"No! Please stop – please! Aahh! Don't do this! This is wrong! Someone please help me! Anyone! Aaahhh!"
Triss looked on in horror as the flames rose higher and licked the young woman bound to the stake. The louder the girl screamed, the more the crowd cheered. Encouraging the crowd, a cleric of the Eternal Fire triumphantly began a sermon for all gathered.
"See: How the Eternal Fire cleanses this city of the corruption and foul influence of magic! Look: Her blood wipes clean her many sins! Listen: Her screams are the sounds of a blackened soul being purified!"
The crowd jeered as the flames reached the young mage's head. Various taunts could be heard in the midst of the mob. Burn the witch! Let her suffer! No magic can save you now!
The cleric continued: "Rejoice! For the Eternal Fire sweeps across this land like a maelstrom! All evil-doers be warned! None who dally with the arcane are safe, from the village witch to the most powerful sorceress! All will taste the Fire of Justice!"
Triss felt sick. Not only did the situation warrant her total disgust, but also the acrid smell of burning human flesh almost caused her to vomit. So, she tightened the cloak covering her head and walked out of the square.
She was angry and tired. Angry because she knew that she couldn't help the poor young mage that just perished at the stake; her screams echoed in her head and tore at her heart, but there was nothing she could have done. Tired, because she herself was a marked woman. She was on the run ever since the magic ban of Novigrad became law. Witch-hunters stalked every corner and informers littered the general population.
Wanted posters bearing Triss' face could be seen in almost every street and alley. She knew she had to be careful – lest she herself becomes a victim.
'Triss Merigold, witch and harlot' indeed! Gone are the days when people looked up to sorceresses and bowed to us in the street. People used to respect magic users, she thought morosely. In truth, it was not the first time she was ousted from a position of honor and respect. Almost a year prior, her lover at the time, Geralt of Rivia, was falsely accused of murdering King Foltest, ruler of Temeria. Since it was widely known that Triss was his inamorata, she was labeled the "Kingslayer's Whore" and promptly lost her position within the royal court.
As she thought of Geralt, a great sadness washed over her. About 6 months ago, he had decided to end their romantic relationship in order to begin his search for his long-lost paramour: the sorceress Yennefer. Although Triss never stopped loving Geralt, she respected his autonomy and let him go.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realize that she was being followed. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and she whirled around to see who it was. Immediately, she smelled stale mead and the putrid body odor of a man who hasn't bathed in weeks. His hair was slacked with grease, his face covered in grime, and his clothes were in tatters. She noticed his eyes hungrily roaming her figure.
"Oi there! Come 'ere little strumpet! I'll give ye 20 crowns for a quickie."
Triss brushed him off angrily. "Leave me alone, you boar!"
"Hey now! Watch yer mouth little missy! Tha's no way to talk to payin' customers."
"Walk away now, you disgusting man – or you'll regret it!"
He sneered and pulled out a rusty knife. "You don't know who yer messin' with! I'm one of Whoreson's men – and you don't wanna get on my bad side," he threatened.
Realizing that this situation was spiraling out of control, Triss quickly cast a spell on the man in front of her. Immediately, the man sheathed his dagger and scurried away.
"MAGIC! That bitch just cast a spell! Over there – she's a witch! I saw it!" screamed a woman from the other side of the street.
Shit! Thought I was discrete. Way to go Merigold...
Triss noticed several witch-hunters running in her direction. Her accuser was still screaming hysterically and pointing at her; however, Triss' instincts kicked in almost immediately – and she ran.
"She's getting away – after her men!" shouted the lead hunter.
Triss continued to run as fast has her legs would take her. She skirted into the nearest alley just as she heard a crossbow bolt crash into building's wall adjacent to her.
Damn! Too close.
Her heart was beating fast. She ran through the winding alleys trying to shake the witch-hunters. Although she knew the city's backstreets well, so did her adversaries. No matter how many turns and twists she made, Triss heard the heavy footfalls of her pursuers echoing close behind. In short, she was in trouble.
Then, she noticed an open window to her left. She vaulted herself up and climbed in. Mere moments later, Triss listened as the hunters made it into the alley that she had just vacated.
"The witch vanished! Bitch probably teleported," said one of the men. He then spit on the ground in frustration.
"No. We would've heard it," came an older, more experienced voice. "Had she opened a portal, the entire block would know it. No, our little fox gave us the slip. We best split up – cover more ground."
Triss decided it was best to lie low for a while. She took a moment to compose herself, then started to explore the house. The room she was in was dark, but she could make out a few of its austere features. Indeed, it was mostly empty. There was a dilapidated nightstand with several books piled on top next to a worn single-bed and a few dusty boxes in the corner.
Triss then got up and walked to the door. Underneath she noticed a dim light emanating into the bedroom. Unable to contain her curiosity, she slowly cracked the door open and walked into another room. A small room with a few chairs haphazardly gathered around a small figurine on a sort-of altar. There were two lit candles on either side. As far as she could tell, the room was abandoned. Quite the fire hazard, leaving lit candles unattended, she thought.
Triss walked up to get a closer look and immediately recognized the statue – it was of three women standing in a triangular arrangement. They were facing outwards; their backs to each other and their shoulders touching.
