"I wish I knew who the magic gardener was. I have so many questions," Kit said later when they had left the village behind. Their progress was slow as at times the path was hardly recognizable as such. It had mostly grown over, every now and then trees were barring their way.
"Maybe it's better if we don't find out." Geralt still was not sure what to make of the mysterious village. The presence of magic had been obvious but whether there was an actual threat or if maybe he was merely creeped out by the odd trees with their lifelike shapes, he was not able to tell. Either way, he was relieved to be leaving the place behind.
"I wonder what became of the girl. I hope she and the boy managed to run away."
"If he really was a hunter, their chances of getting out of here probably weren't too bad," he reassured her. He did not actually believe what he said as experience had often taught him otherwise but there was no point in upsetting her.
The farther they veered away from the village, the fewer of the colorful flowers they found until they were all gone and the forest began to thin out.
Around noon Geralt's eyes picked up an odd shape between the trees. What he at first assumed to be a sign of yet another village, turned out to be a lonely house. Befittingly to the strangeness they had witnessed before, it was not a normal house but something that rather looked like a small tower.
"You people really do have a knack for hiding interesting things in your forests," Kit remarked once she was able to see the structure, too.
"Believe it or not, but this is less common than you might think."
Just like the village, the tower clearly had been deserted decades ago. At some point in the past, an oak tree had been half-uprooted, probably during a storm, Geralt presumed, and had crashed into the old structure. It had continued to grow still, its branches pushing through some of the windows.
The front door barely hung on its rusty hinges.
"Do you think it's safe to enter?"
"When have you become so adventurous?" Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, if my dream of exploring the stars isn't going to come true, then at least I want to see everything that this world has to offer."
Geralt sighted. "Let me guess: Exploring the stars – you actually mean that, don't you?"
She had talked about how people had sent machines to other planets before, so what were the odds they would send people there as well?
"You know, you're becoming better at understanding me every single day." She smiled.
"Explain it to me, use simple words," he demanded. "How does one reach the stars? Probably not something simple as building a giant ladder on a mountain?"
She chuckled. "Interesting thought, but no. In short: You sit in a metal tube, loaded with explosives in its bottom end. And one controlled burn later you take off the ground – just like a firework. But much bigger and, best case scenario, without the entire tube exploding like said firework."
"That sounds reckless and, really, just insane." He scowled. He was ready to save her from all the evils this world had to offer but now it occurred to him that she also might needed to be saved from herself.
"You are absolutely right about that."
She dismounted Nugget and sat down on the grass, examining the building from a safe distance. Geralt followed and took a seat next to her.
"Then why do people do it?" He threw his hands in the air in an exasperated gesture. "Why would you want to do that?"
"For the experience." She grabbed a little twig off the ground and kneeled in front of Geralt, excited all of a sudden. "When you leave earth's atmosphere, do you know what happens? The further away you get from it, the less you will be affected by gravity. Here," she held the twig out. "What happens if I let go of it?"
"It drops."
"Naturally. But can you imagine that it won't do that if I let go of it?"
"No, not without magic."
"But that's exactly what happens out there," she said, pointing to the sky. "There is no gravity, nothing to hold you down. And that's what I want to experience! I've seen people do it, float in zero gravity. I suppose it's a little like the weightlessness you feel when you are underwater. But I don't know for sure and I always dreamed of finding out."
Geralt did not understand why anyone would want to give up the ground beneath their feet but the way she looked at him, with so much joy and enthusiasm, told him that there must have been something to it.
"And now you won't be able to do that," he concluded, feeling a pang of guilt as if it were his fault that she ended up with him and was denied the opportunity to die in an exploding metal tube. Well, he might not actually feel that guilty.
She sighted, hugging one of his knees, looking up to him, the shine in her eyes suddenly dulled.
