The Witcher: Through the Worlds

by TheWitcherDom

This bards tale begins in the village of Claywitch. Where the Young Wolf, Dominik of Cintra, has accepted a contract from the local village elder. For years the young Witcher has traveled the continent, running from the ghosts of his failed past all while looking for his long lost love, Cirilla Fiona Ellen Riannon (Ciri x OC, rated M for language, violence, future sexual content)

30. Kindred Blood

The Witcher: Through the Worlds

Chapter 30: Kindred Blood

Narrator: After finally meeting up with Triss Merigold, Dominik discovered that the sorceress had been asked to help a young nobleman escape the grasp of the diabolical Witch Hunters. After meeting their contact, Triss and Dominik planned to attend the lavish masquerade ball that the young nobleman's mother had planned as a cover for them to help her son escape. However, Geralt finally returned from his quest, and offered to go with Triss to the party himself. This left Dominik finally with a night to himself. However, instead of resting, the Young Wolf, always looking towards the future, headed to the city of Oxenfurt. There he was to meet one of his old friends. George of Toussaint, Witcher of the School of the Griffin. It was the Young Wolf's hope that his friend could train him, to help prepare him for the fights to come.

It had been a surprisingly pleasant ride to Oxenfurt. The clouds had finally pulled back, revealing the moon. It was a startlingly large half-moon, that shone light over his path as he finally made it to the city. The ride had been surprisingly settling for him. There was something inherently relaxing for him about taking a ride by himself, only him, Clop and the road. It had been just he and his loyal white horse for so long, that the ride had been a good way for him to clear his head. He loved having everyone back with him of course, Faram, Zoltan, and of course Geralt. However, just taking the ride for himself was a way for him to think on what had happened that day.

It all started with the dream, the young girl destroying the forest on Skellige, before being attacked by the Wild Hunt. After that, he had found Freya again. After helping her he now had a new ally, along with a new scar along his side. He hoped that Geralt and Triss had gotten to the Vegelbud estate alright, and that they could finally have the long discussion that they needed to have.

However as he finally found the alchemy inn, he smiled, remembering why he was there. The cool breeze hit his back as he finally closed the door behind him to enter the inn. A smell of bread, spices, and the strum of a lute hit his senses as soon as he walked in. It was relatively crowded, the tables full of people all drinking, and listening to the bard strumming a lute. A small smile came to his face as he walked up towards the man behind the bar.

"Greetings," He said, making the man look up at him.

"Aye, hungry, thirsty, what can I do for ye," The man said, cleaning a mug as he didn't even look up at him.

Sighing, Dominik rolled his eyes at the man, "Looking for a Witcher, names George. Blonde hair, green armor. Anyone like that around here?"

He felt his annoyance begin to grow, as the man still didn't even look at him. The warm air from the fire in the fireplace had hit his back, and he felt the bandages that Freya applied earlier shift. He needed to find George, he only had the one night to himself, tomorrow Geralt and he would have to get moving to free Dandelion. Having hopefully another Witcher's blades on his side, would hopefully make that task easier.

The barkeep finally looked up at him, and pointed towards the corner of the inn, "Stay's over there."

With an eye roll he nodded to the man and turned. From across the inn, past the sets of tables and now dancing people, he spotted the pommel's of a longsword. The griffin's head that adorned the pommel was golden, along with the crossguard and hilt of the blade itself. He felt himself sigh with relief, that his luck had finally come to fruition. Over the past few weeks, it had felt more and more like everything had been working against him. The fact he had only missed Ciri by a few days in Novigrad, Dandelion being captured, not being able to see Ciri's face, only hearing her voice in the dreams.

However, whatever gods existed seemed to finally have given him a break. He nodded to the inkeep and slowly slid off the stool, walking towards the corner of the inn. A maid carrying a drink tray had almost ran into him, and he had to maneuver his way around a few dancing, drunk patrons, but eventually he did reach the edge of the ground floor.

He had only spent a few days with George of Toussaint around a year and a half ago. He, Faram and the Griffin School Witcher had prepared and saved an entire village in eastern Temaria from the Bruxa and the army of thralls it had gathered. The Bruxa had apparently been very busy, ambushing caravans and enthralling dozens of men. The three Witchers had spent days preparing for the attack and had gotten to know each other quite well. George knew small bits of his past, though not as much as Faram.

He had told the man of his search for Ciri, although leaving out the parts about her Elder Blood. George like Faram had been absolutely stunned to learn he trained under Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. He had been a great companion, and it had been disappointing to he and Faram both when the man had said he preferred to travel the path alone.

His old friend was sitting in a small alcove, far enough away from the other patrons so that he could focus. A mug of what he assumed was wine sat on one corner of the table, while the Griffin School Witchers silver sword lay across it. Carefully George ran a damp rag along the silver, as his blade slowly became imbued with a black oil. A small smile came to his face. Of course George and Faram had both knew how to brew oils and bombs. However, he had managed to teach them even more advanced formulae for them both. Oils and bombs were one of the main reasons he had been able to complete almost all of his contracts, so he had mastered more advanced formulae during his time.

"Still using the relict oil formula I showed you," He said with his arms crossed, finally standing across from his old friend.

George's head shot up, and he could see a smile pass over the Griffin School Witcher's face. George of Toussaint was older then both he and Faram by a large margin. He was still relatively young by Witcher's standards, he remembered hearing the man say he was in his seventies. However, he still looked like a robust powerful young man. His golden hair was tied back into a ponytail behind his head, and his large brown eyes widened upon seeing him.

The man wore the green armor of the School of the Griffin. His armor was masterful, and unlike Faram's Bear School armor, the Griffin armor that George wore was more lightweight, while still providing great protection. The two shoulder pauldrons were implanted with the shape of a griffin's head, while the chest plate itself had golden strips running down it for extra protection. A tight belt was around his waist with a mail skirt for even more protection. The silver sword laying on the table, had a pommel that had the head of a griffin, while the steel sword still sheathed in his back had a circular pommel, with another griffin implanted into the metal.

It had always amazed him seeing other Witcher medallions. George's of course was molded into the head of a griffin, the eyes of the necklace staring across to his wolf one.

The Griffin School Witcher laughed, looking up at him with a smile, "Hahah, Dominik of Cintra! It's good to see you again my friend, the gods work in mysterious ways. Faram a few days ago, and you today!"

George spoke in a southern Toussaint accent, before reaching out his gauntleted hand. A huge smile came to his face, and he sighed in relief, reaching out and giving the Griffin School Witchers hand a firm shake. A feeling of relief washed over him again. George gestured to the chair across from him, so Dominik sat across from the man, looking up to meet his friends eyes.

The music from the bard's lute rang through the inn, getting jollier and livelier. He heard the singing as George wiped a rag across his blade one more time, the black oil finally imbued into his blade. Smiling the Griffin School Witcher looked back up to him.

"And to answer your question of course," He said with a smile, sliding his silver sword onto his back, "Your oil formulae are excellent, helped me in many a contract since we departed."

"Glad I could help," Dominik said, leaning back in the chair as the music pleasantly played, "Faram's actually the reason I knew you were here."

George pushed a strand of his golden hair out of his eyes, before picking up the tankard and downing the rest of the wine inside it.

"Hahah, it was good to see him again, as with you my friend. So, how have you been? Any luck on the Path," George asked him, leaning forward on his elbows.

The warm air from inside heated his body, as he leaned forward, looking over at his friend as well.

"A lot actually… you see well… I've been doing some business in Novigrad," He started slowly, looking to make sure no patrons were listening, "With Geralt…"

George scoffed and met his eyes again, "Hah, that's great news. But I thought you told me he had died?"

Dominik spent the next few minutes filling in his friend on all that had been happening. He told him how he discovered both Geralt and Yennefer alive, before the emperor had set him out on Ciri's trail. He told him of his adventures through Velen, and so far through Novigrad, meeting Faram again and everything that they knew so far. George was a good listener, leaning his elbows onto the table, taking in every word he said. The bard continued to play, and people were insistently singing along, which gave him the indication that nobody was eavesdropping on them.

He finished his tail with what had just happened the night before, when Geralt and he broke into Whoreson's mansion, figuring out Ciri had been wounded in a fight with the mans thugs. Finally after he had finished, George sagely nodded his head, and leaned back in his chair. That was one thing that amazed him about the Griffin School Witcher. In the few days that he spent with the man, he noticed that he very rarely got rattled. He was calm, cool, collected, always analyzing the situation before attacking. It bounced well with his own relaxed, reserved personality, and Faram's loud, boisterous one.

George smiled at him, "It seems you certainly have kept yourself busy my friend. In the short time we spent together, you spoke very highly of this Cirilla, and now you've finally found her."

His blood raced a little faster, and a warm feeling washed over his heart as he nodded back at the Griffin School Witcher.

"Thanks… it's still going to be a long road, a lot of tough fight's still left to go but… I'll find her," He started, looking up to meet the man's eyes, "That's actually part of the reason I came to find you."

The Griffin School Witcher laughed lightly and leaned back in his chair, "I spoke to Faram briefly when I saw him. He mentioned how he had seen you. What is it you need my friend?"

He remembered back to fighting Nithral in Velen at that moment. If not for Keira Metz, he would still be split open on the cavern floor. The Wild Hunt was after Ciri, and the first time he had fought them, he was nearly killed. If he wanted to protect her, he needed to learn more, he needed to fight better, he needed to be stronger. And it was his hope that George could help him in his endeavor. He remembered the walls of flames that George had been able to produce, melting opponents armor with his Igni sign, the perfect footwork and precise strikes that he made with his blades.

He would learn skills like that. If he was going to keep Ciri safe, and defeat Eredin and the Hunt, he had too.

Sighing he looked up and met George's eyes, "First well… I should tell you. Ciri she… she's back yes but she… she's also on the run, which is why it's even more important that Geralt and I find her soon."

"Who is she running from? If she's trained even half as well as you were, I don't think there's much that would make her run," George said with a small smile.

The warmth that had been building up left his body, as he met the Griffin Witcher's brown eyes.

