Dark shadows flickered on the floor beneath Ciri's feet as she walked.

Only a few of the iron torches that were bolted to the wall were lit, and it was the first time Ciri could recall the large golden chandeliers above her head being completely dark. Even more strange was the steady stream of clouds that flowed out alongside each breath that left her lips.

Her body wasn't chilled, nor were the ends of her fingers or the tip of her nose. Yet the few flickers of light from the torches danced against patches of frost that trailed down the walls around her and disappeared under the crunching snow beneath her feet.

Ciri turned a familiar corner. The coating of ice on a pair of grand doors made them nearly unrecognizable, but the golden lion heads in the center of each side stuck out from under the ice, almost as if they were trying to force their way through it.

The doors were ajar just enough for Ciri to slip into the Great Hall. Tapestries that were woven with scenes of Cintra's greatest battles hung from the walls just as Ciri had remembered. But like everything else in the room, they were distorted by a layer of frost that glistened in the moonlight pouring in from a row of large windows.

Ciri's eye caught something moving near the throne at the front of the room. Her heart swelled when she saw a dark-haired woman staring back at her with a golden crown on her head and a faint smile on her lips.

Several tears ran down Ciri's cheeks as she lurched forward into a sprint. She threw her arms around her grandmother's waist and held on as tightly as she could. She felt an arm wrap around her back and a hand run down her hair as the achingly familiar scent of smoke and holly filled her nose.

"I've missed you," Ciri breathed.

"And I you, Cirilla. You're just in time."

Ciri lifted her head from her grandmother's chest to stare up at her.

"For what?"

Before she could receive an answer, the doors she had just entered through loudly creaked open. Hulking figures who were clad in the most intimidating armor Ciri had ever seen stormed into the room. Dozens walked toward the throne, stopping only to move aside for another armored man who towered over them. His face was completely hidden beneath a helmet so ornate that even the Feathered Knight's paled in comparison.

A bolt of terror shot through her.

Ciri eyed the door that was adjacent to the throne. "This way," she said with a shaky voice and tugged on her grandmother's arm. She nearly tripped when the older woman didn't move.

"Grandmother!" she tried again. "We need to leave!"

Calanthe stayed rooted in her spot, staring down the massive man as he slowly stalked toward them. A tiny grin crept onto her face.

"We have the power to win."

Ciri's heart sank into her stomach when the man pulled a long blade from his back. She gripped her grandmother's arm tighter each time the man stepped forward. She wanted to run from the room as fast as she could, but she couldn't leave her grandmother to face these terrifying men alone.

The man stopped in front of them and raised his sword high above his head. Ciri's palms were covered in sweat as she gripped the cool satin sleeves of her grandmother's dress. Quickly, she lifted a hand and released as much of her chaos as she could manage.

She was yanked from the scene before she could see what happened next.

Ciri woke with a gasp as her panicked chest sucked in the cold night air. A sheen of sweat covered her face, despite the fire being down to nothing more than a few dim embers in the hearth across from her bed, and the heavy pelts hugging her body felt suffocating. She threw them off of her and swung her feet over the edge of the bed to sit up and catch her breath.

She stayed like that for a minute or two at least. When the walls around her still felt too close to her for comfort, she stood on shaky legs, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and left the room.

Ciri closed the door to her room with a quiet click. The floor was frigid against her feet but she didn't care. She just wanted to get her mind off of whatever had just happened in her dream. And get her breathing back under control.

Padding quietly down the hallway past Geralt and Jaskier's rooms, Ciri turned up a staircase that led to a small section of the third floor. Most of the area was decrepit and dust-ridden after years of going unused, but one window with an impressive view of the mountains had a ledge large enough for her to sit on.

She climbed up onto the perch, ignoring the dust that quickly caught onto the skirt of her nightgown, and watched as a few snowflakes slowly started to drift down from small patches of clouds in the sky. They were large and fluffy — the very kind that were best for catching on a dark scarf to examine their designs. They soon disappeared, leaving a starry sky staring down at her.

