The whisper still hung in the air—thin, cold, and bone-deep.
"You shouldn't have done that."
Samuel didn't wait. "RUN!"
The three of them bolted—instinct overriding logic. Danny clutched the camera like a lifeline, legs pumping as he sprinted toward the car. Samuel was right behind him.
But Maya—
Maya didn't move.
She stood frozen, staring at the house. Mouth slightly open. Eyes wide—not with fear, but with something worse: recognition. Like something had whispered only to her.
"Maya!" Samuel shouted over his shoulder. "MOVE!"
But she didn't.
The front door slammed—this time with a deafening crack—and something dark surged from the shadows. Fast. Low to the ground. Writhing.
Samuel turned back, ready to charge—but an invisible force hit him like a truck. He was knocked clean off his feet, crashing into the dirt, gasping for air.
By the time he looked up—
Maya was gone.
No scream. No shadow. No trace.
The house loomed, silent again. Satisfied.
"Shit—shit—shit!" Danny's voice cracked as he yanked open the car door. "Get in! GET IN!"
Samuel scrambled to his feet and dove into the passenger seat. The engine roared as Danny peeled out, tires screaming across the gravel.
Silence filled the car. Just their ragged breathing and the whine of the wind through the trees.
Then—
"We left her," Danny muttered, voice raw.
Samuel stared ahead, white-knuckled. "She didn't move. She just stood there. Like she wanted to stay."
"Don't." Danny's jaw clenched. "Just—don't."
They drove in silence, the road unraveling beneath them.
Then Samuel broke it, voice sharp and urgent.
"The book. The Hell Book."
Danny shot him a look. "What?"
Samuel twisted around, frantically digging through the mess in the back seat. Gear, snacks, spare batteries—then—
"There!"
He yanked it out: a worn, fake-leather tome. The one they'd bought from that shady second-hand bookstore. Their foundation for ghost-hunting. Their ticket to online fame.
It wasn't supposed to be real.
He flipped it open—chaotic sigils, eerie sketches, text in half-dead languages. The pages looked old. Too old.
"We find out what that thing was," Samuel said, voice hard. "We learn its name. Its rules. Its weakness."
Danny gripped the wheel tighter. "What are you even saying?"
Samuel didn't look up. "Remember the comments?"
"You mean those testimonials?"
"Yeah. Hundreds of them. People said the rituals worked. Stuff stopped—sleep paralysis, weird noises, lights flickering. I thought it was just placebo effect."
Danny's face tightened. "What are you trying to say?"
"We replied to all of them." Samuel's hands trembled as he flipped pages. "We gave advice. Made up rituals. Told them what to do. Based on this."
Then a chill crept over him.
He shut the book. Hard.
"I think we've been messing with something real."
Danny didn't say a word. The silence was louder than the road.
Then Samuel opened the book again, slower this time. "If ghosts and demons are real... and if those people weren't lying... maybe the answers are in here."
He looked up, eyes burning with something new.
"We could find a way to get her back."
Samuel's heart pounded as he flipped through the pages, eyes darting over symbols, sketches, and ancient texts. Each second that passed felt like an eternity.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, fingers trembling. "What the hell was that thing?"
Danny glanced at him. "Find anything? What kind of demon is it?"
Samuel paused. "Here—here it is. It's a pet demon. 'The Bindling.' It attaches to people. Extremely possessive."
Danny shot him a sharp glance. "Weakness? What's the weakness?"
Samuel's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me."
"What?" Danny snapped. "Spit it out!"
"It... it hates the smell of urine," Samuel said slowly. "Says here: the demon despises impurity and foul smells—especially urine."
Danny blinked. "Are you serious right now?"
Samuel took a steadying breath. "Unfortunately, yeah."
Danny pulled onto the roadside. "Okay, say we do this. We splash some pee on it—then what? Does it vanish?"
Samuel hesitated. "No. After we weaken it, we have to banish it back to hell."
Danny's voice climbed in panic. "And how do we do that?"
"I don't know yet," Samuel admitted. "Just—give me a second."
He flipped faster, desperate. Pages blurred. Then—
A new one formed before his eyes, the ink bleeding across the parchment like living blood:
"Summoning Hell's Gate: A blood sacrifice, willingly given. By your blood, open the gate. Return the forsaken to eternal darkness."
Samuel's heart skipped. Hope surged through his panic. "Holy shit—Danny, look! It just appeared."
He nearly dropped the book.
"This book is... something else," he whispered.
Samuel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The book glowed faintly, then dimmed—returning to normal.
An awkward silence filled the car.
Danny took a breath. His jaw tightened. "Then we're doing this. Let's save her. We have to."
Samuel glanced at him nervously. "There's just one thing."
Danny groaned. "What now?"
"We need urine," Samuel said, grimacing.
Danny looked like he wanted to jump out of the moving car. "Don't even—"
"It has to be yours," Samuel cut in.
"Why the hell mine?"
Samuel gave him a flat look. "Because your pee smells like nuclear-grade dumpster juice. It's... potent. Weaponized. Every time you use the toilet, I suffer. I'm sure the demon will too."
Danny recoiled. "You—ugh! Never mind!"
Samuel shoved an empty bottle at him. "Come on, man! Time's ticking!"
Danny groaned, flushed red, and opened the car door. "If we survive this, I'm deleting this memory."
Samuel turned away, muttering. Danny handed him the capped bottle, and Samuel recoiled.
"Nope. Not touching that. You're carrying it."
"Unbelievable," Danny muttered. "If we live, I'm never forgiving you."
They raced back to the farmhouse. Their hearts pounded like war drums. As they neared, the shadow thickened, pressing on them like a storm.
Their pulses synced with the tension.
Samuel raised his hand military-style. 3... 2... 1...
They burst through the front door.
Nothing in the living room.
Samuel signaled again—toward the cabinet room. They crept closer, every step heavier.
What they saw chilled their bones.
Maya floated midair, wrapped in shadowy tendrils. The Bindling loomed behind her, whispering like a lover in her ear.
Samuel tightened his grip on the knife. The book in his other hand shook.
"Danny—get ready."
Danny popped the cap, grimacing. "This better work."
The Bindling howled, shadows lashing. Danny hurled the contents of the bottle. The stench hit like a bomb.
The demon shrieked, sizzling as if boiling.
"Filthy mortals! How dare you!"
Its grip on Maya faltered.
Samuel began chanting, voice trembling but defiant. "By the sacrifice willingly given—by blood spilled freely—I summon the Hell Gate!"
He slashed his palm. Blood hit the floor. Sigils blazed to life, pulsing red and black.
"Go back where you belong, Zhar'Rul!" Samuel roared. "You have no power here!"
A vortex of shadows opened beneath the demon.
It screamed, clawing the air.
"Ah—Guardian of Hell—NO...! My power! I will consume you!"
With a final, soul-wrenching scream, it was dragged down. The Hell Gate slammed shut.
Silence. Crushing.
Maya dropped into Danny's arms, breathing faintly.
Samuel collapsed to his knees, trembling.
"Did that thing say... Guardian of Hell?" he muttered.
Maya's eyes fluttered. "What... happened?"
Danny, still holding her, smiled weakly. "You're safe now."
Maya blinked—and sniffed.
She winced. "What is that awful smell?"
Samuel coughed and turned away.
Danny shot him a look that could kill. "Don't ask. Just—don't."
To be continued...