I'm not dead. Well, only a little.


"Who is he?" Kozin asked when he heard her approach.

Theila stopped at the pool's edge beside him. Kozin's eyes flickered over to her and noticed that she was staring into the water, but not at the body. "No one important," she dismissed coldly.

Kozin paused. He called for the others. Cayessa let out a sharp gasp upon seeing the body. Tucking her protectively behind him, Kozin told Andryk and Oslan that they would need to fish out the corpse and send it off.

"Why?" Theila demanded immediately. Kozin looked at her. Rage cut deep lines through her face. "That's the least of what he deserves!"

"This isn't about what he does or doesn't deserve," the witcher replied. "This is about how we treat the deceased, be it family or enemy. To scorn the fallen by hauling them around like trophies or leaving them to rot would be to scorn the late grandmaster, who would have never allowed such disrespect under his watch."

Theila didn't respond. Then, she looked at him only briefly to say, "Do what you want," before leaving.

As the sounds of her steps receded, Andryk said, "Isn't that what we do te monsters?"

"That doesn't count, you div," Oslan mumbled back.

"Kozin." He felt Cayessa tug gently at his arm. "I saw it in her mind. He…" Kozin saw her eyes dash to the pool and back. "He's the one who killed the grandmaster."

"Then it's fittin' that Theila delivered him his comeuppance," Andryk said. "Though I'm a wee bit flapped I didn't get te stick the fucker through meself." He looked at the water. "Still… that's the one that did it. I heard ye, Ko, but it still don't feel right—sendin' him off like we will with the masters."

"It's what he would have done," Kozin replied. "And besides, I doubt we'll find him waiting in the same halls as our masters." He came up to the pool's edge and lowered himself into the water. Wading his way to the dark form, Kozin said, "Help me haul him up, won't you?"


She was nowhere to be seen as the pyre burned. Ko turned away as the flames continued to flare brightly and returned to the hollow keep.

He found her in the atrium—the open-ceilinged chamber at the back of the keep. Sea gods were carved as reliefs into the pillars that lined either side of the room, and an altar to Freya was at the very end. Theila stood before the altar with her back to him. She wore a heavy, dark blue cloak that just almost brushed against the ground.

At first Kozin wondered where it had come from, but remembered the times Undevar had lightheartedly joked how half his space was constantly being taken up by Theila's things. As spacious as the keep was, the grandmaster could have easily found a spare room to move it all into, but he never did.

"Hindarsfjall," Theila said aloud, breaking through Kozin's thoughts. "That's where we're going. Bring Cayessa." When she turned, Kozin saw that the blanket and the mound underneath had been placed on the altar. His eyes returned to the sorceress, and she looked different to him—no longer ageless.

"Theila," he began.

"Let's not waste any more time," she cut in.

"A long time ago, when I was going through hard times, you offered to talk."

Theila lowered her eyes, reaching up to adjust the brooch at the base of her neck. "We can talk later, Kozin. After we get him back." She stepped forward and closed the distance between them. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, and she offered him a warm smile. Kozin, for that brief moment, felt safe. "I know I haven't been acting like myself, but I'm still here. I'm still here in case you need me, okay?" Kozin felt her hands pull him, and ducked his head down. Theila lifted her face up to kiss his forehead. "I know you miss him too. These past few days, I haven't been the stronger one out of the two of us. I needed you to be, and you pulled through for me. Can you do that for me one more time when we go to Hindarsfjall, Kozin?"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

It was quiet in Freya's chamber. Sunlight poured in through the open sky, falling over the altar and the goddess's statue that stood protectively over it. Theila pulled herself away. "Get Cayessa," she reminded him. "We need her help transporting the masters."

Kozin hesitated. "You don't need to worry about her," Theila said. "She's seen plenty of bodies—many in far worse shapes than you can imagine."

"I know that," Kozin answered. "But there'll be a lot of Skelligers around. They won't be happy with what we're going to do."

"I won't let anything happen to her, and I know you won't either." The sorceress smiled. "It's sweet how protective you are of her. It reminds me of…" She stopped herself. Then, pulling the cloak tighter around herself, Theila stepped around Kozin and left the atrium.

