Something Ends, Something Begins

by Canelo312

Set after the witcher novels, replacing the events of the game. Geralt awakens from his supposed death, his mind muddled and in disarray. Yennefer, his lover, is gone, as is his child surprise Ciri. The world as he knew it has begun to change. now his quest begins to find them once again, in a race against time.

2. Chapter 2

From the dawn of time, to the rise of civilizations, to the currently besieged era of the world, the misconceptions surrounding the monsters and the creatures of the world were an abundant constant. What classified each as such were generally grouped within the same area of conversations, ignorance and an overall lack of any sort of proper education helped form these misconceptions and mistakes when appropriating the two. It was the idea of many unlearned folk that the two sets of terms were indeed an equal reference to the same things, that a monster ranged from anything with fur and teeth to something with claws and abnormal abilities. It was hardly ever taken into account the different, and sometimes very extreme circumstances and traits that differentiated the two.

It wasn't in fact a very grand nor highly thought of problem within society, lower classes nor the higher; yet for the enchantress Triss Merrigold, at least for the time being and only the time being, for the place she was in, and for those whom currently resided around her, this lack of knowledge for the state of monsters and other creatures was bothersome. It was bothersome for the reason that the residents of Kaer Morhen had spent their entire lives learning the intricacies of the monsters of the world, and despite their knowledgeable state of being and attempt at constant sharing of that knowledge always proved futile.

Triss Merrigold, the enchantress, sat in one the few wooden chairs dotting the floor of Kaer Morhens grand library. Grand it was. The massive room was surrounded by tall shelves, in those shelves a great number of books and tomes arranged nicely. Aside from that the room was relatively spacious and empty, only a few chairs, a small table, and a large window leading to an outside balcony were present. At the moment the window was nearly covered in ice and fog, making it quite difficult for anyone to see the surroundings of the keep, the hard glass creaking at the force of the heavy winds.

The book in the sorceresses hands was, to be quite frank, uninteresting and monotonous. Titled ' the unknown facts of Ghouls' by an unknown author, the book attempted to inform any reader about the dangers of ghouls and alghouls. It was written properly, to Triss' understanding, yet for the life of her the words woven into the pages simply passed through her mind like a shallow stream of babble. It was such a tedious read in fact, that she could feel her eyes getting heavier and heavier.

" Don't fall asleep, Merrigold" the annoying voice of Lambert jolted the sorceress up, the book crashing to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust. Lambert smirked, disturbingly. The rest of the Witcher around the library looked on, their face expressionless and stoic.

Triss rubbed her weary eyes, shook her head quite violently, and stood to stretch herself completely. She felt the eyes of all the men there as her shirt raised with her arms, exposing a portion of her smooth stomach; even the old eyes of Vesimir. She sighed. At this point in her life Triss had become unbothered by the constant starring and surely crude thoughts of men. Witchers, despite their mutations and hard training, were no different from ordinary men in that respect. She didn't fault them, it was difficult to keep ones eyes away from a beautiful sight.

" Have you been sleeping well, child" Vesimir asked, thoughtfully, his pleasant voice soothing Triss.

" We've given her the best bed in the entire castle"

Lambert snickered. " How can she not be sleeping well"

As usual, Triss ignored the unwarranted and arrogant comments of Lambert, instead her focus remained on the elder Witcher.

" It's not that, Vesimir" she sat back in her chair, the stretch revitalizing her just a bit. " It's just..."

" Go on, Triss" this time Coen spoke, his yellow-green bloodshot eyes sticking to the woman. " It's alright. No one here will be offended. You can say it. These books are boring as hell. I can't count the times I've fallen asleep reading them"

She giggled, especially because it was the truth.

" Youngsters" Vesimir shook his head, dismissively. " Everything is boring to them. Back when I was..."

" Vesimir" Eskel interjected, knowing all to well that a long speech about the old days was coming. " Forget what Coen said. There's no need to dwell on it. You know the young ones speak without thinking too much"

" Not thinking at all!" Vesimir agreed whole heartedly, his waving hand an obvious sign. Coen only smirked.

" And you should ignore all of them, Triss" he came from behind her, his tall lean frame coming into her view surprisingly. " What are you reading? Oh, the unknown facts of Ghouls. Yes. I see now why you were falling asleep"

The witchers all laughed. All of them except Vesimir. The old man kept a straight face always in these types of jests.

Triss smiled as well. However, her smile was due more to the fact that Geralt was up and well, joining the others in the confines of the library. In the days that Triss had been at Kaer Morhen, she had witnessed the various changes in Geralts mood and overall well-being. From being locked in a solitary room most of the day, the Witcher had clearly progressed. The pain of emptiness was still there. It was evident to everyone in the castle. Yet the white haired Witcher had begun the steps to reinvigorate himself. He was in the best place to do it. Triss realized that now.

Like the many monsters of the world that they hunted, Witchers were greatly misunderstood in their own right. It was easy to see them out in the world, in the light that many saw them. Solitary, emotionless, horrifying; yet for anyone who knew the truth behind the caste of warriors the picture was painted with a different brush. Witchers were, at the end of it all, people. They had the same needs and desires. The same fears. The same worries. The same interests. It was only blurred by the fact that they were experts at suppressing those traits which they felt exposed them. But if one were to see them in the light that she did, in the way that they conversed and congregated with each other, in the way they cared and loved, then one would know the truth behind the Witchers as she did. That way of seeing things showed her that Geralt was in fact in the only place in the world that could help him.

He sat down in one of the few empty chairs, his legs extending out in front of him as he breathed a deep breath of relaxation. His milky hair flowed freely, like grass in the spring. His golden eyes peered out onto the open glass door.

" Spring" Coen broke the silence that had ensued, in his hand a small blade twirling. " It is fast approaching. Soon it'll be time to take the Witchers path again"

It was like a melody, a blissful song humming through the ears of the Witchers, each and every one of them smiling while their mind wandered to what was soon to come. Triss had seen this type of feeling within them before. Long ago. It still had not changed.

" We'll all finally be able to get off our ass again" Lambert snickered. " Just look outside, lads. I think I can already see some green on the pass"

He exaggerated.

" What the hell are you talking about lambert!" Coen shook his head violently as his gaze stretched to the window. " I can't see grass anywhere"

" You're not looking hard enough then"

" I can't see shit either" the younger Witcher Jason joined the fray.

Like young boys clammering over a beautiful girl that had just walked in front of them, they all looked, starstruck, amazed, and whole heartedly confused. It was as if they had never seen the end of winter and the beginning of spring, even if spring was still a few weeks away and winter still held an icy grip on the climate.

" You see that, Triss?" Geralt asked in a low tone, his half smile aimed at his chattering brethren. " Only a few things in this world get Witchers more anxious than the arrival of spring"

" It seems so" Triss chuckled. " They look like school children right now...even Eskel can't help himself"

" Of course not" Geralt agreed with a grin. " Even at his age he's still just like the other boys"

Triss giggled at the slander, for she knew the words of Geralt to be true. Even at Eskel's age, which for a normal human would be considered advanced, he still reacted the same way a youngster would.

" You know we Witchers have very sensitive ears"

From nowhere, she felt the tingling sensation that emanated from any magical aura that came in contact with the sorceress. She looked over her shoulder, and watched as the scarred Witcher moved from behind her seat, joining the two in conversation. As his rough hand left the surface of her shoulder, the tingling disappeared. She always remembered the feeling of Eskels touch. Eskel emanated powerfully, more so than any of the others.

" You know, Triss" Eskel said as he sat next to the white haired Witcher across from the enchantress. " I'd prefer you not talk about my increasing age...and you, Wolf...You shouldn't speak at all, lest you forget we're basically the same age"

" I don't forget old friend" Geralt smirked.

Triss smiled also, her eyes glistening as she watched the two Witchers in front of her.

" I'd say, Triss" Eskel spoke as he arranged himself comfortably within his hard wooden chair. " That if you want a read more interesting than ghoul facts, you should certainly pick out the 'intricacies of harpies and caleanos'"

Triss sighed, all the while Eskel remained surely confident. Harpies did not seem an interesting topic to Triss.

" Harpies are the one of the more curious monsters" Eskel said. " You know, Triss...they can steal people's dreams while they sleep"

Triss gazed puzzled.

" It's true Triss" Geralt confirmed, surely.

" Oh I don't deny it" Triss said.

" I witnessed it first hand" Eskel said in remembrance, his eyes raising to stare at the stone ceiling. " Some years ago, in Cidaris. Harpies stole the dreams of some rich merchant, so he hired me to retrieve it. Fetched quite a high price too"

" Must've been some dream" Geralt smirked. " If someone was willing to pay a high price"

" Not really" Eskel laughed quietly, clearly remembering the specific details. " The stolen dream was the merchants fantasies about one of the local women"

" You're right" Triss shook her head. " That doesn't seem important at all"

" Well" Eskel said. " That merchant was married, and the woman which his fantasies pertained too was the Dwarven wife of the town blacksmith, he feared someone else would somehow see the dream, especially his wife...or the blacksmith"

Triss giggled like a schoolgirl, her eyes fluttering and immediately glancing over at the white haired Witcher.

" It's a funny story, sure" Geralt said with a slight dismissal tone. " But the fact is that dreams are powerful things, that's why harpies are drawn to them"

Triss and Eskel cleared their throats, and focused on Geralt.

" They are" Triss agreed, her green eyes staring into that of the witchers. " And you, Geralt...you have very personal experience with that. You're dreams with Ciri are a vivid testament to that"

Geralt remained silent at first, but Triss knew that within his mind the words and images raced. His stoic expression could not hide it. Eskel could see it too, because his eyes averted themselves from the awkward sight of his old friend. Triss however, remained etched.