"The Wild Hunt…" He said, keeping his voice low.

The effect of his words could be seen on George's face in a moment. It was if the Hunt itself had shown up at the inn, because suddenly he felt an icy cold draft running through him. The mere mention of the Wild Hunt was enough to remind most people of the horror stories they were told as children. George clearly had heard the stories himself because the Griffin School Witcher sighed deeply, leaning forward on the table to meet his eyes again, as the warmth seemed to return to the inn.

The bard continued to play, and more and more drunk patrons could be heard singing, however the looks between George and he were far from merry.

"The Wild Hunt… how is it possible? Why are they after her, what has she done to them," He asked carefully, the both of them being sure to keep their voices down.

Dominik's skin began to feel like ice, as he looked to his left, making sure that a barmaid carrying drinks had passed before looking back at his friend.

"They want to capture her… use her… abilities. Ciri she… she's a child of the Elder Blood," He told the griffin school witcher, being sure to keep his voice low, "I'm sorry I never told you, but… as I'm sure you know it's not exactly something, I wanted people to know."

He knew that George was a well-versed historian. He had told Dominik and Faram that as a child in Toussaint before he became a Witcher, he was the son of a wealthy knight. This meant that he received the best education possible, and history, in particular elven history had always been a fascination of his. That was how he knew George would know what Ciri being a child of the Elder Blood meant, and how dangerous it was.

The Griffin School Witcher for the first time seemed shocked, he made sure again nobody was eavesdropping before looking back to him.

"Lara Dorren's heir? A descendent of Riannon… you're certain," He asked Dominik, and after getting a nod in confirmation, the man sighed deeply, tsking as he looked across to him, "No need to apologize my friend. You are right in being reticent to talk about this. I shudder to think but… what does the Wild Hunt want with the Elder Blood?"

A surge of anger ran through his body, up his esophagus and spilled out of him, "Those bastards want to capture Ciri and use her powers. Ciri she… can open portals to different worlds. The Hunt wants to use this to launch a full-scale invasion of the continent, our whole world."

"Gods above…" George said in an deep, low tone, "It seems there is even more at stake now then just finding your lost love my friend."

"Yeah… there is. Which is why we NEED to find Ciri before they do, and… I was hoping for your help," He said slowly, looking at the man with pleading eyes, begging him to say yes.

George sagely nodded, "I'll always be willing to lend my blades to such a worthy cause… besides fighting by your side last time we were quite the team, you Faram and I. I say we give those phantom's a fight!"

It was an idea that had been stored in the back of his brain. What if it all wasn't enough in the end, what if no matter what, no matter how many allies and friends he made, it still wouldn't be enough to overpower the Hunt. He quickly stuffed the thoughts into the back of his head. Finding Ciri. That was what mattered. If he was going to die, he was going to do it fighting, fighting alongside Ciri. Alongside Ciri, Geralt, Yennefer, Triss and all his friends, doing everything they can to push them back. If the Wild Hunt wanted to get to Ciri, to invade their world, he was going to make sure he gave the fuckers a fight as George said.

A rush of relief ran over him as he looked up to see the Griffin School Witcher smirking. The next part of his plan came into his mind then. First was the wolf, then the bear, and now it was time he learned to fight like the School of the Griffin.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked back up to George, "Thank you…. There, was actually something else I was hoping to ask you as well."

George smiled and gestured with his hands for him to continue, "Of course my friend, what is it?"

Sighing he looked up to meet the man's eyes, "So… as you know. I may be a Witcher but… well I'm not a real one."

Rolling his eyes the blonde-haired Witcher scoffed, "Oh please! You might not have the mutations, but that doesn't mean you don't fight like a Witcher. I've walked this earth for over seventy years, and never have I encountered a man who moves and fights like you. Your knowledge of bombs and oils is unmatched, and I've never seen a man as swift as you."

A warm feeling washed over him, and he managed a smile, but quickly he sighed again meeting his friends eyes, "Thank you really… I know I'm trained like one. But… bottom line is that I don't have the enhanced speed and strength, I can't drink potions. I… actually fought a general of the Wild Hunt in Velen when I was on Ciri's trail there."

His friend again laughed and shook his head, "Aha you see? What men can say they've slain a general of the Wild Hunt?"

Sighing again he shook his head, remembering himself laying out on the cold stones of the cave. The long scar across his stomach seemed to tingle, the metal of the axe almost cutting through him.

He shook his head towards George, "I killed him yeah… but the bastard nearly split me in half. If not for the friend I was with, I would be cut in two pieces on a cavern floor. If… If I really, truly want to be able to save Ciri from the Wild Hunt I… I need to do something, something to give me some type of advantage."

George narrowed his eyes at him, as the music behind them played, "Alright…. And what is it you needed to ask me?"

Letting out a relaxing breath he looked up at his friend, "George, I want to master the five forms of Witcher combat. Faram is already teaching me Bear School style, I… want you to train me to fight like the school of the Griffin, I want to learn your combos, your footwork, how to cast signs like you, everything. THAT is going to help me save Ciri."

His words seemed to stew in George's brain. He couldn't tell what the man was thinking, but soon after he had finished George narrowed his eyes at him, looking at him wonderingly.

"The last time I remember fighting with you… you couldn't cast signs," The Griffin School Witcher started carefully, "Not that I am against the idea, but many of our tactics… they go hand in hand with our signs."

The words washed over Dominik, and quickly he held up his hand. He had been surprised himself when Geralt told him that he was able to cast signs. This was thanks to the Witchers at Kaer Morhen, feeding him the special mixture of magical herbs while he was growing up. Anyone could learn magic and in theory witcher signs, however the herbs had readied his body, and made it slightly easier for him to pick up. The first few times he had casted; he couldn't even light a bomb with Igni without nearly passing out. However now, he was more than able to cast them at will. If he used them too much or tried to form too powerful of a cast however, it did drain him of energy quickly. The bottom line of it was, however, he could use signs, and he knew that the School of the Griffin was the one Witcher school that prioritized using them. All Witcher's obviously could use signs, however George had told him before that in the School of the Griffin, they taught you how to hone your signs with even more power.

He didn't care if he passed out the first few lessons, he wanted to learn to wield that type of power.

George looked at his hand curiously, and Dominik summoned the fiery power to his hand. A small ball of flames quickly erupted from his hand, and George's eyes went wide. Quickly again he extinguished the flames, not wanting any of the patrons to start screaming, accusing him of being a mage.

After feeling a small tingle of energy roll out of him, he looked back to George, "While I was growing up at Kaer Morhen, Geralt and the Witchers fed me some of those special herbs, one's that normally get the body ready for mutations. It helped get my body ready to cast signs. Didn't even know about it till I found Geralt again… gotten pretty good at it I'd say."

The Griffin School Witcher scoffed and a smile came to his face, "Well, well, well my friend it seems you have…. However I must admit, I am a bit surprised."

"Surprised? About what," He quickly asked his friend.

George leaned back at his chair and looked at him curiously, "You see my friend, signs at the end of the day… are a type of magic. That mixture of herbs helped get your body ready yes but… if that was all you had then your signs well… you would be able to use them, but they wouldn't be much help. Have… you been using them in combat this whole time?"

It was his turn to lean back in his chair, eying George curiously, "Yes… gotta admit, they've saved my life. There's been a few fights since I've started traveling with Geralt where… well if I couldn't cast sign's I would be dead."

He remembered back to the fight with the Bruxa just that morning. If he hadn't been able to cast his Yrden sign, then there was no way he and Freya would be alive. Quen, Aard, Igni, all the signs had been able to save him. George looked at him curiously, a wondering look on his face.

"Curious…. It's a wonder that they seem so powerful. I must ask… has there ever been a mage in your family? Anyone with great magical abilities," The Griffin School Witcher asked him.

He scoffed at the idea. His mother and father both, even both sets of his grandparents, none of them ever showed any aptitude with magic. Bella and he both growing up didn't have any incidents of them using magic. Magic, he knew was a skill that anyone could learn, but to his knowledge nobody in his family had ever wielded it.

Slowly he shook his head, "No… not that I know of. I thought mages and such couldn't have children anyhow?"

Quickly George shook his head, "You are right, however not everyone who learns magic studies at Aretuza, and hones their abilities. Magic can be learned by anyone, Aretuza is where some go to hone their skills. However some people are still born with powerful magic… like your Cirilla."

"She's a source I know… and that combined with her blood well… makes her really powerful," He said carefully, remembering the young girl he had also seen in his dreams that morning.

George nodded to confirm and went on, "Yes, sources are rare, them along with others have the ability to learn powerful magic, they aren't infertile like the sorceresses who graduate Aretuza… it could be possible you have some innate magical abilities, and these amplify your signs."

The thought sounded ridiculous to him, how could he have had such a supposedly powerful magic ancestor and not know? He was young when his father had died, however he assumed that if he had these abilities they would have shown by then. Ciri when she was in dangerous or stressful situations unleashed her power to protect herself or him. Wouldn't he have an incident, perhaps something on a smaller scale similar to that if he did have this powerful magic inside of him? He had of course been in plenty of dangerous and life-threatening situations since. Bella and he both were as normal as two children could be in Cintra, and she was dead so he would never know if any abilities developed in her.

Sighing he shook his head at George, "I don't know… far as I know my family was normal as could be in Cintra. To be honest, as long as they help me save Ciri I don't care. I've seen your signs in action, you could melt armor off with Igni, send men flying across the battlefield with Aard…. Please George, I need your help…"

The Griffin School Witcher thought again for a moment. He needed the man's help, this Dominik knew. No matter how strong Geralt assured him he was becoming, if he was going to be able to protect Ciri when they did find her, he would need this type of training. He didn't know if it was true, but if there was some kind of magical energy inside him like George was insinuating, then it would be great for it to show up soon.

Finally after a few moments George stood to his feet, he gestured for Dominik to rise as well so he did, standing across from his friend.

"My schools training and tactics have been a closely guarded secret for centuries…" George said at first, before sighing and looking to meet Dominik's eyes, "But you are my friend, and the cause you're fighting for is noble. I will help you my friend, train you…. However I must ask you for something in return."