Kozin took one last glance at the mound on the altar, and then followed after her.

When they found Cayessa and explained their objective to her, Andryk and Oslan overheard. Naturally, they wanted to come along too. Theila shot their arguments down, telling the two that they were to return to Verden to ready the others. "The less people we bring along, the better," Theila explained. "We don't want to get noticed."

She opened portals that sent them back to the Continent. Then, she opened another that brought her, Cayessa, and Kozin to a discreet location on the shore of Hindarsfjall. Kozin led them to a small village. It wasn't where the masters were, but even the folk here knew of the dead witchers. Theila told the others to wait outside the inn.

She turned to Cayessa. "Keep him hidden," she told the younger sorceress. "Anyone who looks at him will be able to tell he's a witcher." As she headed into the inn, Cayessa turned to Kozin with worry in her eyes.

"I'll be fine."

"Fine? Don't be stupid," Cayessa insisted, grabbing his hand and retreating into the shadow of the building. "Everyone here hates witchers now." Her eyes slid to his shoulder. "You need to hide your swords."

"What?"

"They're the most telling sign!" She held out her hands, as though expecting Kozin to unstrap them and plop them into her waiting palms.

"I need them!" Kozin hissed back. "What if Theila runs into trouble in there?"

"We'll all be in trouble if people find out who you are!" She shot him a glare that was final. With an aggravated grunt, Kozin unbuckled his sword straps and pulled the weapons from his back. Cayessa took them and, after looking around, hauled them to nearby wagon. The horse tied at the front swung its head around to give her a curious glance.

"Cay!"

"We'll get them back!" Cayessa assured. She scanned Kozin again. "Your medallion." He put a hand over it and stubbornly shook his head. "I'll hold onto this one," she told him, holding out her hand again.

Kozin gritted his teeth, and then finally pulled it over his head. "Don't lose it."

"Couldn't get rid of it if I tried," Cayessa said, and Kozin had a feeling she was no longer referring to the medallion. Annoyed he crossed his arms and glanced towards the entrance of the inn, feeling empty and vulnerable.

"You still look like a witcher," he heard Cayessa mumble.

"Cay, I'll be fine."

"What if I transform you into a little bird? Just for a while?"

Kozin dropped his arms and advanced towards the sorceress. He saw her lips press together and backed away. "What if I fly away?" he challenged.

"You wouldn't," she replied defiantly.

"How are you so—?" He heard footsteps, but his eyes were still on Cayessa. He saw fear cross her face, and suddenly everything became different. The world as he knew it was gone, but he was too busy fluttering his useless wings and falling through the air to take much notice of it all. He felt something solid catch him. Kozin tried to orient himself up into a sitting position, but found that the entire structure of his body had changed. Everything had changed. For one thing, Kozin could see so much more, not realizing that it was because his eyes were now on either sides of his skull.

He saw the sky, the trees, and the grass all at once. They had all grown to tremendous proportions, and it was terrifying.

Kozin tried to stand, shout, do something. Whatever limbs he was flailing were not doing what they should have done. He lost balance and fell over, onto whatever soft, warm thing was underneath him.

A shadow darkened him. Something pressed up on top of him. The pressure wasn't enough to hurt him, but kept him pinned in place. Wind brushed him as he was turned. Then, Kozin found himself looking into a familiar face—only it had grown into an entire wall in front of him.

"Kozin," Cayessa whispered. Even her small little breaths puffed strongly against his face. "You need to calm down. It's just a little spell. I'll reverse it in a minute."

Spell? Kozin wanted to yell. You really did turn me into a—!

"Oiye, miss!" a voice boomed out. Fingers wrapped around Kozin's tiny body, and he was quickly whisked behind Cayessa's back. "What'eya doin' out here on yer lonesome?"

"Never you mind," Kozin heard Cayessa reply.

"Jus' makin' sure is all," the man said. "Thought ye looked a little lost, standin' on yer own in the shadow of this here inn."

"I'm fine. I'm… I'm waiting for my husband to… finish a delivery."

"Eh… If ye say so."

Footsteps receded from where they were. Kozin heard Cayessa let out a slow breath. He reached down and gave the side of her hand a little nip, which elicited a shrill, "Ow!" from the sorceress. She quickly brought him back out, still holding him in her hand like a doll. "There's no need for that!"

