The Witcher: Through the Worlds
Chapter 19: A Towerful of Mice
Narrator: After leading the Baron and his men to the village at Crookback Bog, Dominik and Geralt were able to reunite the man with his daughter Tamara. After the Crones sensed them in their village, they sent multiple beasts to attack them, even a Fiend, one of the most dangerous monsters, even to Witchers. Dominik of Cintra and Geralt of Rivia slayed the Fiend, saving many lives. Soon after the Baron left to find a cure for his wife's madness from being in the Crones care, and Dominik and Geralt set out. Novigrad was where Ciri had gone, however Dominik had one piece of unfinished business in Velen. The young Witcher went to see Kiera Metz, who last he saw her, claimed she had a favor to ask him. Indebted to the sorceress for helping him find more information about Ciri, Dominik set out to visit the Witch near Midcopse yet again.
The dream that night took him somewhere he had never seen before. It seemed to be an underground cell, multiple of them were in a row, and the grimy, dank dungeon cells could only be seen by two torches lit at each end. His way was lit to the cell on the end, right near a torch it lit the way into a cell. All around you could hear the screams of men. Blood adorned the walls, the cells, a rack of swords and old shields could be seen lined up down the hall. The whole dungeon smelled of death and blood, between that and the screams, it seemed one of the most horrific places he had ever seen in his life.
The dream turned in a nightmare after he saw inside the cell.
Inside one of the dank, dark cells, was Ciri. She was slightly older then she had been when they separated, perhaps 16 or so. She didn't have a scar across her cheek yet as had been described, she was bony, seemed to have not eaten in weeks. She sat there, slumped against the wall, her ashen hair marred and sticking down her shoulders. Bruises and scrapes were all over her face and body. Her head was slumped back, she was breathing heavy, as if all the energy had finally left her. She was wearing a tattered white top underneath a beaten leather jerkin with gloves, trousers and boots. As she slumped, he could see her hand wrapped tightly around his ring that adorned on her neck.
She was beaten, bruised, half dead… and he hadn't been there to save her.
"Cirilla! Wakey, wakey my dear, time for some fun," The voice of a man echoed throughout the dungeon.
Ciri's head shot up, and he could see her grinding her teeth, her face contorting to rage as she watched the front of her cell. Out-front stepped a man, a tall, balding man, his grey hair stringy, hanging from his head. The most terrifying part was his pale grey eyes, that seemed to tear through Ciri as he looked at her maniacally. He was wearing only a white top and leather tunic, a longsword at his belt, and from his waist as well, hung three medallions. Only they weren't simple medallions. They depicted the head of a wolf, griffin and cat, three Witcher medallions. A Witcher, only parted with their medallion in death, so he was able to assume on where the man had gotten them. He smiled wickedly at younger Ciri, his hand behind his back.
"You look fantastic my dear, how are you feeling," He asked her in a mocking tone.
"Piss off," Ciri responded quickly, managing to shakily rise to her feet.
The man tsked, and shook his head at the girl, leaning forward against the bar, "Now, now Cirilla. Is that any way to treat the man who's responsible for you being alive?"
"I said PISS OFF," Ciri yelled, picking up a stone from the ground and throwing it at the man.
He laughed and took a step back as the rock smashed into the bars of Ciri's cell. Slowly he came back into the girls view, the smile on his face straight from the horror stories he heard when he was younger.
"Haha, still ever so feisty child. I thought that side would have gone by now, and you would realize… how much I've done for you," He said in a honey voice, leaning back towards the bars, meeting Ciri's eye.
"You've done nothing for me! And when I get out of here, I WILL kill you, I swear it," Ciri hissed, standing tall, her eyes not leaving the man.
To his surprise the cell door opened, and the man stepped inside, closing it behind her. He leaned down, placing something against the wall, before turning back to Ciri, his hands folded in front of him. The smile he had on his face, continued to make his blood crawl.
"And how do you plan on getting out of here my dear? Nobody is coming for you; nobody knows you're here. Your little friends? The Rats? Dead. I killed them, chopped off all their heads" he said slowly, pacing around the young girl like a hunter stalking prey, he stopped behind her, "Do you think Geralt of Rivia will come for you? I've killed Witchers before."
He expected Ciri to lash out, try and strike at the man, but she didn't. He watched as she stood there, her eyes frozen, her limbs unmoving, only shaking, as the man spoke. He could see the bruises along her neck, the exposed part of her torso, the faded sword wounds, and blisters. Ciri was terrified of the man. She had been afraid of very little, he knew this, but whatever he had done, left a lasting scar on her.
The older balding man came closer behind her back, lowering his head closer to her ear, "Or… do you expect your little boyfriend to come? What will he think when he learns about that one Rat? Or that you're the Emperors spawn? It matters not, if he comes… I'll kill him, kill him, and be sure that you know, it was because he came for you."
"SHUT UP," She yelled, her anger finally snapping, as she whirled around, trying to swing at the man.
The older man moved swiftly. He grabbed Ciri's arm, and brought his hand down across her cheek, sending her to the floor of the dungeon with a cry. A new bruise began to form on her cheek, as she spit blood from her mouth, looking up at the man, her eyes full of pain, and fear. The man tsked at her again and kicked her in the stomach when she tried to arise, getting down to one knee, his eyes suddenly becoming dark as he grabbed the back of her head.
"That was a VERY bad move on your part my dear," He hissed in her ear, he reached down, jerking the ring from her neck, and holding it out in front of her, "He isn't coming. Geralt of Rivia isn't coming. You are all mine now my dear, the sooner you learn that, the better it will get for you."
He dropped the ring back in-front of her, and he saw Ciri scramble to pick it up in her hands. She breathed heavy, the new bruise on her cheek. The man clapped his hands as he was about to leave the room, and turned back to Ciri, a new smile adorning his face.
"AH! I almost forgot, your next bout in the arena is in one hour. Here… take it as a peace offering," he said, picking up what had turned out to be a sword, and tossing it at Ciri's feet, "I suggest you get acquainted before your next fight."
He tossed the blade, a longsword, the size of a Witchers blade was stowed in a red sheath. It was certainly beautiful craftsmanship, far out of the price range of a normal man. He heard an arena mentioned, and felt his anger begin to boil. The man had caught Ciri, and was forcing her to fight for entertainment, all while beating her, and telling her they'd never come.
In the end, her captor had been right. He hadn't come, and he had felt the shame of it to that day.
"You… you think you can bribe me into cooperating," Ciri said breathlessly, slumped back against the wall again.
The man's pale eyes grew dark again, "Cirilla my dear… you WILL cooperate, for you have no other option. Now… do put on a good show, the crowds will be getting restless."
Within another moment, the door to the cell slammed shut, and the mans footsteps echoed away down the hall. He watched as Ciri, her breath still short, the bruise now fully adorned on her face stared at the weapon in front of her. She looked down at the ring and squeezed it tight, as he often did with the swallow, before sighing, and tying it back around her neck on the chain. Slowly, she crawled over to the sword, taking it in her cross-legged lap. She carefully slid the steel from its red sheath, and he could see the beautiful craftsmanship. Slender, not too much mass to it, but still sharp, long and very deadly, the perfect weapon for someone smaller, and swift like Ciri.
"Zireael… you're going to help me get out of here," She said, looking up and she swore she was looking at him, watching her in the dream, "And you'll help me find them."
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"CIRI," He yelled, his head shooting up from the pillow.
The cold sweat dripped down his bare chest, as his eyes scanned the room. The dungeon he had seen had been so real, the muck, grime, smell of blood was all still attuned to his senses. Ciri's cry as she was struck to the ground by the man, it played again and again in his head. The pain she had felt, the fear, the anger, it all resonated within his body. He reached around his neck and gripped onto the swallow, as she had in his dream, and looked to his right to see her drawing on the nightstand of his room. With some aching from his bones, he reached across and pulled it into his hands. He continued to wonder how accurate the drawing was, or if she would look completely different when he did see her.
No matter what she looked like, he wasn't going to let anything like his dream, ever happen to her again. They would reunite, and they would strike down everyone who had wronged her and grow even stronger together.
"You're tough… just hold on a little bit longer, I'm coming for you," he said quietly, before placing the picture back over on his nightstand.
He turned to get out of bed when he heard a knock on his door.
"Dom? You awake yet," He heard the voice of Geralt yell through the wood.
He narrowed his eyes and looked out the window, wondering what time it had been. A scoff escaped his lips, realizing that he had slept until midday. Quickly, in only his white trousers, he got up and opened the door, sure enough seeing Geralt there. The older Witcher laughed as he swung around a large leather sack, walking into his room. He looked at the old Witcher curiously.
"Geralt, why didn't you wake me up, and… what is that? A dead body," he said, crossing his bare arms.
Geralt rolled his eyes, and after the nightmare he had, Dominik finally managed to laugh. The older Witcher pulled the leather sack up next to his bed, and he could hear the clunking of armor. He let go of it and turned back to him, meeting his green eyes with his yellow Witcher ones.
"Well, you did a lot yesterday. Fighting a fiend is hard work, even for the most experienced Witchers. Thought you could use a little more sleep, while I ran out and got some stuff done," The older Witcher said to him.
He felt himself smile, as he tried to get the image of Ciri on the floor of the cell out of his brain for now. His body slightly winced, but he smiled up at Geralt, gesturing with his head towards the sack he had placed at the end of his bed.
"Well, I guess you're right. I was exhausted but… what's in the bag," He asked his adoptive father.
Geralt smirked at him, and walked over towards it, "Consider this a… job well done present. Check it out."
He felt his mouth drop when Geralt opened the bag. Inside, was his armor, only it had been severely improved. The older Witcher laid the pieces out on his bed, and with every part of the armor he had just worn the night before was pulled out, he was more amazed. The boots had been polished, now sparkling black, with small bits of hardened leather and metal worked into the high part around his ankle. The trousers were pressed, the knee guards, instead of nothing, now hardened bits of black leather ran along the sides of the brown pant legs, with small straps going around his thighs. Finally, his red and black leather coat, that just the day before had been almost ripped apart, was now sewn back together completely.
Overtop the coat were no longer hardened strips of metal, but bits of folded, light steel to form pauldrons for extra protection, with more additional straps of leather along them. Finally, his older, brown hunting gloves, now had hardened leather wrist guards. He thought it had been it, but then Geralt pulled his old sword from the bag as well. The faithful blade he had carried with him since he was 15, was now expertly shined and sharpened inside its brown, leather sheath.
It was the greatest set of armor that he had ever seen, and it was without a doubt, the best he'd wear for some time.
He looked up at Geralt, who was watching his speechless expression with amusement.
"Geralt I… I… thank you, I've never…" He trailed off, making the older Witcher laugh.
He gestured his hands out towards the armor laid out on his bed, "Well? Get it on, you got some work to do today. I take it you don't need my help getting dressed?"
Shaking his head, he smiled one more time at Geralt, before setting about getting the new armor on. He pulled on the trousers first, and then the boots, both of them fitting him perfectly. Next went on the armor, his red and black jacket, along with the metal and leather overtop. He was worried for a moment he would feel more weight on his shoulders, and his movements would be restricted, however to his pleasant surprise the armor was still lightweight.