"It was in the early 1960s when the first person went to space which makes it unlikely that I'll live to see the day this happens. But in all honesty, commercial space travel had just barely begun in my time so even if I hadn't ended up here, it would have been highly unlikely that I would have ever gone to space in my lifetime. Still…"
"I'm sorry," he said because he did not know what else to say. What was the appropriate way of consoling someone who was stuck in a past hundreds of years before their time?
"Don't be. It's not your fault. And," she smiled, "circumstances have changed. Magic, Monsters… I got other things to explore now. Besides," she stood up and held her hand out, "even if I had the opportunity to do it now, I wouldn't."
He took the hand she offered and got up.
"Why not?"
"Because of you, of course. Wouldn't want to risk dying for that now that I have you."
He loved that confident, soothing smile of hers. As if she knew with absolute certainty that she belonged here with him and nowhere else. He did feel somewhat guilty, still.
"I wouldn't want you to give up on your dreams for me," he answered, more out of obligation than out of conviction. He would rather see her safe and sound than in any kind of danger. And metal tubes that were shot to the stars sounded like certain death.
"I'm not. I'm slowly finding other dreams to replace them with. But I just can't go without any at all."
"You shouldn't have to."
Sometimes it astonished him when he saw her change. It seemed she had lost a lot of the fear of this world that she had initially harbored and he was glad to see it. He was always so worried since, compared to most of the people he knew, as a mere human she was so fragile.
He cupped her face, looked into her blue eyes that shone with a newfound love for adventure. And for him. He kissed her, as always hungrily, as always driven by her want for him.
"Now, will you do me the honors of entering this intriguing ruin with me?" Kit asked, once Geralt had released her lips.
They entered the small tower and let their eyes adjust to the semi-darkness just to discover something that looked like a mix between a kitchen and a laboratory. The floors were covered in dirt, dry leaves and all sorts of debris. A big puddle had gathered on the floor – probably the result of yesterday's storm. From somewhere the sound of dripping water echoed along the naked stone.
Kit stepped carefully while Geralt examined the state of the walls, looking for telltale cracks that would promptly lead to the collapse of the old edifice. Unlike the deserted wooden houses in the village, this one was made from brick. It had stood the test of time much better – despite the tree-sized hole in its wall. But as chance would have it the tree seemed to have grown in a way that was supporting the structure rather than aiding in eroding it any further. Some branches it seemed had even fused with the brick, had pushed their way into the mortar as if the tree had decided to reclaim the area on behalf of the forest.
Geralt let his gaze wander. Curious kinds of glassware, connected by small pipes and tubes, had been set up on a sizeable wooden table in the center of the room. Clearly the work of an alchemist, he thought. Most of it was still in tact even if it was dusty and filled with dirt. He tried to sniff out any components of the substances they might have once contained but it was impossible. Everything that was once contained in there had long evaporated or otherwise volatized.
One flask still held the remains of a dead mouse that must have fallen into it, unable to ever again escape the steep glassy walls. Its tiny skeleton and some bushels of fur were all what was left of it.
There was no mold anywhere, only some moss where the water, that probably entered here on a regular basis, was not able to drain fast enough.
"Who do you think lived here?" Kit suddenly asked as her fingertips lightly grazed the instruments in front of her.
Geralt took a look around. A shelf was bending under the weight of the neatly organized books on it. He ran his fingers along their spines.
"Someone who knew something about alchemy. Wealthy, to a degree. A sorcerer. Or sorceress," he concluded quickly as his eyes scanned the titles of the books. "Whoever lived here is long gone. My medallion doesn't pick up any magic at all."
The books alone would have been enough of an indicator but the furniture, though old and covered with dust and dirt, had cushions whose fabric must once have been rather nice. Some of the furniture had intricate carvings far above what people were able to afford on average.
"From what you told me, I always assumed any sorcerer was the life of the party. Why would they live so far off civilization?" Kit asked while examining a delicate looking spiral made from glass.
"Maybe this one wanted to be left alone?"
But Geralt silently agreed that it was unusual.