A rush of adrenaline ran through him, but he managed to keep his composure, "Of course, anything. What is it you need?"

George sighed looking out the window. The night had fully fallen over the streets of Oxenfurt, and the large moon, along with the torches along the streets lit up the windows. The Griffin School Witcher finally turned back to him.

"I accepted a contract recently. Some dead bodies found by a cave nearby, bodies and horses ripped to pieces," He described, looking up to meet his eyes now, "I believe the creature to be a Fiend, or perhaps a Chort. Been to the cave the last three nights and nothing. I'm hoping tonight it will finally be there. I could use the extra blade, what do you say to a hunt?"

He remembered watching the Griffin Witcher imbue his blade with the relict oil as he entered. If all he had to due was help the man hunt a fiend, and in exchange he could learn the Griffin School tactics, then it was one of the greatest trades he would ever make. The warmth from the fire in the in washed over his body like a hot bath, and he found himself smiling.

Scoffing he nodded at his friend, "Of course I do. I'll help you out, and then we can head back to Novigrad. Friend of mine owns the Rosemary and Thyme, it's where Geralt Faram and I have been staying…. Thank you, George, thank you for helping me."

The Griffin School Witcher laughed and reached out, shaking his hand again before crossing his arms, "Hahah of course my friend. Come, let us slay the beast, then I shall show you everything I know, about fighting like a Griffin."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

By the time they had finally gotten out to the countryside that George had described as being near the monsters lair, the moon had risen to its apex. By the position it was in, he could tell that it was almost midnight. He wondered in the back of his head as he gently steered Clop through tree's, if Geralt and Triss had gotten back from the Vegelbud party. If he had, then he knew his adopted father would be worried about him. However, if the monster truly was a Fiend, despite them being powerful creatures, he knew George and he were plenty strong to slay it quickly.

The night was cool, cooler then the last few had been. It was almost to the point where he was actually wishing for some kind of scarf to cover his neck. George rode a black mare ahead of him, the moonlight shining off the gold rivets in his Griffin School armor. They had entered a thick brush, and he could see the signs of a fiend, or another similarly large monster, the prints still hadn't gone away. However, he hadn't seen anything else, and that was what worried him. He could feel Clop below him shaking, neighing nervously as he followed George.

Another cold chill ran through his bones, and he felt his teeth begin to slightly chatter, as the frost began to hit his face like a brick.

George ahead of him held his hand up for them to hold, so he did, pulling Clop to a stop behind the Griffin School Witcher.

"What's wrong," He asked his friend, pulling up next to him.

George scanned the forest ahead of them again, they had gotten to a smaller clearing, and he could practically see the frost swirling in front of him. The Griffin School Witcher's golden and green swords clanked in their sheaths, as he sniffed the air scanning around the clearing.

"Do you smell that," George asked in his southern Toussaint accent.

Before he could sniff anything, he had to pull back Clop's reins. His horse bucked slightly, baying towards the clearing ahead of them. It was flatter ground, with a small road leading forward. Bushes of flowers, herbs and other shrubbery were below, and it all led to the entrance of a cave. The cave went perfectly into the hillside, and had a steep slope going downwards, that much he could see. It would have in the daylight made for quite the charming sight, however now, the brush and shrubbery all seemed withered, not charred, but simply dying.

He did as George said, and sniffed the air. His highly trained nose picked up the scent after a few seconds. It attacked his nose, and he suddenly was surprised that he didn't smell it sooner. Slowly he turned over to George, the pieces from what happened floating around in his head. George had told him men had died just outside the cave, but he didn't see any bodies.

He felt himself shudder from another cold breeze before meeting George's eyes, "Sulfur… doesn't make any sense. You said you've been here the last few nights, nothing like this?"

Slowly the Griffin School Witcher and he both carefully sauntered their mounts a few steps closer towards the cave.

George slowly shook his head, "No… it has not. The bodies are gone. I left them here hoping it would attract necrophages, so the Fiend or Chort would need to show itself…. Do you hear that?"

"Yeah… nothing at all," He said, shuddering from another cold gust of air, "No animals, bugs, monsters… nothing at all."

Slowly the blonde Witcher nodded, looking towards the cave entrance, "Yes… and, is it cold to you?"

Scoffing he nodded his head, "Another downside of having no mutations… I still freeze my ass off."

George looked like he was about to say something else when he felt himself jerked upwards. He looked down and Clop had bucked his hind legs up again, neighing nervously and spinning around in circles. Across from him George's mare was acting in a similar fashion. Both of their mounts were spinning, neighing, and if he hadn't pulled back tightly on Clop's reins, he was sure his loyal companion would have bolted.

"Woah, woah, easy there Clop," He said, yanking on the horses reins. He slipped off the white stallions back and gently rubbed his mane, "Easy there buddy… what's got you so spooked?"

He locked eyes with the animal. He remembered back to when he first met his current mount. Like how Geralt named every horse he ever had Roach, he had named every horse he had Clop. His current mount he was particularly fond of, however. It had been a few days after his wounds healed from Rivia. He had been traveling east, trying to get into Temarian lands, walking the entire time. He had found the horse in the wilds, being attacked by wolves. After slaying the wolves trying to kill him, he nursed the injured animal back to health.

And ever since Clop had been his constant companion, and at times his best friend through the last two years. As crazy as it sounded, he felt a connection to the animal, and felt as if they could understand one another. That's why when he saw the panicked look in Clop's eyes, he felt his heart begin to race, as another cold breeze shot through him.

"Okay buddy… I'll be careful, just keep calm," He said, stroking the horses mane, leading him by the reins over to a nearby tree.

Carefully he tied the reins around a low branch, but when he did, he heard a loud *crunch* from beneath his feet. He gently let go of the horses now tied reins and looked down at his boots.

The grass below him was withered, browned and crunching as he walked. Carefully he knelt down, running his hand across the ground, as more dead grass popped up as he did. The whole entire clearing appeared the same way, as if someone had quite literally tried to freeze the ground. He looked at his black gloves, and could see small bits of frost, and what appeared to be snow.

"George…" He shouted for his friend, his heart beginning to race, a new panic beginning to set in, "Has it snowed recently…? The whole entire ground it-."

"Dominik! You should come take a look at this," He heard his friend yell from closer to the caves entrance.

All of the hair on his arms began to stand up. His heart raced at an alarming rate, and he felt a sense of panic begin to wash over him. There was no way, no possible way they were here. Ciri hadn't been in the area, she hadn't even been near Oxenfurt from what they had gathered, why would they be at this random cave in the woods. He breathed out shakily and reached his hand to the hilt of his sword, gently pulling it from it's sheath. Carefully he stroked Clop's mane one last time before turning towards the cave entrance.

George had tied his mare to a nearby tree in a similar manner, and he could see the back of his friend in the caves entrance. As he walked closer towards the entrance, his feet crunched over dead leaves and grass, the crunching getting louder and louder till he finally got to the rocky ground near the entrance. The signs grew more as he saw the cave entrance. From above he could see the ice forming stalagmites from above, the rocks laying on the sides were covered in frost and bits of snow.

George looked back at him a torch now in the Griffin School Witcher's hands. Behind the fire he could see something he had never seen in George's eyes before. Dread. Worry. The Griffin School Witcher couldn't have found anything good.

"To answer your question… no, it hasn't. But, I… I think I found our Fiend," He said, turning around and holding the torch out in front of him.

The floor leading down into the cave was steep but flattened once it got down towards the bottom. It was a wide corridor, a freezing draft ran up at the two Witchers from below, and with the view from the flames, he was finally able to see what George had been talking about, and when he did, his blood turned to ice itself.

The Fiend was indeed in the cave, standing on its back legs roaring loud, it's giant antlers hitting the top of the cave. It was a large one, not nearly as large as the one he killed in Velen under the Crones command however it still would have given George and he a decent fight.

It wouldn't be giving them a fight now however, because it was completely incased in ice. It had been froze mid-roar, with its claw coming down about to strike at whatever had frozen it.

"Fuck…" He said to himself, his eyes wide, not taking them off the frozen Fiend.

"What could possibly have done this," George said, holding the torch up so they both could see, "It seems as if there's more ice deeper in the cave. To freeze a Fiend of that size… takes incredible power.

He had no idea why they were there, but the cold feeling that had been pouring through his body, was replaced with one of a hot fire.

Turning to George, he could feel his emerald eyes heat up, the fire inside them growing, "The Wild Hunt… all signs point to them."

"The Hunt!? Here," George said, turning quickly meeting his eyes, "What are they doing in the middle of the Oxenfurt woods?"

He didn't have an answer for his friend. He sincerely doubted that the Wild Hunt came to the Oxenfurt woods to kill a Fiend and freeze part of the forest. No, they had come for another reason, another sinister reason. Ciri hadn't been to the area, she didn't even approach Oxenfurt. She had gone straight from the Baron's castle to Novigrad, and he knew she wouldn't be stupid enough to take a random trip back towards Oxenfurt.

A part of him considered going to find Geralt, surely had to be back at the Rosemary and Thyme by now. He was sure the older Witcher would want to know what had happened. However, he needed to know if the Hunt was still down there, and if he left and they were indeed still in the cave, he didn't know what havoc they would cause. They could go and raid a village, freeze it, slaughter the inhabitants. No, there was no time to go and get Geralt, he had to act then and now.

It had been the same thing he said when Keira and he found the Hunt back in Velen. That night he had almost died, almost was split into two pieces by the axe of Nithral on the floor of the elf's laboratory. He was weak then, despite what Geralt and his friends had said to him, he knew he hadn't been ready looking back on it. However, he was stronger now. In a few weeks he had grown stronger, more powerful, knew two schools of Witcher combat that was going to help him. He still had room to grow he knew that and would need to get even stronger for the future.

However, there wasn't a chance that he was going to run in that moment. The Hunt was after Ciri, had been hunting her for years. And even if Eredin himself were down in the cave… they were going to pay for it.

Sighing he looked and met George's eyes over the torch, "I don't know… but I'm going to find out. They could still be down there…. I won't ask you to come down there with me… I'd understand if you wanted to back out now."