"Lightweight and durable, won't restrict your movements either, the perfect kind of armor for a Witcher," Geralt said, as he pulled on the brown gloves to complete his look.
"I can barely feel it," He said with a smile, picking up his blade.
He slid part of it out of the sheath, and he was amazed by how clean, spotless and sharp it had gotten. It had been with him through all of his challenges over the last eight years, and despite the fact he knew he would eventually need to upgrade, the memories he made with the sword were unmatched. He swung it around his back, and tightly strapped it in. Looking down at his armor now, compared to just the day before, it was as if he was an entirely new person. It was lightweight as Geralt said, he moved his arms and it didn't restrain him at all. It was going to offer more protection, while still giving him the same range of motion he liked to have while fighting.
He looked back up at Geralt and noticed the Witcher's armor had been improved as well. It was polished, more refined, and the two swords hanging off his back were freshly sharpened and cleaned. The older Witcher really had gone for quite the shopping trip, and now they were both fully armored, ready for the next phase of their journey.
"Geralt… thank you, I… I don't know what-."
The white-haired Witcher shook his head, and clamped a hand on his shoulder, "No need. Like I said, it's a gift. Now… are you alright? You were thrashing when I came to get your armor earlier, muttering to yourself."
The dream of the dark dungeon came back to him. The smell of rotting flesh, blood, mold, and men screaming as they were dying. He saw Ciri get smacked to the ground by the balding man, while Witcher medallions bounced from his belt. A new set of armor was great, but the shame, the failure that coursed through him, was outweighing all material excitement. He had taunted Ciri, saying how Geralt and he would never come for her. The fact he had proved the man right was what crushed him the most, he never did come.
"Nightmare, dreaming about Ciri again," Geralt asked him slowly.
Looking down at the drawing of Ciri on his nightstand, he nodded, "She… she was stuck in some dungeon. It… it was horrible Geralt. She was beat, bruised, bleeding… and some man was behind it. I… saw him beat her, before giving her a sword and sending her to some arena."
He looked and saw the lines on Geralt's face grow darker. The yellow Witcher eyes almost seemed to go black, as a look of rage, one he had never seen so hard on his adoptive fathers face took over.
"Leo Bonhart… degenerate bastard," The older Witcher spat out, as if the mere mention of the name made him want to draw steel.
Dominik remembered Geralt mentioning the name once. He had told him, Bonhart had killed the group that Ciri had been in hiding with, and kidnapped her, despite the fact he was hired to kill her by one man and bring her to another. At the time he heard it, of course he had been angry, but they were busy trying to figure out the mystery with the Baron's family. Hearing the name now and putting it to the face of the man from his dream, it made his fists curl. He would forever remember the names Vilgefortz, and now Leo Bonhart, and if he ever saw either of the men, he would kill them.
He gently gripped up the picture of Ciri and folded it to fit into the pocket of his trousers, before taking a deep breath and looking at Geralt.
"You said he was the one to capture Ciri? After I find her… I'm going to find that man, and I'm going to kill him, him, Vilgefortz, all of them," He said in a promise.
He met Geralt's eyes and while the Witcher still had a look of anger on his face, he shook his head, "Don't gotta worry about Bonhart anymore. He's dead. Ciri killed him when I went to rescue her and Yen from Strygga Castle."
"Good," He said, his voice dripping with venom, "Ciri told him she would, and I'm glad she did."
The idea of Ciri getting her revenge made him feel slightly better. While he still wished he had been there, been the one to burst into the arena and save her, it gave him some solace she had escaped, and killed her captor. In the end he knew Ciri was more then capable, but that didn't change the fact that to him, he knew he needed to protect her. He didn't want to protect her because it was his destiny, because it was pre-ordained by any higher power. It was because he cared for her, loved her, and most importantly because he had promised.
Geralt nodded his head, and crossed his arms, "So, you still going to go see Kiera?"
Hearing Geralt talked, snapped him out of his thoughts and back to the moment, "Yeah, I'll see what she needs, shouldn't be long. What'll you do? Got all your shopping done," he said in a joke.
The older Witcher smiled but rolled his eyes, "Yeah, all done. I'm gonna stay here, rest a bit, eat, drink, see if any travelers coming through can give me any ideas on the state of Novigrad now. Never know, maybe one has heard something."
He nodded with a sigh, and looked out the window, the sun was at its apex, but he could see the rain clouds slowly rolling from the distance.
"Alright, I should get heading off before the damn rain sets in," he said, turning back to the older Witcher.
Geralt nodded in agreement, and met his eyes, "Okay, meet me back here tonight, or if it takes longer tomorrow morning, and then we'll set out for Novigrad. Please don't make me come looking for you."
He scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm not a child Geralt, I'll be okay."
His adoptive father narrowed his eyes towards him, "I know that, not you I'm worried about. You don't know Kiera Metz like I do, she's a prickly one. Always has another plan, be careful."
"I owe her my life Geralt, besides she hasn't shown any hostility at all. I'll help her with whatever it is she needs, and be back before you know it," He said assuredly.
Geralt sighed and met his eyes again, "Sometimes you're too trusting… but alright. Get done what you need to do and meet back here. If you come up against something that's to tough for you, come back, I'll help you."
He nodded to the older Witcher with a reassuring smile, "Don't worry Geralt, I'll be alright. What could possibly go wrong?"
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The ride through the countryside had been surprisingly pleasant, as was his trot through the village of Midcopse yet again. He was happy to see that the man he had gotten the information from about Kiera originally, was no longer sitting on the fencepost, watching his wife do all the work. The man was helping sow fields as he passed, and quickly rushed to work even faster when he saw Dominik ride by on Clop. It made him smile that he was able to help a few people during his time in Velen, and soon hopefully, he would be rewarded by finding Ciri in Novigrad, or at least knowing exactly where she had gone.
He remembered the directions to Kiera's hut, and after trotting his way through the woods, he finally found the sorceresses hut. Carefully, he slid off the back of Clop, and tied the horses reins to the fence outside of the house. He was stroking the horses mane, when suddenly the animal bucked and neighed nervously.
"Woah easy there buddy, what's wrong," he asked the horse, before seeing what had spooked him.
From the left side of Kiera's home, a green smoke was emanated. It seeped through the windows and out into the warm air. He didn't recognize what the smoke could be coming from and wondered what the sorceress could possible be up too. Gently he stroked Clop's mane again, and his mount began to calm. The sun sparkled off the new armor, and its rays warmed his bones. He hadn't received new armor often in his years, but when he did, walking out to a contract in it for the first time, was a feeling unmatched.
"Alright… let's see what Kiera wants," He said, walking towards the door of the sorceresses hut.
Slowly he turned the lock to the door, and he could see the green smoke billowing through the woman's home. It was unchanged from the last time he visited. Herbs, plants and other magical ingredients were strewn about the walls, the smells of herbs and other mixtures pierced his nose as soon as he entered. He waved the smoke from his face, as he heard Kiera's voice from the other room.
"The rats, what did you need them for," He heard the sorceress ask, a slight tone of annoyance to her voice.
He turned to the left, towards her bedroom, and heard the voice of a ghostly specter.
"Blood rodents, better to have stuffed them with poison or crushed them into a pulp with a shovel but no…." The ghostly voice said, getting a groan from Kiera.
He walked to the left into the bedroom, and he saw Kiera, kneeling on the ground. She was tooling with what looked to be the lamp they had both retrieved from the elf's hideout. It was the source of the green smoke that had spooked his horse, and it projected the ghostly specter into her room. The man was a swirling mist of green with no real form. It sent a chill down his spine; necromancy was something that always made his skin crawl. Many times he had accepted contracts to kill a necromancer, who was amassing dead corpses for evil experiments.
"Kiera… what are you doing," he asked carefully.
The sorceress nearly jumped, and whirled around to face him, "Dominik! You gave me quite the start!"
His eyes stayed trained on the ghostly specter that had come, it waved its arms and spoke in an annoyed tone, "But nay, says the mage, "bring me rats, and healthy ones! Not something the cat dragged in!"
The hairs on his arms began to stand up, and he met the sorceresses eyes again, "That's the lamp from the hideout, right? What's this about rats?"
Kiera quickly leaned down, twirling a button on the wide of the swirling, misty lamp, and within seconds the specter, and the green smoke all disappeared.
"It's nothing important- now tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company," she asked, her voice in a sweet tone.
The image of the ghost still burned into his mind, but he shook it off and managed to meet the woman's eyes.
"Well, you said you had something you needed help with. You saved my life, I'd be splattered on the floors of that cave if not for you, so… here I am," He said, a small smile returning to his face.
Upon hearing his words, he could see a light go on in the sorceresses brain. She smiled at him, and kept eye contact, "Well, well, I'm happy to see you came. I was beginning to think you weren't coming back."
He shook his head, "I promised. Sorry I took a while, after our little adventure all the leads started to fall into place. Geralt and I finally have something solid."
"That means you know where Cirilla went," Kiera said, suddenly excited even more, "What did you learn?"
He felt himself smile as well, saying the news out loud was almost as exciting as learning it, "Well, long story short, she went to Novigrad. We have a few contacts there she may have gone to see we're setting out tomorrow."
Kiera nodded, and she seemed pleased, "Well, I must say I'm happy for you. After all these years you finally know where she's gone."
The sorceress was correct. For years he had no idea where to even begin looking for her again, and only picked up small rumors, and went to investigate sites of magical anomalies, hoping it may have been from Ciri and her powers. It was a refreshing change for him, and an exciting one to finally have someone who had seen her, and to hear she was asking after him.
He nodded and smiled at the sorceress, "Thank you… I never would've gotten to this point without you, I said I'd be grateful for anyone who helped me. So, here I am, what do you need?"
The sorceress seemed to sputter for a moment, before clearing her throat, "I… thank you, you saved my life as well. Now, the cursed isle on Lake Wyndamer- you've heard of it I'm sure?"
He knew the place Fyke Isle. A few of the peasants he had passed, while traveling through the villages had been speaking of it. The only thing he heard was that wraiths inhabit the island, and nobody should venture there. It sounded like the perfect job for a Witcher, however Geralt and he were both preoccupied.
"Yeah, heard about it once or twice, just that it's cursed and you shouldn't go," He said, crossing his arms while keeping eye contact with the sorceress.
"That's the basics of it yes, I must figure out how it came to be cursed, so that we can lift it," The sorceress said to him, her voice a mixture of desperation and annoyance.
He thought on the matter for a moment. The first thing he learned about curses in Kaer Morhen, was that they could be started from a multitude of different ways. A violent death, a plague, revenge, they could sprout out from just about anything. The most important part of lifting one, was learning exactly what was said, or done to place it in the first place.
He sighed, "You have to know at least something I can go off of. Bad plague, riots, violent deaths?"
"I've heard small scraps," Kiera began, "I know that the source of the curse is linked to the tower. The locals say the old lord of this land Vserad took refuge there when Nilfgaard invaded."
"Hardly enough reason for a curse to be placed there…" He muttered, before Kiera nodded.