"The goddess Melitele," Triss murmured to herself.
"Correct."
Triss almost jumped out of her skin, but masterfully withheld the urge to scream. An acquired skill that proved invaluable when operating in the underworld. Instead, she quickly turned around to face the source of the voice.
What she saw immediately dispelled her fears. It was an elderly woman, wearing yellow robes. She was slightly hunched over, and used a small cane to support herself. Her wrinkled face held a small smile. And, despite years of hard living, the elder's eyes shined brightly.
"I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to barge into your home," Triss quickly explained.
The woman just chuckled. "You are always welcome here, dear. This house is where followers of Melitele gather in secret."
Triss nodded. "That makes sense. All other religions other than the Eternal Fire are banned. So-called 'infidels' are sentenced to death. But why tell me? Aren't you worried that I'll betray your secret?"
"Triss Merigold betray my secret? The famed Fourteenth of the Hill? Even if I didn't know of your great virtue, you yourself are a public enemy to this regime. I have nothing to fear from you, sorceress of Maribor."
"You know who I am?"
"Such is the price of fame, dear. So many little girls pray desperately to Our Mother that they'll grow up to be just like Triss Merigold: beautiful, strong, and wise. You inspire so many – one of the many reasons that Radovid wants to see you bound to a stake and burned for all the world to see."
Triss couldn't help blushing, but schooled her features. "Flattery, eh? Looking for a donation, priestess?"
"Ha! Sharp wit to boot! No child, I don't want your coin. Come, sit with me a while. I'm old and love to bore young people with conversation."
She agreed and took a seat next to the aged cleric. They sat in silence for a few moments, then the elderly woman spoke.
"What do you know of Melitele?"
"A few things. Melitele has three forms: Virgin, Mother, and Crone. Each are depicted in her statue, which shows three women back-to-back in a triangle. The first woman is a virgin, young and carefree. She represents beauty, love, and joy. The second woman is a mother heavy with child. She represents fertility and motherhood. The third is an old crone. She represents experience and wisdom."
"A well-educated answer. And what of her followers?"
"Well, her followers are mostly peasant women. Commoners, I mean. Although, her following is not composed only of women – men pray to her as well. Clerics of Melitele preach love and peace. They run many hospitals, shelters, and orphanages. There was even a hospital in Vizima dedicated to Melitele."
"I see your studies have paid off. We're not like those bigots from the cult of the Eternal Fire. We care for all people, even sorceresses."
"Hmm, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.'"
"I'm glad you think so! I certainly don't want to be your enemy, dearie."
Triss smiled. She normally didn't trust so easily, especially given her current situation; however, something about the old crone put her at ease. She was kind and put forth a warm aura. Perhaps that is why she chose to become a priestess – people naturally feel comfortable around her.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"Oh I was just thinking. How could things go so wrong so fast? Not even a year ago things were going so well. I was chief advisor to Foltest. Geralt and I..." Triss broke off. She started to tear up despite herself.
"Did something happen between you two?"
"Heh, yeah. We are still good friends, I guess. Haven't seen him in 6 months. I wanted more, but his heart belongs to another."
"Really? I thought you two were quite the couple."
"Were. Back in the good old days."
"What happened?"
"It's a long story."
"I have nothing but time, child."
Triss thought for a moment. I have to lie low for a while anyway. Not like there's any harm in talking with this woman – it'll help pass the time.
The sorceress took a deep breath. She then began to explain the convoluted and complicated personal life of the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Triss confessed that she was always drawn to Geralt, even though he was infatuated with another sorceress, Yennefer. She revealed that Yen and Geralt had captured a Djinn, an air genie, and he made a wish that he and Yen would be together forever. Their 20 year relationship was volatile and, in Triss' mind, quite toxic. It was filled with fights, power-plays, breakups, and eventual reunions. From the first moment Triss had met Geralt, she was taken with him. She desperately wanted him to love her back, but it was not to be. The soul crushing feeling of la douleur exquise constantly weighed on her heart. That is, she knew she could never have him, but still dreadfully wanted to be with him.
"Oh my dear child. There is nothing quite so painful as unrequited love. But I don't understand. How did you win him over?"
"An opportunity presented itself and I took advantage of the situation. I didn't mean to... but I couldn't help it! Almost 2 years ago, he was severely wounded, on the brink of death when we found him outside of Kaer Morhen. I tended to his wounds. When he awoke, he had amnesia. He forgot his entire past. As ever, my heart was on fire for him. I wanted to love him so badly; I desperately wanted him to love me back. What could I have done? Maybe it was wrong, but I made an advance. To my surprise, he returned his love! Enthusiastically, mind you. We would make sweet love deep into the night... I was so happy, and he seemed happy too. His brethren, the other witchers, didn't protest. In fact, I think Vesemir approved of our relationship. The old man was always so nice to me."
The priestess gave a slight frown and looked with pity on the young sorceress. "I can already see a tragic end to your tale. I'm assuming that he recovered his memory?"
Triss looked down at her feet and murmured in the affirmative. "He did. I was so foolish to think I could win his heart. As soon as he got his memory back, he left in search of Yen."