" Triss, perhaps we should change..." Eskel started but he did not finish. Triss silenced him with a quick gesture of her hand. Geralt noticed the gesture, and his face expressed the displeasure of his current emotion. " Listen to me, sorceress...this isn't the time"

The enchantress had noticed this expression before, in the years that she had known the Witchers, this expression usually came out when someone brought up an uncomfortable topic of conversation. It was a common trait of the Witchers to usually avoid any topic they considered awkward; and Geralt, whom Triss certainly held in higher regard than the others, seemed to have this trait more so than the others.

" Geralt" Triss said, softly, her smooth hand grasping onto his. " I've been here for weeks, I think it's time we confront this. Enough beating around the thorn bush"

He stood up without a peep, as fast as a frightened cat, his pale rough hands pulling themselves away from the mages'. His eyes shown elsewhere, away form the woman.

" Triss" he sternly said, his eyes still not meeting hers. " I appreciate you coming here, for whatever reason that may be. But now I'll be taking my leave"

Triss shuttered, her eyes painfully staring at the dull ground beneath her. She felt stupid. Naive. Bad. Very bad.

" Geralt, sit" Eskel said, to no avail.

It was at this point that the rest of the Witchers had noticed the charade, their venomous glares situated between the milky haired Witcher and the auburn haired sorceress, mostly the latter. Vesemir was the first to react, springing to Geralt.

" Where are you going, Wolf?" The elder Witcher asked, ignoring the rest.

" To the stables" Geralt replied, plainly, not looking back once. " I long to meet my new Roach"

---

" I hate to say it, Triss" Eskel spoke in a serious and stern tone, his head shaking violently as the wind pounded against the windows of the great hall. " But I dare say that you handled things the wrong way with Geralt"

" That's an understatement" Lambert echoed, his face expressing a similar but more arrogant disapproval.

" I dare say as well" Coen joined the fray alongside his comrades, his eyes glowing as they stared into the fiery embers roaring from the large hearth.

" Not to offend you, Triss" Eskel continued. " But you may have been hasty in your approach"

" You don't bring that up at such a random and trying time, Merrigold" Lambert said, annoyingly. " You made Geralt retreat back into that damn shell again. Now we just have to hope Vesimir can talk some sense into him"

" Which won't be easy" Coen reiterated.

" Another understatement" Lambert confirmed.

" He was only just coming out of his first shell" Jason, the youngest Witcher said. It was the first time Triss had heard him speak in her time at the keep. " Almost back to the normal Geralt"

" Well now we'll have to endure more wallowing" Lambert snickered. " Thanks to Merrigold, of course"

" Lambert, shut up will you" Eskel hissed. " Triss was only trying to help, albeit without considering a more effective method"

Triss sat in silence, the words of the Witchers hitting her ears like arrows against a weakening shield. She could only think about the way Geralt looked at her, or rather denied her even a glance. She wanted to hold him in her arms, whisper softly in his ears, but she knew the reaction to her actions was warranted. She acted rashly, if only she could help it.

" We know you only want to help" Eskel continued, just as Triss regained her focus on the present. " It's for that very reason that Vesimir summoned you here. But we only say this to express that your way of doing things can be refined, Triss"

" In other words" Coen said. " You could've perhaps been more laid back...let things come naturally"

" Enough!" Triss angrily shouted, the fires in the ember roaring as her eyes flashed.

" Triss..." Eskel did not finish.

" No" she stopped him, this time more calmly, only slightly. " I appreciate all of your critiques on my methods of speaking to Geralt, and I say that because I realize now that, for lack of a better word, I fucked up"

The four Witchers snorted, mockingly.

" But as you said, Eskel" she continued. " My intentions were in fact only to help Geralt. I only wished to interject a topic of conversation that could release some of the heavy weight off his shoulders. I saw the opportunity, and I took it. Perhaps a bit hasty, yes. But sooner or later he will have to deal with it out in the open. The meaningless conversation we were having helped no one"

" If only you'd listen sometimes, Merrigold" Lambert hissed. " I know you're a sorceress, and therefore feel entitled to think you know better than others when it comes to all matters, but sometimes it pays to take note"

" What he means, Triss" Eskel shot daggers at the younger Witcher, his voice remaining calm as always. " Is that you've known Geralt for what? Ten? Fifteen years? And I mean known him in the way that good friends know each other"

" Give or take" Triss answered, unsure of where this conversation was heading.

" Well we've known him all of his life" Eskel responded. " And some of us, all of our lives" his eyes glanced at the youngest of the Kaer Morhen Witchers, who sat just behind Coen. He fiddled with his snarling wolf medallion until he noticed the eyes on him.

Triss remained confused.

" And you don't speak clearly enough, Eskel" Lambert retorted. " The point is that we know him, a lot more than you, Merrigold. There are certain ways that Geralt has of dealing with things such as these. Ways that are better left as they are, lest you risk shattering the glass of recovery"

" You've known him longer than I, that isn't a matter of debate" Triss agreed, only partially. " But that doesn't mean you know him any better than I do. I've been at Geralts side in situations that, pardon me for saying, but you Witchers just wouldn't have the slightest idea how to handle"

" I have to agree with Lambert" Eskel said. " There's plenty of truth into what he says. It's not only the time we've known him, but it's what we've learned and picked up in that time"

" And you don't think I've learned anything about him?"

" No doubt you have" Eskel wearily agreed.

" Apparently not enough" Lambert declared, sternly. " Because if you did, you'd know the kind of man our dear Geralt is"

" Presumably I don't" Triss sarcastically rolled her eyes. " So tell me then, what kind of man he is"

" Sensitive" Coen was the one to respond, quicker than Triss had anticipated. Apparently quicker than the others thought as well. " What? Why the long faces? We know it's true. It's not a insult. It's a fact derived from years of observation. Geralt sometimes lets his emotions get the better of him. He can't help it"

" I wouldn't call it sensitive" Triss shook her head. " Geralt has gone through a great ordeal, loosing someone you care deeply for can drain the life from even the strongest person...let alone loosing two"

" But that's the thing" Coen began to recant. " As far as I can tell from Geralts story, he hasn't lost them, not in the way you'd think. Ciri didn't die, she only disappeared after taking Geralt and Yennefer to...wherever it was that she took them. My theory is that whatever brought Geralt back to us, probably could've done the same for his woman"

Triss thought, and thought hard. What if the young Witcher was right, the force that brought Geralt back from whatever limbo he inhabited perhaps could've done the same for Yen. The only strange factor being that Geralt had no recollection of the time just before he strangely reappeared here, and absolutely no idea what happened to Yen or Ciri.

" So you see?" Lambert said, with an odd sense of amusement in his voice. " Geralt only needs the time to realize this for himself. Currently, his only thoughts are catered to the fact that those two aren't here with him, and he has no clue as to where they are"

" Wouldn't it be simpler just to talk to him? Explain to him that..."

" Again. Merrigold. I bring up the listening critique"

Triss' eyes flared, yet no words escaped her perched lips.

" What we've been explaining to you this entire time is that you must let Geralt deal with this predicament on his own"

" Like a Witcher is supposed to" Jason, the young curl headed Witcher said. Up until now he seemed rather disinterested in the entire ordeal.

" It's a trait we all share" Eskel confirmed. " It's been instilled to us in the years we trained here at Kaer Morhen. A Witchers life is a solitary one. So we must deal with every situation in life on our own. Only at times do we ever have any sort of assistance. At the moment, Geralt has us at his side. But it's not our duty nor our obligation to share this burden with him. It is however, our desire to help him along the way of recovery. As Witchers do along the path. So we'll help him, because he is one of our own. But we'll help him, as our pup here said, the only way we Witchers know how"

The Witchers in unison, all seemed to agree, even Lambert, whose smirk had faded and been replaced by a sincere expression of selflessness. Triss herself couldn't help but smile. For the time being, and only the time being, she figured she'd concede.

---

" Wolf"

The quiet word echoed through the enclosed walls of the hay ridden stables, the only other sound coming from the neighs and huffs of the horses situated in their areas, and from the savage blows of the outside storm. Not even the footsteps of Vesimir, who like the rest of the Witchers stepped as light as a dryad in Brokilon. Geralts icy breath left his mouth as he sighed.

" Don't be angry with her" Vesimir said, pushing past the silence of the white haired Witcher. " It is I you should be angry with. I brought her here"

" I'm not angry" Geralt hissed. His hand deftly caressed the mane of his new Roach.

" So you say" Vesimir dismissed. " But your actions in the library say otherwise"

Geralt did not respond, his focus remained on the chestnut mare. He felt the warm air from her nostrils as she breathed. It calmed him. Vesemir approached the mare as well, his old hands running across her stomach and onto her point of hip. The mare stood calm, her heart beating slow and in rhythm, like the Witchers.

" What is it that you want, Vesimir" Geralt said, after a while, slicing the silence with sharp and blunt words. " I doubt you came down here to tend to the horses, or just to keep me company"

" Is it a bad thing?" Vesimir returned the words, calmly. " To want to keep you company"

" Only if It's done out of pity"

" And you believe that's the case?"

" I know it is"

The old Witcher removed his hand from the soft fur of the mare, clearing his throat as he retreated away from Geralt. He didn't leave, unfortunately, instead sitting on a wooden bucket just aside the entrance. Geralt bitterly sighed.

" Listen, Geralt" Vesimir stammered, his voice resonated through the stables. " Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to talk to her"

" I have talked to her" Geralt groaned.

" I mean talk to her about those things you keep bottled inside that arrogant head of yours"

Geralt spat.

" I know it's our way to deal with hardship by ourselves" Vesimir ignored the obvious displeasure of Geralt. " After all, a Witchers life is a solitary one. But I'd be reminisced if I didn't say that you've been acting like a child with Triss ever since she arrived. I summoned her here to help you, Wolf. Like she did those years ago with..."

Geralt snorted. The old Witcher fell silent. Without even looking back, Geralt could feel the uneasiness that stemmed from Vesimirs words. He couldn't bring himself to say the name, not in the presence of the white wolf.