"You'd be right, but that isn't it. Claims in the village are that peasants, desperate and hungry, sailed to the isle to ask for food. Met there end there, it was a massacre," The sorceress finished explaining.
He winced, and nodded his head, "Now that… is easily a way for a curse to be placed."
Kiera nodded, and met his eyes, full of desperation now, "I know. Will you help me lift the curse? I've seen what you can do, and if Geralt was the one to train you, you must be very good at these things."
It was true, he had his fair share of experience lifting curses. It was often the most common contract he'd come across while he was traveling. Any Witcher worth the gold would easily be able to break a curse as easy as this. He was glad that it ended up seeming like an easy task, he would be able to lift the curse, then be back to Geralt by dark. It had started the day before with his fight against the Fiend and continued to this day when he got his new armor. Between that, and finally learning more solid information on where Ciri went, he felt as if he could take on any contract at the moment. Nothing would harm him, kill him, he was going to find Ciri first, that was his promise.
He smiled and nodded at the sorceress, "Lifted plenty of curses before, a lot more complicated then this. I'll help you."
The sorceress breathed a sigh of relief, and met his eyes with a smile, "My young knight saves the day again. Thank you, truly, you'll need to sail to Fyke Isle."
"Easy enough, what about after that," He asked the sorceress.
She lifted her magic lamp from the ground, "Take my magic lamp with you. The spirits on the island, you must establish a rapport with them, use the lamp to make them talk. They could point you in the direction of the curses source."
He took the lamp in his hands and attached it to his belt. The directions were going to be easy enough to follow. The curse was probably cast by an angry peasant, or even the spirit of the lord himself in death.
Meeting Kiera's eyes again he smiled, "Not coming with me? We made quite the team last time," he joked.
Kiera laughed and met his eyes with a sly smile, "As much as I'd love to go on another little adventure with you, I can't. I tried to go to the isle once, thought my head would burst the curses magic was so strong."
It was his turn to laugh, "Ha, so you send me there?"
Kiera rolled her eyes, but he could tell it was good natured, "I suffered an acute nasal hemorrhage. You, you'll suffer a wobble of your medallion at most."
He laughed and held his hands up, "Hah, alright, alright. So, how does this magic lamp of your work exactly?"
"All you have to do is place it where you hear bones or echoes, and it'll do the rest. Though… I must tell you, it won't be the most pleasant experience," The sorceress warned him.
"Wasn't expecting it to be," He said quickly, his skin crawling, before looking back to the sorceress, "So, I'll more then likely encounter wraiths, and a few necrophages. Got some ingredients you can give me before I go? I'll need to make an oil, maybe get a few more bombs."
Kiera nodded with a satisfied smile, "Of course, I should have everything you need. Thank you again, as I told you before… Cirilla is a very lucky woman," She said, her voice turning slow.
He felt the hairs on his arm stick up again, as his face flustered red, "Uh… thanks, come on, let's get started. I'll head out, and hopefully be done before night."
It wasn't a problem for him, helping Kiera. After she had saved his life, and helped him find out more about Ciri, he knew he owed her at least this much. However, he was anxious to get back to Geralt and head off to Novigrad. As he began to gather the correct ingredients for specter oil, he thought about the task ahead of him. A simple contract lift the curse and return to Kiera.
After that, he would be on his way to Novigrad.
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"Drowners, Drowners… and more drowners, I fucking hate these things," He muttered to himself as he made his way through the outer palisade, towards the tower.
Getting to the isle had been easy enough with Kiera's help, her contacting him through a zenophox she had given him. The boat was old and creaky, but he managed to land on the isle, and make his way to the tower. It was large, but surrounded by a timber palisade, that was old, rotting and falling apart. Drowners, rotfiends and ghouls had attacked him like he expected, however he was easily able to dispatch them. He considered himself a master at cleaning and keeping his blade sharp, however whatever Geralt had done to sharpen his weapon had been phenomenal. It shopped through necrophages like it never had before.
"Place gives me the creeps… best get it over with quick," He muttered as he looked up at the large tower.
He unhooked Kiera's magic lamp from his belt, and slowly started up the steps to the towers. The doors lock had been busted off, and as soon as he stepped inside, lamp in one hand, sword in the other he gagged. The decomposing corpses in the tower were beginning to rot, and the ground was littered with rats, blood, and knocked over tables. The rats scurried about his feet, swarming to the flames, and rotting bodies like flies.
It made even more sense to him now why Kiera was so hesitant to come, with the sorceresses distaste of rats. He took a few steps forward and felt his feet kick off against something. Down on the ground below him were a selection of weapons, woodcutting axes, scythes, a sword and other sharp farming implements
"Looks like the peasants really weren't here to ask nicely," He said carefully, his head shooting up when he heard the banging sound.
It was faint, but he heard a loud bang against the walls, and his head shot upwards. Unless you had highly trained ears, like he had gained over the years it wouldn't have been heard. He would always accept any contract, but ones with ghosts like this were always a challenge. There was someone, or something else in the tower. He could only hope he had the right oil.
He approached the stairs as his skin began to crawl even more when he heard the whispers. In front of him, blocking the entrance to the next set of stairs up the tower, was a wisp of green vapor. Carefully he looked at the magic lamp hanging from his left hand and placed it down on the floor. He felt his skin crawl, as the ghosts of the men once in the tower appeared, leaning down looting any of the crates that were even slightly cut open.
"Where's that noble," One ghost demanded quickly.
"Lying here, quiet as a mouse, head split open like a pumpkin," Another one said, as they were huddled around now old bones.
His skin crawled as one laughed, "More like a peasant now, sloshing around in his own blood and shite."
"Too quick a death they gave him. Shoulda been made to suffer," The first one spat out.
"He's not the end of it. Sons can suffer for him… and the daughter, to the top," The second one said happily, as the two ghosts ran.
The peasants were starting to seem more and more like common bandits. However, he had no idea of knowing what the lord had been like. The bones that lay at his feet, he saw an old discarded signet ring around one finger and could only assume that it was indeed the bones of a nobleman. He knelt down and examined the bones and ran his hand along the skull.
He winced, and got back to his feet, "Split his skull near clean in half… a lord killed by his peasants, if he died quick, wouldn't have had time to shout a curse… gotta keep moving."
The steps creaked as he slowly walked up them to the next floor. As he climbed, he heard the banging get louder and louder. Whatever creature had been here, it perhaps could have been trapped. It was more than likely a powerful wraith, or another monster who fed off dead corpses. The ground was littered with bones however, so he didn't know if it could be that. Rats were either mangy and scurrying around or lying dead. All sorts of diseases could be caught on the island by humans, even he himself needed to be careful what he touched. His unmutated body could catch whatever sickness was in the tower easily.
He kept a firm grip on his blade as he got to the top of the second floor. It seemed to be a dining hall of sorts, a busted and knocked astray long table was the first thing he saw, along with the swirling green mists, and the whispers returning. He would need as many pieces of information as he could get if he were to find the curses source, so reluctantly he placed the lamp on the ground.
In the chairs of the long table he saw two ghost, one was an older man, speaking in a deep voice, while the other was a young woman.
"Don't start Annabelle back to your craft! Always bending my ear about peasants! I will not hear of them again," The man said sternly, letting him determine this was the lord of the lands, who's bones he had seen earlier.
Another ghost quickly ran into the lamps view, panting, "My lord! Peasants! They're through the door of the tower!"
The chilling image stopped when the lord stood up, running towards the stairs as his daughter retreated towards the top. He took in a chilling breath; the lord of the tower didn't seem like too much of a victim to him now. Evil on both sides, like the continent in its current state. He shook his head and turned, the staircase to the next floor right to his left. The banging he heard had suddenly ceased. Not hearing the noise almost made him worry as much as hearing the noise, had whatever roamed the tower finally sensed him? Was it getting ready for an attack?
He shivered and sighed, "Fucking hell… I hate ghosts."
Slowly he came to the next set of stairs, and in the green light of the lamp, he could see the projection of the young woman, Annabelle the lords daughter running. She ascended up the stairs, and he quickly followed her. After following up the steps he held out the lamp, and suddenly the specter disappeared. He looked to the ground, and along with scurrying rats, he saw dried blood. The blood stains led to a room, and slowly he went to poke his head in. He reared back holding his nose at the smell.
On the floor of the room, lay a corpse, however this one wasn't bones like the others he had seen. It still hadn't decomposed yet, as the man lay face down, dried blood on the floor next to him. He nearly jumped when the magic lamp shined into the room, and the ghost of the man suddenly appeared.
"Gold! Piles of it. Won't do the dead any good now will it! Strange its still here-the noble died some time ago…." The ghost went about digging through a chest, before turning to face him, or rather something that had stood in his place, "Who's that? Show yourself! Anyone there! Who… who are you? AAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGGGG."
The ghost was beat back, and fell onto his stomach, where he lay now. His mind suddenly went to the banging he had heard earlier in the tower. The corpse was relatively fresh, more then likely an adventurous peasant who had decided to try and seek his fortune in the lords old manor. Carefully he knelt down to examine the body. It sure enough as he guessed had died within the last few days, as no decomposition had set in yet. It was slashed across its throat, the only clue he had, and it wasn't a good one. Any beast or wraith could have done that.
"Definitely a monster on the island… may be tied to the curse, gotta keep moving," He said quietly to himself, turning back from the room.
The tower began to creak, and despite the sunlight that shone from outside, the tower seemed dark. If not for the torches he saw on the walls, he didn't know if he could have found his way without a Cat potion. Part of him was beginning to wish he had just gone straight to Novigrad, but he knew that a friend was counting on him, and that he was too far into the contract now. Now that he knew what had happened, what was going on, he needed to stop whatever beast or curse was on the island, before it harmed more people.
The next few floor he could see signs of a large group of people moving through, knocked over furniture and looted chests. He continued to follow the ghost of the lords daughter that he had found yet again with the lamp. His hand never loosened on his blade, ad he got closer and closer to the top floor, where Kiera said would be the place he was trying to reach. She had explained more to him about the mage, Alexander who studied diseases on the isle. She said if he found his lab, it would more than likely hold the clue to the curses source.
However, when he got to the top floor, all he saw was another floor for beds.
"Dominik, where are you? Have you gotten to the laboratory at the top of the tower yet," He heard the voice of Kiera say from his pocket.
His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard the bauble speak from his belt. Carefully he unhooked it from his pocket and brought it closer to his mouth to speak.
"At the top of the tower yeah… but I don't see any lab. Only rats and corpses, should I look for anything else," He asked into the small bauble.
"Then you've not reached the highest point yet. It's more than likely a secret passage, find a lever or switch in the room," Kiera said across miles, before the device went quiet.
"Okay…" He said quietly to himself, looking about the small upper floor, "If I was a passage to a secret room where would I hide."
The answer to his question, was surprisingly obvious. He walked further into the corner of the room and saw scuff marks on the floor. It was as if that part of the room would open outwards like a door, all he needed to do now was find the switch to open it.
"Secret book on the bookshelf? No to obvious… what do we-," He was cut off when he found what he was looking for.
