Ciri felt the fabric between worlds rip open as she tumbled back into her world, landing stomach-first on the frosty stone with an impact that knocked the air out of her tired lungs.
The frost that clung to her clothes tumbled off in clumps as she brushed it away with her gloved hands but she stopped trying to rid her clothes of the white, frosty powder once she looked up and noticed Geralt kneeling next to her with relief written across his scarred features. Avallac'h stood some feet away from him, but not even his stoic elven features could possibly hope to hide his relief.
"It's done," she laughed triumphantly. "The White Frost has been defeated!"
"Ciri, you should rest now," Geralt insisted.
"I'm quite fine, actually." Adrenaline still coursed through her veins but she knew for a fact that she would be fast sleep in a couple hours and was content with the idea of curling up in her bed below deck and sleeping until she felt like being productive again, be that a few days or a week from now. Or perhaps even two weeks, if she was feeling especially lazy. "I feel like I could run across the island in a single breath!"
"You've done more than enough," the witcher praised as he helped her to her feet and dusted her clothes off of any remaining frost. "I'm so proud of you."
"Thanks, Geralt."
He provided a supportive arm for her to lean on to ensure her legs didn't collapse beneath her and they hobbled back to their comrades together with Avallac'h trailing after them. They quickly reunited with Yennefer, who stood at the bottom of the stairs of Tor Gvalch'ca with a weary but triumphant look about her face, and Ciri hugged her as soon as they were within reach of each other, holding her in an embrace that lasted for what felt like an eternity but was only a few moments in reality.
"Is it over, my dear?"
"It's over, Mamma."
Ciri was positive that it was only because she was present that her surrogate parents didn't turn on Avallac'h, which would have been a matter of speed that came down to whether Geralt would have cut him down first or Yennefer would have torn him to shreds with her magic before the witcher could pull out his sword.
Or perhaps they were so happy to be a family again that the elven sage wasn't even a concern anymore.
The unspoken question "what do we do now?" lingered in the air and while neither Ciri, Geralt, Yennefer, nor Avallac'h knew what the future held for them, they could stop holding their breath in anticipation now that victory was theirs and could start looking forward to what was sure to be a bright future instead of scraping together a life that consisted of living day by day, not knowing if tomorrow would be the day that they died.
There were endless possibilities in front of them but Ciri knew what she really wanted to do: rest up and then embark on the Path with Geralt once she had fully recuperated.
When they regrouped with their allies in the harbor of Kaer Trolde, a feeling of exhaustion could be felt hanging over their heads like a thick, heavy blanket and there was uncertainty over what to do next. The burden of burying their dead was on them, which would take time, but everyone felt so drained that the hefty job would have to wait until tomorrow morning, when everyone was well-rested and had more sunlight to work with.
"We're on Skellige! Why don't we have a feast?" Ciri suggested. "To celebrate our victory against the Wild Hunt and honor our fallen comrades?"
"Aye, that sounds grand!" the big, burly, red-haired Skelligan warrior standing next to her said in agreement.
Avallac'h noticed him looking at Ciri with longing and wondered if it was just a trick of the light or if the warrior really felt something more for the lady of time and space. Granted, he wasn't the only one who had eyes for Ciri but the Skelliger's odds at winning her heart seemed quite high, especially judging from the look of familiarity in Ciri's emerald eyes when she looked his way and how easily she smiled at him, as if they had been friends for years… or perhaps even longer.
Avallac'h lingered by the ship, watching Ciri run up the hill towards the keep with the Skelligan warrior close on her heels until she finally disappeared out of sight. And then, he decided to take his leave.
"I should be going-"
"Come now, Avallac'h," Yennefer urged. "You ought to join us."
"What, you're not going to stay?" Geralt challenged before Avallac'h could get a word in, though the tone of his voice implied that he was almost frothing at the mouth to see him leave.
"You should at least say goodbye to Ciri before you go," Yennefer insisted in a much calmer tone than the Witcher, which veiled her true opinion of him behind an aura of practiced coldness. "But we would like it if you stayed for the feast."
Avallac'h silently agreed that he owed her that much, at least, especially when he remembered that the raven-haired sorceress was indeed the one who broke the curse that gripped him, and walked into the banquet hall with the intention of briefly speaking to Ciri, only to be completely overwhelmed by the sight of so many raucous Skelligan warriors toasting, drinking, and celebrating.
