Ciri watched from a distance… Kaer Morhen's lush, vibrant vista never ceased to amaze her. Even as the sun peaked through the wall of mountainous earth, touching each dazzling leaf of the trees, glinting golden and green, Ciri's eyes could only follow the column of gray smoke rising upwards. It stretched across the piercing blue sky, like an ugly scar. Ciri swallowed back the burning sensation of her tears. No tears had ever brought back the dead.
Vesemir was dead because of her. Kaer Morhen's crumbling foundations stood burnt and lifeless, seemingly drawing its last breath because of her. The others could have easily fallen because of her. Vesemir, the esteemed, ancient witcher, and her mentor was now dead. A hard, cold fact that she couldn't teleport away from.
The steel wolf medallion in her hands were warm to the touch, heated by the burial pyre. She liked to think it was also because Vesemir's strength and soul was contained within it, never dying, never expiring. She let out a small, cynical laugh. The old man seemed immortal to her, now death had taken him in one cruel swoop. At least now he could finally rest in sweet slumber.
Her brief reverie was interrupted however by Geralt's oncoming presence. The man did had a way of drawing attention to him; one would be remiss not to, what with the dual blades of silver and steel, striking white tresses, and golden cat-like pupils. Ciri welcomed his aura, it made her feel like home, made her feel safe, but now she couldn't even be sure of that anymore. The Wild Hunt had robbed her of that freedom.
As she took a moment to gather her composure, she overheard them discuss and formulate their next moves, to contact the Lodge, and acquire more magic—all behind her back. Of course everything hinged upon her, but all she did was stand aside in a corner. Well that would be no more. Ciri held the medallion against the sunlight, the steel glimmering, and quickly looped the link chain around her neck. She walked indignantly towards the group, voicing out her disdain in getting the short end of deciding her fate. As usual Avallac'h promoted the idea of isolating her altogether, to train her powers and control it. She couldn't think clearly, only feel the coldness in her heart, and so she quickly distanced herself from them. Avallac'h was right of course, she needed to be able to harness her powers true potential. That was the only way any of this can truly be righted.
Avallac'h approached her calmly, sitting beside her on one of the many desk inside Kaer Morhen's halls. In the ground floor anything the witchers ever used or needed were but a chest or shelf away, be it a bestiary tome or a dimeritium bomb. Ciri was perched upon a study desk, polishing her steel sword till it shined and were sleek with enhancement oil. She did not lift her gaze from the sword's edge. Avallac'h withdrew a sigh, looking straight ahead at the flames dancing in the fireplace, his arms folding instinctively.
"Zireael, I do not wish for you to view me in a negative light. What I am doing has always been to ensure your safety from the Hunt, and to grant you my knowledge. I am not asking for much, but for your mere cooperation."
Ciri sheathed her sword behind her in her crimson scabbard, stretching her fingers against the supple leather of her gloves. She could not help the tiny seed of doubt planted in her thoughts pertaining to Avallac'h's motives. The Aen Saevherne had always only been beside her because of the Elder Blood flowing in her veins. Their history during her time in Tir ná Lia had never been easy-going to put it mildly; he had trapped her there until she could conceive a child with the Aen Elle king: Auberon Muircetach, believing it as an atonement to her otherworldly gift that rightly belonged to them.
Eredin was simple, Avallac'h on the other hand was a puzzle. Despite of everything, she still placed her life in his care over the past year and a half. He had saved her from the Wild Hunt many times and parted her with invaluable information that has proved to be advantageous. Not once had he ever tried to take control of her powers but has only guided her on how to use it, which did not benefit him in the slightest. He could not have been doing it for her sake only.
"Easy for you to say. You know you're not the one trying to control a thousand wild horses to gallop in pace, in the same direction. That's what it feels like, it's almost impossible." Ciri sighed.
"It is not impossible, not if you're the one to guide it. We have made progress over the year, but now we've no time to waste. Come, I'd like to go over with you a few practices that would aid you." Avallac'h stood up from the table and brushed off his cloak, looking intently at Ciri, as if she had a choice.