"I wonder what happened to them," Kit thought aloud while carefully stepping on the stairs that led to the upper level of the tower. When he noticed what she was up to, Geralt followed suit. The fallen tree blocked most of the stairs but they were able to crawl beneath it.
"Look at that! This doesn't look too bad," Kit remarked upon reaching the upper level. A rather spacious bed with a canopy clearly marked it as a bedroom. Huge winged doors, still tightly shut, led onto a small balcony. Big windows gave the room an airy feel. A wardrobe, more shelves overflowing with books, some armchairs and a desk filled the room. It seemed that unlike the downstairs floor, the outside world had not been able to reach this space. While everything was covered in dust and there were a few mouse droppings here and there, it looked like the room was ready for its owner to return at any moment.
"Huh, it's the same bestiary that you have," Kit commented while looking at a book that had been lying open on the bed and that she was now leafing through.
"It's probably the most comprehensive one there is," Geralt shrugged, looking over her shoulder before he continued to inspect the room for more clues. Old habits die hard, he thought to himself.
Out of curiosity Geralt picked up an unopened letter that was lying on the desk.
"What was the name again of the man that Lydia mentioned in her diary?" he asked with knitted brows.
"Uh, Cassius. Why?"
"I think he might have lived here." Geralt raised the still sealed letter to show her.
"Cassius Candida," she read.
Geralt hummed. "That name rings a bell." Without further ado he broke the wax seal, opened the letter and let his eyes flick over its content.
"What does it say?" Kit asked impatiently, trying to sneak a look while holding on to Geralt's arm.
He snorted. "It all makes sense now." He gave her the letter. "Cassius Candida, better known as Cassius the Choleric. Rose to questionable fame about 70 years ago. I remember that winter at Kaer Morhen. Nearly all of the witchers who returned that year had heard about him. For a week there was hardly any other topic during dinner. Apparently, Cassius had a little temper tantrum at the court of Kovir and turned one of the king's sons into a lizard. Ended up having to flee the country because the king had placed a bounty on his head."
"Which would explain how he ended up in the middle of nowhere," Kit reasoned. She looked at the letter in her hands and began to read it:
"Dear friend, I urge you not to give in to the temptation. Let the girl go. Find another one and groom her to your liking." Kit looked at Geralt. "He's talking about Lydia, isn't he?"
Geralt nodded. "Read on, it'll become clear in a moment."
He watched Kit's eyes quickly flit over the paper.
"He's asking him not to make a scene or something that he'll regret later on. Begs him to stay in hiding because he is still wanted in Kovir… The village – it's his fault. He's the reason why nobody is living there anymore."
"Looks like it. He crosses paths with Lydia, takes a liking to her and teaches her. Even asks her parents for her hand."
"What does a sorcerer want with a 16-year-old girl with no education?"
Geralt shrugged. "Maybe he was bored? Maybe he wanted to settle – at least for a few decades until he was forgotten about and could start a new life? Who knows."
"But Lydia isn't on board with marrying him because she wants the boy from her village. What are the odds he found out about it and marched in there to tell her what he thought of that?"
"He might have killed her. All of them."
"Which would explain why it didn't look like anything had been taken. Because no one had intended to leave the village." Kit shuddered. "Are all sorcerers like that? Decimating villages if they're having a mood swing?"
"They are people, just like us. But if that's any consolation: They are bound by their own laws and societies. It's likely that not only Kovir was hunting him but other sorcerers, too. Can't have a berserk running around, ruining everybody's reputation."
"What do they care? I'm getting the impression that they are above everyone else. What can a King do about someone who knows how to wield magic?"
"You'd be surprised. There are ways to keep them from using their powers. Dimerithium for example blocks all of it. But you also need to understand that even their power is limited. And not every sorcerer is overtly skilled."
"That is not reassuring. I don't care if someone turns me into a frog out of skill or by accident."
Geralt chuckled. "I may not know much about magic but I guarantee you it takes a lot of effort and dedication to transform a living creature. This is not as much of a common occurrence as you might think."