Next to the bookshelf was a large lever, and on the wall, opposite was another. He felt his eyes roll, wondering if all mages were this flimsy with their security. The precautions Yennefer took to keep her possessions hidden were astronomical. Triss, guarded her magical objects with her life. It seemed the mage Alexander was more than flimsy with his research.
"Well… that was easy," he said, as he yanked one lever upwards, then walking to do the same with the other.
Sure enough as he predicted, he heard a door swing open. Back behind him, where he saw the scuff marks on the floor, a passage to another staircase was no available to him. Slowly, keeping the lamp steadying in one hand, his sword in the other he crept around to it. A chill got sent up his spine, when he saw the bloody handprints on the entryway, as slowly he made his way up the steps.
It was the laboratory that he found, and it almost made him throw up everything he had eaten that day. Large test tubes jutted from one corner, humans, people, more than likely peasants were inside, floating in the mucky green water. All around the smell of blood hit his nose, as surgical equipment, cages with dead, and rabid rats were all around him. Slowly he clipped the lamp back to his belt, and moved forward, both hands on its hilt. The more he saw, the sicker he felt in his stomach.
He knew that the banging had come from here, so he was being weary.
"Human test subjects? Fucking hell… no wonder the peasants weren't too happy, testing on rats and people…" He said with disgust, looking carefully at the test tubes.
The next thing he heard was a ghostly cry, and he whirled around, ready to lunge out with his blade. That was until he realized, it sounded like a young woman crying. Slowly he walked forward until he saw the mist, the green swirling vapor had the sounds of a woman crying coming from it. Slowly, he pulled the lamp from his belt and placed it on the ground.
When it projected its light, the spirit finally took form. His eyes narrowed when he realized, it was the spirit of the lords daughter. Annabelle, the one he had followed up the tower. He felt his skin almost peel off when the spirit looked up, straight at him.
"Why did you leave? You claimed to love me. I'm cold… Why has no one come for me? I cannot leave this place, I see no way out," The spirit said, its female voice full of pain, and heartbreak.
The cold draft that was present in the tower seemed to intensify, the spirits ghostly black eyes finally saw him, and this time, spoke directly to him, "Who are you? Do you seek to hurt me as well?"
He knew he needed to be careful. With all he had seen from the tower, all the lords family had been brutally killed. The daughters aura was more powerful, his medallion hummed consistently with a heavy pulse, the magic at play was strong. She wasn't like the other specters, she could see him, talk directly to him.
Slowly he sheathed his sword behind his back, and held up his hands, "It's alright I won't hurt you. I'm a Witcher, I'm here to lift the curse on the island. Who are you? The other ghosts on the island, they couldn't see me, or talk directly to me."
The specters eyes were unmoving, and unfeeling, she lifted her arms and spoke in that sad, scared voice she had been, "I'm special. Always was. The lord's daughter. A rare beauty. The lands as far as thee I could see were ours…. My family and I were meant to flee and wait out the war in the mages tower. It was not meant to be forever!"
With every word the spirit spoke, the more sorrow he felt for the poor girl. She was more then likely the biggest victim of what had happened in the tower. A young woman had been killed, because her father was an ass, the peasants were asses, and it was the innocent who suffered.
"The mage who lived in the tower… what can you tell me about him," He asked the young woman, his skin crawling, when he felt as if the people in the tubes were staring at him.
"Alexander, I hardly knew him. He spent all his time locked away in this tower. He's dead too you know! They're all dead! A mountain of corpses yet I remain all alone abandoned! They all abandoned me, even he who promised me everlasting love! You will abandon me as well," The spirit suddenly screamed, making him subconsciously take a step back.
It was a horrible way to die, he knew that. However, the more he heard, the more vengeful the spirit had sounded. Carefully he rose his hands to calm her again.
"Don't worry, if I lift the curse, you'll be free to leave the isle. Now, to do that I need to know exactly what happened. I heard the peasants sailed here to ask for food," He asked the specter, his hand twitching.
Again, the ghost of Annabelle wailed, "They came here to kill! They thought us rich, eating our fills while we laughed at their misery! The truth was we had little food as well, yet they still came! They slaughtered everyone… I heard my father cry, the mage told me to hide, and not let anyone in…. He gave me a potion. If I was discovered, I was to drink it, he said it would make everything alright."
"Do you remember anything about the potion? What color it was, what it smelled like," He asked the specter.
He saw the ghost shake her head, "I only remembered I fear to drink it."
"Didn't trust the mage?"
Again, the ghost shook her head, "In the village they claimed he meddled in disease, causing it not curing it. They said he lured rats into the tower to infect them with the Catriona!"
He felt his blood run cold. From what he saw of the mages tower so far, he knew this had to be true. The cages full of rats, the bodies in the tubes… it all made too much sense. The ghost of Annabel however shook her head.
"All rumors and gossip I'm sure… but I was horribly afraid," She said, her voice returning to one of fear, "And then I heard him… my beloved Graham. He called to me, I opened the door for him, others rushed in. They… lunged at me and… and…."
"He failed to save you…" he said, feeling his own heart begin to churn, "Why?"
Annabelle met his eyes with her unmoving black ones, "There were too many… 'Leave her be' he shouted. He grabbed at them, tried to stop them. They just laughed."
He tried to imagine himself in the situation. However, he couldn't, or didn't want too at the moment, as he kept contact with the specters unmoving eyes. He didn't want to hear more, but he needed to know the whole story. The more he heard of the young woman's story, the more he began to think that she may be the curses source. Her anger, resentment, could have led to the power that gripped the island.
"Did they hurt you," He asked the ghost, his voice carefully placed.
"They gripped my arms, tore at my dress… I managed to free myself and drink the potion, and then… nothing," She said, her head looking down now at the floor.
"Poison? Is that how you died?"
Slowly, the specter shook her head, her arms coming out wide, "No, for later I awoke. I was alone, it was dark. Only there were rats… dozens, hundreds. And I… couldn't move."
The answer to the question popped into his head, "Mage gave you a sleeping potion. A good one by the sounds of it. Puts you in a state of paralysis, it hadn't worn off yet."
"They were everywhere," The ghost started, "Crawling on me like insects, I felt them tear me open… crawl into my stomach. I was the last to die."
He felt his own insides crawl, like a thousand bugs had begun to crawl at once. The way the girl had died, slowly, painfully, it would easily have been a way for a curse to come about. He knew now partly what he had to do, but one question still kept crawling into his mind.
Carefully he met the specters unmoving eyes, "You weren't the last to die here. Found a fresh corpse in the tower."
"The islands a dangerous place," She said right away, too fast for his liking, "Folk should not venture here- I too wish to leave."
He narrowed his eyes at the ghost, "It looked like he was attacked by a monster… recently. The tower home to anything else besides specters? Does a monster hunt here? You must've noticed something."
The words he had chosen were the wrong ones, "I don't know I've noticed naught! Why do you ask!? Why must you press me so, you are to be my savior, not my tormentor!"
He could feel the sudden shift in tone, and it made his hand want to twitch for his blade even more. However, he knew he needed to know more, so carefully he held his hands up again.
"Alright… tell me how I can help you, I need to lift the curse," He carefully asked the specter.
Suddenly, as if it was a switch, her tone changed back to one of a sweet, young cursed girl.
"A curse born of hatred binds me to this place. Only love's power can hope to lift it, but… who could love a wraith," She asked with despair.
He took note of the sudden changes in her voice, and asked his next few questions carefully, "And your beloved Graham? Is he alive?"
"Graham? No, he lives. I would know if he died. But he fled, abandoned me! Left me here all alone," She said, her tone rising again.
Quickly he held his hands up again, "Well, maybe the curse can lift if you forgive him. Put aside your anger and hate. You could cleanse the isle. Who is he? A nobleman's son?"
Annabelle shook her head, "No… a poor fisherman. My father objected, strongly. He did not see us together. Oh… I miss him so. Each night I walk the island's shore to gaze upon the village. Does he remember me still?"
Hearing this made his ears prick up again, and his chest begin to pump. He narrowed his eyes towards the ghost, "You told me earlier you couldn't leave the tower… so what is it?"
The spirit tilted her head, "Did I? You must have misheard me."
"No…" He said carefully, "I don't think I did."
"I… I don't know, it's all a nightmare to me now," The specter said carefully.
He had caught the spirit in its lie. All of the pieces finally began to go together for him. His heart went out to the poor girl, it truly did. However, he had learned over the years, that specters can lie just as humans did. There was something the ghost was holding back, and he needed to figure out what it was.
Again, he chose his words carefully, "The curse of the island is focused on you. It was born from your resentment and hatred. My medallion hasn't stopped humming this whole time. You're the base of the curse, forgiving Graham, and putting that resentment to rest, it could lift it."
The specter floated about the room, ad he was careful to shift his feet to keep his eyes on her. Finally, she landed back in-front of him, "I… I loved him. I am prepared to forgive him, but I must know he regrets what he did…. Take my bones to him. He must bury them, this will be our farewell, will you do this for me?"
Her request was the final piece in the puzzle he had been putting together in his head. The first thing his Uncle Vesemir had taught him about curses, was that you should never take the bones of a spirit anywhere. Don't move them, they could tie the specter to the land of the living, and by moving them could disturb rests and cause you even more problems. Especially on a cursed isle, he knew this would be a bad idea. There was also whatever had killed the man in the tower, the ghost had not mentioned it, pretended not to know anything.
He took in a deep breath and shook his head, "I don't think so. I'm sympathetic to your story I really am… but something just isn't right."
"And what is that," The ghost asked quickly, her voice heightening.
He met the specters unmoving eyes, "You're not telling me everything. You know the isles dangerous but won't tell me about the monster who hunts here."
"There is no monster!"
Slowly he shook his head again, "You're lying. I don't know if it's to protect the monster or not. You also lied about being able to leave the tower, and taking a dead woman's bones? First thing you learn at Kaer Morhen, don't take anything from cursed islands."
The black eyes of the specter were unmoving the whole conversation, but he saw them get darker, "They say Witcher's are heartless beasts! You never wished to help me! And here I hoped someone would finally take pity on me, stupid woman I am!"
He shot back, as the specter began to transform. It grew to the size of the room, a long flowing ghostly dress, black hair going down its skeletal head as it wore a tattered green dress. It's tongue stuck from its mouth down to its chin, and he could smell the bugs, disease and other odors wreaking from it.
"Fuck me…" He said, realizing what the monster was.
It wasn't just any ordinary wraith. It was a Plague Maiden, or a Pesta. One of the rarest monsters a Witcher could face, a trivial manner really for a fully mutated one, their bodies would be able to withstand the toxins and disease it produced.
He, however, would be dead in one strike.
"You cannot kill me, you know this," The maiden hissed, spewing a green poison from its mouth.
"Shit…" He said to himself, rolling to the right, knocking over a shelf of books.
The shelf tumbled over, covering him in old books. He sprang upwards, and the spirit rushed towards him, and he was just barely able to dive out of the way again. His blade was thankfully dripping the correct oil. However, as was the case with most specters you came across as a Witcher, to fight it, you needed to force it into its corporeal form. Most Witchers would use the Yrden sigh, however that happened to be one of the signs he had practiced the least. Before he had left Kiera's home, he made the appropriate bomb.
