The dust cleared, Samara’s coughing cutting through the silent, sultry air. She blinked harshly, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She could hear a faint crunching from beneath her; sand, perhaps? Or maybe gravel, like the kind sold at the local pet store in their near-bursting five-pound bags, shelved underneath large aquariums with glow-in-the-dark fish and tiny goldfish swimming around inside.

“Oh! Oh, God!” Samara turned her head to see Basil spitting rust-colored sand out of her mouth as she pushed herself to her knees—so her first assumption was correct. “Oh, son of a—”

“You okay, Basil?” she questioned, a concerned look crossing over her face. “That was a pretty nasty fall back there…”

“Well, nothing’s broken, so I’d think so. At least, aside from the sand in my mouth.” Basil brought herself to her feet, brushing the dirt off of her clothes as she turned towards her friend. “You need help getting up?”

“I’d appreciate it, yeah.”

Basil pulled Samara to her feet, the latter shaking her head to get rid of any debris in her hair. The brunette couldn’t help but notice how nice Basil’s hands felt—her skin smooth and soft, the heat seeping into Samara’s fingers. And the grip—it was the perfect balance of firmness and relaxation, almost as if it were a long, comforting embrace.

Samara’s face grew warm as she stared at their intertwined fingers, a hot tickle echoing through her chest. She just wanted to stay like this forever—standing still as time slipped away from them, fingers turning into chains as they held on tight.

“Oh, sorry!” Samara was harshly dragged back to reality, a red-faced Basil moving to pull her hands away. “I didn’t realize that—”

“No, don’t!” Samara cried out, squeezing Basil’s hands gently, in an attempt to stop the former. “I…want to stay like this for a while, if that’s okay.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It feels nice. And safe.”

“Hm.” Basil coughed softly, turning her gaze to the horizon to hide her reddening cheeks. “Do you recognize this place?”

“Recognize?” Samara echoed, a confused tone in her voice. “What do you mean?”

“Well—just look.”

Samara turned her head to take a look for herself, to see what Basil was talking about. It didn’t take her long, her dark brown eyes broadening with a mixture of shock and wonder. “O-Oh my God.”

The girls were standing on a tall, crumbly mesa, its rocky base doing its best in shielding them from the wrath of the torrid heat. A cluster of tall towers and smaller structures laid hundreds of feet below, built from clay and sandstone in varying reds, yellows, and oranges. A siren-like screech erupted from one of the tallest buildings and rang in Samara’s ears, nearly replicating a church’s bell. As Samara took a closer look, she almost had the impression that—nope, some of the buildings were definitely on fire.

“This is hell,” Basil blurted out. “This is literally hell. Holy Christ…”

“Is that appropriate to say, in this context?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Basil threw her hands up in the air, gesturing towards the small civilization down below. “This is all—why does your family have a literal door to Hell under their house?!”

“Hey, don’t get upset with me!” Samara replied defensively. “I didn’t even know about any of this until

tonight! How am I supposed to know why my uncle hides a bunch of hell-doors behind a fake bookshelf in his study?”

“I’m not angry with you or anything, it’s—” Basil breathed sharply through her nose, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “This is a lot to take in, man. I don’t even believe in Hell, and we’re standing on a cliff overlooking part of it—I am questioning so much right now.”

“Yeah, this is turning into a hell of a night.” Samara paused, momentarily reflecting on her choice of wording. “Pun not intended, by the way.”

“Noted.” Basil put her hands on her hips, blowing a few locks of hair out of her face as she dug her heel into the sand.

“You still need a second?”

“No, I think I’m good now,” the redhead replied, glancing over at Samara. “We should probably figure out a way out of here. If all the shit I’ve heard about Hell is true, I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I don’t think I know anyone who’d willingly want to stay in Hell,” Samara agreed. “C’mon, let’s grab the box and—” She trailed off, eyes darting around frantically. The realization hit her like a truck filled with cement, a feeling of dread filling her body. “O-oh no, where is it? Where’s the box?”

“What do you mean, ‘where’s the box’?” Basil was starting to panic. “Is it not around here?”

“I know I was holding it before we fell! Did I—”

A soft scratching noise interrupted Samara, the brunette freezing almost instantaneously. She slowly glanced in Basil’s direction, the girls sharing a fearful expression.