Kozin didn't respond, not that he could. He glared at her as best he could with his beady, wide-set eyes.

"Not yet," Cayessa insisted. "Not until Theila gets back and we can get moving. Just in case, Kozin. I don't want anyone seeing your eyes."

He nibbled at her hand again, softer this time but with enough force to convey his annoyance. Cayessa moved him onto her shoulder. "Oh it's not so bad," she said dismissively. "Just be a good little bird and sit still. And don't you even think about flying away."

Flying away was the last thing Kozin had in mind, especially with the view he had been graced with. Perched on Cayessa's shoulder, he was at a favorable angle to peer right down the sorceress's loose collar. He meant to grunt with satisfaction, but it came out as a cutesy cheep. But he wasn't interested in just looking. Using his small talons to delicately grip the blouse, Kozin clambered down from her shoulder.

"What—?"

His little feathered body disappeared as he burrowed underneath her collar. Kozin expected Cayessa to try and dig him out. Instead, he felt her shift and say, "If that's what'll make you settle down, then fine."

Content, Kozin nestled into his very warm and very soft resting place. No, there certainly was no need to fly away.

They waited for a few more minutes. Then, Kozin heard the door to the inn open and Theila step out. The sounds of her steps were soft against the grass. She stopped next to them and paused. "Cayessa," she said, her voice touched with panic. "Where's Kozin gone?"

At the mention of the witcher's name, a small head popped up from Cayessa's blouse. Kozin saw Theila's eyes snap immediately to him. Her eyebrows rose with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Turn him back," she told Cayessa. "We're heading out."

"But he's so much easier to manage this way."

"Cayessa."

Kozin wasn't quite ready to be turned back either. Sadly, he felt Cayessa gently grab him and lift him out. She set him on the ground. The blades of grass were taller than he was. He heard Cayessa say something, and sudden disorientation seized him as he returned to his normal size. Kozin managed to catch his footing just before he could eat the ground.

"Are you okay?" Theila asked.

"Fine," he answered faintly.

"Where are your swords?"

Kozin nodded towards the wagon. Theila looked to it. "Perfect," she said. She went over and began untying the horse.

"That's someone else's!" Cayessa protested.

"We need it," Theila replied simply. With a nod towards the body of the wagon, she ordered, "Kozin, get in the back. Cayessa, sit up with me."

Kozin and Cayessa glanced at each other. Cayessa tossed the medallion to him, and then each took their respective places on the wagon. The body was filled with crates of dried spices and padding to keep them from jostling. Kozin wrinkled his nose at the cacophony of scents that filled the air. He pulled the swords over his lap and leaned back against a crate as the wagon rolled over the bumpy ground. The noises of the inn's inhabitants grew more and more faint as the horse pulled them away. After a while, Cayessa asked where they were headed.

"Larvik," Theila answered.

"Are you sure that's where they are?"

"Yes. There were a few men in that inn back there who were part of the raid. They knew where the masters were taken." Suddenly, Theila's voice became disheartened. "I had to sit on one man's lap… do a lot of pretending. Eventually they were willing to tell me enough." Kozin kept his eyes glued to the crate in front of him as he listened. The rest of the journey was spent in silence.

It had only been a day since the end of the raid, and still there were the clamors of victory feasts. They were so loud that Kozin could hear them from Larvik's keep. He was glad Theila knew nothing of it… for now.

Where were the bodies being kept, he wondered. Certainly not in the keep, near where people ate and drank. They were trophies, but they were also icons of fear.

As they neared Larvik and the keep of Hindarsfjall's jarl, they were stopped once by men of the jarl's hird to be questioned. Theila answered. Kozin felt his medallion jump to her words. The men did not hold them for too long, and soon the wagon was moving again.

Kozin heard the grating of the ground underneath the wheels change as the wagon moved over paths more tempered. They were close to the keep now. Suddenly, his ears picked up the sharp stretch of leather as Theila jerked on the reins. The horse came to an abrupt stop, and Kozin shot out a hand to catch himself. The sorceresses' heartbeats became rapid, thuds in his ears.