"Thanks Uncle Vesemir…" he said, quickly reaching down to his belt.
He ignited the Moon Dust bomb, and tossed it towards the Pesta, and it exploded in the ghosts face just as she turned. It exploded in a mixture of silver and powder, making the Pesta wail so loudly he had to cover his ears. When he did look back up it was charging again. It wasn't ghostly and invisible anymore, he could see her form better, and he knew the bomb had done the trick.
The Plague Maiden screeched wilding and charged at him again, swinging her arms. He was able to just duck down under a strike, pirouetting around and slicing his blade across the Pesta's side. She screamed so loudly that he recoiled and looked up just in time as she spit poison again, he ducked an rolled to the right again and it gave the specter the opportunity to flee, floating away with great speed down the steps of the tower.
Breathing heavy, his head came back up and he sighed in annoyance. There were very few creatures that he didn't take a contract on in his years traveling the path. He had never encountered a Pesta before, but it would have been one of the ones he did turn down. As many times as Geralt told him that he was truly a Witcher despite no mutations, they would be hindering to him on contracts like this.
"Can't let her get away… fuck," He cursed, sprinting to get back down the stairs.
He could see and smell the stench of rot and disease the Pesta left in its wake. As he sprinted, he was amazed at just how quickly he could still move in the new armor he had received. His sword glinted from the sunlight that now could be seen coming through the windows, as he carefully stepped over the bones of the previous lord of the isle. As he got to the last floor, he could see the rats all swarming towards him. He pulled up to a stop and fired a blast of fire from his hands with the Igni sign, roasted all of them before bursting out the door.
The sunlight had become harsh, the bright rays burning his eyes after being inside for so long in the dank, dark tower. His head shot up however, when he heard the wailing of the Pesta. Just in time he was able to see the blast of poison coming for him. He did the only thing that came to mind, he was flashed back to running the pendulums with Ciri in Kaer Morhen. He leaped down the steps, flipping over the blast of poison. He tightened his wrist, and landed with one hand on a lower step, and using his continued momentum to leap further, and landing at the bottom of the set of stairs on his feet. He eyed the Pesta, and quickly pulled the silver dagger from his belt, tossing it towards the creature, it lodged in the Plague Maiden's chest, making it wail again, before it raised its hands, teleporting away, his dagger clanking to the ground.
"FUCK," He yelled, walking over to retrieve his dagger with a relieved sigh.
He looked down, and noticed no new spots on his armor, the creature hadn't managed to touch him. It would have disappointed him highly if his new armor was ruined the day, he got it. It was highly disappointing however that the creature got away, but he did know what it said was correct. He couldn't kill the Pesta, the only way to rid the isle of it, lay the spirit of Annabelle to rest and make the Isle and surrounding area safe again, was going to be to lift the curse.
"Dominik," The voice of Kiera rang through the zenophox, quickly he pulled it out and the sorceress continued, "Are you alright? I heard the commotion, what did you find?"
He sighed and held the bauble to his mouth, "I found the source of the curse. The spirit of the Lords daughter Annabelle, she turned into a Pesta, had to fight it."
"A Pesta!? Dominik you must be careful. A mutated Witcher can survive a claw or two, but one hit from that thing will kill you," The sorceress shouted to him.
"Your concern is very flattering," He said in a joke into the bauble.
He could practically hear the sorceress roll her eyes, "Well to be honest I've grown quite fond of you in the last few days. Anyhow, do you know how to break the curse?"
"Yeah, gotta find the spirits lover from when she was alive, fisherman named Graham, need his help to lift the curse," He said, managing a smile at the sorceresses words.
"I know the man; a fisherman lives in Oreton. Take the boat and head south from the Isle, his home should be right on the docks," The sorceress told him.
He nodded, and sheathed his sword to his back, "Got it, should only take me another hour or two, see you soon."
The sun was still in the sky, but he could see that it would soon begin its descent. For a moment he contemplated going to get Geralt for help, however he knew he had precious little time. He would need to get the man Graham here before nightfall, if he didn't then the Islands creatures would possibly be too many for him to defend the man against.
The sun would soon set, and it would also mean he would be due to meet Geralt back at the inn at Crow's Perch as well. So, he took off in a run towards where he landed his boat, ready to complete his contract, like he always swore to do.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
It was easy enough for him to find the man's home. The first house he came up on, he saw a peasant slamming on the man's door, begging him to come out. However, Graham had shunned him away, just as he climbed out of his boat. The sun was still in the air, and the salty smell of caught fish, and the sea air blew through his brown hair. He came up on the door and knocked on it to start.
"Hello, anyone home," he yelled as he finished knocking.
The reaction from the man was instant, "Are you deaf dammit!? I told-…. Who are you?"
"Names Dominik… I've been to Fyke Isle, know all about what happened there," he said slowly, and the man became silent.
For a moment he didn't think that the man was going to open the door. He was proved wrong however, when slowly Graham revealed himself by opening the door. The fisherman was as tall as he, slicked back black hair connecting to a beard, only seeming to be a few years older them himself. Graham tilted his head, and he followed the man inside, closing the door behind him after making sure they weren't followed. It was a simple fisherman's hut, rods, nets and other fishing implements hung along the walls, with salted trout hanging from hooks. The man turned around, meeting his eyes.
"Who are you, and what is it you want from me," He asked, his tone carefully apprehensive.
"Dominik of Cintra," He started, giving the man a nod, "I'm a Witcher, investigating the curse on Fyke Isle…. I'm here to talk to you about Annabelle."
Upon the mention of his former lover, the man's head fell, "Annabelle? What could you possibly know about her?"
He scoffed and met the man's eyes, "I met her on the isle, talked to her… well to her ghost."
The man shook his head, "Aye… she's dead. Drank poison, and I… I couldn't save her."
Upon hearing the man's words, the image of Ciri appeared in his mind. He had said those words multiple times himself; he knew the feeling of letting down those you loved all too well.
He sighed and met the man's eyes again, "Listen, I want to help you, and Annabelle. I want the curse to be lifted and I can do it, but first you need to tell me everything that happened on Fyke Isle, from start to finish."
Graham's eyes grew wide, but he slowly nodded, "Well a few of the boys from the village gathered up some men. Rough, tough types, wanted to sail to the Isle, take back what was ours from the noble."
"And did they force you to go with them?"
The fisherman shook his head, "No, I… I saw my chance in it. A chance for me and Annabelle to flee. But… it all turned to chaos. The boys from the village started killing everyone, Annabelle they wanted to rape," The man turned and looked at a mural in the corner of his home.
It was a desk, with candles illuminating the picture of a young woman he assumed was Annabelle. Flowers and a silk, red blanket sat on the desk below it. He sighed, the man was truly and utterly in love, he could tell from the shrine. And from the way he spoke of her, the tone of his voice, the sorry he spoke with when talking about her in peril.
It was the same way he spoke when he spoke about Ciri.
"Twere then she drank the poison," The man continued, his head falling down between his legs, "Mage must've gave it to her. I ran from the tower, screaming and hollering, cursing them all to hell… don't force me to speak about it please."
Hearing what the man said made his ears perk up, it was the perfect opportunity for a curse to take place.
"Listen, I need to know exactly what you were saying as you fled. If you were cursing them, it could be important," He explained to the man.
His head poked up to meet the young Witcher's eyes again, "I… I don't remember exactly. I…I wanted them to pay, pay for what they'd done to her!"
He nodded in understanding, "That has to be it. Your words might've cursed them, Fyke Isle is a magical hotspot. Passion, evil intent and strong emotions can trigger it, cause curses. Your words that day could be the curses source."
"She… she drank the poison, took it because of them," The man said, his voice resonating with anger.
"It wasn't poison Annabelle drank," he said, making the man's head shoot up, "It was a strong sleeping potion, induces a sleep so deep that it makes someone appear dead. Mage gave it to her, wanted to convince everyone she was dead."
Graham slowly got to his feet now, meeting the younger Witchers eyes, "But you… you said you spoke to her ghost?"
Slowly he nodded his head, not wanting to tell the man what happened, but knowing it was necessary.
"I did… she still died, but not from poison. She awoke eventually, but still in a paralyzed state from the potion… in a tower of cold corpses and rats. She… she was warm meat, the rats they… ate her alive," He said slowly, and the man couldn't take it.
Graham turned from him, and his voice was shaky as he spoke again, "Alive… the whole time? But she… she was cold as a corpse all the way through. I screamed, begged her to open her eyes, I… I didn't think-."
"It wasn't your fault Graham, you didn't know it wasn't poison she drank," He reasoned with the man.
As he spoke, he realized how much like Geralt he sounded. It was often he would lament how he failed Ciri to his adoptive father, and every time, Geralt would tell him there was nothing he could have done. And no matter if he was right, it never made Dominik feel any better.
So, it came as no shock to him when his words hadn't helped Graham, "If only I had stayed behind to bury her! I failed her, I should have stayed, done something else. Do you have any idea what its like!? To love someone so much, and to let them down to such an extent!?"
The words of the man cut into his chest like a hot knife through butter.
His eyes narrowed at the man, "I know how that feels better then you'll ever understand. I know how much it hurts, thinking you could have done something more, done something to make the outcome different."
Graham scoffed, "Bah, then you know that it's my fault. If I had known she was alive, things would've been different!"
The words that Faram had spoken to him a few nights prior rang through his head again.
He shook his head at Graham, "Maybe you're right. Maybe you could've done something, maybe not. Either way though, it's in the past. What happened in the past you can't control, and the longer you let it eat at you, the longer you'll suffer over things you can't change. What you CAN control, is the future. And in your case, you can STILL help Annabelle."
The man digested his words for a moment, before turning back to him, "You… you say I can help her? You said her ghost was in the tower can… can I see her?"
He bit the bottom of his lip and nodded, "Yes but… there's something you should know. In death, Annabelle turned into a Pesta. A Plague Maiden. Powerful wraith born of grief and hatred, with the power to sow disease and death."
The fisherman's eyes went wide, and he spoke with desperation now, "Well how am I to help her? Gods know I'm willing."
He nodded to the man, "A curse has imprisoned Annabelle and all the other spirits on the island. Love… it can shatter its power, free her and them."
"Just like in the tales," Graham said with his eyes wide.
Again, he nodded to the man, "Yeah, just like the tales. But I need to warn you, the kiss has to be from someone who's love is true."
"I love her, with all my heart I told you! Take me to her, I must help her, save her," The man begged him.
He managed a smile. The feeling of wanting to do anything to save and protect that one person you love was something he understood all too well, "Alright, we'll head out now, but I need to warn you first. The Isle is dangerous now, the Pesta is dangerous, there's risks involved, are you sure you want to do this?"
With a new look of determination on his face, Graham nodded, "Aye, I'm ready. I'm no coward, I won't run this time."
"Good… come on, let's get moving," he said, gesturing for the man to follow.