He found her seated at a table surrounded by a few close friends on the left of the double-doors. From the get-go, Avallac'h recognized the tall, burly Skelligan warrior with a fiery personality from earlier but couldn't say the same for the young Skelligan woman wearing a crown, who he could only assume was the ruler of the islands. Ciri, of course, stood out the most, to the point that Avallac'h didn't notice anybody else in the room except for her.
When she spotted him, she stood up and ran over to him, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to the table where she'd sat with her friends as she said "come and sit with us!"
"Allow me to introduce you to my friend Avallac'h," Ciri chirped as he sat down across the table from her next to the burly Skelliger.
"Avallac'h, this is my friend Cerys. She is the queen of Skellige," she paused, gesturing to the young woman sitting next to her, and then gestured to the warrior, "and I believe you've already met Hjalmar."
"Greetings," he said, nodding in acknowledgement to them both, and was met with polite greetings in return from the two red-haired Skelligan warriors.
He was mildly intrigued to learn that Cerys and Hjalmar were siblings, a tidbit that Ciri casually provided and thought it very interesting that Cerys had wanted the Skelligan crown more than anything else whereas Ciri had shunned any thought or mention of sitting on a throne with fiery abandon.
They were polar opposites in that way but Avallac'h could only assume that, up until her coronation, Cerys had enjoyed a life of freedom, something that Ciri had never really got to enjoy ever since her life flipped upside down with the fall of Cintra. Unlike Ciri, there was nothing insidious that anybody wanted from Cerys, not as far as Avallac'h could tell.
He glanced over at Ciri and noticed how at ease she looked, almost as if she had made herself right at home among the Skelligers. Perhaps she really was, he thought as he recalled her stories of spending summers and winters in Skellige with Hjalmar and Cerys when they were still children.
"Da died a warrior. That's all that matters," Hjalmar commented when the subject of Crach came up, toasting to the fallen jarl. Ciri and Cerys raised their flagrons and even Avallac'h followed their lead out of respect, the four of them hitting their tankards together in a toast to Crach an Craite before drinking their mead.
It tasted sweet and he didn't drink much, though the Skelligers really seemed to like it. Ciri clearly did, too. Avallac'h had never seen her drink so much in one sitting; he didn't even know she was capable of such a feat.
It was only after she had emptied her flagon that Avallac'h asked her to come with him so they could speak without shouting over all the noise and slipped out of the banquet hall without much fuss. They found themselves out in the courtyard, enjoying quiet and solace away from the revelers, and had a wonderful view of Kaer Trolde to marvel in.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fighting the White Frost took a lot out of me," Ciri admitted. Even so, she appeared vibrant and her eyes glittered with life despite looking absolutely exhausted, so much Avallac'h found it a bit difficult to discern the fine line between her eyeshadow and the dark bags under her eyes.
The days prior to the battle had been incredibly intense and allowed for little rest because of all the preparations they had to make to ensure they could gain the upper hand against the Wild Hunt but at least now she could hope to rest.
"Do try to get enough sleep tonight," he implored.
"Oh, I'm way ahead of you," Ciri yawned. She planned on engaging in the revelries a little while longer before retiring to bed on the ship.
Standing on the balcony overlooking the entire island of Ard Skellig with the breeze blowing through her hair reminded Ciri of her time spent on Skellige as a child, ice-skating with Hjalmar and Cerys in the wintertime and chasing crabs and collecting seashells in the summer months. She could also see the Naglfar frozen against the backdrop of infinite black suns in the distance, and hoped that Nilfgaard would pull out or be driven out by the Skelligers because this was not her land to take, regardless of the cornucopia of treasures, titles, and land her bloodline promised her if she decided to take the throne.
What was once a source of her nightmares was now merely a relic of the Wild Hunt's failures and a symbol of her (and everyone's) victory.
Were it not for her friends, she wouldn't be here right now and she couldn't even begin to describe how grateful she was for all of the sacrifices they'd made to ensure her survival.
"Va'esse deireádh aep eigean, va'esse eigh faidh'ar," Avallac'h commented off-handedly.
"'Something ends, something begins'... how fitting."
"So what will you do now?"
"I plan to walk the Path with Geralt and work as a witcher."
"Ah, yes, you talked about that quite a bit when we were on the run," Avallac'h hummed. "How does it feel to be standing on the precipice of fulfilling your dream?"
