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James swiftly made his way through the castle basement. In his pocket, he kept small cubes of wood for this exact occasion. To keep track of his trail, he dropped them at the beginning of every turn.

    The deeper he went, the more his stomach sank like dead weight. He had planned to be out of here with the ring by now, and wandering through this damp maze was the last place he expected to be instead. 

   Fire cracked in the oil lamps and green sludge dripped from the ceiling with a steady pulse. Something in the walls grumbled in response to the echo of James's slow breath, monstrous and hollow. 

    James just kept his ears open, listening for any signs that said he wasn't alone in the belly of purgatory. 

BANG! BANG! BANG!

    And there it was.

    For the past hour, Mercy hacked away at the boxy lock to her cell with a sizable rock she'd found. Every swing seemed to be in vain, since, despite all her pent up frustration, she couldn't even make a dent. Behind the bars, she muttered to herself, her voice laced with gravelly bitterness.

    "Why-" BANG, "Isn't-" BANG, "This-" BANG, "Working!?"

BANG BANG BANG!

   "Ugh!" Mercy squeezed her rock, taking a pause to eye her progress.

    Or lack thereof.

    Tossing the rock over her shoulder, she chose to re-evaluate. Though, her cell, three brick walls and a sewer pond, didn't leave her with much to work with.

    James dropped a wooden block as he rounded the corner. Lining the right wall was cell after rusted cell. He stopped in front of the fifth one, a satisfied grin lightening his [diamond] features.

    "I hope this isn't your whole plan," he sauntered over, placing one final piece of wood in front of Mercy's cell.

    She just shot him a glare, still beating at the lock.

    "Your rock is too small and that padlock is too strong. You're going to tear off your arm before you even put a dent in it."

    "Watch me," Mercy spat.

    And so, James made himself comfortable.

    After a handful of minutes of relentlessly striking the lock, Mercy couldn't take it anymore. She'd barely made a scratch. And there James was, patiently waiting, taunting her just with his presence on the other side of the cell.

    "It wasn't a serious offer!" she threw her rock at him, "Go away!"

    A simple step to the side was all James took and he was watching her escape plan break against the brick.

    "[Uh oh]," James squatted to pick up the bigger half of a now split stone. "Now what?"

    Mercy held out her hand, "Just give it back."

    He raised a thin eyebrow at her demand, tossing around the shard like a toy. "Give me the ring."

    "No!"

    "Yes," he came forward, ditching the rock to wrap his hands around the bars. "Think about it. If you keep it, no one leaves with the ring and you die. That's it. You become the next big show at the gallows and then," he snaps, "Lights out."

    Mercy blew at the curly strands hanging over the eyes of her mask. Her hair had sprung to life in the humidity and that seemed to interest her more than the current conversation.

    James frowned, but went on. "But, if you give me the ring, in exchange, I can help you leave alive. I know it's not what you planned, but it's the better deal. I get the money, but you get to go back to your--"

    James stopped mid spiel when he saw Mercy's face contort. [It felt familiar---the disgust, the heartbreak, the sadness.]

    'But at least,'  he thought, 'Now she's paying attention.'

    "I get the money and you go ho--"

    Mercy snatched up the neckline of his suit. She pulled forward, mushing his face between the bars.

    "I'd rather drop dead." Her voice was low, even. She sharpened her gaze under the shade of her feathered mask, swinging with a blunt knife. Because, to James, her soft face and [brown] eyes spoke too, and it wasn't out of anger, it was out of hurt. A hurt he knew all too well.

    But James had his own agenda, and he wouldn't be so easily swayed. When Mercy released him, her back turned to scour her cell, he tamed his hair and fixed his mask.

    "Poor choice. Must not be a lot back home for you."

    Mercy couldn't believe it.

    "You've got an insane amount of nerve--"

    Before James could cut her off, footsteps echoed through the corridor and did it for him.

    "I promise, this time, this is definitely where I left her," rang Jack's voice.

    "Goodness," huffed the Queen, "This is all too much of a headache."

    James quickly fished a pin out of his pocket, the pros and cons already weighed. Bargaining a ring from some girl, no matter how stubborn, remained the safest bet.

    "What are you doing?" Mercy retreated into the cell's shadows, hand covering the jewel in her pocket.

    "We're leaving."

    "We? No way."

    [The footsteps got louder. Water dripped. The light stuttered.] He swung the gate open, hinges shrieking loudly. The noise robbed them of any secrecy, so speed was their only advantage.

    But Mercy didn't move.

    'No, no, NO!' screamed James in his head. 'I'm not losing that ring!'

    He rushed in, pulled her wrist, and off they went.

    "They're getting away!"

    Somewhere in their race, Mercy's mindless jogging turned into a sprint to save her life. She was happy to have gotten out of jail, still in possession of the ring, albeit not alone now. 

    She wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

    They weaved through the corridors of the basement frantically, left and right. James couldn't go back to his cubes, so they both needed to find a new way out.

    Eventually, Mercy turned a sharp corner, and of course, James followed. Dead end.