Ciri stretched her fingers. The buzzing she felt during yesterday's lesson with Tissaia and Yennefer was back, though it wasn't nearly as strong as it was then. Nor how strong it had been when chaos burst from her in her dream.

"It's a little late for star gazing."

Ciri whipped her head around to find Eskel standing beside her. She shrugged and looked back at the blanket of moonlight sprawling over the mountains.

"I don't know. It's dark enough for it."

"And for you to be asleep."

"You're not," she countered. He chuckled at that.

"No, I'm not. But I'm also not a human girl who has training in the morning."

She shrugged again. "I'll be fine. I've gone with less sleep before."

Eskel raised a brow. He took another step forward.

"You come up here often?"

"No. I just had trouble sleeping tonight," she said. The witcher stayed quiet but didn't move to leave. She tucked up her legs so he could sit across from her.

"Me too," he finally said, taking the seat.

"You're a witcher. You don't need that much sleep."

"Doesn't mean I don't want it when I can get it," he said. "Besides, it's not like anyone else is up to bother, except for you."

She scoffed. "I'm not sure I'll be much entertainment. I was just star gazing, as you said."

"That's entertainment enough. I used to come up here at night a lot when I was young. Woke up here a few times, too."

"Has it always been a popular spot for tireless witchers?"

"Probably. It definitely was for me. This view was one of the few things that could take my mind off of particularly bad nightmares," his eyes flickered up at the moon, its reflection dancing in his golden irises. "Still is."

Ciri swallowed down a lump in her throat she hadn't fully realized was there. She cleared her throat and stared back out at the mountains.

"It is really pretty. I didn't get to see mountains much before now," she said.

"They never get old, no matter where you are," he leaned forward and pointed to the tallest mountain Ciri could see. "That one there, Mount Roehnig, takes two weeks to climb to get to the top. You wouldn't think so by looking at it, but the trail up it is worse than the one that leads here."

"Do people live there?"

Eskel shook his head. "Vesemir said elves did centuries before witchers were in Kaer Morhen. As far as I know, this is the only inhabited mountain for miles. But the others are beautiful from the top. I used to climb one each time I got back from the path, if winter hadn't set in too deeply yet."

"I've never been on a mountain's peak," Ciri said, gazing out the window. "I'd like to see one some day."

"Maybe come spring we'll take you to one. I'm sure you could use a change of scenery after being holed up in this keep all winter."

"It hasn't been bad," she smiled softly. "It's much better than running about the continent."

"And getting chased by wolves in the forest," Eskel smirked. Ciri snorted quietly. "Though I guess it's good that you did. Who knows if you would have found Yennefer otherwise."

Ciri nodded, still looking out of the window.

"He didn't care too much for her friend, but Vesemir said Yennefer seems like she'll be a good instructor for you."

"Mhmm," Ciri hummed as her mind drifted back to her first lesson and the visions that had taken hold of her mind. She could faintly make out her reflection in the window's frosted glass, but she didn't quite catch the way her lips start to fall into a small frown. Eskel watched her carefully.

"Do you disagree?

"What? No, she seems great," she said, turning back to face him.

"Good," Eskel nodded. "I never liked my teachers as a boy, besides Vesemir. He was the only one who had any patience for me."

She raised a brow. "Why wouldn't they? You're so pleasant."

"I was quite the troublemaker back then, actually," he smiled.

"I'd believe that if it were coming from Lambert."

He laughed. "It's true. I'd do anything to get out of sitting through lessons. Even if stuffing an instructor's books with frog guts landed me scrubbing up horse dung in the stables for a week."

"That's horrible," Ciri giggled. Her lips pulled into a sly grin. "I should have thought of that back in Cintra. My tutors would have fled the kingdom if they found guts in their books. Though even a frog by their foot might have still done the trick."