"It feels amazing," Ciri admitted, flashing him a smile that made her eyes sparkle like jewels and admittedly made his heart skip a beat. She also felt a bit flustered herself, because she had never thought that Avallac'h had actually paid her wishful ramblings any mind.
Although becoming a Witcher had always been her dream, she hadn't expected to actually have the opportunity to become one, especially not when she was being relentlessly chased by the Wild Hunt. It had been something to keep her going and even when the days were long and hard, she had never considered giving up because the cost of doing so would have been just too high.
It had taken her a lot of trust to confide in Avallac'h in the first place but hearing him mention her desire to become a Witcher made her realize that he really had been listening to her and hadn't been secretly plotting to keep her captive in Tir ná Lia for the rest of her life.
He really was okay with her choosing to live her life on her own terms and the realization brought a smile to her lips. Then again, she had stopped the White Frost, which meant that, in a way, he owed her a favor now. Or, at the very least, she didn't owe him anything anymore despite being a child of Elder Blood.
Although the topic of her blood still concerned her somewhat, especially when she remembered that there were plenty of other players in the world who might want to control her for her powers, she felt confident that she would find a way to deal with them and could now look forward to living her life exactly as she wanted.
"What about you? What are your plans?"
"I will be going back to Tir ná Lia. In fact, I must take my leave."
"Already?" Ciri looked crestfallen.
"A portal will be opening soon," he explained. "I stayed just long enough to bid you farewell."
"I'll go with you-"
"Stay and enjoy the festivities," he insisted. "Va fail, Zirael."
Stunned by his sudden goodbye, Ciri struggled to wrack her brain for anything that she could say to get him to stay but nothing came to mind, to her bitter disappointment as she walked back into the tower with Avallac'h, where she bid him farewell, uttering "va fail, Avallac'h" as she forced herself to watch him leave. Something told her this was going to be the last time she ever saw him, and the realization made her heart hurt like she had lost him forever.
He was alive, and would continue to live for a long time, but she felt an emotion akin to grief once he was gone from her sight. So many years spent on the run together had ended in a flash and realizing it hurt almost as much as getting stabbed with a sword.
"Where's your elf friend?" Cerys asked when she rejoined her friends at the table.
"He had to leave," she explained with a shrug in hopes that she wouldn't be questioned about Avallac'h's choices when she wouldn't have been able to explain why he had been in such a hurry to leave.
The portal opening was likely just an excuse to get away from the festivities and the humans he despised so much.
"A shame he couldn't stay longer," Hjalmar remarked.
"Indeed…"
The revelries suddenly felt so lonely and dull despite being surrounded by good friends, fellow comrades, and even her parents, but Ciri did her best to keep up a cheerful look about her until she could no longer keep her eyes open.
She bid Cerys and Hjalmar farewell before stepping out of the banquet hall and into the quiet corridor, which was unoccupied because everyone was feasting inside the grand hall, and teleported herself back to the ship so she could rest.
Everyone would understand, she told herself, but despite how badly she wished to sleep, she stared longingly at the bed where Avallac'h had slept during their voyage, shoved into the corner on the other end of the room, almost as if he had done it to put as much distance between himself and the other passengers - the dh'oine - on the ship.
Doesn't matter. He made his choices and I made mine, Ciri thought as she laid her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes.
Some time later, she woke up to the sound of footsteps on the deck above her and shot up in bed with a start - Ciri could still wake up at the drop of a pin, courtesy of her time spent on the run - but instantly calmed down when she heard Geralt and Yennefer's voices above her. She got up, forcing herself out of bed despite her protesting muscles, and went above deck to meet with her parents.
"Where is Avallac'h?" Yennefer asked. "We didn't see him at the banquet hall."
"We didn't see you, either," Geralt rasped. "Wondered where you ran off to."
"He went back home to Tir ná Lia," Ciri explained, though it was obvious to her that Geralt didn't really care about his whereabouts besides wanting to satisfy his curiosity and appeared relieved to see the elven sage had gone back to his world.
"As for me, I came back here to rest my eyes for a few hours. I was very tired."
She would never admit it aloud but she felt quite despondent over Avallac'h's absence, the thrill of victory dulled slightly because one of her closest allies wasn't here to bask in the glory with her. However, she forced herself to not be upset over the sage's absence because she knew Geralt and Yennefer would sniff it out in an instant and instead, tried to direct the topic of conversation to something entirely unrelated to him.