    Except, there were two doors on either side wall. James grabbed Mercy and they slipped into the one on the left, crouching in a dark passage and holding their breaths.

    "You've got thieves running around my castle, Jack!"

    "We'll find them, Your Majesty!"

    Then, the voices and footsteps fell away.

    James stood, still holding tight to Mercy's wrist. Annoyed by his grip, she tried to yank her arm away. 

    "Let me go, I'm not a dog--"

    "Shh! Alright, alright!"

    James let go, leaving them individually stumbling through the dark. There were no lights and, based on how often they bumped into each other, the room barely seemed the size of a shack.

    "This is another dead end," James whispered, "Why make a door for a dead end?"

    Hands drifting against the sandy wall, Mercy never stopped moving through the room. The damp brick shaved at her skin as she clung to it, resting her ear close. 

    "What the hell are you doing?"

    The girl ignored him. After pushing a hand full of hair out of the way, she froze to listen. She could hear singing and weeping right on the other side, so close it was clear, and so haunting it [stabbed her]. She felt around the brick some more, until one of them sank slightly under her fingers. She pressed firmly.

    They both buckled as the dark room seemed to rumble. Slivers of light slipped in like a morning sunrise and Mercy backed away. The wall before her lifted up, revealing a huge dungeon.

    The room went silent, the siren song vanishing. Mercy took a step forward, but James grabbed her.

    "Would you stop that!" Mercy groaned, throwing her forearm to shove him backwards.

    "What are you doing? You can't just waltz into random rooms, we could be killed!"

    "There is no 'we'," Mercy pulled away and wandered right in.

    [The dungeon wasn't anything like the soggy cell she'd been trapped in. Cages were stacked on cages. A huge fire roared inside a stove at the back wall. It transformed the room into an inferno, caking Mercy in an ugly, oppressive heat that made her sweat upon entry. Inside the cages, lugging balled chains at their ankles, were people, young and old. Some were locked in the tiny cages with family, others isolated, all bony and unhappy.]

    James grabbed a torch off the wall and chased after her. 

    [As he walked by, arms could flail desperately through the bars on one side of him, to the dance of moaning pleas. But on the other, there'd be people throwing defiant glares, standing tall against the cage wall despite their condition.]

    The boy waved his torch near the prisoner's hands to try to get them to retreat back.

    "So, the dead do rise," he muttered. He scowled at one prisoner, who seemed to have his big eyes fixed on James.

    Mercy slammed her elbow into James's rib, "Stop that, he's a kid."

    [James clutched his stomach when her back was turned, forcing his stomach back down his throat.] Still, he stuck his tongue out at the boy. His short foe didn't even bat an eyelash.

    "Well, this kid's got a staring problem."

    James turned back to Mercy, expecting to be chastised.

    But, she'd disappeared.

    "Great."

     Mercy only went deeper into the dungeon, spinning in dizzying circles at the sight. She stopped, facing a cage at the very end. In it, a pregnant woman knelt, one hand over her stomach, the other resting on the wall as she forced steady breaths. Her dark hair fell straight over half of her face, a black waterfall, blending with the shadows. Orange fire light danced aggressively over her skin, an olive hue drenched in sweat. [But, nothing grabbed Mercy more than her stony gray eyes, sunken under heavy lids, that ripped her with voiceless shame.]

    "Water," said the woman, "I need water."

    Mercy looked around, quickly rushing over when she saw cups and a pail of water at the end of the dungeon near the fireplace. Mercy winced at the state of the water, murky beyond belief, but that's all there was. She grabbed a cup, filling it up to give to the woman.

   She hobbled toward the bars, one leg carrying all the weight. Her face was still tense, eyes like daggers, but she nodded.

    "Thank you," she snatched it from Mercy, gulping it down in one go.

     However, Mercy was already gone, filling up more cups and running around to give them to anyone who would take them.

    James watched her, growing impatient. He didn't have the time, but whatever was left until midnight, he was certainly wasting it. He stopped her on her way to one of the cages, shoving the torch in her face.

    "Now is not the time to pretend to be a hero. You've got people after you."

    Mercy poured the water right on the torch flame and went back for more. James jumped in front of her again.

    "If we don't leave now, you could get caught. Then, you're right back in that cell again."

    [Mercy looked around at the people, frail like her, desperate and scared and frustrated. Then, she felt that dazzling ring, sinking with the weight of a boulder, still scratching at her thigh and ripping her thin pockets.]

    "Help me get them out and it's all yours."

    "Excuse me?"

    "The ring. Help them and I'll give you the ring."

    James's brows knit together at the proposal, a new realization dawning on him.

    Helping this girl out was his worst idea yet.  

    "Hello? Do we have a deal?"

    James leaned forward, whispering for no clear reason. "Have you lost it? That's too dangerous!"

    "Do you want the ring or not?"

    Risk getting caught or leave without the very thing he'd come here for in the first place. James pressed his lips into a tense line, trying to pick the better of two horrible options. But every second spent thinking was a second wasted, and that made him anxious. 

    "We're taking them up to Folk's Hill." Finally, he scrambled to grab his pin.