" I'll ask again" Geralt snickered. " Because Im still confused as to what it is you want from me. You want me to express my deepest feelings? Like some rambling poet or artisan spewing his worthless thoughts for the whole world to hear? Isn't it obvious, Vesimir? My feelings are those of a broken Witcher. Feelings of a mutant who isn't supposed to feel anything. What is Triss going to do for me? What exactly are her words supposed heal?"

" You speak in condescending tone" Vesimir retorted. " Yet it is as you said. You are a broken shell of yourself, Geralt"

" You're not telling me anything I don't know"

" Then for gods sake listen" Vesimir rose from the bucket, springing like a young man. " You, and your knuckle-headed brothers for that matter, you all believe the same thing. That is that if you ignore something long enough it'll just go away. Well I'll tell you, Geralt...from centuries of experience, that has never once been the case. It's a sorry sight to see you wallowing the way you are, dear boy. But until you confront this darkness you'll never get over it"

" It's the Witchers way" Geralt said. " As you put it, dealing with things on our own. It was after all you and the other instructors who taught us that"

" Spare me the crap, Geralt. Because that's what it is...crap. You use instructions taught from one subject to justify your behavior in a different subject. Nothing in your upbringing here at the keep could foresee where your journey would take you. The truth of the matter is that no one here, past or present, would be able to genuinely make sense of your situation. That's why I summoned her you see. Because if anyone could make sense of it, it's her"

" There's nothing to make sense of" Geralt bitterly responded, still refusing to turn and face the old Witcher. " The reality is that not even a sorceress as famed as Triss Merrigold can understand matters that are other worldly in nature. You're dealing with forces related to..."

He couldn't say her name, the letters would not form. Vesimir lowered his head, his feet kicking the dirt beneath him. For a while longer, silence ruled over them, even the horses. Even the stormy wind outside calmed briefly. The moment of silence lasted long. Far too long.

" You know, Wolf" Vesimir said quietly, almost in a whisper. " It's not as if she's dead"

" No" Geralt somberly replied. " She's out there somewhere...away from all of this. All of us"

" Perhaps that's not such a bad thing"

Geralt groaned. Vesemir sighed.

" Geralt" he continued. " Don't confuse my words. I long to see her again. It would make my heart content. More so than perhaps anything else. You know I cared for that child, just like you did"

" Not just like me" Geralt shook his head.

" Don't deny me that" Vesimir sternly responded. " Don't you remember when you brought her here...for the first time. What your first words were. You said she was our surprise Geralt...all of ours. Yours, mine, Eskel, Lambert, even Coen. We all took her under our wing. So don't say I didn't care for the girl just as you did"

Geralt stammered in response. He felt bad, because he knew the words of the old Witcher were true, yet still he couldn't bring himself to apologize. Like the name, the words would not form. He sat in self pity and regret.

" But if there is one more thing that would make me content" Vesismir said. " It would be to see you back to your normal self. This sight of you, it's painful"

Again, like much of the current displeasing conversation, Geralt remained silent, his eyes wandering away from the old Witcher.

" That's why I've come to the conclusion, Wolf...that come spring, the best thing for you would be to leave Kaer Morhen"

" Throwing me out already, Vesimir"

" Not like that" the old Witcher said. " This keep is your home, you and the other boys. If it is your choice to stay, then so be it. I could actually use some help keeping this castle in shape. But if your being here is only going to bring back those memories and assist you in your wallowing...then my boy, you must take your leave. You're a Witcher, and by our measure you're still relatively young. Therefore, the best thing for you would be to take the path again"

The path. The Witchers path. It was something that once excited Geralt. The first days of spring, the melting of the ice, the promising thought of the ghouls, leshys, bruxas, and other monsters he would hunt in the past gave him euphoria. That was a long time ago.

" It's a fact, Geralt" Vesimir started. " That doing Witchers work will keep your mind occupied. And if the path doesn't seem at all interesting to you at these times...then for the sake of sanity, Wolf...look for them if you must. Look for Ciri and Yennefer. Look for the answers to the questions that keep you up night. Find the closure you need. If it's out there. But don't sit around here wasting yourself away like some depressing and dead version of you"

" Didnt you just say this was my home?" Geralt asked, rather disingenuously and out of flavor. " That I could stay if I so chose too?"

" If only for the right reasons" Vesimir answered quickly. " But seeing your state of being, it's clear you wouldn't be staying for the right reasons. You'd be doing it in a sad attempt to forget everything and waste away"

" I see now why you summoned her here" Geralt said, in realization. " Triss...She's not here just to talk about feelings like a priest at confession. No. I figured she wasn't. You brought her here to convince me to go away with her. As you said...find answers, closure. But you forget something, Vesimir. These questions are anomalies. Fragmented questions with no answers. The only person who could answer them is gone, far away. Like you said, probably for the best"

" When" Vesimir sighed, almost in defeat. He began to step away from Geralt. " When did you become this way? I struggle to understand. It hasn't always been like this"

Geralt refused to answer, for not even he knew the exact answer. The old Witcher noticed the refusal, and for now, and only now, he seemed resigned; yet Geralt knew that wouldn't be the end of it. No. The old man was persistent. It was something he passed down to every Witchers trainee that passed through Kaer Morhen. Even Geralt.

" I leave you with parting words, Wolf" Vesimir slowly made his way to the open gate leading away from the stables. " Don't allow yourself to succumb to dark thoughts. Overcome them, my boy. If anything, do it for her. For them. And lastly, for the love of everything holy...pick up a damn sword. Spar with the boys. You'll see what a sword in hand can do for your well being. You're a Witcher after all, Geralt"

He didn't hear the footsteps as Vesimir retreated past the gate, but he no longer felt the aura and presence of the old Witcher. He turned back, finally, his eyes seeing the empty space behind him. In that moment, the horses along the stable huffed and puffed, the wind outside grew stronger.

The white haired Witcher stood in silence, his deep thoughts entrenched into the words that were said just seconds ago. The memories once again flooded his mind. Perhaps, he thought, just maybe, the words said were wise. Or perhaps not. Either way, the white wolf stood in somber silence, his lone presence baring fruit.

He rubbed his weary eyes.

He looked back at his new Roach. Brown, silky, and calm as a morning spring breeze. She did not deter from his gaze.

" Well, Roach" Geralt whispered, his hand placed on the muzzle of the mare. " What do you think of all this?"

The mare neighed, quietly, her head raising almost as if she understood exactly what he was saying. Then she chewed on a bundle of hay, carelessly.

" Hmmm...right"

---

" It is a fact of life that one should never neglect the perfecting of basic skills...especially not one such as us, pup...so get your ass up and swing your sword!"

The thundering voice of Lambert echoed through the white capped courtyard, a flock of winter birds in the distance crowing as they fled. The temperature outside was just warm enough to bare, the sun squeezing its rays through the clouds just enough to where the day seemed fine and clear. The heavy thickets of snow and ice had somewhat melted away by the coming of the spring air, the storms that had raged all winter long a distant and well forgotten memory.

Triss Merrigold sat atop the wall overlooking the vast courtyard, her behind shifting constantly against the uncomfortable feeling of the hard stone. She covered herself in a wool coat given to her by Vesimir, whose sense of style clearly needed updating. Her legs, she covered with a blanket taken straight from her bed chamber, her feet fitted into her boots prettily. She looked down upon the Witchers, all of them, including Vesimir and Geralt stood at various points of the courtyard.

Coen, Lambert, and the youngest Witcher Jason stood entrenched in what Triss could only guess was practice; if practice meant being constantly yelled at and berated by Lambert. Coen was the calming voice, undercutting the rather annoying Witcher frequently. Practice was a rather un-specific word for this case. From what Triss could see, Jason was much like the others, a master at the trade of swordplay. He twirled his blade with such ease that it seemed he barely even realized he was doing it. His eyes and ears were clearly focused on the two Witchers around him, yet his sword danced around him like a super speed ballerina. The sword was near invisible to Triss' eyes. However, Lambert clearly found something wrong with his deadly quick dance, because every few seconds another harsh word was flung criticizing the youngster. He seemed like a duck, the words didn't bother him, they just ran off his back like water. He never returned any harsh words though, Triss noticed.

Geralt, Eskel, and Vesimir stood just a few feet apart from the three younger Witchers, at the edge of the stone stairs leading down to the lower courtyard. They seemed engrossed in rather serious conversation, it was evident, even if Triss could not hear a word from across the yard. Only on occasion, Eskel would turn his attention to other three, usually when Lambert shouted. Vesimir, although his mouth moved in conversation with Geralt and Eskel, his gaze almost exclusively remained on the three youngsters. Geralt talked, and only very rarely turned, only he didn't pay mind to the other Witchers, his eyes caught those of Triss. Very rarely.

As Triss sat, her gaze began meandering across the landscape that lay before her eyes. It was a beautiful sight, much like the sorceress sitting atop the stone wall. The mountain tops were covered in snow at the tips, and the green lushness had begun to reveal itself after months of hiding. In the distance, the gorges and ravines were visible once again, the rivers flowing between them ran freely. Triss breathed in the crisp air, for the first time in while.

" Alright, pup!" She was torn from the pleasure of the view by shouting. The shouting of Lambert who barked orders at the youngster from below. " That's enough of that! You're obviously competent at twirling that sword of yours...maybe even good, but don't get cocky. I said good not great. Let's move on to something actually challenging"

" I know a good challenge" Coen said, smirking like a devious child. He pulled another sword from the rack next to him, twirled it in his hands briefly, then slashed the air with great quickness.

" You read my mind, Coen" Lambert grinned and nodded.

Then, like a pair of angry wolves, they jumped at each other with speed unlike anything Triss had seen before. They swung their swords with ferocity and intensity, if Triss didn't know them any better she'd think they were actually trying to kill each other; but she did know them better, and therefore she knew that despite their terrifying attacks, they were actually pulling their strikes. It was something Geralt had explained to her before. Their strikes, although hard and fast, were predetermined and choreographed. She was to look at them more like a troupe of dancers, they reacted from each other's movements and expressions, and they knew the others moves well, so they always countered in time and correctly, therefore, no one was ever hurt. After all, they knew each other better than anyone else. All Witchers of the Wolf school grew up on that specific style of combat. It was still frightening to see up close.

