Warnings:

Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt

Grief – Carol Ann Duffy:

Grief, your gift, unwrapped,

my empty hands made heavy,

holding when they held you

like an ache; unlooked for,

The presence and feel of such a beautiful, warm and inviting day helped calm Geralt's mind as it burnt away the remainders of the cold dread clinging to him. The bustle of the city kept him from the thoughts plaguing his mind as he picked his way through crowds of merchants, travellers, students, mages, artists and citizens all going about their business under the bright midday sun.

The Witcher's nerves were also calmed by the scent he followed. He didn't want to interrupt Yennefer and Ciri's time together, but nor could he oust Philippa's accusations, as much as he may want to deny what she said, there was some verisimilitude in it. He needed to see them, to help quell the dread, because he couldn't shake the feeling. It followed him like a ghostly shadow, enveloping his subconscious in the night and digging into his conscious during the day. Dread had wrapped its icy fingers around his soul, always present but out of reach, refusing to be banished from the host it feeds upon. Absorbing his misery like a parasite, draining him of energy, like a Hym.

People were scurrying around the market like ants, mages darting from one stall to the next, street urchins running out to the vendors with more supplies to stock up, strapping men loading package after package onto wagons to be taken to the colony. Geralt didn't want to dive into the throng, so leaning against a nearby wall he searched the sea of heads for the queens.

It didn't take him long to spot them in the crowd, Yennefer's shining raven locks and Ciri's dazzling emerald green clothes instinctively drawing his eyes. He sighed. Their smiles glittered as radiantly as the precious metals and gems on the stall they were inspecting as the Sorceress placed something around the neck of her daughter, glowing with pride. He tried to bury his apprehension in their smiles.

But then the air around him turned cold as dread breathed down his neck freezing him to the spot and making his hairs stand on end. It would not let him draw his attention from the two women. Icy crystals pierced his heart as dread fastened its grip and the scream shot through him like the bolt which slammed into the woman dressed in black and white, knocking her to the ground. The earth seemed to shake around him. But all he could do was scream.

"Yen!"

Ciri crawled over to the figure lying on the floor beside her, watching in horror as the shaft buried in Yennefer's shoulder quivered as she writhed in pain on the cobblestones clutching her hand around the dart, trying to stop the flow of blood staining her white shirt.

"Ci…ri..g…go." The pain was eating away at her words, choking her with its grip, but her violet eyes were still full of menace, and anger, as she glared up at the figure on the rooftop cloaked in black, moving as though they were a lingering shadow as it prepared the next dart.

The rage within her began to growl for license, the monster clawed at her insides lured and empowered by the scent of bittersweet blood by the smell of tainted lilac and gooseberries and the narcotic of vengeance coursed through her veins sharpening her mind like fisstech as she threw conscience, dread and fear to the darkest remnants of her mind, becoming a slave to her primitive instincts.

Ciri heard Zireael hum as she swiped it free, the sound ringing in her ears, drowning out the panic around her as the colony scattered at the sight, there was mass hysteria. She stood in front of the woman lying on the ground and her eyes narrowed, her breathing slowed, her sword vibrated with anticipation. Another bolt shot through the air, and the sun glared off Ciri's sword as she deftly deflected the projectile which clattered to the ground, rolling away. There was another whoosh.

The bolt disintegrated as it passed through the barrier which surrounded her and a bolt of sizzling lightning shot over her head and struck the cloaked figure, reducing him to nothing more than a pile of ash, the smoke snaking its way up towards the clear sky and its stench of decay dulling the scent of fresh food.

Yennefer was almost as white as the linen cloth covering the stalls in the market, hissing with pain through grated teeth as she leaned against the side of the stall for support, leaving a glistening red handprint on its wooden surface.

"Yen!" Geralt came darting out of the blue grabbing the enchantress around the waist and taking her free arm in his to support her, gently guiding her over to the bench nearby, Ciri trailing after them like a lost puppy. The rage within her began to skulk back into the shadows, there was nothing now to fuel the fire and the cold began to seep through her bones filling her eyes with fear.

