Chapter 33 The Warden's Path

Morgan POV The safehouse is a fragile refuge, its stone walls cold and damp but solid, a temporary shield against the world outside. The fire we’ve built in the hearth crackles low, casting flickering shadows—not Fynn’s, not anymore—across the room. She’s sitting cross-legged on a worn blanket, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes distant, glowing faintly with that new gold light she carries. It’s not the shadows, not the well, but something else—something I don’t fully understand, and it scares me more than I’ll admit. She’s still Fynn, still mine, but she’s also… more, and I don’t know what that means for us.