Kit seemed unconvinced.
Her gaze suddenly got hung up on a book that was partially covered by paperwork. She pulled it out from beneath the stack of notes.
"Looks just like Lydia's." She flipped it open and gasped. "It's the same. Just look!"
Geralt took it from her and quickly glanced over the pages.
"See how even the handwriting changes? It's an exact copy of Lydia's."
And suddenly Geralt understood.
"Cassius must have enchanted the book he gave to Lydia to copy everything she wrote into this one."
"Chances are he knew Lydia wanted to run – because that's the last thing she wrote into her diary. And Cassius stopped her before she could do it…" Kit's shoulders sunk. "They didn't get away, did they?"
Geralt said nothing. It was not necessary, the sad expression on Kit's face told him that she had already understood.
"I'd like to leave this place. It's… I want to leave." She shuddered and folded her arms in front of her chest.
They returned to their horses and continued their journey in silence until they decided to take a lunch break at a clearing next to a river.
"Tired?" Kit asked when Geralt yawned.
He nodded. "Didn't get much sleep last night."
After what they had learned previously Kit did not look like her usual happy self either.
"How about a nap then?" she suggested.
She was leaning against an old tree stump, slid a little lower, and with a pat on her thigh prompted him to rest his head in her lap. He fell asleep to the feeling of her fingers in his hair and the sun warming his face.
Geralt only woke when he suddenly felt Kit twitching. Before he could wake her from what he supposed must have been a nightmare, she opened her eyes and shot up into a sitting position.
"Everything all right?" Geralt asked with a worried face, putting his hand on her shoulder. She was shaking, her eyes quickly flitting from left to right.
"No, nothing's all right." She breathed to calm herself. "Geralt, we need to go back." There was an edge of panic in her voice.
"Go back where? Why?" He looked at her in confusion.
"To the village. It seems I accidentally took something from there and we need to return it." Her face was pale, her voice quivering.
"Do you mean the diary? I'm sure it won't be missed."
"No, not the diary. I think… I think I took Lydia with me."
Dear reader,
when I was a child I had a little purple typewriter. It was just a toy but it was fully functional. And whenever I sat in front of it and typed away a few sentences, mostly to enjoy the click-clack of the keys, I felt like Angela Lansbury in 'murder, she wrote'. Maybe you think it's a little sinister for a child to identify herself with a mystery-writer who is solving murders on a regular basis. But then again, just remember how incredibly tame those 80-90s TV shows were. Captain Picard turning into a Borg shocked me much more than any of those bloodless crime scenes.
Should I have put a spoiler alert here?
Anyway, I really liked my cool little typewriter and would become furious if anybody else used it. I was not one for sharing, my brother can attest to that. As do my parents. I mean, they would attest to that if they could remember that I used to exist in their world.
Not the point.
Sharing. I don't like sharing. Sharing a taxi is fine of course. Sharing things that I don't need - gladly! But there are things that I don't want to share with anyone: Food. Geralt (not a thing, but you understand I hope). And my body. Especially my body. Not in a sexual sort of way and especially not in a parasite kind of way (which includes babies).
But end up with a parasite I did. And as any good parasite, mine did not make itself known immediately. I had caught a severe case of lost soul. How do you come by a lost soul you wonder?
Try walking into a village that is inhabited by plants that are shaped like people and find the one that actually used to be a person. Confusing, huh?
There once was a girl by the name of Lydia. She lived in a small village, far away from anything that I would deem civilization. She was a good girl. Nice, smart, obedient to her parents, always willing to help. She was the village beauty, too.
One day, a sorcerer by the name of Cassius stumbled over this village. He was hiding to avoid being punished for turning the son of some king into a lizard in a rage fit. His house wasn't located too far from the village that he had no idea existed until he accidentally discovered it during a walk. And it was perfect. He would have just enough human contact for him to not bore himself to death while still being able to keep his secret as news wouldn't reach this place.