It was his hope that he could protect the man. He knew the sting of losing loved ones all too well and losing the one you were in love with. When he agreed to help Kiera with her favor, he didn't expect it to turn into one of his most deadly contracts. One that saw him facing a monster very few Witchers had faced, one that could kill him within seconds. However, he was glad now that he did it.
And only hoped he could bring some peace to a shattered couple.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"This… this is it right," Graham asked carefully.
Getting back to the isle and the top of the tower had been easy enough. The sun still being up, just barely starting its descent had made it easy to navigate. A group of wraiths had attacked him on the first floor, but after Graham had hid, it was easy for him to dispel them with a combination of bombs and his blade oils. Graham had been hesitant, but followed his up the tower, explaining more about what had happened as they ascended. They had just gotten to the bottom of the steps, that would lead up to the mages laboratory, when he paused to turn to the man, his sword still in one hand. He carefully sheathed it onto his back, not wanting to scare off the Pesta when they did climb.
"It is… before we go up, I need to tell you something," he said to the man meeting his eyes.
Graham met his eyes and he sighed with worry, "When we get up there… if you go to kiss that thing, get to close to it... if it decides to attack… I won't be able to get to you to save you in time. Are you still sure you want to do this?"
For a moment, the mans' head fell to the ground, before he looked back up meeting Dominik's eyes with his own, "You told me you knew how I felt. How it feels to fail one that you love, right?"
"Yes…" He said slowly, as Graham nodded again.
"Would you… would you die for her? For your woman," The fisherman asked him.
The answer escaped his lips without him even needing to think, "Yes… a hundred times over if need be."
"Aye… and so would I… thank you, for giving me the chance," The man said to him, and he felt his blood run faster through his body.
He would die a hundred times over for Ciri. If it was possible for him to take her gifts, for him to have been born with Elder Blood, so people would stop trying to chase her, catch her, so she could live a normal life… he would. It made him feel even better he agreed to accept the job, knowing now that he was helping a man save his love.
And soon after, he would save his own.
"You're welcome… come on, let's go do this," he said, turning to slowly walk back up the steps.
Carefully, with Graham following at his heels. He could smell the Plague Maiden before he even got to the top step. The light from the outside was now non-existent, and all he could see was the green smoke billowing from above. The steps creaked as he climbed, and when he finally got to the top, he slowly pushed the door open, and he heard the wailing of the Pesta.
Graham followed closely behind him, and he saw the beast when he finally turned to the rest of the room. It had a wound across its abdomen, and a hole in its stomach, from where his weapons had hit her. The poor man looked at the specter, his mouth falling agape, his bottom jaw shaking.
"You have not forgotten. You've returned to me," The ghost said, her voice full of bitterness and resentment.
Graham turned to him again, "I…Is…Is that-."
"It's me Annabelle," The Pesta roared, drawing Graham's attention again, "Don't you recognize me!? The one you abandoned!"
He felt his hand twitch, ready to go for his sword again, but Graham didn't remove his gaze from the Pesta.
"Annabelle, I-I was sure you were dead. If I'd known otherwise. I'd have never left you. I'd do anything for you, I would! You know that as well. Believe me I beg you," The man said loudly, his voice nearly breaking.
A long moment of silence overcame the two, as the Pesta floated in front of them. Finally, the ghostly voice of Annabelle spoke once more.
"Prove it… kiss me," The specter said, her voice suddenly calmed.
"Graham… be careful," he said quickly, as the fisherman looked back to him.
Graham had a look on his face he had on his own multiple times. The look you gave when you were ready to do anything for a person. He nodded to the younger Witcher, locking eyes with him.
"Thank you… and I hope you save your love as well…" The man said, before turning back to the Pesta.
He knew he couldn't stop the man anymore. Graham walked up to the Plague Maiden and drew close to her. It was a touching moment he knew, but he had to turn around when the ghost long wet tongue wrapped around the mans hand, and face as they kissed.
Ciri wouldn't be a Plague Maiden when he found her, he knew that much. However, he hoped that the two of them could embrace still, have the same type of connection that Graham and Annabelle had at the moment. He watched as the ghostly wraith, transformed into a beautiful young woman, and for a few moments, her and Graham kissed. The swallow pendant around his neck began to tremble and he gripped it in his hand, thinking of Ciri.
A black smoke emanated from Annabelle, and it engulfed the two of them. Graham let out a sharp breath, before falling slowly to the ground, his eyes open, his chest unmoving. He felt his stomach begin to churn, the man didn't deserve to die… but at least if he had too, he had done it in the embrace of the one he loved. He could only hope he would be as lucky in the future.
"Finally…" The spirit of Annabelle, now a beautiful young woman instead of a beastly Pesta said, over the body of Graham, before disappearing in a huff of black smoke.
He sighed disappointedly and knelt over next to the body of the man. Carefully, he reached his hand down, and closed the man's eyes. With a deep breath he fell back onto his backside, sitting on the floor of the laboratory. His eyes stayed trained on Graham's body, before he looked down at the silver swallow around his neck, carefully taking it into his hands.
"Soon…" he said quietly, before getting to his feet, taking a last look at Graham's body, "Curse if lifted… Graham and Annabelle are reunited… should get back to Kiera."
He had completed his contract and helped two people in love reunite. Soon hopefully it would be his turn.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"What could she possibly want with these…" He said, examining the package one last time as he climbed off Clop's back.
A whirlwind of things had happened when he returned from Fyke Isle. Kiera had thanks him with a hug, also reveling at the fact he was still alive. It had made him feel slightly better, with him still being upset Graham had to die. He was beginning to feel like he had made a true friend in Kiera Metz, the sorceress thanked him with access to any of the ingredients she had in her hut, before asking him for one more favor.
The sorceress had apparently ordered a package from Novigrad, and it was late to be delivered. She was worried it had gotten lost and asked for his help in retrieving it. The sun had been just about to set when he left, so he agreed since he had time. Also, because he felt he still slightly owed the sorceress for all she'd done for him. Besides, she had also been becoming a friend, and when a friend needed his help, he tried to do everything he could to assist them.
It was an easy enough process for him to find the merchants cart that had been ran off the road by monsters. After fighting a fiend, Pesta, wraiths and other monsters the last few days, dispatching the drowners that had been responsible was a trivial task. He had searched the wreckage of the wagon, expecting to find magical herbs, amulets, or other things of a magical nature that Kiera needed to use for jobs. The last thing he expected was for his medallion to stay silent, and the package to contain wines, meats, and incense, all things of a non-magical nature.
Carefully he walked into Kiera's home, the package in his hands. When he saw the sorceress in her room, she was flipping through a large book, muttering words to herself in elder speech. He knocked on the side of the wall and she nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned back to him.
"Dominik, you need to stop scaring me like that," She said, removing her hand from her neck.
He scoffed a laugh and placed the package on the table next to him, "You know… if you wanted me to help you with your grocery shopping you could've just asked. Was expecting a magic amulet, special herbs, something that may blow up but… not a lick of magic. What're you up to?"
The sorceress smiled at him suggestively, and it made the hairs on his arm stand up, "Well… as a thank you, I'd rather show you. But first you must wait a bit."
"I don't know…" He said, looking out the window, the sun just starting to go down behind the mountains, "I'm due back to meet Geralt, we're leaving for Novigrad in the morning."
Kiera rolled her eyes and slowly walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm, "Oh come now. You're a grown man, Geralt can wait a little longer. Besides, I need to thank you somehow, please stay, it won't take me very long."
He bit the bottom of his lip and looked out the window once more. Geralt had told him to meet back at the latest the next morning. After they set out for Novigrad, he more than likely wouldn't have the chance to come back for a while. It wouldn't bring him much disappointment to finally be out of Velen, but he would be upset to not see his new friend in Kiera again. With a sigh he smiled at the sorceress, she had after all helped him in his most important goal.
"Why not, I got a little bit more time. So, what is it you're trying to do," He asked the woman.
Kiera smiled at him again, her lips curled into a smirk, "You'll have to be patient. Go wait outside, as I said I won't be long."
He managed a laughed and held his hands up, "Alright, alright, see you in a bit."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"I wonder if Ciri named any new horses Kelpie, or Clip, what do you think," he asked the white horse as he brushed down his mane.
Clop neighed and blinked his eyes at him a few times, and it made Dominik roll his eyes, "You're right… she probably has a few more things to worry about then horse names."
He realized that he had been talking to his horse again and sighed. Geralt said that he himself would often talk to Roach on his travels, seeing as the mare was his only company at times. It had been two years since he had acquired his current mount, the previous one being lost to him after what happened in Rivia. He had felt a strange connection to the animal, after finding him out alone in the wilds, wondering alone, malnourished with a wound in its side from fighting off wolves. He managed to nurse the horse back to health, and before he knew it, Clop had become his constant companion through the last few years. If he told anyone else, they would've assumed he was crazy, but he could almost understand the horse, and he felt the beast could understand him as well.
"You've been patient, thank you, we're almost ready," The voice of Kiera said, making him turn around.
The sun had finally set, and the moon was rising, between it and the light from the nearby torches he saw what the sorceress was gesturing too. By her feet, three white mice ran by, past him in front of her home.
He awkwardly narrowed his eyes at the mice, "White mice? If I wanted to see those, I would've went and got drunk with Geralt."
Kiera rolled her eyes and held up her hands, "Note how I said almost ready, now watch this."
The woman raised her hands, and white smoke began to billow from them. Clop from next to him neighed and reared at the sight. Kiera shouted words in elder speech and raised her hands higher. Suddenly, the smoke enveloped the three mice, and after another moment, in their place, stood two large white horses, saddled and rearing. Upon suddenly seeing the horses, poor Clop shot back, nearly falling over.
He looked between the horses and Kiera, "Okay… white horses. Already have one… I don't get it."
Kiera kept smiling at him, but managed a friendly eye roll, "Tell me, do you remember the tale of cinderella?"
Scoffing he nodded his head, "Ha know it like the back of my hand, it was my little sisters favorite story when we were younger. Liked it myself to, until Geralt told me the story it was based off of. Zeugl cropped up at a palace pool and ate Princess Cendrella whole. Left behind one slipper and-."
"Please, no more about Zeugls," She said quickly, cutting him off, "Back to the fairy tale- I want to escape this ghastly swamp for one, magical night. I don't need a fairy godmother, I'll cast the spells myself."
He felt himself laugh, "Ha, Bella used to ask to reenact it all the time. The amount of tea parties I had to sit through with her and my mother…."
At the time when he was younger, he had detested it when they happened, but in that moment, he would have traded almost anything for one more time like that with his sister.
Kiera smiled at him, locking eyes as she began to smirk, "Then you already know how to play the part. One thing I could use is a prince charming, and other then the fact you may be the only suitable candidate in Velen… I wish to thank you for helping me and saving my life. So what do you say to a moonlight ride on horseback, and dinner?"
The hairs on his arms began to prick up again and felt a swirling in his stomach. His face began to go slightly redder, but he did managed to laugh and meet Kiera's eyes again.
"Kiera, I'm a Witcher, not a gigolo. Also, I don't know if I can be out the whole night, I got to plan what to do when we get-."