"What will we do about Emhyr?" she asked. "I know he expects me to take the throne but… I don't want to."
She didn't want to be involved in the machinations of court or trapped on the throne as the Lodge's little puppet in any capacity. She knew they wished to assume the role of orchestrators, plotting and planning things from behind the scenes while she wore a glittery crown on her head, smiled and looked pretty, and married whatever disgusting Nilfgaardian nobleman won the competition for her hand… or whoever the Lodge wanted her to marry to further their own agenda.
"The decision is yours to make, my dear," Yennefer told her.
"It's time for you to take control of your own life and follow your destiny," Geralt added.
"I wish to become a Witcher," she proclaimed, "but Emhyr… I know he wants to abdicate the throne to me. I don't think he'll just allow me to follow my dream without having something to say about it."
Emhyr was the most formidable man in the North with a powerful army and countless resources at his disposal, and she was just one girl.
Telling him "no" would be about as effective as trying to peacefully negotiate with a Drowner whose only driving force in life was to pull her down to the bottom of the murky depths of a bog or lake and allow the water that entered her lungs to suffocate her.
She had just escaped the Wild Hunt. Would she now have to go on the run from Emhyr?
Ciri knew she would have no help from Avallac'h if that happened but she would willingly sacrifice her freedom and run away if it guaranteed Geralt and Yennefer's safety, although it wasn't something she wanted to do. If she had to, she would endure it because she felt an obligation to keep the people near and dear to her safe but it wasn't the most ideal solution.
"We'll tell him you died."
"You've thought about this far too much," Yennefer accused. The truth quickly became obvious when Geralt didn't make a move to deny her accusation against him but the more she considered it, the more Ciri found she liked the idea of it.
"Will it work?" She was concerned that Emhyr wouldn't be convinced unless there was a body.
"We'll tell him you died fighting the White Frost in another world."
"That… could very well work."
"So do you want to go through with this?" To this, Ciri nodded.
"Will you inform the emperor or shall I?" Yennefer asked.
"I'll do it," Geralt offered. It couldn't be more obvious that he was all but chomping at the bit to tell Emhyr that she was "dead" and Ciri trusted he would be able to deliver a convincing performance with his usual, dead-pan tone.
It wasn't true that Witchers didn't have emotions but the stereotype would prove useful for once when Geralt went to tell Emhyr that she was dead, even though she wasn't. All that mattered was ensuring Emhyr didn't have a chance to sink his talons into her and trap her in Vizima for the rest of her life but she trusted Geralt would ensure she could take full rein of her newfound freedom.
"Might want to lay low for a while, just until Emhyr knows you're dead."
"Right," Ciri agreed.
She couldn't have reports coming into Vizima about a white-haired young woman who looked a lot like her when she was supposed to be deceased. Once Emhyr was informed of her "death", though, she would become a wraith traveling through different countries in search of monster contracts, making a name for herself as the world's first female witcher. If Emhyr somehow caught wind of her, it wouldn't matter because he would no doubt have chosen someone else to be his successor by then.
"Meet me in White Orchard in one week from today," Geralt instructed.
"Got it. I'll be there," Ciri promised.
They bid Geralt farewell, promising that they would reunite soon, and then took a portal to the Rosemary and Thyme. If they were going to lay low for a week, then they would do it with grace by staying in one of the nicer parts of Novigrad and in the presence of good friends. Dandelion promised to treat them well, providing them with rich foods, good wines, a comfortable place to sleep, and even nightly live music in the tavern.
Ciri found herself counting the days with bated breath to the point that Yennefer had to beg her to "please find something to do, your pacing is making me nervous!" but she couldn't sit still, not when she was only days away from seizing her freedom with both hands and embarking on the Path as a Witcher.
Boredom and anticipation led her to spend the last few days keeping herself sharp by teleporting to the woods outside of Oxenfurt and spending her time running through the forest and sparring against imaginary enemies using a sword she had procured from the local blacksmith, though it wasn't nearly the same as fighting with her beloved sword Zirael, which she had sacrificed in her fight against the White Frost.
She couldn't remember much of the battle, only that there had been so much running and teleporting between worlds as she sealed off portal after portal, until the last one had finally closed and she could finally teleport back to Tor Gvalch'ca, having possessed just enough energy to do so.