"What's going on?" he demanded, forgetting for a second that neither woman could hear him. Then, through the stone on his ear, he asked Cayessa what had happened.

They… they're on the battlements, she answered him.

They?

Two of them. Even as voiceless words in his head, Kozin could hear her anguish. They're hanging from the battlements.

This time, Kozin felt his heart judder. Their bodies had been strung from the wall like decoration—like the heads of game mounted on walls. Kozin felt sick to his stomach—a gut-wrenching sensation he had not felt in a long time. Which ones are they?

"Ruadh and Brimir," he heard Theila say aloud. "They both have heads." The wagon moved again, but this time it had changed course. "We need to get them down without anyone noticing. I imagine everyone is inside. In the meantime, I need to find out where they're holding the grandmaster."

Theila stopped the wagon as soon as she had found a spot discreet enough for her. Kozin heard her walk around. Then, the canvas covering the back of the wagon was pulled aside. "Help Cayessa take the masters down from the wall," she told him. "I'll go inside the keep and look for him."

"You can't just go in there on your own," Cayessa said.

"Few will notice me, and those who do won't remember. I need you two to stay out here and do what I told you. It shouldn't be too difficult. Feasts are atmospheric—they make the guards lazy too. At the same time, try not to be seen."

The golden-haired sorceress's brow furrowed in a glare Kozin knew all too well. "You can't just—."

"Cayessa," Theila briskly cut in. "You know better than to argue with me." She turned back to Kozin. "The sun will start to set soon. It'll be best to work in the cover of dark, but don't wait too long. As soon as I get him out of the keep, we have to leave." To no one in particular, she added quietly, "Good luck," and disappeared.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cayessa leaning against the wagon. He looked at her, a sly remark on his tongue. It quickly died unspoken when he saw the somber expression on her face. Their eyes met.

"She's so cold," Cayessa said softly. "I understand why, but… I just hope she'll come back."

Kozin thought back to the moment in Freya's chamber. "She will," he reassured.

"And what she's doing now?" Cayessa challenged. "It's so brash. Dangerous. The Theila I knew wasn't like this."

"They took him, hauled his body to the keep like some prize. Like some stuffed bear to tell of the strength of the ones who felled him. The grandmaster doesn't deserve that, Cay. He's not a keepsake—he was a man with a voice and a heart. Theila wants him back, no matter what the cost." He paused as he crossed his arms. "What would you do? What if it was me in there instead of the grandmaster?"

"Don't say that," Cayessa replied sharply. Kozin was silent as he sat on the back of the wagon. Cayessa sidled up against him. "People can be so awful," she whispered. Kozin unraveled his arms and wrapped one around her. She was warm at his side.

"Where will I go now?" he asked.

"You can stay with me," Cayessa answered. "At the tower. Anytime. All you have to do is ask."

"I'm a witcher, Cay."

"So? What kind of excuse is that? Does being a witcher mean you have to subject yourself to a life of loneliness and danger?" Her eyes hardened. "Or is that just a placeholder for what you really want to say?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Cayessa pulled herself away from him and scooted off of the wagon. "I've stopped looking into your head a long time ago. Mostly because you didn't like it," she said, distancing the two of them with a few steps. "And partially because I'm afraid to see what you do when you're not with me."

Not this again. "So you've never dropped the stereotype that witchers are uncivilized beings that chase after every desire that happens to cross their path? With no concept of devotion or loyalty?"

"Maybe," Cayessa admitted angrily. "But I also know that you have nothing to be loyal to. What is this thing that we have?" She turned around to face him. "What is it? I've seen lovers, and always they have something they move towards. But we have nothing except perpetual years. You'll never propose to me, and we'll never start a family. You'll keep telling yourself that you're a witcher, and I'll keep telling myself I'm a sorceress. And then what?" She motioned towards the wall with a weary arm. "We just wait until one of us dies?"

"So all this time we've had together—you haven't been satisfied with that?"

"I'm trying to look ahead!" Cayessa's arms dropped to her side. Her shoulders sagged. "Is this what we have? Just arguing all the time? And then kissing and making up just so we can start all over again?"