The Griffin School Witcher didn't take a moment to think, his friend laughed, his blonde ponytail flapping in the wind.

"Are you kidding my friend? Come now," He started, slowly drawing his silver sword from his back, "I refuse to sit back and let you go at this alone. Let's go send these phantom's back to their own world…"

A new surge of confidence ran through him. The cool air blew again through the night, as a mixture of torch and moon light lit their faces. He had someone fighting by his side, he didn't have to face the enemy alone, that was something he had come to appreciate more and more. After years of fighting and traveling mainly on his own, only his sword and horse for company, having someone to go into a fight like this with had become a great change.

He nodded before taking in a deep, chilled breath and looking down into the cave, the frozen Fiend stuck mid-roar.

"Alright… come on, let's go give them a warm welcome," He said, as he squeezed tightly to his blade, and slowly started down the steep entrance towards the cave.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

George had been right when he said the cave had been icier as it went on. The signs of the Wild Hunt that Geralt had taught him about, they could be seen all throughout the corridors. It was a wide tunnel they both walked through, their blades out and ready to leap at a moments notice. The walls had been covered in ice and snow, signs of the White Frost. The ground was thankfully not slippery, but he could hear his boots cracking small bits of ice as he walked besides George.

"Has Cirilla been seen in the area," George asked as they walked, breaking the silence between the two of them.

He could feel the chills getting colder and colder as he walked. He had been so focused on the path forward, that he almost jumped when George spoke up.

Letting out a deep breath he shook his head, "No… she landed in Velen from a portal. Some villagers took her to the Baron. She recovered there and went straight to Novigrad looking for Geralt and me… no idea why the Hunt would be here."

George nodded in understanding, his green and gold griffin armor clunking as they walked. He had drawn his silver sword, which only made him wish he could finally get his hands on one himself. Geralt had told him that all weapons affected the Wild Hunt, however silver as with monsters was far more affective. He had managed to slay Nithral in Velen with his steel sword, however the fact that he could have possibly had an easier time with silver made him envy his Witcher friends. He also would finally be able to not have to rely on just blade oils to hunt certain monsters.

His blade had been with him through everything however, and he knew that it would serve him well in the fight ahead.

Sighing the Griffin School Witcher looked over at him again, "You must… really love your Cirilla to go through such heights. Not many men who'd be willing to look for so long, and battle the Wild Hunt, all just to find their love."

A laugh managed to escape him, despite the desperate situation they were in. He kept his eyes forward, the darkness and ice seeming to continue for miles. The cold draft that blew from further ahead indicated to them both that a larger cavern was indeed further below.

He sighed, a small smile coming to his face, "Yeah… I do, a lot. Being this close to finding her after eight years… it's been a little nerve racking."

"Why do you say that," George quickly asked him, both their boots crunching over frost and ice.

Shaking his head, he felt the chilly air stand the arms on his hair up, "It's just… after I find her. There… there's so much I want to say to her, so much I want to do. I've nearly died almost every-day since I set out with Geralt to find her. I want to just… talk to her, take her places and show each other everything that we've done… but…"

"That's not exactly possible," George finished for him, "Because once you do find her… a new fight begins."

Nodding he let the thought set it. It was true, after he found Ciri that was only the beginning of a much, much bigger fight. All he wanted was to find her, talk to her for hours, hear about everything that had happened to her, tell her about everything that had happened to him. He wanted to take her and meet all the friends he had made over the years, see all the new places that he had seen, he wanted to just be with her, and never be separated again.

However, that wasn't going to be the case. At least not right away. The Hunt needed to be dealt with, and they would be. They were never going to terrorize her again. Nobody would, not while he was around.

"Yeah… but that new fight… we're going to win," He started, feeling the draft get colder and colder, more intense, "I won't stop. Not until nobody else is hunting her… not until she can choose what SHE wants, not what other people want."

George nodded at him, a small smile on his face. He could see the Griffin School Witcher look up towards the darkness, torch in one hand silver blade in the other.

"You know… I was also in love once. Long ago, I daresay as much as you are with your Cirilla," he said, a touch of fondness in his voice, "When I was young… before I went to the School of the Griffin."

He whirled his head around to George quickly, "You went to the School of the Griffin? Nobody sent you, you weren't a surprise child… you went to become a Witcher willingly?"

He knew that very few people became Witcher's willingly. Ciri and he had only decided to become one's because it turned out that their destinies brought them there. He remembered when he was younger, in Cintra with her. She would always tell him that she was going to grow up to be a Witcher. The first female Witcher, and the greatest one to ever live. She'd always try and convince him to do it with her as well. He never thought she was serious, but he promised her, wherever you go, I go.

It turned out that Ciri was right. It was both of their destinies to meet Geralt, go to Kaer Morhen, and become Witcher's. He remembered his training with her, when they both started to learn more about her blood and her powers. So many times they considered just packing up everything and leaving. The two of them, horses, swords and the path. It was time and time again they had considered it.

A part of him wishes that they would have done just that.

George looked like he was about to respond to him, however the Griffin School Witcher stopped in his tracks. He wasn't watching ahead, so when he saw his friend stop, he quickly turned back to the corridor in front of them. The draft had finally gotten to feel like a large gale, like wind was flowing through the corridor itself.

Quickly George grabbed his shoulders and pulled him behind a cluster of old boulders. The two of them had wondered into the cavern at the end of the cave finally. It was large, with high stalagmites covered in ice hanging from the ceiling. More light was visible now, as a large fire roared in the middle of the large circular area. The cavern was spacious enough for a dozen Fiend's let alone the one they had seen at the entrance.

He heard their footsteps from behind the boulders, as George quickly smothered their torch into the ground. He locked eyes with George and slowly nodded, both of them carefully poked their heads around the corner of their hiding spot, and they saw them. The Hunt was scattered through the cave. The ice, snow and frost were covering most of the cave, however he see could a large cluster of its soldiers.

The soldiers seemed just as Geralt described them, the spiked helmets and skull like faceplates, all carrying crude, jagged longswords, while a few held halberds and spears with rugged crude edges. The smell of sulfur hit his nose, as he watched them all standing at attention, behind the large roaring fire. The cold air that he felt exhumed began to spin in the cavern as if a tornado was in the midst of being formed.

Carefully he tried to take a count of the men he saw, and the group, that particular band was at least twenty strong, and all of them stood at attention before the fire. Small torches were also lit around the cave itself, and he could see a few discarded pickaxes and barrels. He assumed that it had to be some kind of mine before the Fiend took over, and eventually the Hunt.

"This isn't good," He said quietly, coming back behind the boulder, with George doing the same, "That's a lot of them, why would there be so many here."

The blonde-haired Witcher and he both sat up against the boulder, making sure to keep themselves out of view. His blood began to race to new heights, the hairs on his arms stood firmly up, and his knuckles were beginning to turn white from gripping his blade so hard.

George had a similar look, as he slowly shook his head, "I don't know… we should-."

He was interrupted when they both slowly turned back around. The soldiers all began to shuffle, their armor clanking as he heard mutterings in a language he didn't recognize. Carefully again he looked around the large patch of boulders they had taken shelter behind.

"Im gar-spotted baw signs-oi vatgerns nin hiril," He heard a deep metallic voice say, echoing through the cave.

He looked and saw what was happening. The crowd of Hunt soldiers had parted, and one man knelt on one knee before the fire. He recognized none of the words that the man had spoken except for one. Vatgern. It was something he had been called many times over the years, and hearing the soldier speak it now, it made his limbs freeze in position.

He almost went to grab George's shoulder, to turn him around so they could flee. Somehow, for some reason the Hunt was expecting them, that was why they had brought so many soldiers. However, before he could, another voice rang throughout the cavern. He had been expecting another deep, booming elven voice behind the skull faceplate.

The last thing he had expected was to hear a woman's voice, deeper and metallic of course… but a woman's voice none the less.

"Tye are certain -o sina," The woman's voice rang through the cavern, lighter and calmer then the others.

The flames of the fire began to churn even higher. It looked almost as if the flames were going to spiral out of control. A few of the soldiers took steps back, as the flames danced ever higher. The man who was kneeling was almost knocked over, but stayed on the ground, but Dominik could almost hear him rattling in his armor. Who could possibly make soldiers of the Hunt shake, or move back in fear? He didn't understand any of the words spoken, however the fact that it sounded like a woman, sent a million new questions running through his head. To his knowledge, no women were apart of the Wild Hunt, it was only the males of the Aen Elle.

He finally got the glimpse when she was straight through the fire. The large dancing flames parted as she emerged. When he had seen Eredin and fought Nithral in Velen, they had both been extremely tall, taller than even Faram of Undviik. However, the woman that wore the armor of the Wild Hunt, seemed to be the size of any normal elven or human woman. A dark red cloak flapped on her back, as she waved her hand in a circular motion, and after she had, the fire returned to normal. The flames from the pit and the torches illuminated her large skulled faceplate, with the spikes on her helmet larger than the other soldiers. A crude longsword hung at her hips, as she looked down towards the soldier who had spoken on one knee.

She slowly walked past her soldier, a few of the others stepping back as she passed. He could see a man of dark hair flowing down over the cloak behind her back. Seeing her, he felt as if every ounce of blood had spewed from his body. Slowly she turned her head back towards the reporting soldier.

Every instinct in his body was telling him to run, but his eyes were glue to the female Hunt commander. Her helmet was similar to that of Nithral's and from the way the soldiers moved back, he could tell they either respected her greatly, or feared the power she wielded.

"Se mime heri ni am," The soldier reported from his knees, still not daring to look back at the woman.

With her cloak billowing from the draft in the cavern, the general turned back towards the entrance. She looked down the corridor that George and he had just come from, and he felt his limbs lock again.

"Tet ye un certain, ana svere un coiv," She said to the soldier, her voice still light and calm.

The fire continued to dance and crackle, as the other soldiers of the Hunt all seemed to shift, taking another step back away from their commander. He could visibly see the soldier on one knee shaking now. Still the soldier didn't dare look back to his commander, managing to slowly nod his head.