"Hmm, predictable. Especially considering the magic that binds them. But I must ask – how did he break it off with you?"
"Why does that matter?"
"It can give some insight into his state of mind. Men often mask their feelings, witchers even more so. Humor an old woman – I've counseled many a young maiden and have experience in this department."
"I still don't see how it changes things, but he let me down easy. I thought he'd be furious with me. Accuse me of manipulating him. But he didn't. He said that he appreciated my help in recovering his memory and that he had no regrets as to our time together. I offered to join him in his search for Yen, but he declined my offer and set off alone. That was half a year ago – I haven't seen nor heard from him since."
"I see. He is conflicted."
"I don't see how. He was gentle, but the message was quite clear."
"Perhaps, but I sense that he still has feelings for you. The fact that he eagerly romanced you while he had amnesia indicates his innate desire for you. But, with his memories returned, his loyalty to this Yennefer resurfaced. Plus, the Djinn's magic could be influencing his mind. Genies are tricky beings. They give you exactly what you wish for, but not what you want. Such magic can be undone, but it's extremely difficult. Ultimately, he will have to make a choice between the two of you. I suspect he will make that choice soon."
"Seems like a lot of speculation to me."
"True. The future is a hard thing to read. You should know, sorceress."
"I do, but I thank you for trying to lift my spirits."
"You are always helping others at your own expense. The suffering you've endured is tremendous. And yet you gladly endure it all for the ones you love."
Once again, Triss' cheeks turned crimson. "I don't know what to say."
The elder smiled to herself and murmured under her breath, "what a beautiful soul."
"What was that?"
"Hmm? Nothing dearie. I'm old and senile. Now, it grows late. I was wondering if you had anything you would like to say to Melitele before you go?"
"Oh, I'm not sure."
"Just ask her your heart's desire, child. Think of it as a last request of a dying woman."
Triss thought for a moment. A selfish part of her wanted to wish for Geralt to come running back to her. Admittedly, she was envious of Yennefer and of the magic that binds Yen and Geralt's fate. But, she searched her heart and realized that she didn't want that kind of relationship. She wanted Geralt to love her with no strings attached. Nothing forced; totally free. She loves him and wants him to be safe and happy. Preferably in her arms, but only if he freely chooses to pursue her. With these thoughts, she made her prayer.
"I want Geralt to find happiness. Not in a superficial way, but to be truly happy and safe. Fulfilled. Whether that means he comes back to me, or stays with... well. If he finds happiness in the arms of another, let it be so."
With a nod of approval, the priestess spoke softly. "I know now for certain that your love for him is true. You seek his good above your own desires. Though it oft leads to great suffering, such is the mark of True Love. As such, your prayer has been answered Triss."
"Thank you Mother, but how can you possibly know that?"
The old woman smiled, her bright eyes twinkling in the candle light. She winked at her and vanished. Then, a warm breeze swept the room and extinguished all of the candles.
Dumbfounded, Triss sat in the dark for several moments, and then made her way home.
Several Months Later
The sun peeked through the window and washed the bedroom in its light. Geralt reached his arms over and searched for his sorceress. After failing to locate her with his hands, he opened his eyes and noticed that her side of the bed was empty. Disappointed, he got up and left the room.
He used his witcher senses to pick up on her scent. The woman had a unique aroma that was extremely pleasurable for the witcher. It was both calming and arousing – a combination that suited him quite well.
Following the trail, Geralt retraced her steps throughout the house. She spent a long time in the kitchen, baking fresh bread and sweet rolls which were now sitting on the table. Although he was tempted to grab a bite, he wanted to find his lover first. So, he followed the scent and it took him into a rarely traveled wing of the house. He opened the door to the room at the far end of the hallway and what he saw surprised him.
There, sitting in a chair was Triss. In front of her was a small altar with two candles on either end. In the center was an opulent marble statuette of Melitele. Directly in front of it was a bright red rose in full bloom – the Rose of Remembrance that Geralt gave to Triss whilst in Flotsam.
"Oh! Hey Geralt. I didn't know you were up."
"What are you doing, Triss?"
"Just thinking. I hope you don't mind the way I've decorated this room. I know you're not religious, and I'm really not either, but I thought that it would be nice and Melitele is not like the Eternal Fire, so I didn't see a problem – "
"Woah, slow down. It's okay. I don't mind."
"You don't?"
"Course not. As long as you don't make me shave my head and sacrifice goats at three in the morning."
Triss giggled at his jest and Geralt smiled at her. He walked over to her and grabbed her by the waist. He kissed her forehead, looked down at her, and spoke softly to her. "Whatever makes you happy Triss."
"Mmm. I'm happy just to be with you. Are you happy Geralt?"
"More than you can imagine. The Hunt is defeated, Ciri is safe, and I'm living an idyllic life with the woman I love. We've built a great life here in Kovir, Triss. I couldn't be happier."
Triss beamed at him and gave him a soft peck on the lips. "I'm glad to hear it. Come, let's go back to bed. I have a few hours before I have to be at the royal court. And I plan to spend every second with you."
"Lead the way, my love."