"Mother, please no…" Said Ciri as she sat beside Yennefer on the bench, watching as the enchantress threw back her head, closing her eyes to the intruding sun, and to the white-hot blistering pain which pierced through her eyelids. The Witcher tore away some of the cloth on a nearby stall and pressed it against the wound, careful to avoid touching the bolt. His face was stony, serious, focused, but Ciri saw her own fears reflected in those yellow eyes.

"Ciri," she felt Yennefer's hand weakly grasp her own, her violet eyes still shining with defiance, and stubbornness "I'm...fi...fine. Don't…look…so...wor…ried." She said, forcing a meek smile as she looked at her, squeezing her hand.

"Yen, I'm going to pull it out." Said Geralt quietly, holding her other hand and rubbing his thumb affectionately over the back. "Are you ready?" She nodded in response and closed her eyes.

One hand still holding the cloth to Yennefer's shoulder, Geralt reached for the shaft of the bolt listening to the sound of her presence, her heart and her breath, to drown out the sounds of the demon feeding on him. Suddenly an owl came swooping down on them, scratching the Witcher's outstretched hands before he could grasp the bolt, he grunted and recoiled swatting away the pest, his hand thumping into the bird with a soft thud knocking it into the cobblestones. There was a poof of smoke and Phillipa appeared lying on the floor beside the bench.

"Stop! You could kill her!" Screamed the Sorceress, wiping the blood from her lips as she picked herself up from the floor and approached, completely unperturbed by the Witcher's clenched fist and glowering stare, instead her eyes seem fixed on Yennefer.

"What are you talking about." He growled.

He'd expected some sarcastic and venomous riposte but Philippa just looked at him as she clicked her fingers and the deflected crossbow bolt shot into her hand. She muttered a quick spell at the shaft of the projectile lit up revealing the tiny little runes carved into it, as though the wood has been scorched.

"That bolt is magic, if it was meant for her, she'd already be dead," she heard Ciri gasp, "but you could still cause her a lot of harm by removing it. So, listen to me very carefully, we cannot delay. Ciri" she turned her face to the young woman whose gaze was still peeled to Yennefer, to the blood seeping through the cloth like wine spilled on the table cloth, "go to the hall where the mages dine, get Triss and Francesca or Ida." She nodded.

"Hold on mother." Ciri said softly, smiling at her sadly as she reluctantly let go of her hand, of the warmth and comfort keeping her sane, and disappearing in a flash of blue, the air around her pulsating with magic.

"Witcher support her." Said Philippa as she sat beside Yennefer in the vacated seat turning to her colleague who was scrutinizing her as though trying to discern her comportment. "I'm going to cast a spell, it will put you to sleep and slow the runes magic. Don't argue Yenna." She added knowingly, and Geralt could see that Yennefer seemed slightly taken aback for her words as her right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, her tell-tale sign of bewilderment, but he didn't understand why.

"Please Yen." Said Geralt, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head as she rested it against his shoulder, taking his hand. She nodded at the other Sorceress who gently placed a hand on her forehead and began to work.

"arafu'r boen, gweddill fy annwyl mewn breuddwydion melys… Rest, Yenna." She said softly as Yennefer's eyes slid shut and her face became serenely beautiful, her body and her mind calmed by the magic spilling from Philippa's fingertips as small trails of light fluttered over her body like fat pixies.

As the headmistress focused on her spell she seemed placid and dispassionate, but Geralt was sure that out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand, still fastened around the cross-bow bolt, shaking. But Philippa showed no signs of exhaustion as she sat, perched on the edge of the bench, gazing down at the sleeping Sorceress with a composed expression, her hand still lightly pressed against Yennefer's forehead.

The seconds seemed to stretch past like the final grains of sand slipping through an hourglass, one by one. Geralt could hear people cautiously approaching the market square but their advance was halted as the air began to crackle with magic like a storm, there was a flash of blue and two women emerged as though from thin air. Ciri and Francesca.

"She's sleeping." Said Geralt quickly as Ciri ran over towards them, the Daisy of the Valley gracefully gliding behind her without such urgency. She nodded but didn't look reassured, biting her bottom lip, hands unconsciously pulling at her skirt.

