I am going to die.

The thought electrifies my body, violent and painful as I fall hard to the ground. My leg burns like acid and the thunder of hooves deafen me. I am surrounded. Broken. I try to teleport but I cannot focus on anything beyond the terrible pain of the curse which is spreading through my body.

They are surrounding me now, these red riders of the Hunt. Their black armour shimmers in the winter frost and I can sense him, even before I see him.

His voice rumbles deep like thunder. "It is over, little swallow. It is time to return to me." Eredin emerges and his riders part ways for him. He towers high above me and I look up into that deathly metal mask, trying to keep my terror my own.

I am going to die.

I think of Geralt and Yennifer. I think of the peace my demise might finally bring to those who have suffered for loving me. It is not such a bad way to go.

I am going to die.

I know it's true because I have chosen it. I have decided that I would rather take my own life than let my power fall back into Eredin's hands.

There's the sickening rattle of metal and chains as Eredin dismounts from his horse.

"At last," he gloats. His every step towards me leaves a hollow echo in its wake. The pain from the curse is almost unbearable now but I fight to stay conscious. My fingers grip the blade hidden underneath my body. Eredin reaches out to me and with a final surge of energy, I swing myself over and drive it through the metal of his boot.

He screams furiously and draws his sword, runs the blade straight through my thigh, but I do not cry out. I feel myself finally slipping away.

There is a sudden blast and Eredin is no longer looming over me. I cannot see him. I cannot see anything but an ever thickening whiteness. A force crushes down on my body.

I am going to die.

And then there is nothing.