Kiera rolled her eyes, "Oh come now, I don't want to shag you in the bushes. I only wish to share a pleasant evening. I'm sure women ask you all the time."
"You'd actually be surprised," he said with a nervous laugh, before sighing, "Alright, why not, pretty hungry and thirsty after the day anyway."
A look of satisfaction crossed the sorceresses face, "Excellent, I feel truly honored… just one more thing before we go."
"Gonna transform a pumpkin into a carriage? That was one thing my sister could never manage," He said with an amused tone.
The sorceress rolled her eyes but kept a playful smile, "No… I shall transform our dull rags into something more suitable. Fear not, you won't lose the fancy new armor you've acquired, the spell will wear off in the morning."
He shrugged his shoulders, "Why not, as long as the damn thing fits me. What could possibly go wrong?"
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"Excellent work, you'd make a fantastic jockey," Kiera joked, the mug of wine in her hand.
The race to where the dinner Kiera set was quick, and he easily won on the transformed horse. It was a nice, candlelight dinner that had been set out for them. He had no idea how Kiera was able to set the table before they had left, seeing as she didn't have the ingredients she needed, but he chalked it up to being a spell. The outfit that his armor had been transformed into, was surprisingly lightweight and not chaffing anywhere on him. He eagerly drank the Cintran ale, that he had a feeling Kiera had set out just for him. The sorceress herself was wearing a beautiful, although revealing red and blue dress.
As he sat there, drinking from his mug, the alcohol pleasantly heating up his throat, he was glad he had come. After all that he had gone through in the last few weeks, traveling, and completing all the quests he had in Velen, it was nice to have such a sophisticated dinner. He hadn't had one in almost eleven years, since he attended balls in Cintra with his father and Ciri.
He laughed and met Kiera's eyes across the table, "Ha, I think I would. However, as you know being a Witcher is a lifelong commitment."
Kiera nodded, sipping from her cup, "I had been meaning to ask you about that. It's well known how Cirilla ended up in Geralt's custody, the Law of Surprise and all that, but you… how did you come to be a Witcher?"
He sighed and took another long drink of ale. Normally he had been hesitant to share his past with people, however he had grown fond of the sorceress, considering her a good friend.
After placing down his cup he met her eyes again, "Long story short… Ciri and I escaped Cintra together."
"So you're saying you knew her growing up there? How so," She asked after he had spoken.
He looked down at the swallow pendant still dangling from his neck, "Well my father, my family has been captain of Cintra's royal guards for centuries. My father was Queen Calanthe's guard captain… I met Ciri when we were 11, at some ball the queen was holding."
Kiera tilted her head and looked inquisitively at him, "And you ended up falling in love, how romantic. So, after the city was attacked you escape together?"
"Yeah, we escaped and traveled around for about a month, until Geralt found us," He said, taking another drink from his ale.
"And he took you along as well, and not just Ciri," She asked him.
He scoffed and put the cup down, "Oh yeah. I promised Ciri that I would protect her, the same way my father protected her grandmother. Told Geralt, anywhere Ciri went, he'd have to take me as well. Thankfully he didn't protest. Took Ciri and I to Kaer Morhen, trained us there together well… until she left for Aretuza."
The sorceress held her hand up, "I know the basics of what happened after, you needn't continue. You see now why I needed those… substances? It seems like you needed this as well."
Laughing he leaned back in his chair, "Ha, you're actually right about that. Still, you could've just told me what was going on."
Kiera rolled her eyes and kept her eyes locked with his, "If I had asked you to go get my groceries from the woods infested with monsters so I could make dinner, what would you have said?"
Rolling his eyes he scoffed, "I would've said okay still. You're my friend Kiera, I seldom make them nowadays, I like to help them out when I do."
His words seemed to make the sorceress stumble her own words for a moment, which was odd for her, but quickly she regained her composure, "T… thank you I appreciate it, truly. I wished to thank you again, for saving me when we explored the mages hideout, and for your help in the tower. It was dangerous for you, lifting this particular curse, you were brilliant."
He laughed nervously as he felt his chest thump faster, "Ha, not exactly the first curse I've lifted. Wasn't hard after finding the source."
The sorceress scoffed, "Ha, ever so modest. It surely had to be amongst the most difficult, one claw from a Pesta could have killed you. What happened there… I shudder at the thought. And the laboratory… I sincerely hope you burned everything- the cages, the corpses, the papers…"
At the sorceresses words, he suddenly remembered something Geralt had told him multiple times after he mentioned he met the woman. She's a prickly one, be careful. Carefully he met the woman's eyes again. He didn't want to doubt anything about her intentions, but he also wanted to be careful. It came back to him, how she had spoken highly of the mage in the tower, hearing her say now how his research should be burned, it rubbed him the wrong way.
"I didn't burn anything… if that's what you wanted to ask," He said carefully, keeping his eyes on the woman.
She nodded her voice keeping a steady tone, "If those findings were to fall into the wrong hands…. Although Fyke Isle has a terrible reputation, perhaps there's nothing to worry about."
"Yeah…. I don't think anyone is going to be going back anytime soon," he said, pouring himself more of the Cintran ale.
Kiera nodded and the smiled at him again, this time he could see the suggestiveness to the gesture, "Yes… such a gloomy subject to bring up, I apologize. I shouldn't have brough it up, not during our… romantic dinner."
At hearing the words, he almost didn't realize his mug was full. He felt his chest beat faster, his stomach all in knots. Nervously he laughed, bringing the mug to his lips.
"Haha… romantic," he asked nervously, "I thought we were just here as friends?"
"Friends yes… with benefits. So…" She said slowly.
At the time of hearing the words, he had been in the middle of drinking more of the ale from his mug. After hearing what the sorceress had offered, he coughed, the frothy brown alcohol coming up and spewing out his mouth onto the table in front of him. It went down the wrong pipe of his throat and for a minute he felt himself coughing, and he looked up finally to see Kiera looking at him with amusement in his eyes.
"My, I must say, that's not the reaction I normally get. The idea of sleeping with me make you that sick," She said, a tone of obvious amusement in her voice.
"No, no, no it's not that I swear," He said between coughs, taking another drink to clear his throat, before looking back at the sorceress, "It's just you see, I… I haven't, I've never…."
The sorceress scoffed and looked at him with a gleam in her eyes, "You're a virgin? You, a handsome, young Witcher, who's surely saved multiple, grateful young ladies… has never had sex?"
He took a deep settling breath, the coughs finally stopping him, before he looked back up at the woman, his face still red, "Well, I… I've had opportunities, woman have… have offered but I… I'm waiting."
"Waiting for what, a normal man would kill to be in your shoes I'm sure," She said, leaning back with her wine, looking at him with amusement.
"For… for it to be someone that I love, truly love," He said, trying to look down, not wanting to meet the sorceresses eyes.
Kiera seemed to digest his words for a moment, before taking another sip from her wine and looking at him again, "So you mean to tell me… you're really waiting for Ciri?"
The idea that his first ever time being with a woman would be Ciri, was something that he very rarely thought about. Growing up at Kaer Morhen he was always too young to think about it, however around the time the two of them turned 14, and actually began to give it some thought, he just always assumed it would be her. He had decided that he would only ever be with a woman who he truly loved, and Ciri was the only one who he ever truly, did fall in love with. In his current situation that was of course the very last thing on his mind when it came to Ciri.
However, when it did come to the topic of his first time with a woman did arise, he always knew it would be Ciri, if she wanted to as well, it was never going to be anyone else.
He managed a shaky sigh, but composed himself, "She… she's the only one that I've ever loved so… so yes, if she decides she wants to… then yes, but that's on the very bottom of my list of concerns at the moment."
Kiera Metz stared at him for a few moments, before letting out a disappointed sigh, "I must say… I truly have never met a man like you, Dominik of Cintra. Very well. I know you must get back to Geralt but, before you go rushing off, would you at least lay and watch the stars with me?"
With a sigh of relief he nodded and met the sorceresses eyes, "Yeah… why not. That, I will do."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"I can't believe I fucking fell for this, Geralt's never going to let me hear the end of it," He muttered to himself, as he approached the wooden palisade around the tower.
Kiera had duped him. After his new friend had offered to lay on the beach to watch stars, she then proceeded to put him to sleep with a spell, and he woke up the next morning, nearly being killed by a drowner. It hadn't taken him long to realize where the sorceress had gone, he had seen the way to Fyke Isle clear as day, and right away set out to figure out the true reason she had sent him to the tower, to cleanse the curse. Feeling his anger raise, he looked up and saw the light on the top floor of the tower lit, the window of the laboratory.
His armor had finally returned to him, the illusion finally wearing off. He had a slight headache from the spell that had sent him into a dreamless sleep. So, when he saw the door open, and Kiera emerge, papers sticking out of her bag, he waited for her at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, meeting her eyes as soon as she stepped down.
"So Cinderella… find what you were looking for in the tower," He said slowly, his voice dripping with anger.
Kiera to her credit wasn't fazed by his tone, she stood in front of him, hands on her hips, "Yes thank you. How about you, sleep well?"
"Got a bad headache," he growled, not looking away from the sorceresses eyes, "You used me."
The sorceress rolled her eyes and took a few steps past him, "I assume that you've inherited Geralt's painstakingly annoying sense of honor and humanity. If I told you what I had intended, you would have tried to stop me."
"Aha, and what exactly is it you're trying to do? What do you want those papers for," he asked in an annoyed tone, keeping his eye on her movements.
Kiera scoffed and kept her eyes locked with him, "I'm continuing the honorable work of a man whose life was cut short."
"The honorable work of keeping human test subjects," he said right away, his tone rising.
Still the sorceress wasn't deterred, "Alexander was studying the Catriona plague. I shall use his notes to produce medication, perhaps a cure… or at least a vaccine."
The annoyance in him rose, "Geralt warned me you were prickly, image obsessed. I'm guessing that you want to produce medication just for the good of the people is that it? Strictly humanitarian motives!?"
Scoffing again the sorceress took another few steps from him before turning back, "No, strictly selfish ones…. The mighty would pay willingly for such a remedy. Can you imagine how much? Take Radovid for instance. Why, he might even consider forgiving my past associations with the lodge."
He felt himself laugh. It was Geralt who had told him about Radovid. The mad king of Redania, who had been the one to order the burning of any magic users, along with alchemists, dopplers, and soon nonhumans would be next. In his travels before Yennefer had found him, he heard horror stories about Witch Hunters dragging people suspected of being mages from their homes, burning them at the stake in front of hundreds of cheering people.
He took a few steps closer to her and shook his head, "You know as well as I do Radovid isn't interested in medicine, especially if it comes from a known sorceress of the lodge. Geralt told me what he did to Phillipa Eilhart, and I've heard of what he orders done to even alchemists. You'll get yourself killed Kiera!"
Indignantly the sorceress shook her head, "He'll make an exception for me, He had to, I have something that he wants!"
"Please, you don't believe that, you can't," he said, crossing his arms again.
