Welcome to Gehen, Perdition! Welcoming All Sorts of Sinners since the Early Ages!

The sign towered above the girls, large, loopy letters intricately carved into burnt orange sandstone. Sam swore that the tittles of each ‘i’ was an eye, peering down at her and her red-haired companion, almost in a judgemental manner.

“This sign is giving mixed messages,” Sam noted, squinting back at the sign. “Does Hell usually welcome sinners?”

“Oh, no, the opposite,” Basil replied. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard. My hometown was predominantly Christian, so it was pretty common to see priests preaching on the streets. You’d be surprised how often Hell comes up in sermons.”

“In that case, it’s probably supposed to be ironic,” Sam concluded. “Or maybe sinners are contained to a different part of Hell so it’s harder for them to escape.” Out of all of the fantasy novels that she had read over the years, there was always one detail that remained stagnant—when the protagonist was whisked into their story’s version of the underworld for whatever reason, they always found a way out, whether it was by their own means, or by asking someone for help.

“You think the exit might be somewhere near where the sinners are located?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

The girls turned to face each other, sharing the same slightly anxious expression. They slowly looked down at their hands; Basil was fidgeting with her fingers, while Sam’s arms remained at her sides. She was the first one to hold her hand out, Basil’s hands momentarily going still before she slowly took Sam’s hand, squeezing it gently. No words were shared, but the silence spoke volumes that words couldn’t.

Sam and Basil looked at each other, their grip loose, fingers lightly brushing together. Sam bit the inside of her cheek, something boiling in her stomach—a warm, fuzzy feeling, but mixed with something more bitter and thick, almost akin to guilt.

Is this right? Sam couldn’t help but wonder. Should I be feeling this way? She couldn’t identify it; it was a feeling similar to the fictional crushes that she had had over the years, but catastrophically different. It felt stronger, for one, and made her insides feel like a butterfly cage. At the same time, however, her head was swarming with anxiety and shame, due to the fact that—well—

Sam didn’t know what this feeling even was, and she was feeling this way towards her best friend.

Is this normal for best friends? she asked herself. Is ‘best friendship’ like this? Or am I going insane?

She shook her head to clear it, deciding to shove her thoughts deep into the depths of her mind as the two girls finally began wandering into Gehen.

For a town that was predominantly populated by hellborn creatures, it was a charming place, surely—demons, succubi, and incubi of all shapes and sizes wandered around, talking amongst each other or just going about their day. There were a multitude of booths that looked like stalls of a medieval-style market, merchant imps selling all sorts of things, from odd-looking fruits that looked like they jumped straight from the cover of a fantasy novel, to large bottles full of what appeared to be potions, the colorful liquids fizzing and shining through the surface of its glass container. The sound of tinny, folk-like music drifted through the air, coming from a street-performing devil playing a song on what appeared to be a lyre that produced a sound akin to an electric guitar.

“It’s actually really pretty here,” Basil whispered, looking around the town in wonder. “It kind of reminds you of Hatchwood, don’t you think?”

“Really?” Sam looked over at Basil. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, everyone seems really close and friendly, for one—”

“Oh yeah, everyone’s real close-knit here, sweetheart!”

Sam and Basil yelped in surprise, whipping their heads around to see a demon sitting behind a booth selling pieces of parchment, tightly wrapped in gold ribbons with wax seals. She appeared to be as old as Basil’s parents, black hair tied in a loose bun. Her ivory claws were fairly short, but still looked intimidatingly sharp, even though her hands were folded in front of her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, girls!” Her voice was kind and sweet, like a grandparent’s. “I just got excited for a moment, there…”

“No, no, you’re fine, ma’am!” Basil quickly assured the demon. “My friend and I were just a little on edge—you see, we’re a bit lost…”

“Oh, I see. I suppose it’s to be expected from a pair of Terraplaners,” the demon replied, her claws tapping on the booth’s counter. “Your kind doesn’t really come down here to Perdition very often, don’tcha know?”

“‘Terraplaners’?” Sam repeated, a puzzled look crossing her face. “I-Is that a demon term for sinners, or…?”

“Sinners? What are—oh my, you two really are lost, aren’t you?”

“We think so,” Basil replied slowly. “We just—well, when we came to, we were on some sort of mountain or cliff overlooking part of Hell, and—”

“Oh, no no no! You girls aren’t in Hell! Mother of Artax, what rumors are they spreading up there?” The demon shook her head fiercely. “You two are in the Perdition Plane. One of this universe’s many planes.”

“Perdition? Planes?” Sam blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t think I understand.”

“No worries, sweetie. Lucky for you two, Gehen has its very own puricies.” The demon pointed a claw towards a tall building, right near the edge of town. “Amazu lives in that building over there. They’ll tell you two everything you want to know. ‘Zu can be a bit off-putting, but trust me, they’re very welcoming.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, thank you so much…erm—” Basil trailed off, realizing that neither her or Sam had caught the demon’s name.