"Se mime heri, ni…ni svere," The soldier said, his deep metallic voice audibly shaken.

He looked for a moment to George next to him, who just like he couldn't bring himself to look away from the scene. Dominik's eyes hadn't left the Hunt commander since she emerged from the other side of the fire. She emanated power, and he could feel his medallion practically trembling around his neck, he was sure that George's Griffin medallion was moving in a similar manner as well.

The Hunt commander, the woman seemed to almost laughed. Still she kept her eyes on the corridor where he and George had come from, seemingly waiting for them both.

She let out what seemed to be a laugh from behind her faceplate, "Ahaha. Ehtele if enc ese."

She shot her hand up into the air, closing it in a tight fist, and suddenly a huge gust of wind shot through the cavern. A large gust of ice shot up from the ground, the White Frost. It emerged from the ground and incased the soldier who had been kneeling on one knee completely in ice, without even a chance to move. The other soldiers all watched on, with some taking a few steps back, almost dropping there weapons.

He felt his brown hair get blown back and he almost stumbled onto the rocks behind him, which would have surely given away his position. Regaining his composure he looked around the rocks again, and the woman, who was still looking down the corridor, disappeared. She teleported in a flurry of ice, and he frantically scanned around the room, trying to find her, hoping she hadn't caught their position.

Another gust shot through the cave, somehow the fires had still stayed lit, and even seemed to dance higher. In another flurry of black and ice, the commander reappeared in front of the now frozen soldier, quickly drawing her jagged longsword and cutting clean through the man. The frozen soldier was cut clear in half from his torso, blood and ice erupting from his body.

After he had been killed the other Hunt soldiers all quickly stood at attention as their commander looked at them all. He could hear her chuckle behind her faceplate, looking down at the severed body of the soldier again, her longsword dripping his blood.

"Es coiv-na-mein cainen…" He heard the woman began, and then her skull faceplate shifted, shifted right to the boulders George and he were hiding behind, "The vatgern… are already here."

She spoke in perfect common tongue, finally he understood what she had been saying. The whole time she had known they were there. His chest felt as if it was about to burst, finally he felt himself able to move his limbs again, he looked over to George and the two Witcher's nodded to each other. There were far too many soldiers, and their commander seemed to be too powerful as well.

"We need to leave," He said to George, slowly rising to his feet.

"Agreed," George said, as the both of them went to run for the corridor leading to the exit.

Behind him he could hear the unsheathing of blades, the footsteps of clanking armor rushing towards them. George was right next to him, but right before they could enter the dark back up towards the entrance, he heard words being yelled in elder speech. As soon as he did, he felt the gust of wind blow past his hair. He held out his arms to stop George from running, into the new wall of ice that erupted from the cavern. It shot upwards and covered the corridor that was to be there exit.

"Lebioda guide my hand…" George said quickly next to him, his eyes growing hard, as the Witchers whirled around, their swords being raised.

When he finally whirled around with his sword leveled next to George, he saw they had been surrounded. Soldiers of the Hunt filed out on their sides, some pointing halberds while the others held blades at the ready. All of them were tall, taller then both George and he, some seemingly even taller then Faram of Undviik.

He felt his inside twitch, as if all of his internal organs were firing off at once. This was going to be it, his first real fight with soldiers of the Wild Hunt. Geralt had told him that the foot soldiers, while not as strong as some of their generals were still all highly trained. They weren't to be taken lightly just because they appeared to be grunts, and he could see why. Each of them seemed to possess great strength, and the weapons they carried were sharpened to perfection.

Letting out a deep breath, he felt the swallow around his neck begin to tremble again. Ciri was still out there, he hadn't gotten to her like they had promised each other yet. No, he wasn't going to die in that cave. George and he would fight there way out of anything that came there way. Like Lambert had always taught him, if a Witcher loses confidence in their selves lives would be at stake, more than just their own. George's life, the lives of these soldiers, and their commanders future victims were at stake, he wouldn't back down.

He kept his blade leveled and adjusted his feet, standing side by side with George they both kept their blades up and at the ready.

"Leaving so soon Dominik of Cintra? Without even properly introducing yourself," The woman's voice said, as more clunking footsteps could be heard. Quickly, the soldiers in front of them parted ways, as the commander walked through, her sword still dripping her soldier's blood, "That's oh so very rude… what would your mother think?"

Her common tongue was flawless. He had never heard any members of the Hunt he encountered speak anything other than their elven tongue. Despite the fact she was multiple feet shorter then every soldier she commanded, they parted ways for her. He could see her mane of brown hair cascading down the front of her shoulders. Her red cloak gently blew behind her, as she calmly held her hands together in front of her, her longsword dripping blood.

The moment he heard his name, it was as if a bomb had gone off in his head. He felt the anger begin to boil up inside of him, and it spewed out into his words.

"Never heard one of you speak common tongue," He said, his voice growing dangerously deep as he kept leveling his sword, "How do you know who I am, tell me!"

George next to him kept shifting his stance, keeping any of the soldiers from advancing. A small laugh came from behind the commanders faceplate, as she tossed aside some of her hair behind her back.

"Ahaha, let's just say I'm more… familiar, with your world then my comrades," She said, slowly beginning to pace in front of him, "As for how I know you… well, as you know we seek Zireael. It's been my job to learn everything about her! Where she grew up, who she was close to… who she was in love with…"

The mention of Ciri almost sent him over the edge, but this commander of the Hunt suddenly knowing who he was and figuring out information about Ciri stopped him. He needed to know who she was, and how she knew so much. So reluctantly he didn't lash out to try and attack. He kept himself shoulder to shoulder with George, his sword pointed towards the woman.

"You won't get your hands on her; you'll have to kill me first. How do you know so much, tell me now," He yelled, his voice carrying through the chamber.

The fires from the torches and the large pit crackled. The soldiers shifted their armor clunking, the gusts of wind slowly blowing through the cave, his hair continued to blow back up onto his head. His blood began to boil, as again the commander let out a small, amused laugh.

"Oh I know everything, Dominik of Cintra," She said, spitting his name out with venom, "I know you met in Cintra when you were young, became the best of friends… before escaping the massacre. Oh, and you, her Geralt of Rivia, and Yennefer of Vengerberg made SUCH a lovely little family."

Every single instinct in him told him to lash out at that moment, but he managed to hold his sword back. He felt his face go through a mixture of emotions, shock, anger, regret. However, the woman wasn't finished. She continued to pace back and forth, meeting his eyes with her skull face plate.

"I told his majesty Eredin that kidnapping Yennefer and Geralt would prove fruitless," She said, and he assumed she rolled her eyes as well, "I told him that if he really wanted to lure Zireael to him… he should have went after you. She loves Geralt and Yennefer yes but her love for you… it goes deeper. She would have done anything to save you. I'm just glad he finally agreed to my plan… let me lay this little ambush for you."

The more the woman spoke the more his head raced. So many tiny pieces of the puzzle were floating around in his head, that it wasn't even possible for him to begin to put them together. He saw George thrust his silver forward, making one of the soldiers quickly step back. They needed to leave, he needed to get to Geralt and tell him what had happened. However, it still gnawed at his head. It was if the woman had been with him his entire life, knew of Ciri and he from the beginning.

He pointed his blade towards her, his voice spitting out every word with venom, "Who are you…. And how did you know I would be here!? How do you know so much!?"

She didn't respond right away. He could see her look down at her palm, before slowly moving her head up to meet his eyes. When his emerald eyes locked with the plate eyes of her facemask, he felt as if a spark of electricity passed between them both. She laughed again shaking her head, when she spoke, she sounded as if she was disgusted.

"I wouldn't expect you to know who I am," She spit out, her voice growing angrier, "As for how I knew you'd be here well… kindred blood will always find kindred blood."

He was about to shout something else when she turned from him, her sword dipping towards the ground again, the last bits of blood slowly dripping off of it.

"Krior I lai, er, trach I oter," She spit out to the soldier standing next to her, walking back towards the roaring fire.

He saw her take her place behind the fire, standing there with her arms folded, watching the chaos begin to unfold. His anger spiked again, he wanted to charge for her, but he couldn't leave George by himself. It proved to be a good choice because it felt as if every soldier of the Hunt charged at once, and the fight finally began.

"Taste my fire you phantom curs," George screamed from next to him, parrying one strike with his silver, before blasting a wall of fire from his hands.

A group of the soldiers all began to scream, as their armor was set alight by George's Igni sign. He heard footsteps clanking from his right, so he spun, deflected one attack and spun to avoid another. He brought his blade down with everything he had, lopping off the hands of one soldier before he got back to back with George.

The two witchers spun and parried, deflecting blows from each side as all the soldiers began to charge again. Dominik parried a strike back from his right, knocking a man off balance before George spun and killed the phantom rider with his silver blade. After finishing his spin he parried another series of strikes from two more, first to the left then to the right. He fired his hand forward and the Aard sign erupted, sending the soldier to his right flying backwards, before he spun back around, side stepping a strike from the second rider, before spinning again and cutting through his back. The spin brought him right back to George's side, just in time to deflect a strike that would've surely cleaved through his friend.

Dominik fired forward another Aard sign, this one was powerful enough to send a man splattering back into a large stone pillar. After using it however he felt his knees buckle. To his right he heard footsteps, and he turned around just in time to get his sword up. The rider brought the massive halberd down and he just managed to catch the axes head on his blade. His knees were still wobbling, and they almost gave out. He could see the riders skull face plate it was if the eyes behind it were yearning to bring the halberd down on his head. He would have succeeded had George not intervened.

The Griffin School Witcher came charging, stabbing his blade through the riders side, and the phantom crumpled to the ground. Finally free of the hold Dominik spun back around to get back to back with his friend again.

George held his sword out in front of him, and he see could his friend close his eyes. After a moment the Griffin School Witcher's yellow eyes shot open, narrowed with a look of fury emanating from them.

"You shall not have this world," The Griffin School Witcher shouting, casting the Igni sign, but not on the soldiers.

