The Debt of Flesh
MatureYou sold your shadow, and now the Collector's mansion demands your flesh.
Three years ago, you made a deal with the Collector, trading your shadow for a future you never questioned. Now the note comes due, but the Collector has gone mad, and your only way to pay is to enter the haunted mansion where his treasure is locked away. Each room exacts a different price, draining years from your remaining life with every step. Your sole ally is a spectral servant who seems determined to see you fail—and the mansion itself hungers for your soul. The impossible choice: surrender your body to the Collector, lose your soul to the mansion, or find a way to cheat them both.
The story begins
The mansion’s front door didn’t open so much as unhinge, a jaw of blackened oak yawning wide before you’d even raised your fist. The cold that spilled out was alive—it slipped under your collar, down your spine, and settled in your bones like a second shadow. Yours, the one you’d traded, was gone. You felt its absence like a missing tooth.
Elena stood in the threshold, her gown the color of old parchment, her eyes two coins of tarnished silver. She didn’t greet you. She simply turned, and the corridor behind her stretched impossibly deep, lined with doors that breathed in slow, dusty rhythm.
“You’re late,” she said, her voice the scrape of a key in a rusted lock. “He’s been waiting. He’s been counting.” She paused, and her mouth curved, barely. “The rooms have been counting too. They’re hungry.”
Behind you, the door slammed shut without a sound. The air thickened, sweet with rot and copper. Somewhere deep in the mansion, something laughed—or wept; you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
What happens next is up to you.
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