"You've gone soft on me Avallac'h." Ciri chuckled, standing up in front of the sage. "A month ago and you would've practically dragged me and coerced me to do some old, elven ritual."
Evidently the sage did not find her jest amusing, nor appropriate. "I have done no such thing. If I did maybe things would have fared better for your friend." Avallac'h gestured grimly at the medallion adorning her chest.
Ciri's smile dropped in an instant, her shame, guilt, and anger rising to venomous levels. "How dare you!"
She moved to slap him, but held her hands back in a fist instead, balling her fingers so tight she thought it would explode in pressure. For it was not his fault, but hers. Ciri clenched her teeth. Words meant nothing anymore.
"We need to get started, lest I demolish something really fast."
Avallac'h nodded, looking straight at her tourmaline eyes tinted with the flames dancing within. Her expression showed a steely determination that stirred a small drop of emotion in him. Her resemblance to Lara was unmistakable.
All Ciri accomplished was to get even more riled up from sun up to sun down. Avallac'h was a firm, if somewhat unreasonable teacher. Now more than ever he wanted her to focus on channeling her ability of space and time in combat. Faster movements, precise locations, and exact targets. She had greater control of opening up portals with ease, thanks to no small part in Avallac'h's training, but it was harder to apply it during the heat of battle. At one point she had to take a break at the amount of teleporting she had to do in small distances, over and over again, hitting illusive targets. It was not that it was physically tiring, but it mentally drained her as it required fine concentration of her powers. Avallac'h said she needed to master this, and it should be easy for her. He did not make it easy. Geralt on the other hand was able to lift her spirits up during a spontaneous snowball fight, making her laugh, and for a moment forget her worries.
"Just because I have these powers it does not mean things will come naturally to me. It isn't inherent." Ciri argued, swilling a water flask in one long gulp. She wiped her mouth and sighed at the refreshing sensation of hydration. It was already dusk, the sky a hazy wash of orange and violet. She tucked her knees under her chin, hugging her legs.
"But it is coming to you. You might not have noticed it, but you have improved, and the more you apply it the easier it becomes."
She felt lighter at his praise, something that rarely happened. At the very least she was grateful that something improved today. Ciri watched Avallac'h as he sat down and produced a journal from his small pack. He began to scribble something down. She was about to inquire him of this, before being cut off by Avallach's ruminations.
"The witches' Sabbath is but a few days from now." Avallac'h murmured, still deep in his writing. For a moment Ciri did not process what he said, but then it was as if a thunderbolt struck her. She leapt to her feet.
"Imlerith will be there!" She clasped her hands together, unable to contain her intensity for swift vengeance. Avallac'h turned around to face her, sensing this. "Zireael I know what you are thinking. Do not face him yet."
Ciri thought he was mad, mad to not see the perfect opportunity to corner and slay one of Eredin's generals.
"I'm not going alone. Geralt will be there with me."
"That's not the point. You are not ready, and we need all the time we can get to prepare you for when we confront the Red Riders."
Ciri shook her head. "Fine Avallac'h whatever you say. You seem to know more than me, so who am I to question you." Ciri began to walk off towards the kitchen—hunger and infuriation being a deadly mix of emotions.
"Good night Zireael."
She stopped for a second, and replied with an edge to her voice:
"Good night Avallac'h."
Avallac'h watched her as she disappeared indignantly towards the kitchen, a weary sigh escaping his lips. He had a feeling that the swallow will not remain obedient, as she never was.
A/N: The beginning part of the story runs along more or less the plot of TW3 after Vesemir's death continuing on to post-TW3, the focus being on Ciri and Avallac'h. It's not going to be in verbatim, don't worry, and I will take creative strides without going too out of character. To me it's hard to exactly nail down Avallac'h dialogues, but I tried my best. Also it's important to note that all the information I go by is primarily from TW3 and the witcher wikia. I have not read the novels (although I am planning to), and have not played the previous two games. So if for some reason I wrote/interpreted an information wrong, then my apologies in advance. Thanks for reading, and give me feedback if you deem it necessary.