Hillcrest Estate breathed.
That was the first thing Elise noticed when she truly began to listen.
The mansion was never silent—not in the way empty buildings were. Instead, it exhaled softly through settling beams, whispered through curtains that stirred without wind, and murmured beneath the floorboards like a sleeper lost in dreams. The sound followed her as she walked the eastern corridor, her steps careful, her back straight, her heart still thudding with the unease of arrival.
Ahead of her, Anna walked with effortless grace.
She did not hurry, nor did she slow to accommodate Elise's cautious pace. Somehow, Elise always managed to match her stride, as though the house itself guided her feet.
"This wing is rarely used now," Anna said, her voice low but clear. "Still, it must be cleaned weekly. Dust remembers neglect."
Elise nodded, though she wasn't sure what that meant.
Sunlight filtered through tall stained-glass windows, painting the floor in muted colors—deep blues, faded golds, the red of old roses. The portraits along the walls watched them pass: generations of Valenmores, stern-faced men and women dressed in fashions Elise recognized only from history books.
Her breath caught.
In the corner of one painting, barely noticeable unless you were looking for her, stood a maid.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. The same uniform.
"Anna," Elise said slowly, stopping in her tracks. "That painting… how old is it?"
Anna turned.
For a moment, Elise thought she saw something flicker behind her eyes—recognition, perhaps. Or memory.
"Two hundred and twelve years," Anna replied.
Elise swallowed. "You're in it."
"Yes."
Just like that.
No denial. No surprise. Only quiet acknowledgment.
Elise laughed weakly. "That's not funny."
Anna tilted her head. "I wasn't joking."
The house creaked.
Somewhere far away, a door closed by itself.
Elise's laughter died in her throat. "Then… how?"
Anna approached the painting and looked up at her painted self with neither pride nor discomfort.
"I was younger then," she said.
Elise stared. The painted Anna looked exactly the same.
Before Elise could ask another question, Anna turned away. "Come. There is more to show you."
---
They descended a narrow staircase Elise hadn't noticed before, its steps worn concave by centuries of feet. The air grew cooler, heavier, scented faintly with old paper and something metallic Elise couldn't place.
They stopped before a heavy wooden door bound in iron.
"The archives," Anna said. "Only senior staff are permitted here."
Elise frowned. "Then why bring me?"
Anna placed her hand on the door. The iron latch clicked open by itself.
"Because you are new," she said gently. "And the house is curious about you."
Inside, shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with journals, contracts, letters, and ledgers—every life that had ever passed through Hillcrest reduced to ink and paper. Candles lit themselves as they entered.
Elise shivered.
Anna walked to a particular shelf and withdrew a book bound in cracked leather.
"This," she said, handing it to Elise, "is the first servant registry."
Elise opened it carefully.
Names filled the pages. Dates. Positions.
And there it was.
Anna — Head Maid.
No date of hire.
No date of departure.
Just page after page of annotations in different handwriting styles, across different centuries.
Still present.
Unchanged.
Reliable as ever.
Elise's hands trembled. "Why hasn't anyone done anything about this?"
Anna smiled faintly. "They have."
Elise looked up.
"Priests," Anna continued. "Scholars. One Valenmore heir even tried to burn the house down. None succeeded."
"That's—" Elise faltered. "That's impossible."
"Yes," Anna agreed. "Yet here we are."
The candles flickered.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Elise thought she heard voices—overlapping whispers layered with centuries of sound. Laughter. Crying. Orders barked. Prayers muttered.
Then silence.
Anna closed the book.
"You are not the first to learn," she said softly. "But you are the first in many years the house allowed me to show."
Elise felt something settle in her chest—not fear alone, but purpose. "Why me?"
Anna met her gaze fully now.
"Because every era requires a witness," she said. "And because one day, I may need someone to remember me."
The weight of that sentence pressed down on Elise's soul.
Far above them, Hillcrest Estate sighed—ancient, patient, waiting.
And Elise understood, with chilling clarity, that accepting this position had not been coincidence.
It had been invitation.