And then he saw the village beauty, our dear Lydia. By promise of a better future for their daughter and a reverse-dowry paid by him to the parents, they gave him her hand. The girl, initially, knew nothing. She thought the old man was merely a teacher to prepare her for the bigger world outside of the forests.
But eventually reality came crashing down on her and her parents confessed what was in the cards for her.
Naturally, 16-year-olds, per my experience, don't take very well to marrying old men. Especially not if they already have a crush on one of the local and much more age-appropriate boys with a fondness for gifting them flowers.
Quick thought: Am I in a position to judge age differences? You know, me being in my mid-30s, dating a man in his early hundreds? Feeling a tad hypocritical here.
But I digress.
Lydia attempted to do what any sane teenager would do: Grab her boyfriend and run to start a better life elsewhere. Or so was the plan. Cassius, while probably a bad person in general, was not an idiot and had found out. Before the night of their flight could come, he confronted the soon to be lovers.
If Lydia loved flowers so much then why didn't she become one, he said and turned her into a small cherry tree. The people watched in horror when the screaming girl transformed. Pretty harsh you think? Well, we're not done here. The flower boy, Arvid, had it coming too. "You shall be her gardener" said Cassius and cursed him, turned him into a monster. I assume he took inspiration from the bestiary that I had found on his bed…
And that's when people ran. None of them looked back, none of them tried to grab anything from their homes. They just ran out of fear from being turned into a tree, out of fear of the monster that was Arvid, screaming in confusion, rage and despair. His tortured wails could be heard for days. None of the villagers dared to return to their homes.
Cassius, cruel as he was, wouldn't let them die. He cursed them, tree girl and gardener. For the three nights around full moon every month, Lydia would be conscious, would be able to move as far as the roots of her tree-body would let her, before she would be rendered immobile for the rest of the month. But during those three nights she would be able to communicate with Arvid. Somehow, anyway. Arvid, of course, would still be a monster without the ability to speak.
It's been nearly 70 years since then. For seven decades they met on those three nights to spend their time together.
You're probably thinking: Cool, nice story. But what do I have got to do with any of that?
I touched the tree. Having read Lydia's diary, I was apparently empathetic and sensitized enough to allow her soul, her spirit, to enter my body. She's a good girl, truly. Held absolutely still in the corner of my mind, not daring to disturb me. Only when I fell asleep during a nap Geralt and I took after having found Cassius's deserted home, did she show herself and told me the entire story.
Now that I had learned what had happened to them, we obviously needed to go back. For one because I did not want to carry around a stranger's soul inside of me for the rest of my life. I value my privacy. But I also wanted to help them if I could. It's hard to ignore the pain and suffering of someone if they sit in your head and not only show you everything but make you feel it.
Geralt, of course, thought that I had gone crazy, had had a bad dream because the village and Cassius' place had spooked me. On top of that he obviously had no desire to go back there, especially if there was a monster. He asked me how I was sure that Lydia was not messing with me. Lydia, my personal back-seat gamer, told me she could prove it by showing me the tree stump that she had hidden all the things in she had intended to take with her on her journey. And we found it, not far from the village. The fabric of the bundle had decayed, as had most of the things in there. A gold bracelet with her name on it, given to her by Cassius, had survived the decades. Geralt had to believe me now – the tree was so well hidden that I would have never found it on my own and obviously I had no idea there would be a bracelet in it.
It was night by the time we returned, full moon. Even before we reached the village, we were able to hear Arvid. His wails sounded all over the place, the torture, the agony clearly audible. He was probably wondering where his girl had gone, why he got not response from the little cherry tree, having no idea that I had accidentally taken her with me. I heard her sob in my head. She loved him so much and could hardly bear to know that he was suffering. She wanted nothing more than to run up to him to tell him that she was okay. But she couldn't. She couldn't, even in all her pain, just take over my body until I let her.