The enchantress found herself locked into the foray between Coen and Jason before her, so she didn't hear the footsteps behind her as Vesimir approached. She wouldn't have heard them anyway of course, but his sudden appearance beside her startled the sorceress. She hadn't even noticed when he walked away from Eskel and Geralt.

As he approached and sat next to her, he only looked at her, to which the sorceress let off a stiff forced smile.

" Cold, child?" The old Witchers words were soothing and welcome.

" Only a little" Triss softly answered, the wind blowing calmly between the strands of her beautiful freely flowing hair.

" I can get Lambert to fetch you a sheepskin from the keep" Vesimir said as he sat beside the enchantress, his old limbs barely forcing themselves. He was still incredibly springy. " We've got plenty, and they're clean too. I had the youngsters wash them last night, give em a good clean"

" Hmm...although I appreciate the offer" Triss giggled like a child. She couldn't help it, the thought of Witchers doing laundry was almost hilariously unbelievable. " I'm fine, really, Vesimir. A little cold is good for the body, it keeps you feeling alive"

" Intelligent words from an intelligent woman" Vesimir agreed.

Below, she heard the rising voice of Lambert again. He was pestering the two combating Witchers about the way they countered each other, and their use of something he called a riposte. It even garnered the attention of Eskel and Geralt, who both made their way towards their younger brethren. Vesimir, although quiet and watchful, smiled as he watched the men below. The ringing of metal clashing sang throughout the entire courtyard.

" He looks good doesn't he?"

She assumed he spoke of Geralt, Triss thought intensely as she watched the white haired Witcher join Lambert in barking instructions at the youngsters, although he didn't bark as loud. It was the first time in a while she'd seen him so focused and interested in anything. Until this moment, even a sword brought little emotion out of him, which for a Witcher was as unbelievable as the phenomenon of the wild hunt.

" We all had a hand in training him you know"

She realized he didn't speak of Geralt.

" All of us here. Geralt, Lambert, Eskel, even Coen" Vesimir boasted, an air of pride in his tone. " He was just a tyke while the others had already set off on the path"

" Ahh...wait" Triss raised her brows in confusion. " There's something I'm missing, Vesimir. I was under the impression that you stopped taking in new Witcher candidates after..."

She saw the expression on his face, even if he tried his best to hide it. She stopped talking, instantly.

Of course she knew why he looked that way. She knew the history of Kaer Morhen. The good and the bad, and the terribly cruel. She knew of the massacre, the mob, and the magicians that attacked the keep those years ago. She knew that Vesimir was the only survivor of that attack. She knew how that must've felt for him.

" You're not completely wrong, child" Vesimir sighed, after while his facial expression returning to normal. " It's true that we stopped taking in children some time after the sacking...but for a while just after the attack, we tried to keep the school going"

Triss silently listened, intrigued.

" Some of the Witchers that returned from the path agreed to become trainers, and so we brought some candidates in. Thirteen to be exact. Each of them very promising"

" Lambert agreed to be a trainer?" Triss almost lost it, her incredulous voice cracked.

" Huh, of course not" Vesmimir shook his head." But enough others did"

" I see" Triss said. " But you mentioned thirteen candidates, what happened to the rest?"

There was a silence. That was all the answer Triss needed.

Her gaze shone down upon the Witchers below once more, this time however she found herself stuck on the youngest one. At this point in time, the sparring match that had ensued just minutes ago was over, all the Witchers were standing around conversing in unison, mostly pointers on combat. She glued herself to the pup, watching his face as he listened intently.

As hard as she tried, she couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness and unfortunate pity. She envisioned what it must feel like to be the only survivor of the mutation process, coping as the only friends you had perished. She couldn't even begin to understand.

" Ahem" Vesimir grunted after a moment, his eyes too glued to young Witcher below. " You see now why we stopped training new candidates, child. It became too much to bear, and ultimately not worth the tremendous trouble and pain. We were already low in numbers. Most trainers simply left the keep and went onto the path again. I stood alone here, with the pup. Only on winters would we have company. For that reason, our pup here is truly the last Witcher of the school of the Wolf"

" I understand" Triss concurred. " It takes It's toll. Seeing those boys come and go. In that way"

" The trial of the grasses hasn't been used since... of course we couldn't use it even if we wanted to"

The trial of the grasses; it was a secret that the Witchers kept hidden from the world since their long beginnings. Triss knew of this, of the knowledge the Witchers denied even to her, someone they trusted completely and fully. She knew of the secret rooms below, the shrouded rooms full of magical items, herbs, and potions which years ago had mutated young boys into deadly killers. The tomes full of spells used by the wizards who created them. She knew of it. All of it. Yet truly, she knew nothing.

" Ahh, but enough of the trek through Kaer Morhen's depressing history" Vesimir said, lively, his hands slapping the hard bone of his knees. " It only serves to bring sorrow and regret"

" Mhm" Triss agreed with a mumble. " Let's indeed change the topic of our conversation, Vesimir... to something less grim"

Vesimir sprung from his seated position, wiping the dirt from his behind as he shifted his jerkin to a more comfortable position. He took one glance at the Witchers below, whom continued in intense and focused conversation.

" Follow me, child" he said, turning back to Triss. " Let us walk...and talk"

She followed the old Witcher through the meandering collapsed walls surrounding the keep, trudging through the rubble stone and broken through patches of wild grass as they made their way to the other side of the large courtyard. On this side, there were even more broken down pieces remnant of the castle that once was. Old training dummies, tanning racks, swordsmith stations, even a plethora of ancient looking devices that seemed they could only be more dangerous than useful to anyone but a Witcher. These devices were as unusual to Triss as the most rare of monsters Witchers hunted, it hardly dawned on her how these things helped train anyone.

Then, atop the crumbling leftovers of a wall, there stood the pendulum. Perched atop the wall like a watchful menacing bird, it's wooden eyes gazing intently on the enchantress as if she were It's sole prey. In that moment, the thoughts and memories came rushing into her head like a sudden wind. She remembered the conversations and worries that were capsuled with the memory of the pendulum. She remembered clearly the feelings and events that were brought upon as effects of it. She remembered even the most minuscule fears. The only difference this time was the lack of console required from her, and the fear was more her own than anyone else. Triss wasn't exactly sure what that feeling of fear was for, or rather who it was for.

" Well, child"

She was torn from her thoughts by the elders voice, her head shaking as the memories faded quickly from her mind. She glanced back at the old Witcher, whose eyes remained questionably etched upon the enchantress and her curious look.

" I want your honesty" his voice was stern, like his gaze.

" About?"

" Yennefer" he said, almost in a whisper. His eyes deviated from the sorceress onto the crumbling wall in front of them.

Triss lost the words.

" What do you believe, Triss?" He questioned without looking at her. " Do you believe she's alive? That's she returned to the world just as Geralt has?"

" I..." her voice stammered, cracking and stumbling at the attempt to speak. " I don't know, Vesimir... I honestly don't know"

The old Witcher nodded his head slowly as he sighed.

" I hope you're not disappointed" Triss said, weakly. " I know you summoned me here to help, but... I don't know if there is much I can say. It's just..."

" Nonsense" he quickly cut her off. " I did summon you here because I thought you could help Geralt... help us, child. And I still firmly believe that you can"

" But..."

" None of that, Triss" he said. " Come, let us walk some more"

---

" The chastising wasn't so bad, Vesimir, really"

The long trudging through the meandering thicket of trees along the mountain ridge line was tiring, the sorceresses feet beginning to ache and swell as she heavily breathed the crispy fresh air. The evening sun had arrived quickly, its orange glare just seeping through the break in lines situated between the two mountain peeks in the distance. The wind picked up slightly, the moon beginning to rise from the opposing side of the sky.

" I only hope they didn't berate you too much, child" Vesimir somberly said as he lead in front of the sorceress, his nimble steps seemingly dancing through the thicket of branches and leaves dotting the ground. " I know Lamberts words can sometimes be harsh"

" It's nothing, really" Triss dismissed. " I've dealt with worse"

Lewd words and sharp vernacular were nothing new to the enchantress. In fact, it was something of a common for her. Growing up in the circles she did, there was no shortage of insulting dialogue and twisted harsh words. The only difference being that Lambert was bluntly direct with his words; the same couldn't be said for magicians who tended to mince their words and weave their insults with fake compliments and hidden double meanings. Frankly, Triss appreciated the brutal honesty of Lambert, even if it was sometimes disproportionately directed at her. Additionally, she was well aware of the reason for his current aimed displeasure with her. All of theirs.

" Besides, Vesimir" Triss said as she continued to follow. " It's not as if I'm completely absolved here"

" What do you mean?"

" I mean that the fault lies with me... at least partly" Triss admitted. " I may have been too pushy with, Geralt that day. In my attempt at accelerating his recovery with forced conversation, I unintentionally acted too hasty"

Of course the enchantress had a few days to ponder to herself, especially since Geralt had all but completely shut Triss out. She could see how hard he tried to avoid her, even being in the same room together seemed to annoy him. And talking...well they hadn't talked since that day. Triss cursed silently.

" It's not completely on you, child" Vesimir didn't trim back as removed a bundle of bushes from the path.

" Well as Lambert so elegantly put it" Triss said. " I May have caused our dear Geralt to retreat back into this aforementioned shell he seems to have raised"

" I don't believe it's something you should worry yourself too much about, child" Vesimir said. " I do believe Geralt is coming I'm sure it will be sooner rather than later"

All we can do is hope, Vesimir, Triss thought, her mind beginning to wander aimlessly before she quickly corralled it back under control. Although you do seem confident in your words, Witcher . Almost as if you truly believe them. Perhaps you know something I don't, Vesemir"

" Its just ahead, child" Vesimir shouted from a few paces away. In her focused thinking, Triss had barely noticed that the Witcher had gotten away from her a bit.

