((This takes place (Witcher-wise) at the same time as The Witcher 2. Mainly, I borrow two characters and a country. Other than that, I'll stay clear of the second game's storyline, having in mind one of my own. I may have to bend both canons, but they should blend fine enough.

Other than that, Raven fanfiction. I don't really know how dark this is going to be, quite I guess, at least for a while. Being a full-time employee, I don't have quite the time to write I would like to, so updates will always have a while between them.

This starts out a couple of years after Ravensouland goes on from there.

This chapter, by the way, is perfectly safe for work. There's more sinister stuff going to come – well, obviously – and I actually may yet raise the rating to the highest. Not sure.))

Chapter 1

Adrift

White. Pure, shining white, no colour, no darker shades, no stain. No day or night.

A conscious realisation, a shock almost to a non-entity. The first since the beginning of eternity. A search for a self, but with no findings, and it didn't matter. If ever there had been such a thing, it was gone. No room for that in all this white.

There seemed to be something disturbing it, though. Nothing that could be grasped. Nothing that could be named, pointed out, let alone reached. But there none the less. And it called. Not with words, but oh, how it called.

Ϡ

'This isn't right.' They had been on the lookout for a sign of an invasion for … what? Hours? Days? Who could tell here, with no day-night-cycle or any other way to tell how much time had passed. 'We should be resting.'

The Unknown ran his hand over his head and looked at Ilkar. 'What can it mean?' He smiled. 'And I know that you cannot give me anything definite. But a wild guess from you is worth more than hard facts from anyone else.'

Ilkar shrugged. 'Well we – that is Erienne and me – are certain that it does mean something.' He took a deep breath. 'Do you want the short or the long version?'

Hirad grinned. 'The short one. I just might understand it.'

Ilkar looked squarely at the barbarian. 'We're all going to die.' Hirad frowned at him, but the elf merely shrugged. 'Let's face it, we none of us wanted a second life.'

'Right. Careful what you wish for, is it?' His attempt at a light tone failed magnificently. 'So, no way out?'

Ilkar blew out his cheeks. 'That would be the long answer.'

'Out with it.'

Ilkar nodded. 'Very well, Hirad. We think – and this is nothing more than an educated guess – we think that our presence here is harmful for the structure of Ulandeneth. This place isn't supposed to be inhabited. It is a passage from one world to the next. A passage for spirits, mind you, not meant for anything corporeal. But we aren't spirits. We have our bodies, and they aren't just imagined. They're real.'

'So what happens when someone lives here?' The Unknown's voice was calm as always, but his eyes were wide. It struck Ilkar that for all his complaints when he had been cheated of his death he didn't want to die. If he searched himself in all honesty, he felt the same way. They probably all did.

'Ulandeneth seems to be in the centre of a cluster of worlds. Erienne's guess is that it remains centred because of the coming and going of the deceased of all the worlds around it. When something enters, Ulandeneth shifts a little closer to wherever the being originated from. When the spirit leaves, it shifts to that place. While the spirit stays, and that is usually less than a heartbeat, Ulandeneth is stretched from one world to the other.'

Hirad frowned. 'And now it's stretched between Balaia and … where the rest of us went? Those who escaped?'

Ilkar raised his eyebrows. 'Well, that's the theory.'

'How's that a problem?'

Erienne took over. 'It isn't supposed to be this way. Ulandeneth must be reached within the blink of an eye from all the dimensions linked to it. From here it's wild guessing, but I believe this world is either dissolving into nothing, or, and that seems to be the case, becoming more like the two worlds it's linked to. A place like Ulandeneth should be … I don't know, developed elsewhere. A passage with no inhabitants. That's great, but the other thing isn't. Nothing's going to start growing here. It can't. But what's changing is the rules. The power this place lends anyone with a strong enough will is decreasing. We've tested this regularly, and there is a slow but steady decline. And we noticed that sometimes we feel tired or hungry. And when that starts to happen, not just an occasional sensation, we'll starve. Pure and simple.'

Hirad swallowed. 'Anything we can do? Apart from suicide.'

Ilkar glared at him. 'Don't you dare. We'll work something out. I haven't the faintest clue what we can do, but there must be something.' His eyes were still fixed on Hirad. 'I'll need your belief and your strength, Coldheart. Don't you deprive me of that.'

Hirad raised his hands. 'Slow down! It's not like I'm about to fall on my blade in the next few minutes.'

Darrick frowned. 'Before I starve to death, I'll do that. People have been driven to do gruesome things when they starve. I'll not be one of them.'

'Stop it, both of you!' Sirendor had listened quietly, but seeing The Unknown nod at such desperation was too much. 'I refuse even considering failure. Since when do we do that? There is a way out. There always is.' He looked to Ilkar for help.

The Julatsan smiled. 'Thanks, Sirendor. Although the only measure we could think of so far may sound a bit desperate in itself.' He grinned at Hirad. 'And guess who's the man to do it.'

Ϡ

Denser kicked the chair in front of him. It didn't help. 'Feeling any better?'

'No.' He glared at the other man. 'I stayed here because I believed, I really believed we could survive here. Especially since for whatever reason the Garonin are gone. And now everything's dying because of this bloody heat. Well, you've got your wish. There's hardly a trace of mana left, and no magic. Do you like it? I know I don't, especially the bloody sandstorm that destroyed what little crops we had!'

The calm of the other man unnerved him. 'I understand your anger. I have no wish to die either. But I think we have to face the fact that we have failed. We cannot save this world or rebuild. We have to leave.'

'And how? Last time we opened a portal we still had plenty of mana. Now that's impossible. Tessaya, we're stuck here.' The wesman had aged a decade in the past two years. The Garonin had sapped so much mana from Balaia that the temperature had risen to the point of being unbearable. This world was dying. There wasn't enough food even for the few survivors. All this time Denser had marvelled at how well he was coping, because himself, he wanted to scream.

