The sun was rising and the birds were chirping. Noises of children and angry men became louder and louder as Eloise opens her eyes to reality. It had been five days since she was captured and she was getting used to the life here. She didn't enjoy it but there was nothing she could do. She had thoughts of running away but it wasn't being put into consideration after seeing how they killed an older person who tried to escape.
It was gut wrenching and scary. She felt like she was going to die there…but she couldn't. She had to leave there.
She was woken up from her daze when she heard the voice of one of the men "all of you, line up outside now!"
They all got up, lined up outside their tents with their hands chained together. They only loosened the chain when it's time eat. An older woman of about forty walked around inspecting all of them. She looked mean, with her tiny spectacle on the tip of her nose. She stopped in front of Eloise. "I'll take this girl"
She looked at Eloise with disgust in her face and she turned her back to leave.
Suddenly, one of the men removed the chain from her hand and pulled her away. Eloise stood, observing what was going on.
"Little girl, do you know how to clean?" The older woman asked
Eloise tried to speak but the words couldn't leave her mouth because she was weak. The older woman slapped her "stupid girl" she spat.
There she was, in another cart at the back of a carriage. They travelled for days before the got to another village.
"I'm far away from home now, how will I ever find my family?" She thought to herself and she began to cry.
Not soon after, the carriage came to a halt. The cart was opened and she looked up to see a mansion. It was so large and there were guards stationed outside the mansion.
A guard grabs her by the arm and forcefully pulls her out of the cart. She falls on the floor due to tiredness.
"Move girl" the guard said. Eloise, weak and disoriented from the travel tries to walk fast but to no avail. She's pushed on the ground multiple times until she arrives at the gate of the mansion.
The walls were of pale stone, the kind that shimmered like bone in the sunlight. Tall statues rose against the clouds, their sharp tips gleaming. Stained-glass windows glittered in shades of crimson, emerald, and deep indigo. The air smelled faintly of roses… and something fouler that Eloise couldn't name.
Around her, servants hurried about, eyes downcast, their faces pale and drawn. Some carried baskets of linens, others scrubbed the stone pathways until their hands bled. No one spoke. No one dared look up.
A carriage rolled past, its wheels glinting gold in the sun. The horses pulling it were sleek and well-fed, their coats shining like polished onyx. Eloise caught a glimpse of a black serpent coiled around a blood-red rose.
She felt impossibly small.
The older woman from the camp, the one with thin spectacles and a mean looking face stood at the mansion's entrance. She spoke in low tones to a tall man dressed in black, his sharp features set in permanent disdain. Then a skinny old man in black and white….the head steward, Eloise guessed. He glanced at her once with mild interest before returning to their conversation.
Then came the command.
"Take her below."
A guard grabbed Eloise by the wrist, pulling her into the mansion. The grand entry hall stretched far and wide, its ceiling arched high above like a cathedral. Oil paintings hung on the walls faces of stern looking men and women who seemed to watch her as she passed. She felt she didn't belong here, she missed home dearly.
But she wasn't given long to look.
She was marched down a narrow side corridor, the air growing colder with each step. The light dimmed, and soon only a few flickering wall lamps lit the way. Eloise's feet slipped slightly on the worn stone stairs as they descended into the dark.
The slave quarters were nothing like the grand halls above. Here, the air was thick with mildew and sweat. Straw pallets were arranged against damp stone walls, with rusted buckets for washing and slop. The scent was suffocating, a mix of mold, old blood, and despair.
Other girls and women looked up at her arrival. Some barely glanced her way before returning to their work; scrubbing floors, mending torn linens. A few watched her with guarded curiosity, and one or two with pity. Most wore thin, tattered clothes no better than rags.
An older woman with a scar down the side of her face stepped forward. She didn't smile. Her voice was rough, worn by years of command.
"Listen well, girl," she said. "Speak only when spoken to. Work fast, keep your head down, and don't question orders. Break anything, make noise and you'll pay. And if you value your skin, never… ever… go near the east wing."
Eloise swallowed hard and nodded.
The woman gestured to a pile of dirty linens in the corner. "You'll start as a scullery maid. Dishes, floors, chamber pots. If you're lucky, you'll live through the week."
A thin, dark-haired girl about Eloise's age offered a tiny, sad smile. Her face was pale, eyes sunken, but something kind flickered behind them. She pointed to a straw pallet beside her own.
"You can take that one," she whispered when no one was listening. "I'm Mira."
Eloise mumbled her name in reply.
That night, after the chores were done and the dim lanterns extinguished, Eloise lay on the scratchy straw, her body sore and her stomach gnawing at itself. The quarters were silent except for the occasional muffled sob or the rustle of straw as someone turned in their sleep.
A soft touch startled her. Mira pressed a small crust of bread into Eloise's hand.
"Don't let them see you eat it," Mira whispered, eyes looking toward the door. "I saved it from the kitchen."
Eloise's face lit with gratitude. She devoured the stale bread as if it were a feast.
Mira leaned closer, her voice no louder than a breath. "Some of the nobles here… they're monsters. If you break a rule, you vanish. Into the east wing or the cellar. No one comes back."
Eloise's skin prickled. "What's in the east wing?"
Mira shuddered. "I don't know. No one dares go there. At night… sometimes, you'll hear crying through the walls. But it's not always one of us."
That sent a chill racing down Eloise's spine. She clutched the small necklace around her neck, the one her mother had given her before… before she was gone. The chain was thin, the pendant dull, but it glimmered faintly as she squeezed it.
"You're the key, little dove."
Her mother's voice echoed in her head, soft and ghostly. The memory hurt, but Eloise held on to it as fiercely as a drowning girl to driftwood.
In the following days, Eloise learned the rhythm of the mansion. Wake before dawn, scrub floors until her hands cracked, carry heavy buckets of slop and dirty water, wash bloodied linens, clean the noble's dishes without so much as a clatter. The older servants barked orders, the guards sneered, and the nobles treated them like furniture.
She kept her head down… but her eyes were always watching.
Once, while emptying a basin of filthy water into the courtyard gutter, she caught a glimpse of a tall, pale woman in flowing black garments. The woman's eyes gleamed red like twin coals in the shadows of the hallway. She vanished before anyone else noticed.
Eloise's heart hammered in her chest.
No one spoke the master's name. In hushed whispers, she'd heard them refer to him as "the lord of the house," and even that was said with fear.
At night, the faint howls of wolves echoed beyond the mansion walls. Eloise would lie awake, staring up at the cracked ceiling, the tiny window far above barely showing a sliver of moonlight.
She made herself a promise in those silent hours.
"I'll survive, Mama. No matter what it takes."
Her eyes, once dulled by fear, gleamed with a hard new light reflecting the silver moon like blade catching the night.
And so ended her first chapter in the mansion… but it was only the beginning.