“What was that?” Basil whispered, afraid to raise her voice. “Samara, it’s right behind us.”

Samara forced herself to take a deep breath as she curled her hands into fists, preparing herself in case she needed to fight. She raised them up to her chest, slowly turning towards the noise’s source.

She was greeted by a strange, red creature, roughly the size of an old housecat. Its ears were long and pointy, with large notches dangerously close to the head. A pointy tail slammed against the ground, creating small clouds of murky orange dust. It was holding the box in its murky green claws, gnawing on the wood like a dog chewing a bone.

“What the—” Basil blinked, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Is that an…imp? Or maybe a demon?”

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Samara insisted. “We just need it to give the box back to us.”

“Is it safe to go near that thing?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Samara slowly took a step forward, quickly gaining the imp’s attention. It stared up at her with its beady eyes, pupils shrinking into slits as it scrutinized her.

“Hey there, little guy,” she whispered, continuing to slowly approach. “I know you’re enjoying chewing that box there, but that belongs to my friend and me—”

The imp hissed in her face, growling lowly as it held the box close to its chest, mouth foaming as it started to back away.

“I don’t think it wants to give the box up,” Basil noted, wringing her hands together. “Should we let it go?”

“Of course not! We just need to make a fair trade.” Samara pursed her lips, eyes darting around their surroundings as she quickly scanned the area, before her eyes settled on a small, spherical stone. She scooped it up, shaking it near her head for a moment, lips pursed tightly.

“A fair trade? With a rock?” Basil cried, a puzzled expression on her face. “Sam, that doesn’t seem like something an imp would want…”

“That’s because it’s not a rock!” Sam hit the “rock” against the ground a couple times before she cracked it open, revealing two halves of a beautiful amethyst geode, the deep purple crystals shimmering in the light. The imp was immediately intrigued by the sight, sniffing at the mineral-filled nodule.

“You like that, buddy?” Sam asked, smiling down at the little red creature. “It can be all yours, y’know? You just gotta give us the box, ‘kay?”

The imp stared at Sam with its beady yellow eyes before dropping the box, snatching the geode from her hands with its pointy claws. The brunette scooped up the box as the little demon ran away, smiling at a stunned Basil.

“That was amazing!” she blurted out. “How’d you manage to find a geode so fast?”

“My uncle Fern taught me how to spot them,” Sam explained, tucking the box under one arm as she dusted herself off. “He’s an—well, I don’t know what the word for it is, but he mostly studies rocks and plants.”

“Oh, nice,” Basil hummed, looking up at Sam, then back down at the box. “Anyways, now that the box is secure, we should probably find something to carry it in. Y’know, so we don’t have any more demons stealing it?”

“Good idea,” Sam agreed, beginning to wander around the area. “Maybe we can find a hunk of wood that we could use as a basket or something.”

“Yeah, if there was wood here,” Basil commented, leaning against a wall. “There’s a lot of rocks here though, I wonder if—” Part of the wall suddenly slid away, Basil yelping as she tumbled to the floor.

“Basil!” Sam cried, rushing over to help her friend. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Basil gasped as Sam pulled her up, glancing at the small room that had opened up behind them—it appeared to be some sort of storage closet, with bags, various clothing, and a small assortment of weapons hanging on hooks and lying on shelves. “What’s all this?”

“It kinda looks like some sort of storage closet,” Sam slowly replied, looking around inside. “My aunt and uncle must’ve put this in here.”

“You really think they did?”

“Well, I don’t know why anyone else would put a hidden room in the middle of Hell.” Sam’s eyes fell on a worn-out messenger bag hanging on a hook near the doorway. It was made of a light brown leather, with golden buckles on the straps that still had yet to lose their shine, even after sitting in the dark for god knows how long. There were tons of little pockets on the sides that were filled with a variety of different items, such as pens, scraps of paper, and what appeared to be a shut pocket knife. Sam moved to pick up the bag without any hesitation whatsoever, tucking the box inside.

“You sure your aunt and uncle won’t mind us borrowing that?” Basil questioned, pointing to the bag that her friend was slinging over her shoulder.

“I don’t think so. I mean, it doesn’t look like they’ve used any of this stuff for ages.” Sam gently grasped Basil’s hand, looking at her fondly. “You ready to go to hell?”

“Not really,” Basil replied. “Let’s go.”

***