"Is this safe to remove?" Asked Philippa, handing the projectile over to Francesca. who twirled it in her dainty hands, rigorously inspecting the runes burned onto its surface and with great interest, as though studying an alluring artifact with all the time in the world. "Ciri return to the school at once, there could still be assassins out here."

"No." She answered as she began shuffling at on the spot casting nervous glances between Geralt, the blood and the elf, only shooting a fleeting glance at Triss and Keira as they emerged from a portal, hurrying over. "I'm not leaving her."

"Don't be foolish, go. Besides, Yenna would want you to be safe."

"And I want her to be safe, so no, you could still need me!" The Sorceress opened her mouth to protest again but Francesca cut her short.

"It can be safely removed." She said, turning to Philippa, her memorizing golden locks shimmering like molten stars. "But you were right to check. This is very old magic, and very dangerous. It's marked for the young Empress, I can feel the connection between them. We were fortunate that Yennefer has an apparent affliction for self-sacrifice, to her, the unintended target, it is simply a dart, but as for Cirilla, it would have killed her with a scratch."

Geralt felt some of the weight slowly begin to lift from his shoulders as the dread began to recoil and slink once more into the shadows clinging to him, the wound itself was not a terrible ordeal. He glanced down at the sleeping beauty curled up against his side, held in his protective embrace their hands locked together, their warmth one and the same, her lips were tugged into a silent smile, in her dreams she was alienated from the horrors of the world, for a time. But Ciri's shoulders drooped under the albatross still laid upon her as though trying to bury her in the ground with her grief.

"Let us begin." Said Philippa, her gaze turning momentarily from Yennefer to the two latest arrivals to the scene. "Keira stop the bleeding, Triss heal the wound, I will keep her asleep and numb the pain, Witcher prepare to remove the dart." He nodded as Ciri unwillingly moved away to allow the Sorceress to work, sickened by her own helplessness which was making her stomach churn.

"Ciri, she'll be fine." Said Geralt, looking at the young woman who was pacing up and down in front of the bench, the spitting image of Yennefer when she was worried, despite himself the Witcher smiled and this sincere act helped calm Ciri who stopped pacing and knelt on the ground beside him, waiting for the magic to begin. Geralt never lied to make things better, perhaps that's why he could always help reassure her. She squeezed Geralt's hand and he nodded.

Gently letting go of Yennefer's hand his fingers hovered around the shaft as though made of stone, his hands barely moving as he looked at Philippa who nodded. In one swift and precise movement, he pulled the dart from her shoulder without causing more damage, throwing it to the ground with a clatter and taking Yennefer's hand again as magic washed over her body, his medallion vibrating against his chest.

A few droplets of blood, which shone like rubies in the sun, trickled from the wound and down her exposed skin before Keira managed to subdue the life essence trying to escape its vessel while Triss efficiently began to heal the puncture wound, drawing the edges together like stitching together a hole with invisible needles. Yennefer didn't move a muscle, still wrapped up and sedated by her heavenly dreams, like a sleeping angel.

The crowd returning to the square were pointing and gawking at the scene, whispering behind their backs, their voices carried in the void surrounding them.

"It's the Witcher and the Sorceress from Master Dandelion's and Callonetta's ballads and poems…"

"The lovers of yore…"

"Look, the girl with the scar on her cheek, their child of destiny."

"See how she's pacing…frightfully worried."

"Oh, how the Witcher looks at her."

"Huh! No mutant is capable of love, but…yet…you're right..."

"I saw it! I saw the Lady Magician push her aside!"

"How can that be? A Sorceress' heart is made of ice…"

"Is this how Rivia looked?"

"What I wouldn't give to be in his shoes right now, holding a woman like that."

After just over a minute the wound on Yennefer's shoulder had been reduced to nothing but a tiny red pinprick, as though she had caught herself on the thorn of a rose. Triss and Keira withdrew slightly but Philippa's magic still drifted over the unconscious form as the trails of light suddenly burned more brightly causing the beads of sweat on Philippa's forehead to shine, before the light was absorbed by Yennefer's body and the Sorceress nonchalantly began to open her eyes, sighing softly like a child awakening from deep slumber.

"Yen, how do you feel." Asked Geralt quietly, as the fragments of sleep clouding her senses slowly began to drift away and her features altered, violet eyes flashing with concern as she sat up, the Witcher's arm still cradled around her protectively.

