Tonight I revisit an old haunt; a tunnel that stretches far under the city, whose end I've never reached yet.

My footsteps echo from crumbling walls and etched stone pillars.

Water drips down from the ceiling, disappears into broken flagstones.

A rat skitters into the darkness, away from my flashlight. I startle; my fingers spasm, and the flashlight falls.

Through cracked glass, it flickers.

Darkness approaches.

My lungs constrict, like I'm about to have a panic attack. I can't, though, can't allow myself to question what I have to do.

Urban exploration was supposed to be a hobby, nothing more. Then I found the Book, bound in leather, all-seeing eye on the cover.

The beginning of the end; the day I first flipped it open.

And now here I am, in a tunnel named (not unironically) the Highway to Hell.

When I reach down to pick up the flashlight my bad knee wobbles, refuses to hold my weight.

I stumble.

Impact makes the breath whoosh out of me, but I don't fall.

The light flickers, goes out.

I hold very still.

The hard edge of the Book digs into my ribcage.

Hair falls into my face from a puff of air.

My vision goes blurry.

I really don't want to do this.

The... thing that caught me (warm flesh and soft fur, huge paws and a panting breath) huffs, and it licks me, a tongue on each of my cheeks, cleaning up the teartracks.

A sob catches in my chest, and I want to pull out my knife, to stab, just do it, but—

I promised, and my soul is on the line.

"I really don't want to meet the Devil," I confess quietly.

The Guardian to the Underworld wuffs, nuzzles into me. I bury my head in his fur.

"I really don't want to hurt you." This, I'm not ashamed of.

But the Book was quite clear; if I used its Magic to grant me my Wish, then I'd have to go Down to personally thank the Devil.

And in order to go Down, I'd have to get past Cerberus.

Historically, the only way to get past Cerberus is to kill him.

It's not my first time in these tunnels. I've been desperate enough to venture down here many times in my life; though never quite desperate enough for anything other than 'urban exploration' (and befriending the fearsome three-headed guard-dog).

It's not my first time in these tunnels, but they've never felt quite this hostile, as if they know about my plans.

The flashlight rolls away when Cerberus wags his tail, and a pair of eyes flashes from the darkness.

I freeze, and then I act before my brain catches up.

I leap away from the dog, spin around, and pull my knife from my belt the moment I come to a halt at Cerberus' back; in-between him and the creature that now comes crawling out of the darkness with an unsettling sound of clacking pincers.

The single pair of eyes multiplies into facets, like an oversized spider, only much more terrifying.

And then the beast attacks.

I twist out of the way of a leg and slash into it, hoping to give Cerberus time to escape, hoping my knife won't fail.

It does not; the spider-monster's blood runs down my arm like murky water and the creature screeches. It backs away, but I don't allow myself to think I've won that easily.

I steady my stance, my grip on the knife. At the next movement of the beast, I launch myself forward, focussed on its belly, determined to end this before—

I'm pulled back by the neck of my shirt, and when I whirl around to deal with the next threat I find Cerberus, one of his heads growling at the spider-monster, the other licking my face, again.

"Wha—"

The spider clacks and runs, and before I can even begin to process this, a small burst of applause makes me twist in Cerberus' grasp.

"Well done," a smooth voice says, and my eyes bulge. "Not only willing to protect my lovely puppy, but making him protective of you, too? Not many have achieved this feat," the Devil continues.

I continue to stare.

The Devil waves their hand, and the book goes flying out of my satchel.

Their nose twitches in disgust. "Oh, I've never been fond of this brand of witches. But I trust their Magic has served you well?"

Still struck dumb, I manage a nod only when Cerberus nudges me.

The Devil's lip quirks up. "Very well."

They tap a rose-red nail on the cover of the book, considering. "Would you like to come Down for tea?"

I can't decipher the look in their eye. It doesn't seem hostile, or angry, but... it's the Devil.

It's the Devil, so I can't exactly refuse their offer, can I? Nor do I really want to.

I'm intrigued, and Cerberus uses his puppy-eyes on me, so—

"Gladly," I say, and accept the Devil's hand.