"Gods, I wished that trick had the same effect on Vesemir. He'd just scoop them out and cuff me," he chuckled.

"My grandmother would have done the same if I ever did that to her. Nothing phased her," Ciri smiled softly. "I don't think she was ever scared of anything."

Eskel glanced at her briefly before looking out the window once more. "I'm sure that wasn't true. Everyone fears something, even if some are better at hiding it than others."

"Maybe," she shrugged. "Though witchers don't seem easy to spook."

He laughed at that. "You'd be surprised. I'd tell you what scares Lambert, but he'd try to skin me if I did. As for me, I'm terrified of heights."

She furrowed her eyebrows together. "Then why do you like going to the peaks of mountains? That sounds like the very place you'd want to avoid."

"Confronting your fears can make them less daunting," he said. "At least that's what I've found to be true for myself."

Ciri pulled at the sleeve of her nightgown. She didn't look up when she spoke.

"That's good," she nodded.

Her eyes flickered up at the sky, then at the mountains standing below them. Even though they towered over every being in the continent, Ciri guessed they were nothing but tiny specks to the stars that flew above.

"See anything interesting?" he asked. Ciri pursed her lips in concentration as she scanned the darkness.

"I think that's Arnek's Belt near that crooked looking mountain over there," she pointed out.

"You sure that's not the Goblin Foot?"

"Goblin Foot?" Ciri asked incredulously. "There's no constellation named that."

"Sure there is. It starts off wide, and the part that bends looks like it has toes on it," Eskel explained.

She tried to think of which constellation he was talking about. "You mean the Jagged Crescent?" she said after a moment.

"I haven't heard of that one."

"Maybe we were taught different names for them," she mused.

"I wouldn't be surprised. You had far fancier tutors than me. Here," he shifted closer so she could get a better look at where he was pointing. "What do you call that one there with all the points?"

"Poinsecja."

"Interesting. I call it Thorn Bush. And that one that looks like a sword?"

"The King's Blade."

He paused, looking pleasantly surprised. "That's what I was taught too. Maybe my instructors were fancier than I thought," he laughed. "Won't Vesemir be excited to find out."

Geralt crossed his arms and glared at the stone wall across the courtyard from him.

"This is fucking ridiculous."

"Oh come on, Wolf! Show us your lovely little flip!" Lambert yelled as Eskel and Jaskier laughed beside him. Even Vesemir was donning a small grin.

He turned to face Ciri. "An audience wasn't part of the bet."

"It didn't prohibit one, either," she shrugged. "Besides, I couldn't make them leave even if I wanted to."

"Ciri-" he started. Eskel didn't let him finish his thought.

"Let's go, Geralt. Just one quick... what's it called again?"

"Cartwheel," Jaskier supplied.

"Right, that," Eskel chuckled. "Just one quick cartwheel and you'll be all done, mate!"

Geralt glared at the trio with all of his might. Jaskier snorted into his hand while Eskel and Lambert grinned back.

"Come on!" Ciri said impatiently. "I won't be able to go to the gardens with Jaskier and Eskel before sundown if you make my sword lesson run late, and we haven't even started it yet."

He took a deep breath and stretched his fingers. "Show me how to do it again," he muttered.

Ciri rolled her eyes but held up her arms.

"It's simple. Just turn to the side and try to keep your legs straight while they're in the air," she said as she bent down toward the ground and put all of her weight onto her hands, flipping over swiftly and landing on her feet with a soft thud.

"Mhmm."

"Hurry up, old man!" Lambert called out.

Geralt sent another glare their way before he steeled himself and copied Ciri's form, swinging himself over and doing his best not to let his legs fall as he held himself up. The stunt, thankfully, was over nearly as soon as it started.

Jaskier clapped as Eskel and Lambert laughed next to him. He felt his cheeks start to grow warm, but the noise of the men faded away from his mind when he saw the wide grin on Ciri's face.