He casted the sign on his own blade, and the silver erupted into flames. The soldiers all backed off as George raised his flaming sword and spun into the fray again. The flames that erupted from George's sword were so intense, that Dominik almost felt his own armor catch fire. George leapt into the air, spinning and cutting down one soldier, before he side stepped a halberd strike. He bright his flaming sword down, cutting clean through the phantom's weapon before spinning back around and cutting the flaming blade across the soldier's chest.

George's flaming sword had momentarily distracted him, he just barely leaned his head back to avoid a sword strike bent on cleaving through his head. He whirled and saw three of them advancing on him. Steadying his breath, he twirled his blade to a reverse grip and charge forward. He parried two strikes from the initial two charging, he slid onto his knees to duck under the third. As he was sliding, he slashed through the soldier's legs making him fall to the ground, before Dominik got back up to his feet, spinning and cleaving his blade through the soldiers head.

The two he had gotten by first charged. The first tried to stab forward with it's halberd. He sidestepped, grabbing the mans weapon with his free hand and yanking forward. As he expected the soldier that had been carrying it stumbled forward, right into the path of his blade. He spun and slashed the phantom to the ground, before using his continued forward momentum to leap and spin towards the last one. The soldier had enough time to get his blade up and parry his leaping blow, but quickly after he landed Dominik spun around him, cutting beneath his legs to bring the phantom to the ground, and finally the younger Witcher whirled back around holding his blade with both hands he lopped off the soldiers head.

"HAHA! As sharp as ever my friend," He heard George yell from his right.

The Griffin School Witcher had been dispatching the phantoms with great skill. George parried the one soldier in front of him, swinging his flaming sword in a wide arc, setting the phantom aflame. However, from behind another came and jabbed a halberd towards the Griffin School Witcher, stabbing him in the side. If not for George's last second spin it surely would have been a death blow.

"GAHHH," His friend yelled, grabbing his side, his flaming sword nearly clanking to the ground.

"GEORGE," Dominik yelled, rushing forward.

He leaped and spun midair, putting all his strength into a strike towards the soldier with the halberd. His strike cut clean through the halberds shaft, before he spun and cut through the soldiers chest. George had fallen to his knees, only staying up with the help of his blade.

"Are you alright," He quickly asked his friend, helping him to his feet.

"I can still fight, don't worry," George said with a groan, the fire on his silver blade finally extinguished.

The rest of the soldiers surrounded them, still outnumbering them ten to two. George and he quickly stood back to back, leveling their blades and keeping anymore attackers at bay. George was injured, and he could feel the sweat drip down his own brow. Despite the cold chill, he felt his entire body lit with the heat of a roaring fire. His blood raced, his heart pumped, and at the moment he felt pure rage seeping through his veins.

He was about to lash out again, fire a sign, do something, when he heard the commander's voice ring through the cavern, and immediately every soldier took a step back.

"LARE-EN," She shouted, her voice echoing through the cave.

He heard George's labored breathing behind him. His friend was a Witcher, and his wounds would surely heal, however he would need medical attention soon. No matter how much he wished to figure out who this commander was, his friend getting out alive was his first priority. Spinning around he heard her footsteps to the right. Sure enough she walked through the fire again, her longsword still drawn. He stood across from her, George still at his side. He could see the Griffin School Witcher clutching the side of his armor still, keeping his silver sword raised with his other hand.

Keeping his blade leveled as well, he turned to face the commander, who once again stood across from him with her hands held in front of her. Again his eyes met those of her faceplate, and he could feel the electric spark again.

"My oh my Dominik of Cintra, you certainly have gotten much better with that sword…. Your father must have taught you well," She said, her voice growing low and amused.

He scoffed and kept his blade leveled towards her, "Geralt's the greatest swordsman to ever live for a reason."

Again her laugh echoed through the chamber, and he felt his chest begin to bubble again, the white-hot rage boiling. He needed to control himself. He needed to find a way to get George out of there and get him medical attention.

After she had finished laughing, the commander looked back to him, "Hahah, oh my. I don't mean Geralt of Rivia… I meant your REAL father. Sir Gregory of Cintra, former knight captain of Cintra's royal guard… you… do remember him, right?"

"Of course I remember him," He spit out right away, wanting to lash out right then and there.

This time she didn't laugh, simply turning back to stare at him again. Her voice raked off her faceplate, and he could hear the bitterness inside it.

"Well, it's good that you remember SOME, things," She started, before she began to pace again, keeping her eyes locked with his, "But as I said. You have gotten very talented with a blade."

"Care to come see for yourself…" He said carefully, leaning his back up against George.

The Griffin School Witcher swung his sword in a wide arc to keep the soldiers at bay. Their commander took a step closer to him, and another, until she was near the tip of his blade. He could see the eyes of the skull faceplate again; he could almost see her real eyes behind it.

Slowly she shook her head, "We do not have to cross swords Dominik of Cintra…. It is entirely unnecessary. Your friend clearly is laboring, I'm sure you wish to get him out of this cave."

"Bah, I still have plenty of fight left you curs," George said from behind him, but quickly coughed afterwards, blood filling out onto the stones below him.

He almost whirled around to help his friend, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the commander. After hearing George cough the commander laughed again.

"Aha, my point exactly…. Now Dominik of Cintra, as I said, we need not cross swords," She said, taking a few steps back and pacing again, "All you must do is come with me. You will help us lure Zireael out of hiding. In exchange your friend will be healed… and I've even gotten Eredin to agree to spare you yourself."

"HA, I'd rather he let me die you vile wretches," George shouted from behind him.

He felt the anger bubble out of him again. His face contorted into anger, and he felt as if his skin was on fire.

"You're crazy if you think I'd EVER help you find Ciri," He shouted, nearly at the top of his lungs, "I'd sooner die here…"

He expected a witty retort, a joke or laugh from the commander. However when she spoke, he was surprised to see she almost had a desperate tone to her. It was as if she was pleading with him.

"Come now Dominik of Cintra," She said, stopping her pacing to look at him, "You fight all these battles. You go on all these quests for Zireael but answer me this… what has she ever done for you?"

Ciri had done everything for him. She was there for him through everything that happened in Cintra. She had saved his life, she had fallen in love with him, as he did with her. The question sent a hot boiling anger up his spine, and he felt himself ready to erupt.

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," He yelled, his voice echoing over the breezing wind in the cavern, "I wouldn't expect you to know what it's like to love someone. Truly love someone and have them love you back. To be willing to do anything for one another."

His words hung between the two of them for a moment. The soldiers clunked in their armor next to him, as George continued to labor, his hand not leaving his wound on his side. The commander slowly shook her head and looked up to meet his eyes yet again.

"If you truly believes she loves you… then you might be interested in knowing this…" She said, slowly with every word drawn out, "I'm not one for gossip but… word has it the when she came to our world… she laid with our King…. Oh yes, I'm not lying to you. She shared the bed of King Auberon. Now… if she loved you so much… why would she have found comfort in our king?"

For a split second he felt his legs bobble. No, he couldn't listen to the words she was spewing then. They didn't matter. It didn't matter what Ciri had done, it didn't matter if she was with anyone else during their time apart, he was going to save her no matter what, he loved her no matter what. It didn't matter if she truly was with this King, or any other man. He hadn't been completely loyal to her, he had almost slept with Freya many times during his time with her, so he couldn't be upset if she had been with anyone else. There was also the distinct possibility she was lying, trying to deter him, make him loose focus.

That was what he kept telling himself… but the more he thought about it, the more he felt his knees begin to buckle. The thought of Ciri and some elf, clad in gilded armor with long flowing hair and a handsome face flooded his mind, and he could feel himself shake. Her laying in his bed as she used to do with him, kissing someone else that wasn't him, resting her head on someone else's shoulder… it kept flooding into his mind. His arms tingled, as he shakily let out a breath, it couldn't be true the commander had to be lying in some way. No matter what however the news had shaken him.

And the commander had sensed it.

"I thought you'd be interested to know…" She started, a slight bit of satisfaction in her voice, "Come now, what has she truly done for you? Besides abuse your love, make you risk your life to save her. Has she ever risked her life for you?"

His arms began to shake. He closed his eyes and shook his head to regain focus. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, she wanted him to lower his guard. At any moment he knew she was going to lash out and attack.

However she didn't, and only kept talking, "Tell me if she cares about you so... why didn't she go to find you two years ago when she came back? She left to travel the worlds after saving your adopted parents… but she didn't go to you. Then, she came back a SECOND time, to save Geralt of Rivia from our grasp… and again she didn't come to see you, to find you."

"Shut your fucking mouth," He finally managed to spit out, feeling his arms begin to shake even harder, his sword point dipping ever so slightly.

"Do not listen to her my friend! That damn siren is trying to make you let down your-," George started to protest, but was quickly interrupted by a fit of coughs, that almost sent him to the ground.

He turned to his friend to see his gloved hand completely bloody. The commander laughed again, and he whirled back around to face her.

"Ahaha, you are affected because you know I'm correct," She said slowly, looking to meet his eyes again, "Come now Dominik. Help us find Zireael. Eredin has promised me he will spare you. You can live in our new world…. And you will find a new family," She said, and he felt his brain stir when he heard the hopefulness in her voice.

George coughed again behind him. He knew the Griffin School Witcher was tough and his injuries healed quickly due to his mutations, but he also knew how deadly a stab to the wrong place of the gut could be.

He sighed in a shaky breath, digesting everything the commander had said. Ciri hadn't come to look for him when he came back. She did come back a second time to save Geralt… and still hadn't come for him. Did she truly betray him, and find comfort in the arms of the Aen Elle King himself? While he was wondering the continent alone, missing her, longing for her, doing everything he could to find her?

'More than anything you know that but… right now I need to keep moving, we have to do it now'

Her voice rang through his head. He looked down at his inner forearm, seeing the names, with hers at the top, and the elegantly drawn swallow. Finally, he slowly removed one hand from his blade, to squeeze the swallow pendant around his neck.

