Magnus
Meredith's hideout was an old cabin nestled deep within the forest, a relic of another era. The wood was weathered, and the roof sagged slightly, but it was a place of refuge and secrecy. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of herbs and candles, their flickering light casting long shadows on the walls.
I had taken to calling it home, at least for now. In the dim light, I looked down at my hands—gnarled, weathered, not my own. It was a strange feeling, being trapped in this older man's body. I was Magnus, but to the outside world, I was someone else entirely.
Meredith was hunched over her books and scrolls, muttering incantations under her breath. She was relentless in her quest to find a solution to my predicament. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, her eyes sharp and focused. The weight of our situation bore heavily on her shoulders, but she never let it show.