"That was good! A bit crooked, but not a bad start," she smiled.

"Yours was still better."

"I'd hope so. I've been doing them for years, after all. But don't worry, you'll get better with time."

The barely noticeable smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth quickly vanished. "Better with time? Ciri, I'm not doing that a-"

His sentence was cut off by a hearty slap on his back.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, Wolf?" Lambert grinned beside him. Eskel stopped next to his other side. "You almost made flopping like a fish look easy!"

"Fuck off," Geralt grunted.

"If it looks so easy, why don't you try?" Ciri said, taking a step closer to the younger witcher and smiling up at him.

Lambert dropped his hand from Geralt's shoulder. "Nice try, girl, but I plan on staying right side up. Your whining isn't going to change that."

"I don't whine!" Ciri frowned.

Lambert snorted. "Right, not at all. C'mon Eskel, let's go before she convinces you to look as ridiculous as Geralt just did."

Geralt crossed his arms and stared at Eskel. The scarred witcher just chuckled and followed Lambert and Vesemir back into the keep. Another pair of footsteps stopped beside him.

"I thought you were lovely. A right acrobat, even," Jaskier smiled.

Geralt shook his head and sighed. "Pick up your blade, Ciri."

She quickly grabbed the wooden sword from where she had unceremoniously dropped it on the ground earlier. Geralt did the same.

"Are you going to join us, Jaskier?" Ciri asked.

"Not today, sweetling. I gave myself a rather nasty cut on my sparring hand when I was peeling potatoes earlier. Best let it heal a bit," Jaskier said, rubbing his hand. Geralt frowned.

"Let me see it," he took a step forward. Jaskier put a hand up to stop him, a small smile on his face.

"It's really nothing serious, Geralt. Just focus on trying to block Ciri's increasingly impressive attacks."

"Hmm," he grunted, sparing the bard's hand another glance.

"Geralt," Ciri huffed. He turned back to face her, raising his sword.

"Maybe Lambert was right about you whining," he said, a barely visible grin on his face. Ciri rolled her eyes and copied his stance.

They stalked each other for a moment, as he had taught her to do whenever she was cornered or didn't have a clear path to strike an opponent. She suddenly jolted forward and swung her sword down toward his side, which he easily blocked. She tried stabbing at his gut, then nicking his leg, but was stopped by his blade each time.

He went on like that for a while, letting Ciri strike at him until a small trail of sweat formed on her brow. She was quick and accurate, and didn't slow even when her breathing became more labored.

At one point, he twisted around her and tried to tap the side of her calf. She spun around and stopped him before the wood could tap her leg, locking her blade with his and knocking it aside. She forced him to keep turning as she tried to slash at his back, then to walk backwards as she stepped forward with each time her sword crashed against his.

Ciri must have missed the patch of ice in front of her, since her leg wobbled and she nearly tipped over when she took another step closer to him. Her sword swung clumsily in the air as she tried to catch herself. The opening gave Geralt a chance to strike her side. He raise his sword and started to move it down toward the girl. At the same time, a voice that sounded like Tissaia's suddenly flowed through his mind.

...even a swinging blade from an ally.

Geralt felt his chest constrict. He slowed the sword to stop just above Ciri's side, then quickly pulled it away from her. She looked up at him with confusion pulling at her brow but he didn't give her enough time to question his hesitation.

"Be more aware of your surroundings," he grunted, trying to calm his pounding heart. "Again."

Ciri frowned but did as he said, trying to strike him wherever she could. He blocked each blow effortlessly, though he was careful to not slow at all. The girl was getting faster and he didn't want her to grow cocky — he had seen enough soldiers' egos lead them to a sloppy misstep and a sudden death, after all.

Geralt kept dodging and blocking Ciri's swings as the sun settled lower in the sky. But while the girl did her best to land her blade against his side, he didn't try to swing at her again.