he way winter sometimes was still, sharp, a

vigilance now. Not fear. Not exactly. But something alert. Watchful. Lik

d survived, though some pages were water damaged. Lady Ansel's letters had been spared, thanks to

years after Elias took full control, employee ledgers,

even one page," she said one e

uld even dare," Leo replied, pouring over maps b

ing things togethe

look

ow who I'm trying to save anymore. Myself? My brother's memory? My famil

her, silent fo

a straight line. It curls. Doubles back. It's messy. Sometim

d into his

t we're not just wanderin

d an arm a

ing somethin

arrived in Mira's name bu

h care, and to her surprise, t

an

of Henr

ort, but

me to thank you. She said she finally believed her silence hadn

her chest for a long whi

on a brass plaque Preserver of Hidden Accoun

her fix i

a said. "Not always. But

replied, "that's

k, many of whom thought their family lines had been erased or scattered. Some remembered songs their grandmother

llecting the

documents. No

imon

eat aunt, a kitchen maid who'd vanished in 1869. Inside was a note in a child

ot for the loss. But for the f

ng of the hall one morning one of

e said, "was o

ebrow. "Doesn't l

e people can walk through and hear the stories,

e corners, velvet hangings, voices projected

e whisper

ations to

ymbols drawn from Lady Ansel's notebooks. Mira and Leo arranged audio recordings of letters and

d it: The

ra stood before the crowd not as a

she said. "It was built to silence.

ough was an elderly woman with a scar across her ha

n said softly. "We thought sh

ly touche

s hom

o sat in the chapel, star

ifferent no

ter. Like the wal

speak for

sked, "Do you thin

oked a

the first time, we're

er head on h

e built on ash and silence, they listened

lory. Not

nto t