They walked for a few more minutes, trudging through the narrow path as the enchantress tried desperately to keep pace with the old Witcher. Normally her inability to stay at speed with old man would depress her greatly, even if trekking through the mountains wasn't the strong suit of a sorceress, yet she was well aware of the big difference that Vesimir shared with other men.

" Here we are"

" What is this, Vesimir?"

In front of the magician and the Witcher, there was a large opening situated in between a mass of trees and bushes. At the center, a scorched chunk of charred dirt and yellow dead grass leveled at the cause of a what looked like a heavy strong fire. The shrubs and remaining live grass around the scorched spot were pointed away as if blown by a strong wind, broken stems and fallen off leaves dotting the area around them. There was a strange smell, like a mixture of burned wood, rotting flesh, and a sourness steeped into the air. Triss couldn't help but to press her shaking hands firmly against her struggling nose, the stench being too much for her to bare. She could even taste it as it intruded.

" This is it" the Witcher pointed at the scorched spot, his nose barely reacting to the horrid smell. " This is where the boys found, Geralt"

" Here?" Triss raised her eyebrows. " But...how did he end up here?"

" That's the question, child" Vesimir shook his head. " My only assumption is that magic is certainly involved"

" That's not a question" Triss confirmed. " That's for certain"

She could feel the magical aura seeping from everywhere around her; the trees, the grass, the dirt, even the air tingled her skin as it carefully brushed past her rocked the shrubs before her. Her temples pulsated strongly here, making it quite difficult for her to even focus. She breathed as slowly and calmly as she could considering the putrid stench invading her senses. She rubbed her throbbing head with one hand, attempting desperately to shake off the pain.

" That's why I brought you here, Triss" Vesimir noticed her difficulties, but kept himself at a distance. " We witchers know a bit about magical anomalies...but I'm not arrogant enough to think we know more than a sorceress of your standing"

" Heh" Triss chuckled with difficulty. " I'll take the compliment, Vesimir...it's just...hard to think here"

" Just breathe, child" he softly, said. His words were soothing. " Breathe and focus. Remove the painful factors from your mind"

Surprisingly, the words helped. Of course the enchantress still felt the pounding inside her head and the tingling sensation beneath her skin, but she could see and think more clearly now. She took another deep breath.

" Coen and Jason found him" Vesimir spoke again. " According to them, they were running these woods when they heard a loud noise, like thunder cracking below the sky. They looked up only to see a bright green light illuminating the forest. Naturally they investigated. That's when they found Geralt"

" Just like that?"

" It seems so"

" It's strange" Triss said. " But as you said Vesimir there is certainly powerful magic involved in all this"

" You recognize it?"

" I hate to disappoint you again, Witcher" Triss sighed, bitterly. " But this magic is unlike anything I've ever seen or felt before. It's almost...otherworldly. Something about it seems familiar, yet...so mysterious"

" Do you think it could've been..."

" She would be my first guess" Triss knew whom he spoke of, she didn't even have to hear the name. " She is the one who took them to...wherever it is that she took them. But if it was her...why only Geralt? And why not come with him?"

" My thoughts exactly, child" Vesimir somberly lowered his head.

" That girl trusts fewer people than I can count on my hand" Triss looked up at the darkening sky. " But on the list of those she does trust...you Witchers are certainly at the very top"

" Rule her out?"

" I can't say for certain...but this magic seems different, even for her"

The old Witcher snorted, his teeth gritting as he shook his head.

Triss gritted her teeth as well, disappointed in her own futility. As her mind desperately raced for answers, her intuition began to slowly realize that she was completely out of her depth, that she was dealing with in an inexplicable enigma brought upon by forces beyond even her understanding. The great Triss Merrigold, advisor to king Foltest of Temería, fourteenth on the hill; that Triss Merrigold was dumbfounded, lost in her desperate search for an answer.

Again, the pulsating pounding at her temples returned, this time it seemed with a fiery vengeance. She could feel the moisture building up all over her body; her palms, her chest, but no more so than her sweating head which felt like it was being held only inches away from a burning fire. She wiped at her forehead in an attempt to disguise it from the Witcher, but it was no use, her hand was already dripping in sweat, it only served to make it worse.

She felt a great stinging pain in her head, as if something were squeezing her brain from the inside, the pressure too much to bare. Her vision became blurry, her view becoming only a blurred mixture of colors.

" Vesi..." she tried to speak, unsuccessfully.

The Witcher turned quickly. The last thing Triss could see was him rushing towards her, or at least that's what she thought she saw, it was all a blur. After that, everything was black.

---

When Geralt decided to make his way down the main hall, after hours of tossing and turning, and painful memories which deterred him from any restful slumber, he fully expected to be there alone. However, he was fully aware that life rarely every happened as one expected, and that it was wise to expect that which you hadn't planned for. So when he made his way down the stone stairway and onto the fiery lit main hall, he sighed quite angrily, yet he figured it was better to simply push through it than return back to his cold room.

Directly in front of the center hearth, the youngest Witcher of Kaer Morhen sat alone, his curly black hair facing Geralt as his eyes seemed glued to the cracking embers. He didn't turn to face the milky haired Witcher, but it was obvious that he had already noticed Geralts presence. The young Witcher arranged himself in his chair.

" A cold night, Geralt" Jason said in greeting, his face remaining faced away from the white haired Witcher.

" Mhm" Geralt grunted as he neared the hearth, the pleasing warmth seeping into his cold bones. " It's getting late...shouldn't you be sleeping?"

The young Witcher glanced at Geralt briefly, his face a curious one. It was clear what he was thinking, because they were both awake for similar reasons, Geralt figured. He went on without an answer.

" May I?" Geralt gestured at the chair in front of him.

" All yours"

He sat down quickly, his body slowly adjusting to the temperature of the chair and the weight off his feet. Like his comrade, his eyes stared deeply into the flames, the crackling of the embers the only sound reigning in his ear. Not one of them said a word. For a while. A long while. The uncomfortable silence was louder than a war horn during battle, Geralt struggling to find any words to break it. It wasn't as if they were strangers, only that for Geralt it had become an increasingly difficult conundrum for him to speak in normal conversation. Inevitably, his mind always found it's way to those dark thoughts, despite his desperate attempts at resistance. He also found himself avoiding conversing as a whole, he knew what went through the minds of the others. He knew the questions they wanted to ask. The words they so carefully wanted to convey.

He cleared his throat, preparing his awkwardly presented words.

" So..."

" So..."

They both stammered, their words colliding with one another like the swords of two battling knights. It was foolish, Geralt knew, yet once again the tentative silence returned. He felt as uncomfortable now as he had in any banquet he ever attended; well almost all of them.

" I was just going to say" Geralt said after a while, the silent glass shattering as the younger Witcher turned to face his elder. " It's been a long while since last we saw each other"

" That it has" Jason chuckled lightly, smirking. " Winter of 1262"

" That's right" Geralt confirmed. " If I remember correctly you hadn't even set off on the path yet"

" Mhm" Jason nodded in agreement. " According to Vesimir I wasn't fully prepared to take the path at that time... my training hadn't yet concluded he would say, despite the fact that I had already undergone the mutation process and spent the last nine years learning every aspect of sword fighting and monster killing"

Geralt smiled.

The memories of that time returned to him clearly, passing through his mind like a play at the theatre. He remembered that winter plainly, after three straight years on the path Geralt had finally decided to return home. Upon his return however, he was met with a surprisingly empty and quiet keep. The only dwellers of the castle at the time being Vesimir and a teenage, newly mutated Jason. It was then that Vesimir explained to Geralt the reason for the lack of population in the keep.

If Geralt hadn't seen it for himself, he probably wouldn't have believed it, or at least it was something he initially thought impossible. But once explained by Vesimir, and his eyes being set upon the graves, he had no other choice but to come to the realization that in fact, Jason was the only surviving candidate of the trial of the grasses. Thirteen boys were trained, Geralt had witnessed them, each highly skilled, excelling at many of the factors that were required of the profession. They would've made good Witchers, surely, but in the end only one remained. Vesimirs words after that were even more unbelievable; no Witcher would ever be trained in Kaer Morhen again, for there was no reason. At that point anyone who could successfully perform the mutation process was gone, and even if they could, the throwing away of young lives was hardly worth it. Until this day, those words proved true.

" Well you're certainly passed any training point now" Geralt commented.

" I would hope so" Jason chuckled. " Otherwise I'd be dead in some cave or lying in a ditch with vultures picking at my bones"

" Well they say a Witcher never died on his bed"

" Then I fucking hope to be the first"

" Don't swear"

" Huh?" Jason's brows furrowed. " You realize I'm no longer twelve, Geralt"

" Hmm...Right"

It was obvious that it was the case. Geralt himself didn't even fully understand why those particular words were chosen, but clear as day it was that the young Witcher was no longer the child he once was, everything about him was matured. Even in his adolescent days, Jason proved himself to be adept and prodigal when it came to his skill with a blade. Before his mutations, Geralt viewed him as a rare special talent, even amongst the carefully chosen candidates training at the time. Especially now, given that he was no longer a child but a man, it was clear to a blind man how much the young lad had learned in his time.

Yet it wasn't just his fighting skill, which was apparent in anyone who benefited from training under the guidance of multiple master swordsmen. It was the way he carried himself. Back then, he was a curious boy, tentative and lacking the mean poise of many Witchers, even candidates. But seeing him now, the way he spoke, the way we moved and gazed, his technicality when training with Coen, it was crystal clear the self awareness and supreme confidence that flowed through him. Maybe Geralt was wrong, a small part of him hoped he was, but he had a feeling that the young Witcher probably believed himself to be even better than Geralt himself. He was certainly a far cry from the boy who cried himself to sleep for a week straight when he was first brought to Kaer Morhen.

" Well" Geralt started. " Since the fact that you're clearly no longer a candidate is apparent. And given your presence here, I assume it's safe to say the Witchers path has treated well"

" Does it treat any of us well?"