Kozin stood. He closed the distance between them and trapped the sorceress against his chest. "No," he told her. "We just argue because we care too much." It was bullshit, to him at least, but he wanted to make her feel better. He felt her relax against him. "It's getting dark. Let get them down."

They left the wagon behind and headed towards the keep, staying out of view from any eyes atop the battlement. At the base of the wall, they looked up. The bodies were still far above them.

"I can get us up on that wall," Cayessa said. "Then we'll haul them back and get them back to the other witchers. Are there any guards up there?"

"The coast is clear," Kozin told her. "But I hear their steps. There are a few patrolling around, so we need to be quick."

"Then let's go." Cayessa turned to face him. "Hold onto me."

"You don't even need to ask."

Short-distance teleportation, Kozin soon found out, as far worse than traveling by portal. He tried concentrating on the feeling of Cayessa wrapped in his arms, but in the next instant that feeling was gone. All feeling had gone, except for a split second of the most intense light-headedness he had ever felt. Then reality returned around him, pressing his skull back together. Kozin realized that they were now on top of the wall—the setting sun could be seen in the distance, casting deep shadows across the landscape. The wind up here was stronger. It pulled at his collar and hair.

Cayessa shifted against him. Kozin loosened his arms from her and turned towards the edge of the wall. He listened to the footsteps of the guards, pinpointing their distance relative to him. They still had time.

Thick cords of rope wrapped around the merlons of the battlement. Kozin leaned through the embrasure and looked down. The ropes ran down along the wall, weighed down by the dead witchers. Kozin took a cable and, with one heavy drag at a time, pulled it up. Slowly, the body at the end ascended.

Finally, it was pulled up. Kozin grabbed the body by the armor plating and hauled it over the wall. He let out a slow, labored breath when he recognized the man within the dead face.

He knew Cayessa would say something and quickly muttered, "Next one," and pulled the second rope.

The two masters were laid side by side. Dried blood tangled their hair and beards. Kozin knelt by them and closed their milky eyes. There was no time to sit still and grieve—not for him, anyway. "Cay," Kozin said. "Take them back to Verden. Tell the others that the grandmaster will be there soon."

The sorceress crouched next to him. Instead of arguing, she lifted a hand and propped it gently under his chin. "Before I go," she told him. Kozin felt magic seep from her hand, climbing up through his face and pooling at his eyes. It was a strange, foreign sensation. He couldn't describe it.

Kozin saw Cayessa's expression change. She looked confused. Upset, even.

"What did you do?"

"Theila told me you had blue eyes." Cayessa rested a hand against his cheek. She studied his face. "I've only ever known you as a cat-eyed witcher, never an ordinary man." Cayessa inhaled deeply, and then continued, "It's only an illusion. After a few hours it'll wear off. I want you back with me before then."

"Aye."

Cayessa teleported the masters down to the wagon. Then, she opened a portal and led the nervous horse through. After the vortex closed, Kozin lost track of her and became completely alone.

No, he wasn't alone. Theila was somewhere within the keep, surrounded by strangers and her own anguish.

Kozin heard footsteps coming closer and dropped over the wall, his fingers clinging tightly to the edge. Then, he let go. He let himself fall a short distance before catching onto a small indention in the stone. Kozin swallowed down a grunt as the momentum wrenched his shoulders. He dug the tips of his boots into the cracks. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he surveyed his height from the ground. It was close enough.

He let go of the cavity with one hand and twisted his body. After a short countdown in his head, Kozin kicked off from the wall. He let his knees buckle as he hit the ground and rolled over his left shoulder to avoid his sword hilts.

As soon as he came up, Kozin hugged the nearest wall and sought shelter within its shadow. Even with his eyes changed, everything about him screamed "witcher" to even the most oblivious.

His heart dropped when he realized he'd have to leave his swords somewhere. Kozin told himself that once he found Theila, they'd take Undevar out of here and grab his swords on the way.

There was a small courtyard surrounded by a parapet. The straw-stuffed dummies and arrow-laden boards suggested that it served as a training ground. Kozin vaulted over the parapet and found a pile of leftover straw to stash his weapons in. His armor was next to go. Its design was a derivative of the grandmaster's armor, something that everyone here had likely seen.