Kiera looked down for a moment, before turning back to him with an angry look, "You somehow believe that Cirilla hasn't been with anyone else, anyone at all since you've last seen her. You don't see me laughing. I'm going to Radovid to tell him of this research, whether you like it or not!"
The words made his anger flare up even more. He was tempted to let the woman go on her suicide mission. If she tried to cross the Pontar and find Radovid she would surely end up tied to a stake, burning for the enjoyment of screaming crowds in Novigrad. Despite the fact she had tried to use him however, he knew that he wouldn't want to leave anyone to that fate.
He pushed aside his anger and shook his head at her again, "Kiera I can't let you do that. It's suicide. You'll end up tied to a stake in Novigrad, burned to boost morale. Despite the fact you used me, lied to me, but… I still wouldn't let anyone suffer that fate."
The sorceress shook her head, but he could see the disappointment, the desperation building up inside of her, "Shut up a moment and look at me!"
She held out the arm of her dress and running along it he could see small black insects, not uncommon in Velen.
"Bed bugs Dominik! I, Kiera Metz, former advisor to Foltest, member of the lodge of sorceresses… have bed bugs! While I… I do appreciate your concern, and the fact you haven't tried to kill me yet, I won't stay in the swamp, not a moment longer," She said with a shake of her head, before looking out over the lake, "I will cross the Pontar, Radovid's men will find me. Don't you see, I must parley!"
He felt himself sigh once again. He was speaking truthfully when he said, he truly didn't wish for the woman to die. It angered him that he was being used, but after hearing why he understood. She had never had to grow up the way he did, or the way most people did. It would have driven him crazy too if he was stuck alone in a swamp after spending more than likely almost a hundred years in a castle. Geralt had been right about the woman, she was image obsessed and prickly, looking out for mainly herself.
However, she had still saved his life. She had helped him find more information on Ciri. He had found new strength in himself, to defeat the Pesta, and slay Nithral, thanks to his quests with Kiera Metz. Through it all, he still considered the sorceress his friend.
"I got another option for you… go to Kaer Morhen," he said to the sorceress, making her raise her eyebrows.
He didn't know if he had the same influence at the Witcher keep that Geralt did. However, he had to believe that his Uncle Vesemir would take his word and let Kiera stay there. The group had let sorceresses stay before like Triss, and Geralt had sent his friend Letho of Gullet to the keep as well. If Vesemir, Lambert and Eskel could deal with Letho there, he had to assume they could deal with Kiera.
"You believe that I would be safe there, when was the last time you were even at the keep," She asked him, her tone softening.
"Eight years… but they'll still trust me, I know it. Long as you don't piss Lambert off, you'll be fine. Tell them Geralt and I sent you, won't find much luxury there, but you'll be safe. Radovid, Nilfgaard, they won't be able to get to you," He promised the sorceress.
She took a few steps towards the lake again, contemplating her options, before turning back to him, her eyes looking up at him with thanks, "It's a long way, well beyond the dividing line. But if I keep to the woods until I reach the Kestrel Mountains, I should pass through undetected."
He smiled, and sighed in relief, and Kiera laughed at him.
"So be it, seems I find it hard to refuse you handsome. I… also wanted to thank you again, for what you've done to help me," She said carefully, losing her words for a moment.
A laugh managed to escape him as he met her eyes again, "Ha, it's like I said, we're friends. I help my friends whenever I can, do whatever I can. So I'll see you at Kaer Morhen? Sheets are free of bedbugs… at least mine were."
The sorceress laughed, and looked up at him with a soft smile, "I yearn to be there already… thank you Dominik. And… I truly hope you find your Cirilla, and when you do, she realizes just how lucky she is."
He felt his face get hot again as he laughed, rubbing the back of his head, as the sun beat down on his neck, "Thank you Kiera… for everything."
She nodded, leaning up and planting a kiss on the young Witchers cheek. It brought a small smile to his face, as she gestured for him to follow.
"Come now, the least I can do it teleport you back to your horse, I'm sure Geralt will soon send out a search party," She said with a joke.
He felt his eyes roll, "That's an understatement. Thank you."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Clop had seemed to sense his urgency, and speed along the path back to the inn by Crow's Perch. He was satisfied that he was able to help Kiera, but now he was ready to focus back on the main task at hand. It was finally time for Geralt and he to leave Velen. They had figured out everything they needed to figure out, completed every quest and contract they had needed. They knew that Ciri was heading for Novigrad, and that was now where they would be heading. The free city, the largest city on the continent, looking for one woman.
He saw Roach still tied to the stables outside, and breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that Geralt hadn't gone out searching for him. Quickly, he tied Clop's reins next to Geralt's mare and rushed inside the inn. It wasn't crowded thankfully, and he was able to spot Geralt's swords, as he sat at a table in the back. He walked over, and once his adoptive father saw him, he shot to his feet, meeting his eyes.
"Dom, where the hell have you been, I almost went out looking," He said, as the younger Witcher got to the table.
"Long story…" He said, sitting down, and picking up a mug Geralt ordered and downing what turned out to be cold water.
Geralt looked down at him suspiciously, and slowly sat back down. When he looked up from the mug, Geralt's yellow Witcher eyes were trained on him. He felt his eyes go wide when he heard Geralt smell the air around him.
"Why do you…" Geralt started, sniffing the air again, "Smell like incense, and mulled wine?"
"I hate Witcher senses…" He muttered to himself, tearing a large piece of bread off a loaf and biting into it.
Geralt smirked at him, leaning back in his chair, "I'm guessing you'll tell me on the way?"
"Yes…" He said, embarrassed, "So, are we all set to leave? Learn anything about Novigrad from the travelers here?"
Geralt leaned forward on the table between them, nodding his head, "Yeah, got fresh supplies, made a few potions and bombs, we can set out now. As for news… well more of the same. Temple Guard is cracking down even harder, arresting and burning anyone they suspect of being a mage, or even associated with one."
He remembered how Yennefer had told them Triss Merigold was their contact inside the city. The thought that someone had captured her made his blood run to ice. Triss had been like the older sibling he never had experienced having. He thought that she was only there for Ciri back when she spent time at Kaer Morhen, but the sorceress always made time for him as well. No matter what it was, help with learning how to better read or write, cooking, picking out a way to apologize to Ciri when the two had fights, sitting with him in his room, helping him fall back to sleep after nightmares of Cintra haunted him… the sorceress had always been there for him.
And all of that was before she had saved his life in Rivia.
"I hope Triss is okay… and that Ciri stayed out of sight," He said, meeting Geralt's eyes.
The older Witcher nodded, "So do I…. Now, when we're in Novigrad, you're going to need to take the lead in conversations, help talk to people more. Me, and Triss when we find her, people may be more hesitant to give information too us."
He nodded again in understanding, and Geralt smiled at him.
"Before we head out… I know I've said this before, but I'm really proud of how much you've grown," His adoptive father said with a smile.
He laughed nervously, feeling his heart grow, "Thanks Geralt… it's thanks to you training me."
Geralt shrugged his shoulders, "That certainly helped, but I don't just mean in terms of combat. As a person, you've grown from the time we set out. When we first arrived, you were temperamental, lashing out… but now it's different. You're controlling your emotions, being smarter with your words. You've accomplished a lot."
He smiled again, knowing that the Witcher was right. Thinking back, when they first arrived, he had lost his temper far too many times. With the emperor, the Crones, all had almost led the two of them to not being able to get the information they needed. Thankfully for once in his life, things were turning out in his favor.
"It means a lot coming from you… but I don't want to talk about what we've accomplished. Not until we find Ciri," he said, looking up to meet the older Witchers eyes.
"Don't worry," Geralt said reassuringly, "We're getting closer, I can tell. It was never going to be easy, but we've made progress."
He nodded in agreement, "Yeah… it's like finding a needle in a very large haystack… but I won't stop until we find her. I HAVE to, I'm going too."
Geralt nodded sagely, "We will, don't worry. People linked by destiny always find each other, and the three of us? We've been linked since the very beginning."
People linked by destiny always find each other. It was the same saying he had heard over and over throughout the years, the phrase that kept him going. If what his father had told him all those years ago was true, then he and Ciri were truly linked. Destiny had determined the two of them would meet, and as his mother promised him, do great things.
However, he didn't give a damn now whether they were truly bound together by destiny or not. He was going to find her because it was his promise to her. To always find each other, to always try and get to one another. That was the promise they both had made all those years ago in the cave. He had tried to keep his promise for the last eight years by himself. Now however he had help, his family, Geralt, Yennefer, Triss, Faram, and all of the friends he had made up to this point, was to help him in his goal of keeping that promise.
He reached down and picked up the mug he had been drinking from again, "To Ciri and Yennefer," he said with a smile, holding the cup up to Geralt.
Geralt smiled, grabbing up a mug of his own, "To Ciri and Yennefer."
The two Witchers drank, before a surge of adrenaline and hope ran through his body. He slammed the mug back down onto the table below, and stood up from the stool, meeting Geralt's eyes.
"Alright Geralt, it's time…. To Novigrad!"
A/N: So, after a long, grueling treck through Velen Dominik and Geralt are finally ready to set out for Novigrad. We'll get to see the famous sorceress Triss Merigold, along with favorites such as Djikstra, Dandelion, Zoltan and Priscilla. How do you think Dominik is going to get along with all of them? What are you looking forward to the most in Novigrad? What did you think of this chapter? What about the dreams, flashbacks and stories about the old times? Let me know what you all thought!
Thank you all so much for the support, I truly thought I wouldn't get to Novigrad, and I'd get bogged down in Velen. I considered splitting this up into two chapters, but in the end, decided I wanted the Novigrad arc to start with a nice solid round number in chapter 20.
Getting to Novigrad excites me, because as we know, it means we are getting closer and closer to finally reuniting with Ciri, and figuring out what happened to her. After Velen, Novigrad and Skellige, the game really picks up in pace, so I'm excited for that!
I do want to say, I know that in the books that is not exactly how Ciri got her sword. She still got the sword from Leo Bonhart, but I am aware it wasn't exactly that scenario. I thought the dream I came up with would simply be a good way for Dominik to learn more about what Ciri went through.
Finally, I want to give an armor and weapons update for both Dominik and Geralt.
Geralt, is still wearing his default armor, the Kaer Morhen armor, with a Witchers steel and silver longsword.
Dominik is now wearing the Superior Wolven Witcher armor and using his trusty Witcher steel sword he received at Kaer Morhen. Along with that he has his trusty silver dagger, and a huge arsenal of bombs and oils. I know it's a little early for superior armor, but it will be the armor he wears for a while, so I thought it was okay.
Believe it or not, I actually have chapters already written halfway through Novigrad, all the way to about chapter 27. I'm not releasing them all at once, so just in-case I can't write for a few days I still have something to post. I can tell you all things start to get intense in Novigrad and I am so excited for you all to see. As he gets closer to finding Ciri… we'll Dominik get more and more desperate and anxious… can't wait to show it.
Thank you all again for reading, please, please leave a review to tell me what you thought. All the kind reviews you guys have been leaving really keep me going, please let me know what you think of this chapter as well. I'll see you all next time for the Pyres of Novigrad!