Her desire to return to her loving parents had given her all the energy she needed to teleport herself home and prevent her from passing out in some strange, dead world that may as well have been a hellish form of limbo.
When the day finally came to meet Geralt in White Orchard, Ciri slipped on a cloak and hugged Yennefer goodbye, promising that she would come to visit her in between contracts.
Her mother had retired from her position as the advisor to Emhyr's court and was preparing to move to Toussaint, with the expectation that Geralt would join her soon. Geralt wanted to take a few more contracts to "get it out of his system" before he joined her in Toussaint and would, in the meantime, make sure Ciri could handle herself as a Witcher and make up for lost time before their adventures took them down different paths.
Geralt would retire soon, too, but her life was just beginning.
"Take care, Ciri."
"I will. And I'll come visit you in Toussaint," Ciri promised, which brought a smile to Yennefer's lips that reached her violet eyes and made them sparkle.
"I know you will, darling. Now go, you wouldn't want to keep Geralt waiting."
Ciri hugged Yennefer one last time and then teleported away to White Orchard, landing feet-first in the secluded fields just outside of the village where she and Geralt had agreed to meet. It was a good thing, too, because the last thing she would have wanted was to spook the common folk of White Orchard and send them running and screaming for their lives.
Geralt wasn't here yet but Ciri figured that he was on his way, just delayed because of the traffic that had resulted from the Nilfgaardian troops pulling out of White Orchard. Obviously, it hadn't been a problem for her but it was for a witcher who didn't have the powers of time and space at his fingertips.
She went inside the inn, purchased a mug of ale, and found herself a quiet spot to sit and bide her time until he showed up.
In the meantime, Ciri couldn't help but overhear chatter from the other patrons in the bar - they made no effort to curb their volume, which made it quite easy for her to listen in without having to strain her ears - and learned that Temeria was free again but had become a vassal state of the Nilfgaardian empire and how a new lord, someone named Lord Dagborg, had come to reside over White Orchard.
The war was waning and would soon come to an end, hopefully bringing peace and prosperity… that is, if Emhyr could control his bloodlust long enough to not go waging another expensive war in a few years' time.
The world didn't need more bloodshed. All of the monsters in the land provided more than enough as it was.
At least there's more than enough work to go around, Ciri thought as she took another swig of her ale.
Monsters roamed the wastes in droves, which was an unfortunate side effect of the war and the second Conjunction that she and Avallac'h had inadvertently started when they opened a portal at Tor Gvalch'ca. But then again, if they hadn't, then the White Frost would still be a threat.
There was no telling how long it would take them to clear through the hordes of monsters and make the lands even a little safer but what could be considered almost never-ending work was a good thing for witchers, at least.
Then, as she set her mug down on the table, Ciri sensed Geralt before she saw him and felt the corners of her lips quirking up into a smile as he sat down next to her.
"Is it done?" was the first thing she asked.
"Yes."
"Did he believe you?"
"I have no idea," Geralt admitted, though Ciri sensed the lightest hint of amusement in his voice, almost as if he had enjoyed having a valuable, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to mess with Emhyr's head.
"Let's hope he did."
Without needing to say anything, Ciri felt their conversation shift to a topic other than the emperor of Nilfgaard and looked over to see Geralt reach for something next to him that happened to be just out of her line of sight before realizing what it was when her father set it down on the table in front of her.
"It's beautiful!" she gasped in awe. The craftsmanship on the sword was unlike anything she had ever seen and she almost couldn't believe that she was the owner of such a remarkable silver sword. "May I?"
"Not here," Geralt gently chided. "You'll have ample opportunity soon enough, witcher."
Witcher.
It felt so good hearing Geralt say that.
She lifted the sword off the table and pulled the sheath off the blade so she could marvel at the craftsmanship and immediately noticed the inscription that was engraved into the steel in Elder Runes.
"What's this inscription?"
"An old witchers' motto," Geralt explained. "Had a sword like this once myself. But this one's better… much better."
"Let's try it out then," she said as she sheathed her sword.
"Word has it there's a striga prowling the Maribor forest and that the coin is good. Are you interested?"
"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Ciri laughed gleefully as she grabbed her new sword and ran out of the tavern with Geralt close on her heels.
My life is finally beginning, Ciri thought gleefully, and she could not wait to see what the future held for her.