" You're alive"

" I guess that's more than you can say for most of our, brothers"

" Truly" Geralt quietly, agreed.

" But I guess, Geralt, it might be a different situation" Jason said, after a short while of somber silence. " I've been on the path for far less time than any other Witcher. For example you... you've been on the path for decades, and yet here you are. So the path has certainly treated you well"

Geralt sighed, thinking about the words of his young comrade. They were certainly true, it had been decades since he first set off on the path, turning his back to the sea keep as he strutted his way to the world as a Witcher. That was a long time ago.

" It might not be exactly as you say" Geralt shuddered. " I died...remember"

The youngster did not return words quickly, his eyes deviating back to the luminous orange flames spewing from the cracking hearth. Geralt glanced at the boy, watching his face as it seemed to struggle for a reasonable response, or at least that's what Geralt figured. Like every Witcher, Jason's breathing was calm and steady, his chest pumping rhythmically in soft slow pace.

" Geralt?" He finally spoke, calmly.

" Hm?"

" I'd like to know" Jason turned to him, his eyes serious and true. " About what transpired... and I don't mean just your death, you've already explained that to us"

Geralt gritted his teeth, so hard that it felt like they would sink down into his gums from all the force. He was angry. Angry at his comrade for daring to ask the questions which Geralt so desperately tried to keep at bay. He was angry at himself for staying there, for allowing himself to be roped into a conversation which could only lead to one faithful destination. But above all, he was angry at himself for being angry at the fact that his young friend simply wanted an answer. To help? To understand? Geralt didn't know why, but like everyone else, he wanted to know. He always knew Jason was curious, it was a trademark of him since his childhood; he reminded Geralt of someone special to him. For some reason, Geralt felt compelled to answer. He hadn't felt compelled until now.

" It's a very long story" Geralt sighed.

" Well I doubt any of us are turning in soon"

Geralt sighed.

Then like that, he began. His words flowed from his tired mouth like the Pontar in the spring, his mind wandering endlessly as the intricacies were woven together in a spectacular monologue spanning a decade. Honestly, Geralt was at a loss, for the life of him he struggled to figure out why the words were suddenly so easily spoken, and why it seemed like the weight of a giant was slowly lifted from his chest. It seemed like an eternity, but he talked as much as he'd talked in the previous months combined, barely stumbling as he recounted the various memories that filled the recesses of his mind. He went on for a while, his breath barely resting.

Geralts friend; well he listened. Like a courtesan reluctantly listened to men who'd waste their time elaborating on the difficulties that plagued their sad lives to women who clearly cared more about next years winter, the young Witcher quietly listened, his ears pricking and his head nodding as he consumed the words. He offered little commentary, his only point of action being to allow Geralt to ramble, his glowing eyes staring deep into the embers. Every now and then, he'd turn to Geralt, only a slight glance, his face betraying whatever emotions ran beneath his skin. It was like talking to a mirror. A comforting reflection of something that was familiar to Geralt, something that reminded him of a pleasant memory. He went for a while longer, and his friend listened.

" Her name is Ciri"

It was the first time he'd said the name in a while, his eyes closing as the picture of her flashed in his mind, her emerald-green eyes sharply piercing deep within his soul.

" Well that's we called her" Geralt chuckled, barely. " Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon...that's her actual name. But who the hell would ever remember all that"

Jason smirked, remaining quiet as a hidden mouse.

" I brought her here" Geralt continued. " Mainly because I hadn't the slightest idea of what to do with a girl. I thought bringing her here would be the best of my limited options...after all many kids have grown up here"

" We did, Geralt" Jason finally spoke, his eyes turning to Geralt. " But we weren't princesses"

" Heh" Geralt smiled, faintly. " Ciri is far from being your typical princess. I'd say that behavior was changed here in Kaer Morhen, but truly she never was one"

" A Witcher princess"

" Truly" Geralt nodded. " We treated her just like any candidate...just like you. She learned many of the things we all did. Fencing, physical training, monster hunting, she went through it all. We didn't take it easy on her... at least until Triss came. It was then that we were explained the folly of our ways of handling young Ciri's upbringing"

" I don't see anything wrong with it" Jason shook his head. " Anyone can benefit from physical training. And as for fencing... it's a dangerous world, knowing how to handle a sword is valuable"

" Of course you do, you've never known anything else" Geralt taunted. " But it turns out she was right. Because you see, raising a girl is quite different from what we were used to here at Kaer Morhen. We made some mistakes, I admit that, we all do, but we tried to make it right. We took Triss' advice, combining her suggestions with what we were already doing. I only hope we did well"

" As well as you could perhaps"

" It's the best we can hope for"

" You got more than you bargained for, Geralt" Jason said, knowingly.

" So much more"

" She had powers didn't she?...the girl...Cirilla" Jason grumbled. " Lambert and Coen said something of the sort"

" Ciri is... special" Geralt answered, unconvincingly. " Like you said, I got more than I bargained for"

" That's the reason you brought the sorceress? Because of the girls powers?"

" It was. We were dealing with something beyond our comprehension, we were completely out of our element. The help of a sorceress was unfortunately necessary"

" So you and the sorceress...Triss..."

" No. Don't ask"

" Sorry. It's just that Lambert..."

" You should know by now that Lambert mostly talks out of his ass"

" You're right. I should know that"

They both laughed in unison, not even bothering to contain the volume as it rang through the great hall. Geralt cleared his throat, focusing back to the conversation at hand.

" You know" Geralt started again, after a few second since the laughter died out. " I think you would've liked her. Ciri. You two would've gotten along, surely"

" You think so?"

" I do"

There was definitely a large difference in the behavioral and emotional attitudes of them both, the young Witcher and the child surprise, yet in was in Geralt's mind that within time the two would certainly form an amicable bond.

" Perhaps you wouldn't, at first" Geralt admitted, gravely. " She had her ways, Ciri. Her personality could be...rough"

" She is royalty" Jason snickered, smirking.

" Maybe you are right" Geralt nodded. " She was an exact copy of her grandmother, Queen Calanthe. A hard tough woman if I've ever seen one"

" She had to be" the young Witcher confirmed. " Any woman...hell any man who'd spend their last moments standing solely against an empire must be"

" Hmm...you know the story then?"

" It's been told around"

" Well at least that part is true"

" You witnessed it?"

" No" Geralt shook his head, sternly.

The younger Witcher noticed the hesitant expression on Geralt's milky face, opting then to negate any further inquiries he surely had. As Geralt previously pondered, he was well aware of the curiosity dwelling within his young comrade, but at the moment, he thankfully sighed at his reluctance to ask.

" After Kaer Morhen" Geralt gulped. " I took her to Ellander...the temple of Melitele. I had acquaintances there. They agreed to take Ciri...help her more than I could"

" The sorceress Yennefer" Jason plainly stated.

" Another one of Lamberts tales?" Geralt snickered.

Jason only stared at the flames blankly, silence his only response.

" Yes" Geralt grunted. " It was Yennefer. She took care of Ciri in Ellander. She did it as a favor to me. At least initially"

Jason listened, patiently. Geralt blissfully spoke.

" Yen instructed the girl. Taught her to control and harness those abnormal powers...as best she could at least"

Geralt chuckled lightly, the memories pleasantly running through his mind.

" You know the funny thing is" Geralt said. " Ciri and Yen...they weren't too fond of each other at first. Ciri would write me letters, detailing her time there, in Ellander. She would beg me to return, take her away. At first I thought it was because Mother Nenneke, the head of the temple, she could be tough on the priestesses. I figured Ciri despised that, she'd never been good with authority, and Nenneke ran a tight ship. But eventually it came to light that Ciri wasn't too bothered by Nennekes strictness. You see, pup...it was Yen...she...Ciri, disliked her. She disliked her because of her...relationship with me. It's funny, but she was jealous, in her own way. And Yen...well Yen just had little patience, it's always been a virtue of hers"

" Heh" Jason chuckled. " I think it's natural, Geralt. It's like a boy jealous of his mother's new husband, paternal jealousy. You only think that your parents love is solely for you. No one else. And for all the reasons you've explained, Cirilla considered you her father"

" I suppose you're right. Ciri is my daughter. Birth and blood aside, she's the closest thing I'll ever have. In time, Yen shared my affections for her. She even started calling her daughter...the one thing she always wanted"

" A sorceress mother and a Witcher father. Strange family"

" Heh. Strange indeed"

" I'm actually surprised, Geralt" The young Witcher turned to his older comrade, raised eyebrows and all. " That you took her...Cirilla. After her home was destroyed. I know many that would've rather left her there, but you went for her. Why? You said so yourself you tried to avoid Cintra at all costs, because you knew what awaited you there. Yet, you went back"

" It was..."

" Destiny?"

" No" Geralt stoically answered. " It was something more. Destiny played its role, but it was something much more that drew me and Ciri together. Perhaps I'll never fully understand what it was"

" Somethings simply can't be understood"

It was true; somethings couldn't be understood. But perhaps that was the way things were meant to be, the natural order of the world. Not everything was meant to be understood, despite the countless drivel of magicians and philosophers pointing out that every lingering mystery in the world must be brought to light. To Geralt, the world needed those mysterious questions, left unanswered. Like what drove a man, a Witcher, a monster slayer; what drove a man like that to care deeply for a princess he barely even recognized. What drove the feeling burning inside him when the names were mentioned? Yennefer...Ciri. What drove a man to travel across the world in search for them? For their safety? What drove him to willingly risk it all just to see them again? To hear their voices and look upon their eyes once more? What drove those feelings that transcended every logical and ethical marker imbedded within a person, every marker that told them to give up and concede, that their desperate attempt at rectification would ultimately end if futile despair.

There was another long moment of silence, the calm cracking of the hearth soothingly vibrating in chorus across the stone hall. The calmness in the deaf air was engulfing, the distant noise from the outside wind bellowed against the outer stone walls, the coolness barely seeping in as it clashed against the warm flames.

" We don't have to talk about this anymore, Geralt" Jason finally broke the silence, his chest humming calmly. " If It's what you desire"

" It's alright" Geralt responded, plainly. " I haven't been able to get those words out. A part of me feels better for it. Like a weight lifted off my chest. I think it's good. This. Our conversation"

" Good then" Jason smiled. " I thought it would help, although I wasn't too sure"

Geralt glanced at the young Witcher, eyebrows raised. Judging by his comrades off look, he wasn't getting a more clear answer.

" Then..."

The words never fully came out.

The sudden harsh gust of winter wind trampled its way inside the main hall of the keep, bringing with it the stinging coldness of the low night temperature. The fire in the hearth danced with the wind, both the hairs of Geralt and Jason along with it. The loud creaking sound of swinging doors rang throughout the hall, the heavy metal clanging against the cracked stone while the hinges bent with great force. Both Witchers turned, instinctively rising from their seats in cautious stances.

They entered like a pair of fallen knights, one carrying the other in his arms as if they'd fallen in battle. Of course it wasn't the case, one was a Witcher, and the one being carried was none other than Triss Merrigold. As the doors opened, Vesimir hurried inside, his cloak dangling from the unconscious sorceress. Her reddened hair hanged like dead branches.

" You boys gonna give me a hand?" Vesimir hissed, holding the enchantress tightly.

" What happened, Vesimir?" Geralt asked, worryingly. " Is she..."

" Just passed out" Vesimir said, sternly. " Now help me set her down somewhere. Don't just stand there"

Geralt was the first to rush, his strides quickly making the distance between the two. He laid eyes on the woman, her limp body measly conforming to the hands of the old Witcher. Her skin was pale, abnormally, the hair on her skin standing like trees in a great forest. Her eyes were closed tightly, yet the eyelids twitched as the eyes danced underneath. Geralt took her in his arms, carefully relieving Vesimir from his hold. He felt the warmth as he pressed her against his chest, her slow breathing teetering against his pale skin.

" G-Geralt..." she barely managed to utter the words, her eyes faintly opening as she weakly glanced at the Witcher. It took all her strength to even turn her head, that much was clear.

" Shh, Triss" Geralt hushed. " Don't speak. Please. Conserve your energy"

" Geralt..." she tried, and failed.

" Set her down here, Geralt" the young Witcher said, ushering his comrade to the spot on the floor he had prepared.

He prepared it well. A slew of sheepskins and coverings he'd taken from the chairs laid about to provide a soft surface, just in front of the warmth emanating from the flaming hearth. Geralt appeased, gently setting Triss down on the coverings, watching as her body comforted itself at the soft cloth. She crumbled over like a cold sleeping puppy, hugging herself tightly as her skin reclaimed its life. Her shaking began to die down, just as the hair follicles receded back into their open pores. She breathed, calmly.

" Vesimir" Geralt called out, the elder Witcher placing himself about the fire. " What happened? Tell me"

" I already told you, Wolf" Vesimir sighed. " She passed out"

" One doesn't just pass out" Geralt snickered. " The reason. Tell me, Vesimir"

" I took her to the place" Vesimir said, tranquil. " Where you first appeared. Where Coen and the pup here found you"

" Why?"

" Because I figured she could make more sense of it that's why. You said so yourself that place was seeped in magic"

Geralt rubbed his throbbing temple, shaking his head as he eyed the curled up sorceress.

" The magic there was strong" Vesimir continued. " It proved to be too much for her. It overwhelmed her, rendering her unconscious. But don't fret she'll be fine. She only needs to rest"

Geralt sighed, sitting back on the chair he previously owned. He glanced at the enchantress, his eyes carefully peering at her frail body. He remembered something like this, long ago, when he was duly forced to care for a sick sorceress. He did it with pleasure then, his friendship with her compelling his caring nature. But now, his feelings seemed a bit different. It had been days since he'd even uttered a word to Triss, his desperate attempts to avoid any semblance of contact with her successful until now. It wasn't for her lack of trying either, the sorceress on many occasions attempting to force a conversation herself, usually to no avail. He didn't know what he felt when he looked at her now, weak and in need of care. But like old times, something inside of him burned. Something drove him.

" What are we going to do?" Jason asked, his eyes too glued on the sorceress.

" We'll let her rest, as I said" Vesimir answered. " But someone should stay with her"

The old Witcher gazed at Geralt, watching his blank face. He stared for a while, as if waiting for any words to form.

" I'll stay, I suppose" Jason shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. " I wasn't planning on sleeping anyway"

" No objections" Vesimir growled, his glare aimed at Geralt.

Geralt sat silently.

" It's no fuss, Vesimir" Jason cleared his throat. " Let Geralt..."

" No"

Geralt stood up from his seat, his eyes reflecting the light of the hearth. He breathed deeply, his face turning to his comrades. Jason lowered his gaze. Vesimir raised his.

" I'll stay" Geralt said. " I'll stay with her"

---

" Geralt"

The weakly formed words barely escaped the confinement of her mouth, her eyes struggling as they adapted to the bright fire in view. Her frail body just managed to raise itself to a seated position, the sheepskins and coverings hugged her delicate skin tightly. The immense throbbing of her head was gone, along with it the stiffness and bitter cold that had before taken reign of her vitals. She breathed, without too much difficulty, her limbs stretching in comfort.

The Witcher sat just a few paces away, his lanky frame huddled against the rest of the chair. His yellow eyes peered deeply into the orange flames, his demeanor sitting as calm as a river in the warm spring. His milky hair matched with the color of his shirt flowed softly, his long legs stretched across the floor in front of him.

" Geralt..." Triss weakly called, her raspy voice struggling to form the words.

" I'm here, Triss" Geralt acknowledged, his eyes turning to the sorceress.

" What, ugh" she shook her head violently. " What happened?"

" You passed out"

" How did I..."

" Vesimir carried you here"

" Ooh, Geralt" she mumbled, a sudden rush of memories and visions clouding her mind. " Forgive..."

" Shh, Triss" he waved. " You need rest"

" But I..."

" Another time, Triss"

She didn't even know when it happened, the darkness overcoming her like a hurricane blanketing the coast with its waves. She heard nor saw nothing else. Only darkness.

---

When Triss awoke again, she felt the moisture as the beads of sweat ran down her silky bare chest. She opened her eyes frugally, adjusting to the ever present light of the hearth just beside her. She quickly shed the various covers and skins from her body, releasing the trapped heat as it poured from her sweating flesh. She breathed heavily, the sound of her vapid panting echoing across the great stone hall. Once the coverings were removed, she felt an immediate pleasant coolness.

" Ahem"

She heard the gurgle from behind her, penetrating her ears like a sharp knife. She turned her head briskly, her eyes pandering at the figure standing just a few paces behind her.

It was the youngest Witcher of Kaer Morhen, who had silently approached her. The first thing she noticed was his expression, which by all accounts seemed to be one of either embarrassment or extreme nervousness. His eyes shifted away from the enchantress, avoiding any constant gaze at her. She looked at him curiously; it was the first time she'd seen him this way. Normally, he seemed nonchalant to her presence.

" Lady, Merrigold..." he stammered.

" Don't call me that" Triss scoffed. Her glare glued on to the Witcher. " And why the face? If you have something to say, then say it"

" I..." he hesitated, then forced himself to face the sorceress. His eyes seemed pleasantly rewarded. " You have nothing on, lady...Triss"

" Nothing on?"

It was only then that she realized it, her face now the one burning with embarrassing fire. She glanced down at her chest, exposed as it was for anyone to see. Her glistening skin emanated like the fire behind her, the pleasant view of her bare chest sending ringing bells through her head. She quickly covered herself with skins, avoiding the Witchers gaze entirely. The Witcher cleared his throat in awkwardness.

" Why am I not wearing anything?!" She barked, angrily, looking around for her removed clothes. " Who took them off?!"

" It was Geralt" Jason answered, calmly. " You were burning up, sweating like a race horse. Your rags were soaked, so we decided it was best to remove your clothes, let your skin breathe. Of course, only Geralt removed them. He said he'd done it before so we figured it'd be no problem"

She remembered that specific time. It was eerily similar this, the enchantress falling ill while the Witcher tended to her. The memory caused her to smile, warmly.

" But anyway" the Witcher grunted. " You're up now, so I'll go fetch, Geralt... if you'll excuse me"

She hugged herself tightly, and nodded.

It wasn't long after that, just after the young Witcher had retreated back into the keep, Geralt returned from his slumber. Like always, his stoic demeanor presented itself with its usual obvious transparency. He greeted her only with a nod, and a brutally obvious forced smirk. He didn't sit down, just stood there. In his hands held what looked like Triss' clothes.

" They're clean" he said, extending the garments to her.

She reached with one hand, the other still supporting the covers hiding her naked skin. It was almost redundant however, Geralt was already the one who had removed them in the first place, and he had seen her without clothes on a few occasions already; if there was anyone she didn't mind seeing her in that way, it was him, but for proper etiquettes sake, she kept herself covered.

She took some time to fully dress herself, her body adjusting to the needed support of standing and moving in place. She appropriated the garments correctly, her eyes watching as Geralt turned to face the other way. Again, she felt his actions were unnecessary; But she only sighed, flipping her beautiful mane back as her high collar snuggedly hugged her neck. Geralt was at least right about one thing, her clothes were definitely clean, judging by the pleasant scent and soft touch.

" You can turn now, Geralt" Triss bickered, in dubiously calm tone. The Witcher turned as instructed, his eyes meeting hers.

" Can you walk?" He asked, dryly. His eyes shifted to her legs.

" I'm not inept, Witcher" Triss snickered. " Of course I can..."

She took one step, just before her trembling legs buckled and failed in supporting her shifting weight. She nearly tumbled to the ground, her eyes closing in anticipation with the hard crash that was ensuing between her and the cold hard stone. Yet she didn't. The Witcher reacted in quick time, his arms catching the enchantress as she fell. She opened her green eyes, meeting the yellow golden irises of Geralt as he softly raised her back to a standing position. Then he released her from his warm embrace, clearing his throat as he took a slight step back. Triss noticed his face. She cleared her throat as well, patting down her barely worn clothes.

" You should take it slow, Triss" Geralt broke the awkward silence. " No need to rush it"

" I'm fine, Geralt" Triss slightly smiled, shaking her head in dismissal. " I've just been out for a day, let me get my legs under me"

" A day?" Geralt raised his brows.

" Well it seems to be light outside" Triss nodded.

" Triss...you've been out for more than a week"

---

" That magic really took it out of me"

Triss walked briskly, her eyes watching as her feet stepped one in front of the other slowly in caution. The outside air was cool and pleasant, the soft breeze bellowing through the broken courtyard. Her hair swooned with the wind, the air passing across her skin comfortably.

" To be out for more than a week..." Triss weakly said.

" You've always been allergic" Geralt said, walking beside the enchantress.

" Never like this" she shook her head, frivolously. " This time was different"

" How so?"

" I can't really explain"

" Figures"

" What do you mean?"

" That magic seems different to any kind I've ever seen" Geralt explained. " Our medallions don't even react to it"

" Strange" Triss muttered. " But It's certainly magic...powerful and heavy magic at that. I felt it as soon as I approached. It overwhelmed me completely"

" Vesimir explained what happened" Geralt nodded. " Luckily you seem fine. No lasting effects"

" Says you" Triss chuckled, forcefully. " I can still feel it, in a way"

" Are you still okay to walk?"

" Yes, Geralt" Triss smiled. " I've been laying down for too long. I'd prefer to keep walking"

---

" I've already told you there's no need to apologize, Triss"

" But I say there is, Geralt. I shouldn't have been so hasty with my approach. I should've known you weren't ready. I didn't realize that until the others informed me of it"

" It is me who should be apologizing to you... I acted like a child. Like a spoiled brat who gets told what they don't want to hear for the first time in their indulgent lives and lashes out. You were trying to help me, I understand that now. And I thank you for it"

" Geralt..."

" No, Triss. Please. Let it go. If you want a resolution then you're forgiven. But let it go"

" Hmm. Well you're right I guess...I was trying to help you in my own way"

" I know. At the time I didn't think speaking on the subject would help, I thought it would hurt more...but recently my mind has changed"

" What changed it?"

" A pleasant conversation with a good friend"

---

" I don't remember much about it, Triss"

" Nothing at all?"

" Very little"

" Tell me anything, Geralt...please"

" I'll tell you what I can remember. All of it. Just listen. After Rivia..."

The warmer wind serenely blew from the south, from the pass, It's gentle kiss caressing the landscape as it danced across the fields of trees. The snow had all but disappeared, whisked away by that same warm wind blanketing the landscape. Everything was greener now, speckled with long streaks of clear blue as the rivers flowed from the mountain sides. The birds chirped their final cries of the day, as the evening orange sky began to set in, the night time melodies beginning to take over in their own chorus.

The Witcher and the sorceress sat atop the remains of the crumbled courtyard wall, just aside the pendulums facing the vast forest below. For the rest of their time, they spoke. When Geralt spoke, Triss listened, intently, absorbing his words with deep caress. When she spoke, he did the same.

For the rest of the evening, they spoke. He told her everything.

---

The night had come quickly, engulfing the sky with its ever present darkness.

The enchantress followed behind the Witcher closely as they entered the keep, her eyes watching the flickering scones lined up against the extent of the stone walls. A part of Triss wished they'd remained outside, with the company of the soft wind and glowing moon. Yet it was Geralt who'd insisted on their return to the keep. At this point she was oblivious as to where they were going, but for the time being she felt it necessary to indulge the Witcher.

They arrived at the end of the great hall, standing in front of a doorway leading to another part of the large fortress. From what she could see, the doorway was followed up by an extended hallway. It was too dark for Triss to see any further than a few feet into the hall, barely any torches to illuminate the darkness.

" Triss" Geralt called out, halting just in front of the doorway. " It seems the lads were right after all"

Triss raised her brows. For a moment after he called out, he stayed quiet, his yellow eyes piercing solely into dark hallway ahead. Were it not for his expanding chest one would've though he froze completely. She approached him, placing her soothing hand on his sturdy shoulder. Only then did he regain his focus, turning back to the sorceress.

" Spring is coming" he muttered, softly. He gave her a slight nod, his eyes stuck on hers. " And I plan to leave Kaer Morhen as soon as it does"

" Geralt..." she was taken aback, a loss of words overcoming her for the time being. In the weeks she had been at Kaer Morhen Triss had hardly heard Geralt speak a word of any plans which included taking the path again. In fact, it was partly evident to Triss that Geralt had no intention of leaving. Unlike his comrades, the coming of spring had not garnered excitement within the milky haired Witcher. Perhaps however, Triss thought, she had been looking at things the wrong way.

" I've thought about this a long while, Triss" he began again, calmly. " The question about wether or not I would take the Witchers path again has raced through my mind frantically these last few days"

Triss listened.

" I came to conclusion eventually" he said. " After what seemed like an eternity of both self arguments and discussions with the lads...but I came to the conclusion that going back out into the outside world may be the only possible solution for my predicament"

" How's that?" Triss curiously questioned.

" You see, Triss" he sighed. " Kaer Morhen has been good to me these months since I...returned. In fact I'd say that without it and the company of you and the lads I probably would've succumbed to my own dark thoughts. But even then, staying here would only urge me to wallow in those thoughts"

She smiled, only briefly.

" There are memories here Triss...memories that you and I can both recall with almost complete accuracy. The history within these walls remind me of better days, but those better days only then serve to bring back the painful recent ones"

She knew the exact memories he spoke of. They were as clear in her mind as they probably were in his. Those years ago, within the confines of these same stone walls, suddenly those memories flooded her mind. She wanted to smile, but just like him, those memories only reminded her of the present.

" So Triss" Geralt spoke again, once again with deterred calmness in his voice. " It is for that reason that I've come to the decision to leave Kaer Morhen after all. Come spring, I'll set off on the path once again"

" I understand, Geralt" Triss said, amicably. " I understand why you feel the need the leave this place. It is like you said, just like you I recall those memories very acutely, even after all these years"

The Witchers eyes wandered away from the sorceress', staring at the high ceiling towering above the main hall. Triss did not look up, her cornflower blue eyes kept themselves attached to those of the man.

" Then we'll leave, Triss" he smiled. " You and I"

---

" Well it's what we expected" Lambert said, his arms crossed as he leaned against the cracked stone wall. " We knew you'd eventually get back to the real Geralt. I didn't think it would take this long, but still..."

" Lambert" Eskel sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. " For once can you speak in less condescending tone? Don't pay him any mind, Wolf...we're glad to hear you say that"

" Well I agree with Lambert" Jason added, smirking. " I was sure you'd get back on the path. The time it took for you to come to that realization doesn't matter"

" It'll do you good, Geralt" Coen nodded. " Sometimes all a Witcher needs is to get out there and kill a couple nasty critters"

" If I was you" Lambert said. " I'd go to the south...plenty of work to be found there"

" Or the east" Coen said. " Not many Witchers go there"

" I heard the monsters there are particularly nasty" said Jason.

" That's right" Eskel agreed, emphatically. " Desert creatures...spring out of the hot sand like cockroaches"

" Big deadly cockroaches" Lambert grimaced.

" I've heard some Zerikkanian warriors occasionally try to kill them" Jason said. " They have some luck but not much, as you can imagine"

" Nah" Lambert shook his head. " To kill a monster you need a Witcher"

" Well I think we can all agree on that" they nodded in unison.

" What about Skellige?" Coen asked. " Bound to be plenty of monsters there"

" Eh" Eskel dismissed. " Most are aquatic in nature. Makes our job a lot more difficult considering the pay we'd get"

" Yea" Jason agreed. " Probably not even worth effort"

" And besides" Lambert interjected. " You'd have to pay the fee to sail all the way there, and back. You're more likely to end up in debt than with any real profit"

" Not worth shit, then" Coen snickered.

" Then I'd go with Lambert's first suggestion" Jason said. " The south is probably the most profitable at this point. You could go east, but then you'd have to deal with the desert conditions"

" Sure. Sure" Eskel confirmed. " And as far I as now there aren't any Witcher schools down there"

" Well I've heard of one" Coen said, unconvincingly. " Vipers...or Cobras...or something of the like"

" Bullshit" Lambert bickered. " If there ever was a snake Witcher school like that then they're surely long gone.

" Does seem far fetched" Jason grimaced.

" Perhaps" Coen said. " I'm only saying what I've heard"

" Doesn't matter" Eskel said, sternly. " Geralt. Have you been listening? Where do you plan to go, old friend?"

Geralt sat on the empty wooden stool, his eyes jumping from Witcher to Witcher as they spoke. Up until this point, he'd remained silent, listening to his comrades babble on about their suggestions and ideas regarding the path. To be truthful, he absorbed very little of it, his mind already preoccupied with previous thoughts. It was only now that he was torn from them, the eyes of his fellow Witchers gazing intently at him. He smiled as he stood, his eyes turning upward toward the shining yellow sun.

" I appreciate your suggestions" he said. " All of yours. But my mind has long been decided"

They all waited, patiently.

" I'm staying here. In the north. If I'm to find Ciri and Yen, this is where I'll start"

---

So here it is. It's been a long time since i've updated this story but i can now confidently say that i'm back for good. i'm also working on multiple stories currently but im definitely keeping updates concerned to the witcher consistent, so it won't be more long months without a new chapter this time ( unless the chapter just takes me that long but i can't imagine one will). I also went back and read the entire saga again, for the fourth time, so that's another reason i've been absent. But i just want to say thank you ( and sorry...) to those of you who've wanted an update on this story, and for any new readers that may find this story, i hope you enjoy, and there's plenty more to come!