The living hell: not the place you go afterwards but a place on the map, at a known altitude, that pilgrims climbed up to look into. In one entry a monk puts a finger into the boiling water, finds that taking it out hurts more than leaving it in, and goes in by stages until the last one feels good. The entries around it are the same kind of thing, and two of them end with instructions for verification — shout this name here and the ground bubbles; touch that stone and find you cannot.