“You’re not just any witch,” he murmurs.
A dimly lit London townhouse, 1590. Rain slicks the cobblestones beyond the window.
“We made it,” she whispers, her hand instinctively going to her still-flat stomach. The baby—their impossible, creature-bridging child—is safe. For now.
They walk into a London fog, hand in hand—two creatures out of time, hunted by history itself. End episode.
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“You’re not just any witch,” he murmurs.
A dimly lit London townhouse, 1590. Rain slicks the cobblestones beyond the window.
“We made it,” she whispers, her hand instinctively going to her still-flat stomach. The baby—their impossible, creature-bridging child—is safe. For now.
They walk into a London fog, hand in hand—two creatures out of time, hunted by history itself. End episode.