She hadn't come to find him because she knew the Wild Hunt was on her trail. She didn't want to bring them down on him, she went and ran from them all by herself, so that they didn't harm him. He knew she had done everything to come back and see him. He remembered reading in Dandelion's account of the attack on Strygga Castle, that Dominik had been one of the first people Ciri asked for, she had been trying to get back to him.

And even if she did find comfort in the arms of another… he couldn't have blamed her. During the last eight years he knew what it was like to be alone, needing that comfort and companionship. That was what led him to spending so many months with Freya in Ellander.

No matter what had happened, it was as Triss Merigold had told him. Ciri and he had been through hell together. They had a bond that wouldn't be broken. The two of them had been all the other had for so, so many years. They were the only ones who knew what the other had been through. And through all of that, he knew they had forged a type of love that couldn't be broken.

And it was a bond that nobody other than the two of them would ever understand.

He gripped the swallow tightly again, before both hands went back to his blade. His fingers went white from how hard he gripped it. The wind slowly blew through the cavern from the Hunt's presence, the fires crackled, and the soldiers shifted uneasily.

Looking up, he met their commanders eyes again.

"Again…. I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand, having someone you trust. Someone you trust with 100% of yourself… knowing they'll never let you down," He started, keeping his voice dangerously low, "What Ciri and I have… it can never be broken, no matter how many years we spend apart. We'll always have each other. Because only we know what the other has been through…"

At his words he felt the fire from the pit, and the ones on the walls all grow. The flames sputtered high, nearly reaching the tops of the cavern. They had caught the soldiers by surprise, some of them backed off, and George dropped his silver blade, thrusting out both his hands. A powerful blast of the Aard sign, more powerful then Dominik had ever seen erupted from his hands. It sent every rider of the Hunt flying backwards, smashing them into the wall with great force. The effort made George fall to the ground with a groan.

"GEORGE," Dominik yelled turning to his friend.

George coughed again and leaned up against a large rock wincing from pain. He tried to reach his friend, but he was cut off by a large blast of blue magic, it smacked into his chest and sent him flying backwards. He hit the ground and skitted back, dropping his sword, slowly sitting up with a groan.

Fumbling to his feet, he reached and managed to find his blade. His vision was dizzy, but the commander's booming voice gave her away.

"THAT'S WHERE YOU ARE WRONG DOMINIK OF CINTRA, THAT IS WHERE YOU ARE VERY WRONG," She screamed, thrusting her hands upwards.

The fire from the pit erupted around him. It sprawled out to both side as if it was being fired from a crossbow. It encircled the two of them, just him and the commander, a large circle of fire surrounding them both. His vision finally cleared, and he could see her across from him. He couldn't see her face behind her faceplate, but she threw the cloak off her back, and circled him with her longsword drawn.

Finally his vision managed to clear, and he raised his own blade. The two combatants circled each other, and Dominik could still feel the electric spark of electricity that ripped between them both. Slowly he twirled his blade to a reverse grip. The flames from the circle around them erupted towards the ceiling, and he knew that this was going to be the toughest battle of his entire life. More than his fight with Nithral, the bounty hunter in Ellander, the battle of Brenna he had fought in when he was eighteen. He felt something surge through his limbs, as he took in large deep breaths, trying to control the anger coursing through him, the uncontrollable anger he felt. The blood in his arms and legs raced, as his eyes narrowed towards the woman across from him.

The commander across from him wielded incredible power. She had frozen a man solid, erupted every flame in the room. His medallion had been vibrating more then it ever had been, and he could simply feel the power she exhumed. He hadn't seen her fight yet, but he had seen her teleport with the White Frost, like other navigators of the Hunt.

She laughed again, and all twinges of sympathy and desperation were gone from her tone.

"I fought Cirilla herself not long ago…. I do truly hope that you prove as worthy a challenge," She said, her voice slowly dripping with hate as she spewed out Ciri's name.

Hearing this his head shot up, he continued to circle her, his anger reaching a new level as he met the eyes of her face plate.

"TELL ME WHERE SHE WAS, TELL ME NOW," He yelled over the roaring of the cackling flames around him.

She stopped in her tracks, holding out both her hands, the fire erupting even higher up, hitting the top of the cavern.

"COME THEN DOMINIK OF CINTRA, FIGHT FOR THE ONE WOMAN YOU'VE EVER LOVED," She screamed at him, her metallic voice echoing over the flames.

His vision finally went red, and he charged at her, at the very same moment she charged towards him.

The first few seconds of the fight became a blur. They both leaped and spun, clashing blades in midair before landing on the ground. He whirled back and lashed out from the right, and this led them both to flurry around each other in a steel whirlwind. She moved her blade so quickly; he wasn't sure if she was using magic to enhance her movements or not. He didn't care, his vision was red, he saw Ciri's young face, heard her voice from his dreams and he lashed out with newfound determination.

The fire ripped through the air around him with heat so intense, he was sure that if he touched it his entire body would be set aflame. He twirled his blade and lashed out with a three-strike combo from above. Finally he put her on the back foot, she parried his first two strikes, before leaning backwards just underneath a slash that would've cut through her neck. He went to strike again, but as soon as his blade was about to make contact with her, she vanished, and he felt a puff of frost on his face.

He had no idea where she had gone but heard the portal open behind him. Whirling around he just managed to move his head away in time, but she quickly went for a stab. He dove and rolled to his right, coming up a mere inches from the flaming arena she had erected. He saw another opening and went for a stab. She saw him however and parried the strike.

He leaped up from the crouching position and went to strike again, but just like before she vanished in a cold portal, that despite the blazing fire wall around them still blasted frost into his face. He knew she was trying to flank him with her teleport again, so he threw up his hands and the yellow Quen shield sprang to life. Just like he anticipated her blade hit his shield, and as soon as it did, he discharged it, sending a powerful blast of magic back.

"UGHHH," She yelled, and he whirled back around to see her get sent sprawling back, only for her to quickly rise back to her feet.

His anger and blood was racing through his body faster then it ever had. He thought about what she had said, all she had done, trying to taunt him, goad him, throwing his father's name in his face, threatening to use him to lure Ciri out of hiding. His blade was moving faster then he could ever remember, and his Quen had been so powerful, he could see her armor had been singed. Something course through him, he looked down for a moment at his hands, and for a few seconds he could see bits of blue magic swirling on his arms, invigorating him, shooting more energy through his arms. However, he tore his arms away when he heard her armor clanking as she quickly rose, the large circle of fire only growing hotter at her rage. However, a rage just as hot, perhaps even more so coursed through him, as he saw a flash of blue in his eyes for a split second as his eyes narrowed towards her.

Holding up his blade, he circled her again. He could see the singe marks on her armor, he had done damage, but he knew better then to assume she was anywhere near done. He decided to take the offensive and charge again. He lashed out with a strike, and she fought with renewed vigor. She parried his strikes and spun, going to lash out at his back. He spun himself to get out of the way, and went to counter, but she vanished again in a burst of frost. This time he didn't get the shield up in time because he felt her blade slash into his armor. Thankfully the blow was in the armored part of his torso, but it still sent him stumbling.

He looked up and saw her again, and went to try and strike, but again she vanished. Whirling around he went to block upward, expecting a strike from above, however she tricked him yet again. She went low and swept his feet out from underneath him, and he went tumbling to the ground, still disoriented from the strike to his torso. His blade clattered from his hand as he fell, and he could see her standing above him, her sword pointed downwards.

For a moment he thought everything was over. He was going to die there, he'd never get to see Ciri again, George would die from his wounds, and Geralt would have to find his body dead there on the floor, or worse the Hunt would use his death as a way to get Ciri to reveal herself.

However, something even more frightening to him happened. The commander looked like she was going to bring her blade down to end him, but she hesitated. For a split second his eyes met the sockets of her faceplate. That same electric spark he felt earlier passed through them both again, and she stopped her blade before it could puncture his chest.

He took the opportunity, not wanting to let it pass by. Thrusting his hand forward, the Aard sign shot from his palms and sent the commander flying backwards. Quickly he rose to his feet and managed to scoop his blade from the ground. He couldn't see where she had landed, so quickly he shot his hand forward again, the yellow Quen shield again sprang to life around him.

It was good that he did because she came leaping at him again but pulled back just before she hit the shield. Finally seeing her location, he let the shield down and they lashed at each other again. Another steel whirlwind ensued, and finally he went for a high strike to the right. She brought her blade up just in time to block, and the two of them had their swords locked.

Again he saw a flash of light blue in his eyes, he saw Ciri's face, heard her voice, and remembered that Eredin wanted to kill her, this commander wanted to kill her. Quickly he removed one of his hands from his sword and shot his hand forward. Another Aard sign blasted the commander back, but this time she was ready for him. As soon as she saw his hand shoot forward, she disappeared in a flash of frost before reappearing a few feet apart from him.

"COME NOW DOMINIK, SHOW ME HOW FAR YOU'LL GO FOR ZIREAEL," She screamed to him, panting behind her helmet as she held out both her hands, her longsword dripping blood with chips of ice.

Again, he felt the anger spew from him like an active volcano, "TELL ME WHERE YOU SAW HER! TELL ME NOW!"

She cackled behind her face plate, as the fire roared around them, "YOU WILL FIND HER, AND YOU WIL DIE WITH HER!"

He gave up and charged, he channeled as much energy into his left hand as he could, the blue magic swirling from his arms into his palm as he readied his sign. She had done the same, and they both sprinted directly towards one another. He leaped and swung his sword down towards her, and she came up with her own to meet the strike. As he lowered his blade, he shot his hand forward and a powerful Aard blast erupted from his hand, the magic that had been gathering in his hands finally unleashed putting even more power into his sign, shooting a telekinetic blast from his hands more powerful than anything he had produced, he could practically feel his skin ripping from how hard the blast was. She had anticipated it however and shot her empty hand forwards as well, a blast of blue magic erupting from it. Their blades and hands clashed and a loud *BOOM* erupted in the cavern.

