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In short, not the grim hermitage Peri had been expecting.

Still, she crept to the edge of the carpets, making sure not to disturb the creatures woven into them, moving quickly to the wooden floors.

Along the walls, more paintings of magical creatures moved slowly through thick oil brushstrokes. Marble statues of what had definitely once been mortals, stood on shelves and tables, their terrified expressions frozen in time. It had the air of a museum—and she oscillated between curiosity and nervousness as she took in each new being forever trapped in art.

The home hummed with an energy that was equal parts power and comfort, which was truly an unsettling contradiction.

The room was silent—empty, and a creeping fear slithered up the back of Peri’s neck. Walking around their home, unannounced, was not something she would’ve chosen to do willingly.

She was on the verge of voicing her concerns to Bonegrundle when a tall, stone-grey gorgon appeared in the doorway, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. The snakes on her head writhed freely, unfurling in all directions, and something about their unrestrained movements sparked a strange joy in Peri’s chest. In return she held out the snakeskin dice as offering. The gorgon snatched them from her hand eyeing Peri sceptically, then she gave Peri a nod as she slipped the dice into her pocket and two mugs with steam curling from them appeared on a nearby table.

“Coffee?” the gorgon asked, offering the mugs to both Bonegrundle and Peri.

They each accepted one, the warmth of the mugs soothing Peri’s unease. Without a word, the gorgon turned and exited the room.

Bonegrundle snorted. “That’s the only invitation you’re going to get, I’m afraid. They have absolutely no manners here.”

“We can hear you, you wrinkled sack of shit!” one of the gorgons yelled from the other room.

Bonegrundle let out a guttural laugh and ambled through the doorway. Peri quickly followed at her heels. They stepped into an airy kitchen made entirely of windows. Soft pinks carried through to this room as well, continuing the cosy warmth that radiated throughout their home.

The gorgons sat regally around a long, ancient table of dark wood. They were as beautiful as their home albeit in a more brutal way—skin the grey of storm clouds, eyes dark and sharp as granite.

Then they smiled at her and one stood, laid her hand to her heart in greeting and gave a small bow. She introduced herself as Oriane and, noticing the fearful way Peri eyed them all, pulled her into the most unexpected hug of her life.

Before Peri could stop herself, she said, “I thought gorgons were supposed to be some of the most fearsome beings around?”

“We are,” Oriane said as she turned to sign something to her sister, interpreting their conversation.

Another gorgon sat at the head of the table, her head tilted curiously. “You think we can’t kill somebody just because we gave a pleasant hug and like pink?”

“Alright, point taken.” A nervous smile pulled at her lips as she sat down to join them. She sipped her coffee slowly, trying to calm her unruly nerves.

A rough voice shouted through an open window, “Waffles!”

Small, furry hands slid a plate stacked high with gigantic waffles through the window until it rested on the long, rose-pink counter. Oriane set the wide plate carefully in the middle of the table, the steaming waffles towering precariously on it. The table was already set with two extra places for her and Bonegrundle, as if the gorgons had known before Peri did that she would be visiting.

Oriane yelled over her shoulder, “These could’ve come a little earlier. You’re getting slow, Chervil!”

“That’s a grand way to say ‘thank you,’ you ungrateful turnip,” Chervil grumbled back.

The gremlin’s small skiff whirred off into the air, sailing away to make its next delivery.

“I didn’t realise the gremlins delivered food to other magical beings too,” Peri said, sipping her coffee.

“Of course they do.” As if connected by the invisible force of her words, every head around the table turned to give her an incredulous look. “We cannot leave Hell, not even briefly like the gremlins can to steal food. How else are we to get food?”

It was midday; the sky above shone a brilliant cerulean and rays of velvet sunlight filled the room as they ate. Soon there entered five dark feline figures, matagots, who moved like inkstains across the dining room floor to the far corner. They leapt onto a table and pulled bone-white stringed instruments from the ether, beginning immediately to move their small bows. Their song of choice had an upbeat, albeit macabre melody. The music swept through her, as if she were being tossed into blackened waves—pervasively alluring.

She swallowed nervously and grabbed a waffle. She wanted to jump right to asking about the earring, but thought that to be poor manners so she asked, “What do you mean you can’t leave Hell?”

The table erupted with a cacophony of amused snorts before they too were piling waffles topped with heaping spoonfuls of fruit compote onto their plates.

“Why do you think the magical creatures want you to break the Cursed Bargain?” Oriane asked between bites. “Hell, why do you think we renamed it the Cursed Bargain?”

The two gorgons Peri didn’t know signed back and forth, shooting dubious glances her way. Bonegrundle joined in the conversation, her hands moving languidly; drawling words paired with exasperated huffs. Soon, everyone around the table was signing. Every now and then, Peri caught them motioning towards her.

They were definitely about to ask her about the earring.