"Ciri," She said softly as the young woman quickly slid into the seat beside her, which Philippa had just vacated to speak in hushed whispers with the other members of the Lodge. "Are you alright?" She asked, tucking several wild strands of ashen hair behind her ear, her warm hand gently brushing her cheek.

"I'm fine." Replied Ciri trying to force a smile which soon faltered as she looked at Yennefer, before lowering her eyes to the floor. "Again my blood has caused yours to spill…Mother, I'm sorry, I-"

Her words were cut off as Yennefer pulled her into a tight embrace, and Ciri buried her face in the Enchantress' hair, she often sought comfort there.

"You have nothing to apologise for, I make my own decisions." She whispered, affectionately stroking Ciri's head. "I value my daughter's safety before my own, a decision I have the right to make, as a Mother, and that will never change Ciri because it is a decision I could never regret."

Yennefer pulled away and held the young woman by the shoulders forcing Ciri to meet her gaze, the warmth of her smile making her violet eyes sparkle like amethysts in a look as equally rare and precious. She made it impossible for her to argue back and Ciri beamed at her, Yennefer's words and her love were an afflatus, melting away the cold burden which filled Ciri with pain, carrying it out to the distant sea as it evaporated in the midday sun.

"Just promises me you won't do that ever again." Yennefer laughed.

"You know I don't make promises I can't keep."

As they talked, Geralt felt himself drawn towards the Lodge's hushed conversation as they proposed the answer to the question he had silently been pondering.

"Phil, how did you get here so quickly?" Asked Triss.

"I had eyes and ears in the city today, to-"

"You were spying on them?!" Interrupted Keira in a harsh whisper, Philippa glowering at her for her rude insolence, hands on her hips.

"Don't be so crude. I was simply keeping any eye out for Istredd, I didn't trust that he might not try to return despite our warnings. The last thing we needed was a fight breaking out in the city." Said the headmistress coldly.

"Are you sure that's all there is to it…" Said Francesca tauntingly, flashing Philippa a dazzling smile.

Geralt drew himself away from the conversation as Ciri and Yennefer turned their smiles to him, dispelling that last cold fragments of this horrible nightmare, laughing as Yennefer tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully. The incident had only lasted several minutes, though it had felt implausibly longer at the time as fear counts each passing second, now it seemed just like another bad memory in this unusually horrific week.

"Go back to your room and sleep Yennefer, there is no point trying to fight my spell," said Philippa as she stood in front of the bench, looming over, "it will take effect in the end. Sleep and in a few hours, you'll feel fine and more importantly, we'll be safe from any more interruptions. Francesca will open a portal for you and another."

"Ready?" Asked Geralt, taking Yennefer's arm to support her as she nodded, wearily getting to her feet.

"I think we might have to take a rain check on that meal." Said Yennefer, trying to stifle another yawn as they walked over towards the Daisy of the Valley.

"I'll bring you something." Said Ciri, walking alongside them in a considerably better mood.

"Hmmm, it's not quite the same as breakfast in bed, but that sounds wonderful, just don't give anything to Geralt, he gets crumbs everywhere."

As they waited for the portal Yennefer watched Philippa fly off with a very queer expression on her face which promoted Geralt to ask if something was wrong.

"No, Geralt its nothing, don't panic. It's just…I don't think Philippa has ever called me Yenna before, not like that."

As they disappeared through the portal Geralt was so absorbed in his concern he didn't notice that the dread clawing at his soul, filling his body with icy crystals and making his nerves stand on end, was gone. The shadow he saw in his reflection, the omen which had followed him since they arrived in the cave on their way to Gors Velen, the shadow which had been feeding of his misery and pain as he watched friends and loved ones suffer, had gone. The shadow was ready to make their appearance. To collect on their pact.

Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde – Chapter 11 : The Gathering

"What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

Notes:

Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. I know Yennefer has fainted, been attacked by Istredd AND been shot but I swear to God I do like her…honest. So, who's ready to finally meet the figure behind this series of unfortunate events?! I wonder who'll guess it right…

As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 ( ) for all the feedback and suggestions.

Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa