The sound of the sea breaking against the distant rocks was the only disturbance in the stillness of the night on the island. The waves crashed with an incessant rhythm, a monotonous murmur that, in the darkness, seemed to whisper ancient secrets buried beneath the surface of the water. The cold breeze carried the scent of salt and moisture to the closed windows of the mansion, which stood imposingly, like a silent and timeless guardian. Its stone walls, weathered by the passage of years and the battering winds, concealed more than they revealed.
Inside, the lights remained on, casting long, restless shadows that danced through the hallways. Shadows that seemed to have a life of their own, as if they were trying to warn of what was to come. There, deep within that ancient and isolated structure, eight people, strangers to each other, were preparing to face a truth they were not yet willing to admit. A truth that had been buried in the darkest corners of their souls, protected by layers of self-deception and justifications.
They did not know each other, but they were bound by an invisible thread, one that would slowly but inexorably drag them toward the abyss. They had come to the island drawn by a tempting promise: an opportunity to escape the complications of their lives, a retreat offering rest, tranquility, and the possibility of a fresh start. That word-restart-resonated in their minds like a saving melody, a promise that perhaps, just perhaps, they could leave behind the weight of their past decisions.
Yet, none of them suspected that this journey would change their fates in ways they could never have imagined. They did not know that from the moment they accepted the invitation, they were no longer the masters of their own lives. Each of them had arrived carrying a silent guilt, a guilt they had learned to hide behind carefully crafted masks. Success, normalcy, indifference... all were mere façades concealing the demons that haunted them in the darkness of their thoughts. Every false smile, every rehearsed gesture, every measured word was a desperate attempt to convince themselves that everything was under control. But deep down, they knew. They knew that sooner or later, the past would catch up to them.
For on the island, there was no room for silent regret or private confessions. Here, judgment was not a choice but a sentence imposed by a force they did not fully understand. A dark observer, omnipresent, an invisible master of the game, knew each of their steps, each furtive glance, each unspoken word.
This being, whose presence was felt in every corner of the mansion, seemed to know more about them than they knew about themselves. It was as if their minds had been dissected, their memories exposed, and their darkest secrets stored, ready to be revealed one by one. The mansion's walls, which seemed to whisper stories of those who had been there before, were steeped in old memories and unresolved mysteries, stained by the shadows of those who, like them, had arrived with the hope of a redemption that never came.
The days ahead would push them to a limit that few could endure. It would not only be a test of physical endurance but also a challenge to their own moral principles, to their ability to confront the truths they had hidden for so long. The search for answers, for safety, and above all, for survival, would drive them to extreme situations.
As the secrets began to surface, they would realize that their sins were not just a burden they carried but a curse binding them to this place. On this island, guilt had a price, and not all of them would be willing-nor capable-of paying it.
