Chapter 47: The Puppet and the Shadow
The morning sun spilled soft gold over Theron's modest manor, chasing away the last of the night's chill.
For the first time since they'd arrived in the port, the air felt calm—no running, no fighting, no immediate death hanging over them.
But peace was thin.
Inside Hannah's room, she sat on the edge of her bed, her cloak pulled aside.
Ren perched on her palm, small and glossy-scaled, his wings folded neatly, eyes bright with dragon-like arrogance.
He was no longer hiding; behind closed doors, he let himself be seen.
"Ugh, I hate sitting still," he huffed, flicking his tail.
"We should be hunting that shadow creep right now. Not napping like lazy humans."
Hannah smiled faintly, brushing a finger over his warm scales.
"We need a plan. And we need to make sure the children are safe first."
Ren softened immediately, his sharp tone melting away.
