“No,” she replies, eyes glowing with forgotten magic. “I’m the last one they should have challenged.”

The episode opens not with a bang, but a slow dread: an unsigned letter slid under the door. A single witch’s knot drawn in blood. Someone knows they’ve timewalked.

But safety is a lie. Elizabethan London is a nest of spies, prejudice, and witch-hunts. Matthew, once a modern geneticist, now moves as Kit Marlowe’s shadow, hiding his face from the Congregation’s ancestors. Diana, stripped of her modern crutches (no Google, no驾照, no genetic lab), must learn to wield her magic the old way—through spells, herbs, and bleeding knuckles.

They walk into a London fog, hand in hand—two creatures out of time, hunted by history itself. End episode.

“You’re not just any witch,” he murmurs.

Diana Bishop gasps awake, not in her Oxford bed, but on a straw pallet. The scent of woodsmoke and tallow replaces her familiar lavender. Matthew de Clermont stands by the hearth, his vampire stillness sharper here in the past—more predator than professor.

A dimly lit London townhouse, 1590. Rain slicks the cobblestones beyond the window.