It started with a whispered tale of a family who once lived there, their lives shrouded in mystery and tragedy. They say the patriarch made a deal with the devil himself, trading his soul for wealth and power. But when the time came to pay the price, he couldn't bear to part with his soul, cursing his family for generations to come.I laughed it off as I stepped through the rusty gates, but as I ventured deeper into the darkness of the mansion, I felt a chill grip my heart. Shadows danced in the corners of my vision, and the air grew thick with the scent of decay. That's when I heard it—the sound of soft footsteps echoing through the halls, followed by an eerie whisper that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.I tried to run, but the walls seemed to close in around me, trapping me in a nightmare of my own making. And then I saw them—the faces of the family, twisted and contorted with agony, their eyes burning with a malevolent light. They reached out to me, their fingers like icy tendrils wrapping around my throat, choking the life from my body.As I lay there gasping for breath, I realized the truth of the legend. The mansion wasn't just haunted—it was cursed, and now I was doomed to join the ranks of the tortured souls that roamed its halls for eternity. So if you ever find yourself on Prytania Street, beware the mansion at the end, for its secrets are darker than you could ever imagine, and its grasp is impossible to escape.