He felt himself get sent flying backwards, his back slamming into one of the pillars. His sword clunked from his hand and he felt as if his hand had erupted in flames. Every bit of energy, every bit of fuel that had been left in his body had gone. Speaking of flames, he looked at the circle of flames the commander had brought about, they were no more. Only the torches on the wall remained lit. He fell forward onto all fours, feeling his vision get blurry again. A flurry of coughs erupted from the bottom of his throat, as he fumbled around the ground.

Almost every ounce of strength he had finally seemed to leave his body. He fumbled his hands on the ground, until he finally found the hilt of his sword. Using the tip of his faithful blade he pushed himself up to his knees, and then onto his feet. As soon as he did however, he felt himself stumble. His head whirled around looking for anyone, the commander, George anyone.

"Well, well, well… it seems you're beginning to unlock your inner magic," He heard her voice say, causing him to whirl around.

He saw her stumbling towards him, her armor singed, her sword on her hip. Her left hand held firmly over the left side of her face. He could only see one eye of the faceplate still intact, and he could finally hear her voice. It was light, and she sounded like a normal woman. However, he was still dizzy, his vision blurred. He tried raising his sword, but his hands shook fiercely, and all he could see was her silhouette.

"What… what are you talking about," He muttered, trying to get his legs to stop shaking.

He could hear a loud wince come from her, but he still also heard the small bit of amusement she spoke with, "You… you will find out soon enough… Dominik of Cintra."

Through his dazed vision he could see her fall towards a pillar. She removed the hand from her face to catch herself, but his vision was so blurry he couldn't get a clear view of the woman's face or eyes. All he saw was her shake her head, and step back from him.

"Who…. Who are you… tell me," He tried to shout, but it came out low, as he wheezed out another fit of coughing.

Through his daze, he could see her slowly shake her head, "That… that you will also find out one day…. We WILL meet again Dominik of Cintra, this I promise…. Kindred blood… will always find kindred blood."

He wanted to lash out, or say something else, but he felt the cold frost of a portal open, and in a moment the commander disappeared. She was gone, and the cold wind that flew through the cavern stopped, and he tightly squeezed his eyes shut. Never in his life had he felt himself so drained, so fatigued. He felt as if he could pass out then and there on the ground, and he would have if not for George.

"Dominik…." He heard and a loud mixture of coughs followed soon after.

His head spun and he whirled around to the right. Around the strewn out dead bodies of the soldiers of the Hunt, he saw George, still sitting there with his hand over his stomach wound.

"George…" He said weakly, stumbling his way towards him.

How did the commander seem to know him so well? How did she know so much about Ciri and he? Who was she, and why wasn't she an Aen Elle like the rest. All of the questions ran through his mind, but he was so fatigue, it strained him to even think.

Finally he reached George, and the Griffin School Witcher was pale, he had lost a lot of blood, and he needed medical attention. As he felt the strain on his muscles, his bones begin to ache like they never had before, he knew he needed it too. He looked down and reached his hand down to his friend weakly.

"Come on… we… we gotta get to Novigrad," He managed to get out, as the blonde haired Witcher reached up to weakly grab his hand.

He had to use every bit of his remaining strength, but he pulled back and yanked George to his feet.

"Dom…. Dominik… I… I'm hurt pretty bad," George muttered as he wrapped the Witcher's arm around him.

Slowly, his feet somehow managed to drag them both towards the corridor they had come, back towards the exit. He kept blinking, not daring to close his eyes for more then half a second. George coughed next to him as they walked, but both of them were running on the last bit's of strength their body could muster, as he saw George begin to cough up blood.

"You… you'll be alright…. Got a… a friend in Novigrad… she… she'll patch you right up. Just…. Just need to make it… make it to Clop…" He said weakly, as with every last bit of willpower and strength, he walked with his friend around his shoulder, into the darkness.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

If not for Clop, they never would have made it back to Novigrad. After they had emerged from the tunnel his loyal horse managed to untie his reins. He rode with all his speed towards Novigrad, as Dominik felt his vision become more and more blurry. White and black spots both began to dance in his vision, but he had just enough control to show his horse the way towards the city. George was on the saddle behind him, but his loyal companion still got them to Novigrad with great speed.

He had managed to get to the stable, where Clop neighed nervously as he climbed off with George. He had also quickly stroked his horses mane, before he managed to get into the city, with George's arm around his shoulder. By the time they entered the city proper, he was practically dragging the Griffin School Witcher, as his friend groaned lightly.

Still wincing from the pain that flared all over his body, and the fatigue he felt, he somehow managed to navigate the streets. Thankfully the Rosemary and Thyme was relatively close to the entrance they had come through. He was almost dragging himself as well. The white spots in his vision had almost begun to overtake him. His vision got blurrier and blurrier, but he saw the sign, he recognized himself right outside the building.

"Come on Dom… Come on Dominik…" He muttered to himself, urging himself to keep moving.

Scenes from the fight played over and over again in his head. The commander, whatever her name was, had him at her mercy. She could have killed him, stabbed her blade through his heart and been done with it. He needed to know why, he needed to know who she was, how she knew so much about him, and about Ciri. The more he thought in that moment however, the more it felt like someone was stabbing a knife directly into his brain. With every single thought, the black and white spots in his vision got more and more intense, taking up more and more of his vision.

George had finally stopped groaning, passing out from the loss of blood. As soon as he did, Dominik felt his own legs begin to buckle. Looking up he saw he was just outside the building, the front door was a mere few feet away from him. The lights were still on, so he knew that people were downstairs. He tried to look up at the sign above the door, to reassure himself he had the right inn. However, when he looked at it, all he saw was it coming in and out of his vision, as he began to blink rapidly again.

Finally his legs gave out and he fell down to them. He needed help, he wanted someone. He had never felt such exhaustion, such fatigue, such aching in his bones in his entire life. He felt as if he quite literally had no more energy left inside of him. He wanted someone. He wanted his mother, his father, his younger sister. He wanted Triss Merigold, he wanted Yennefer... and most of all he wanted Ciri, all he wanted in that moment was Ciri.

He didn't have her however, this he knew… but he did have the person who behind Ciri, he knew he loved most.

"GERAAAAAAAALT, GERALLLLLLLLT, GERALLLLLLLT," He yelled, using the last bit of fumes he had to scream the name of his adopted father, praying to every god he ever encountered, that his highly trained Witcher ears had heard him.

After he screamed, he had nothing left. He slumped forward onto the ground, and just managed to roll onto his back. All he could see were the stars in the Novigrad sky, as George slid off his shoulder ad onto his back next to him.

He didn't have a wound that was bleeding, but every single part of his body ached. He tried to move even his hands, but there was simply no energy left in his body to do anything. All he had done for the last few weeks, all the traveling, all the fighting, everything he had done… and all he wanted in the world in that moment… was Geralt, Geralt and Ciri. The two of them.

"Ciri… Ciri… gods please… Ciri…" He said to himself, feeling himself quickly begin to blink again, the stars slowly going out of view.

He couldn't even crane his head to look when he heard the door slam open. He could barely register the words that were being screamed.

"OUT HERE, FARAM, ZOLTAN, FREYA," The voice of Geralt yelled.

He could faintly hear the rush of footsteps, and more voice clamoring.

"Dom lad, what the bloody hell is happening," Zoltan Chivay yelled.

"What's all the-. George, Dom, for fucks sake what happened," Faram of Undviik yelled right after the dwarf.

"Geralt what-. Oh no, Dominik! We need to get them both inside now, someone get the bag from my room," He heard Freya's frantic voice yell.

His vision got blurry again, but he did see Geralt's withered face come into his view. The older Witcher's flowing white hair, and scruffy beard gave him a small source of comfort. Now, all he needed was Ciri. She was what he wanted, what he truly wanted, all he truly wanted in the world.

"Faram grab George, get him in a room, Zoltan, get Freya's bag," The older Witcher ordered, and he could hear the frantic tone in his adopted father's voice.

Geralt's yellow Witcher eyes looked down at him, as he wrapped one arm around Dominik's neck, the other around his legs, and strained for a moment, but managed to pick his adopted son up from the ground.

"You're going to be alright Freya will patch you up," His adopted father said to him reassuringly, his voice low and calm.

"Ciri… Ciri… Ciri… don't… don't go… don't send her away," He said faintly, his stomach beginning to churn like an active volcano, the black and white spots slowly beginning to cross Geralt's face.

A look of pain crossed Geralt's yellow eyes, as he slowly nodded reassuringly down at his son in his arms.

"We're going to find her… we will. And when we do… you two won't be separated again… I promise… rest now," Geralt said quietly, as he turned, walking towards the inside of the inn, as he blinked again, this time finally keeping his eyes closed.

A/N: Wow, I gotta admit on this profile and my old profile I've wrote a LOT of battle scenes, but that had to be my favorite battle scene that I have EVER wrote. I'm sure the Battle of Kaer Morhen and the fight vs Eredin will overtake it but… I had so much fun writing that fight scene.

An fyi, I am aware that in the books Ciri was well… basically forced to sleep with the Aen Elle King. She didn't in the end because Auberon was racist and wouldnt, but she was still forced to go and try. They said it was the only way for her to return to her world. I am aware, and that is the reason she did so in this timeline I have. But well… Dominik doesn't know that yet, and when he does figure out… oh boy I'm sure yous can imagine the rage…

This was a very, very, VERY important chapter, and we now have a lot of questions.

Who is this mysterious commander woman of the Wild Hunt? How is she so powerful? How does she know so much about Dominik and Ciri? Why did she spare him when she could have killed him? What's this magic that she mentioned Dominik is unlocking?

Also we meet who's going to be a mainstay for the story, the Witcher George of Toussaint. He is going to be a major player down the road. With him in the picture as well, Dominik's 'squad' of friends if you want to call if that, is finally complete. Faram of Undviik, George of Toussaint, and Freya Kaminski of Ellander. What are you looking forward to seeing from this group of four? How will they all effect the story going forward?

There's no rest for the wicked next chapter, as Dominik and Geralt will have to help Triss Merigold and the mages escape Novigrad, I am REALLY looking forward to that as well.

Thank you all so much again, I know I saw this every chapter but this chapter has really been my favorite. Thank you so much for reading and supporting, I'll see you all next time!