“You can call me Aithne, dear,” Aithne smiled warmly at the two girls. “You two have safe travels now, you hear?”

“We will, Miss Aithne!” Sam replied quickly, grasping Basil’s hand. “Thanks again!”

“Always a pleasure, girls!”

***

Amazu’s dwelling was a quaint little library, every shelf filled to the brim with books, scrolls, and bottles in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Nearly-empty inkwells lay scattered on the floor amidst broken feather quills and leaky fountain pens, discarded papers doing their best to soak up any sort of floor ink. A lanky devil with white hair falling over their eyes stood over a large, black cauldron stirring some sort of thick, bubbly substance, the spicy smell wafting through the room.

Meanwhile, Sam and Basil were peering through one of the windows, staring into the house where the mysterious Amazu supposedly lived.

“That’s got to be Amazu,” Basil noted, glancing over at Sam. “So, what’s the game plan?”

“I’m going to be honest, I was just planning to play this whole thing by ear,” Sam admitted. “I mean, you can’t really prepare for anything like this. I don’t even know what a puricies is.” She was fairly sure she was pronouncing it wrong, but fortunately for her, Basil understood what Sam was referring to.

“I think Aithne was speaking some sort of demon tongue,” the redhead replied. “It probably translates to ‘tour guide’ or something.”

“Makes sense,” Sam agreed, sighing deeply. “Okay, here we go.” She curled her hand into a tight fist, turning towards the large, wooden door. Raising her hand up to eye level, she knocked on the door once, twice, three times, the sound echoing in her brain.

“Door’s unlocked!” A deep, gruff voice shouted from the other side. “Just shut the door behind ya!”

Sam and Basil looked at each other for a moment before opening the door, the demon’s eyes staring at the girls as they stepped inside, papers making crinkling noises under their feet.

“Well, well, well, what d’we have here?” Their accent was thick and heavy, and sounded completely unfamiliar to Sam. “Heh, it’s been almost twenty years since I’ve had any Terraplaners in my humble little abode!”

“Uh, are you Amazu?” Sam asked slowly, looking the demon up and down. Their robe was bright red and reached the floor, and they appeared to be wearing some sort of black tunic underneath.

“The one and only Amazu Bersci, the Perdition’s self-appointed Planes expert, at your service,” Amazu replied, bowing deeply. “And you ladies are?”

“Oh, I-I’m Basil! Basil Sinkes,” Basil quickly blurted, scrambling to curtsy, albeit shakily. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And my name’s Sam Thornbury,” Sam replied. “Well, it’s technically Samara Seiver-Thornbury, but—”

“Seiver-Thornbury?” Amazu shrieked, their face growing pale. “O-Oh, oh my stars, as in—” They took a deep breath, turning away from the now confused girls as they rushed to the cauldron, muttering to themselves with a strange expression on their face, eyes fixated on its contents.

“Uh, Amazu?” Basil piped up, hesitantly stepping forward. “Are you okay?”

“Come here, girls. Both of you.”

Sam and Basil shared a look with each other before they approached Amazu and the heat of the cauldron. Upon closer inspection, the cauldron was filled with some sort of soup; pieces of meat and long, thick noodles swimming amongst a variety of different colored herbs and vegetables in a spicy, dark red broth.

“Have a seat. Here, have some stew—it’s my family’s recipe.” Amazu produced three bowls out of seemingly nowhere, ladling some generous portions of hot soup before carefully handing them to the girls. Sam didn’t eat any of it yet, only holding the bowl gingerly in her hands as she watched Amazu ladle a portion for himself, feeling the heat sink into her hands.

“What’s going on?” Basil was the one to speak first, slightly shocking Sam. “Why’d you start panicking when Sam told you her name?”

“It’s…a very complicated story.” Amazu sipped some soup from their bowl. “Samara—er, Sam—your aunt and uncle’s names are Cansu and Sylvie, correct?”

“Yeah. They are.” Sam’s eyes went wide. “How…how did you know?”

“I was friends with them. And your parents,” Amazu said slowly. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but…God.” They sighed deeply. “I truly am sorry, Sam.”

“Of course you weren’t there,” Sam said slowly. “I mean, their death was an accident.”

“Acci…” They mouthed the words for a moment, before the realization hit them. “Oh Lord, is that what they’ve been telling you all this time?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s how they died.” It was hard for Sam to say, but it was the truth. “There was a bad car crash when they were coming home from work one night. Dad died on impact, Mom died in the hospital a day later.”

“A car crash.” Amazu scoffed, tears pricking at their eyes. “Yeah, right. Like Hedwig and Bronte would let that stop ‘em…”

“What?” Sam blinked, her face scrunching up in confusion. “I-I don’t understand.”

“‘Course ya don’t. As honest as those two can be, they’re damn good liars.”

“Liars?” Basil echoed, glancing at a stunned Sam.

“A-Amazu, what are you saying?” Sam finally blurted out.

“The truth,” Amazu said slowly. “This might be hard for you to accept, but…your parents' death wasn’t an accident, kid.”