Lina stood in the quiet that followed the closing of the invisible door.
The house around her seemed to exhale, a slow, steady breath settling into its bones.
She felt the weight of the journal's words pressing gently against her heart—
not as a burden, but as a promise.
A promise to those who had come before her, and to those who might one day come after.
In the days that followed, Lina moved differently through Dorma.
She no longer feared the whispers beneath the floorboards.
Instead, she listened.
She learned the language of creaks and sighs,
the soft murmur of walls shifting in memory.
Annora was there, a silent guide in the shadows,
her presence steady, like a heartbeat beneath the dust.
One evening, Lina found Emma standing at the foot of the attic stairs,
her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and wonder.
"I think... I think the house wants us to remember," Emma said quietly.
"We can't run from it anymore."
Lina nodded.
"We don't have to," she said.
"We can protect it. Together."
The house waited, no longer silent but alive with possibility.
And Lina, the new keeper, stepped forward—
ready to carry its whispers, its secrets, and its stories into the future.
Outside, the wind stirred the leaves against the old windows,
and somewhere beneath the floorboards, a whisper began anew.
"Welcome home."