'There might be a way. My shamans can open portals, as well. We will need a human sacrifice, but since there will be many unwilling to leave that shouldn't be a problem.'

Denser shook his head. 'No way.' He looked squarely at Tessaya. 'No one's dying so I can run away. If this is the last thing I can do for our people, so be it.'

Ϡ

Hirad gaped at Ilkar. 'Have you met me?' The elf shrugged and offered an apologetic look. 'There's a reason why I went away. I don't hold with the beliefs and the entire ideology. Have you any idea what it's all like?'

Ilkar frowned. 'I know a few gentiles. I've seen them at their rituals, and they work. Not as loud and harmful as our magic, but it works, Hirad. And I haven't the faintest idea what your problem is with the ideology.'

Hirad shook his head. 'You've got no idea. There's a death sentence for almost everything, and it isn't a clean death you get either.'

'That has nothing to do with the gentiles, though. It's a stupid system and a few sadistic rulers.'

Hirad shrugged. 'Yeah, but they let it happen.'

'They are essentially peaceful. But this isn't a political debate. I need to know what you know.'

Hirad shrugged. 'Not very much.'

Ilkar sighed. 'Well, from the gentiles I have seen at work I know that they have a certain pattern to their rituals. I also know that pattern. But I don't know if there are … any rules, if you can do any harm if you don't follow them, if the rituals can backfire.'

He fell silent at the amused expression on Hirad's face. 'No, to all of them. Worst thing that can happen is nothing at all. I don't even think there are any evil rituals, although there are certain rumours that's possible. Pretty restricting, really.'

Ilkar leaned in closer and spoke in a conspiratorial voice. 'Would it be possible, theoretically, to open a gateway to wherever we sent the rest of Balaia?'

Hirad blew out his cheeks. 'That would be one hell of a ritual. I don't know. I mean … the shaman sent us to the demons' dimension, and the two kinds of magic are related, I'd guess. So, probably, yes. How … buggered if I know.'

Ilkar beamed at him. 'Thank you, Hirad, that was all I needed. Would you help Erienne and me work out a ritual? Or two?'

Hirad scratched his head. 'I will try, but don't expect too much from me there. You seem to know the score better than I do. What's the other ritual?'

Ilkar smiled vaguely. 'A last attempt to ask the rest of us what they want. Those that aren't here. Try and reach them, if they are still out there. I am very certain we could include them.'

'Thraun's idea.'

Ilkar nodded although it wasn't a question. 'I wonder if he will ever get over losing Will.'

Hirad shook his head. 'Did you ever hear Will talking about Thraun when he couldn't change back?' Ilkar shook his head by a fraction. 'He said he wasn't afraid that Thraun might kill him because if he lost Thraun, he might as well die anyway. And it wasn't the only occasion. There was some real affection between the two, and I would guess more than that. How do you get over something like that?'

Ilkar stared blankly at his friend. 'Hirad, who would have thought you could look so deep? And without mocking them, too.'

Hirad looked indignant. 'I don't mock a dead man. Or a mourning one.'

Ilkar clapped him on the shoulder. 'Good on you, Coldheart. You're still able to surprise me. Well, let's find Erienne, then. I want to get started on this. Gods falling, who knows how long it's going to take us to work something out?'

Ϡ

Denser felt sick. The face of The Unknown appeared before his mind's eye as he held the goblet whose contents would kill him. Tessaya looked grave. To call him a friend would be a huge exaggeration, but they respected each other. 'Perhaps we meet again, one day, Tessaya.' His voice was, to his relief steady. 'I hope for you all this works. Good bye.' He drained it in one go. Outside, a huge amount of people were waiting to go through the portal. They knew he was giving his life, but he had asked they do not see him die. He knew how guilty he had felt when

The Unknown had sacrificed himself. He didn't want anyone to feel that way because of him.

His head was beginning to swim. Tessaya's face was blurry, and his voice came through a haze. 'Good bye, Lord of the Mount.'

Ϡ

Something happened. Something was drifting, something was entering the space already occupied, something was … there. And it attached itself, painfully, like a drowning man pulling the swimmer under the surface, threatening both. Familiar. Known. But even so, it had to be cast aside, got rid of lest both drowned. And then it

Ϡ

fell to the floor, hard. Dazed, he looked around for his saviour. 'Hello? Can anyone hear me?' First, there was no answer. Then he heard hurried footsteps, and they all came and stared at him. Ilkar with a frown. Thraun with a completely unfathomable expression. Darrick with a smirk. Sirendor with an open, warm smile. Hirad with that horrible grin of his. The Unknown warrior with something between a glare and amusement. And Erienne with dread. He struggled to get to his … feet? He looked down, and he couldn't help feeling like the body parts appeared the instant he saw them. 'I'm dead.'

Ilkar was the first to gather himself. 'You helped them escape. You died to open a gateway. Balaia is lost.' Infallibly logical, as always. He merely nodded. Hirad came to his side and helped him to his feet. He leaned on him and steered him towards Erienne. She quailed and shook her head.

'You're just passing through. You'll vanish.'

Ilkar looked at her. 'I don't think so. He wouldn't be corporeal, but he is. He's here to stay.' Denser managed a smile, but it was a troubled one. 'Not that that's going to do you any good. We're trapped here and need to leave. But perhaps you know a way. You got here after all.'

((The idea of the rising temperature isn't me going ecological here but the conclusion I draw from Demonstorm. The demons are flooding Balaia with way too much mana and it gets cold. Vice versa, the Garonin draining the mana away, must make the temperatures rise, no?))