?

It all came down to these final few seconds.

Solara steadied her breath, widened her eyes, and–

"That's enough of a beating, I think," Nayt said, rubbing his chin and spitting out a tooth. "Should be plenty convincing if I get asked any further questions, don't you think?"

"What are you–"

Nayt spat blood to his right, then gestured with his head for Solara to look beyond. Many of his flames had mixed with the fire created by the earlier, mysterious explosion that occurred nearby. They led out of the city, like a trail for her to follow. "And with these, you can escape faster than using a horse, right?"

Her ability to sink into Flames should have been unknown to him, but Solara didn't waste energy focusing on that point. Instead, she bent deeper into her stance and prepared to lunge at the man. He's buying time. I should kill him before–

The thought died as Solara noticed that the man's top hat had rolled away during their one-sided brawl. Even through the dense, pouring rain, she was able to make out a certain detail that she could not comprehend. "You work for the Emperor," Solara whispered, with shock that rang clear like funeral bells. "You...why?"

Nayt shrugged, wincing as his sore muscles protested. "It pays well and it isn't much work."

"But Nayt...you're an elf."

The Hangman lifted his dead eyes to gaze into hers. "Yes." A dark void seemed to try to swallow up her soul. "I am."

Solara turned and ran without saying another word. She used the Talent of Haunted Flames to leap from open fire to open fire, creating as much distance between the two as possible.

There was no point in remaining here anymore.

Foolish Elf! The Ghost screamed in her mind. You will never have another chance like that to slay a Hangman! Never again shall you be so lucky! The manifestation of his Talent was a perfect matchup for yours, and the man was an eccentric, lazy imbecile–

Solara responded out loud as she exited through her fifth open flame and ran out into the city. "Luck, huh? Do you really believe that?" She chuckled softly. "No wonder you were made into a Ghost. You are, quite literally, too dumb to live."

Why waste the chance simply because he's an elf? Speak plainly, woman, or I shall–

Her thoughts cut off his threat. Him being an elf is part of it, but that's not my main reason for leaving. Didn't you notice? He said he created the flames so we could escape. Don't you find that odd?

No. He's merely as lazy as he claims.

He's not supposed to know that I have access to your Talent.

Ahhh... Ghostly laughter echoed within her mind, punctuated by the sound of her feet clashing against the wet cobblestone beneath. You think we have a traitor? Someone who knows of the Painter's abilities?

Far worse. Even if they were aware of Adam's Talent, they shouldn't have known the specifics of your Talent, Ghost. Unlike the Ghost of Waters, your reign of terror was confined to a small tower. The Empire should have little – if any – knowledge of it, much less an understanding of your Talent...or that I have it.

What are you saying, elf? If not a traitor to your lost cause, then what do you think was the source of his knowledge?

Isn't it obvious? The same one that allowed you to haunt me in the first place.

You...you don't mean–

That's right. The Dark Sorcerer.

His name was enough to silence the Ghost of Flames, bringing Solara a measure of peace in her mind for the first time since agreeing to the Talent Painting with Adam.

The Dark Sorcerer, the one who'd gifted Solara a curse while promising power. How could she have been so foolish as to believe he was telling the truth? Because I wanted the might to inherit Gama, to protect my kind, to honor my father, to avenge my...

That last thought was more truthful than the others, and she hated herself for it.

It mattered not, anyhow. Those thoughts could wait. For now, she had to get back to the ship and await for Adam's return. Tenver had gone to search for him, and would hopefully be bringing him back soon.

Are you certain that's wise? The Ghost of Flames asked, after some time had passed. Its voice sounded remarkably subdued; almost childish. The Hangman made a fair point. The Puppet Prince coveted the Empire's throne. His rebellion was birthed by his banishment – why wouldn't he betray the Painter's hopeless cause when offered the fulfillment of his dreams?

Solara nearly slowed down her pace, then resumed her run. Tenver wouldn't do that. We may have had our disagreements, but he truly cares for Adam.

And what is the value of care against the flame of Ambition? The Ghost of Flames did not sound full of grandeur and bravado for once. If anything, he sounded wistful. You'd be surprised, Elf, at what people will give up for their dreams.

No, Solara thought stubbornly. He wouldn't. Tenver...wouldn't.

She hoped so, dearly.