Elias’s Confession—The Devil Never Forgets a Deal

I never should’ve made the deal.

It was a desperate act. One born from years of grief, loss, and starvation. I thought I was doing what I had to—what I deserved. I was weak then, and I’m still weak now. But I never could have imagined how deep the price would go.

The night the stranger came to Ashmoor, I was at my breaking point. My wife had been dead for nearly two winters, and my land? It had become nothing more than a barren wasteland. Crops withered in the fields, and my animals lay dead in the barn. I hadn’t slept more than a few hours in weeks, my mind racing with how to survive. The village was slowly starving, and I had nothing left to give.

Then he appeared. Not like anyone else—no, there was something in his eyes that wasn’t human. Something cold. Unsettling. His clothes were black, like a shadow stitched into fabric. He didn’t make a sound when he walked in, but the air shifted. I remember that. How the world felt suddenly smaller, tighter. I couldn’t breathe.

When he spoke, his voice was smooth, almost too smooth—like silk running over stone. He didn’t ask for anything. He offered.

“What’s a man like you willing to trade for a wish?” he asked.

I thought he was some fool looking to swindle me. But then he laid out the terms. One wish—anything I desired. No cost upfront. No sacrifice now. The price comes later. That’s what he said. But then, didn’t they all say that? The devil’s deal, the devil’s price.

I was too tired to care. I was too desperate.

“I want life,” I said. “I want my land to bloom again. I want my animals to live, my crops to grow. I want… I want respect.”

The stranger didn’t blink. He only nodded once, and when he touched my chest with that cold, icy finger, I thought I’d fall into an endless, frigid abyss. But then it was done. The air was thick with power, and I could feel the weight of it settle on my shoulders.

The next morning, it rained. Torrential, soaking rain. It drenched the fields and poured into the wells. The soil came alive, the earth trembling beneath me as if it recognized what had been done. The crops sprouted overnight, tall and lush. Animals that had been on the verge of death were now healthy, full of life. My land was revived.

But it wasn’t just the land. It was everything. My neighbors, once skeptical and resentful, came to me, eager for advice, for help, for anything. They saw the power in me and bowed to it. They called me blessed, and for the first time in years, I felt it—the respect.

But that wasn’t enough.

Over time, the feeling grew—a gnawing sense in my gut that something was wrong. The power I had… it didn’t come for free. I’d asked for life, but something inside me whispered that there was a cost to every miracle. The whispers began at night, soft, almost like a rustling breeze, but then they grew louder. Voices, cold and ancient, speaking my name. I thought I was losing my mind, but it was worse than that. Much worse.

I remember the first time I saw it. The shadow.

It didn’t move like a man. It was tall—too tall—and its shape shifted as if the air around it was bending. I saw it standing at the edge of my field one evening, just standing there, watching me. I could feel its eyes burning into me, even though I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t look away.

The night it came for me was the night I realized the price I was paying. The sky had darkened without warning, the clouds turning black as if they were collapsing into themselves. I heard the sound before I saw the shadow—an odd crackling, like fire racing across the sky. And then, in an instant, the stranger was there, standing at the foot of my bed, his eyes glowing a deep, hellish red.

“You’ve had your wish,” he whispered. “Now, the price is due.”

I tried to scream, but my throat closed up. I reached for the salt circles I’d placed around the room, but they crumbled to dust at my touch. He laughed—deep, low, and full of hunger.

“You didn’t think it would be free, did you?”

He stepped forward, and I could feel the darkness wrapping around me, choking the very air. I fell to my knees, my breath shallow. The shadows closed in, like a flood, and I realized what I’d done.

This wasn’t about prosperity. It wasn’t about land. It was never about life.

It was about me—my soul.

I had given it away without even realizing it.

The devil doesn’t forget. And neither should you.


---

The story isn’t over yet.
Stay close. Elias’s confession is far from finished—and what happens next will make you wish you’d never asked for a deal in the first place.

But perhaps... perhaps this is just the beginning. The shadows have only begun to move, and the devil? He doesn’t let go that easily.

Do you really want to know what happens next? Or would you rather turn away before the price gets too high?

Time will tell.