Kozin kept his dagger and tucked it in his belt. He felt wholly naked in his thin jerkin. The sounds of conversation and laughter that reached him as he entered the keep had him on edge.

He tried to avoid eyes as he made his way to the heart of the castle. Sooner or later, after curiosity was piqued enough and whispers were exchanged, the people here would realize that no one knew this black-haired stranger. No one invited him.

It wasn't hard to find where Undevar was. All Kozin had to do was follow the smell of death. They had brought the body into one of the main halls. Not the one where the food and drink were being served. Of course not—it wouldn't do to have guests feast with a vile corpse in view.

Even if there was no food there, the hall was far from empty. Men, always with tankards in hand, populated the large chamber. Some courted the women serving ale while others jeered. A fistfight had broken out in one corner with cheering spectators forming a wall around the contenders.

Though the volume of the hall was loud enough to break windows, Kozin heard her voice above it all.

"And what is he planning to do with it later?"

"Dunno. Stuff it, mayhaps? Or hang 'im from the wall with the others," her companion replied.

"I see."

"Real monster of a man, that witcher was," the man continued. "Screamin' and spittlin' like a rabid dog. Toughest kill I ever had, I tell ya." He was trying to impress Theila by regaling his deeds in taking the last of the Bear witchers down, unaware of the irony.

Theila appeared calm on the surface, though Kozin could feel a prickle in the air like the warning of a thunderstorm. "I dislike the displaying of a cadaver so baldly like this. It makes me uncomfortable. Perhaps the jarl could move it someplace a bit more undisclosed?"

"If it bothers you, my lady, then we could find somewhere else to go?"

Theila ignored his remark and continued, "And why remove his head?" The anger was starting to seep into her voice. Kozin started pushing his way through to her. "Such a horrible thing to do. And so unnecessary."

"Was that witcher's idea," he replied. "He had some deal with the jarl, so he got to keep the head. Shame, innit? Think it would have made good décor on the walls?"

That insult was his last. The prickle turned into sharp zap. Kozin blinked. It had happened too fast. All that remained next to Theila was steaming air. The bitter, acrid stench of charred flesh stained the air.

Silenced clutched the hall in a suffocating squeeze. The ones closest withdrew in horror. Her eyes immediately met his. They too were wide, shocked at the demon that for a second had been let loose.

"I… I couldn't stop myself." Soft words tinkled through the silence like shattered glass.

Kozin flew forward and grabbed her arm. As if triggered by this movement, the hall came back to life as people realized that a murder had happened in their midst. But this wasn't a banquet of dainty aristocrats—it was a feast of Skelligers that, confronted with the choices of fight or flight, would always choose the former. They were hunters, and two beasts had just appeared among them.

Kozin heard them close in behind him. He whirled and pushed them away with Aard. The sound carried through the keep. He heard Theila cry out, "No!"

Their cover was gone, and any further damage was inconsequential. The jarl's men were already flooding into the hall. Kozin felt truly naked without his swords.

He backed away from the men, pushing Theila behind him towards the table that held the grandmaster's body. He looked back at her. There was conflict in the sorceress's eyes. She had come to reclaim the body of the man she loved so she could finally have closure. But Theila was practical, and she wouldn't trade Undevar's lifeless corpse over a living, breathing witcher.

Kozin saw this in her eyes. He chose for her. "Get him out of here, Theila," he hissed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of a sword and covered himself with Quen just before the blade could bite through his jerkin. The dagger flew from his belt. Kozin swiped it, purposely letting its blade fall short. The strike did the trick and caused his opponent to jump back.

Suddenly, he felt a tremor underneath him—one sharp shake, as though the keep had been struck. The windows began rattling like teeth.

"I could destroy them all." He had heard that voice before, that anger. "It would be easy."

Kozin turned. "Would he have wanted that?"

The rattling stopped.

There was no time left. Kozin glared at her one last time. "Get him out!" He wouldn't let her choose and ran into the clamor. He saw the flash from off the walls around him. Now, he was truly alone.


When all the heroes fall

The world plays its wicked games

And I am left defenseless

'Cause I know the sky's gonna say my name

The sky's gonna say my name

"Heroes Fall"—Hidden Citizens