And there he was, a leshen bigger than a man, kneeling in front of the small cherry tree, weeping for Lydia. He might not have been able to talk but he had a voice nevertheless. It was deep, monstrous, but so undeniably sad. Geralt, who had been about to grab the sword from his back, lowered his hand.
I was afraid. I had never seen a leshen other than on a picture in Geralt's bestiary and they are rather imposing figures. But even I could tell that this one was special. There was the wiry, bony body, the deer skull with empty sockets for a face, and the antlers. But there were also all sorts of flowers on him – draped around his antlers and all over his body. The same type of exotic flowers that were growing all over the village. With a pair of sunglasses, he would have blended in nicely at Woodstock or Coachella.
Admittedly, I went into this with all the naiveté of a pixar-character, hoping for a happy end even though I already knew there wasn't going to be one…
"Let me go first."
"Absolutely not!" Geralt hissed. "Stay behind me!"
There was no way he would let Kit get anywhere close to the monster if he was not right next to her. He felt sorry for Lydia and Arvid, they were just kids after all. But he was not sorry enough to risk Kit's safety.
"Hold my hand at least, so he'll see that you won't be able to draw your sword without a warning," Kit demanded.
Geralt grunted, angry with himself for letting her drag him here, before he grabbed her hand tightly. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
Cautiously, they appeared from behind the house from which they had observed the scene.
"She's crying," Kit said. Geralt knew that she meant Lydia. "She can't bear to see him suffer."
They were fairly close to the leshen already before it noticed that it was not alone anymore. It looked at them with empty sockets, not moving, not bothering to stand up from its kneeling position. Instead it sounded another wail and then lowered its head.
"He's ready to die," Kit said, repeating the whispers in her head. "He thinks she's gone and he doesn't want to be here without her."
They carefully approached.
"Geralt," Kit looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, "I'll let Lydia take over. Don't stop her, okay? If I don't like what happens, I can just push her away."
Geralt hated the situation, but he nodded. Because what else was he going to do in the presence of a leshen that behaved nothing like it should?
Kit blinked. Her expression changed to one of astonishment. The iris of her blue eyes suddenly had a brown rim.
"Lydia?" Geralt asked.
She nodded.
"Arvid! I'm here. I am so very sorry!"
Before Geralt could stop her, Kit had moved away from him and placed her hand on the deer skull. The leshen froze for a second before it slowly lifted its head. As if he can't believe what he's seeing, Geralt thought.
The huge monster perked up immediately, letting out another wail, different this time. More cheerful, if that was even possible. It slowly raised its long bony arms, wrapping his twig-shaped fingers around Kit's waist.
"Oh, it feels so different touching you like this. I had forgotten what it was like to have a real body." Tears streamed down her face as she rested her forehead against the skull.
The leshen hummed, pulling her a little closer.
"Master witcher, we need your help. I beg of you, let Arvid into your body so we can break the curse."
Kit had already told him that it would be necessary and he had not been looking forward to it. He remembered the time he had shared his body with a ghost and he had not enjoyed it. Not all of it anyway.
"Please, Geralt." Suddenly it was Kit, who looked at him. The brown ring around her eyes had disappeared. "It'll be over soon. Let them have this moment."
Reluctantly, Geralt nodded, pulled a glove off his hand and touched the leshen. There was a brief moment of pain, as if something had pricked him in the finger. Then he noticed Arvid's presence in his head. Arvid, a boy of 17 years, who had been roaming the forest for nearly seven decades, who had been creating beautiful flowers for his beloved Lydia. Who had grown trees that looked like people so she would feel less lonely whenever he was away. Who had scared away any wanderer who had come close in order to protect his beloved little tree. Over half a century and he had stuck with her, had not once thought of leaving her and the village behind.
Arvid showed him all there was, showed him how he had been turned, showed him all those nights they were able to spend together. And then Geralt let go and let Arvid take over his body because he took pity on the kid.
Geralt watched as the boy lifted his hand to touch Kit's face. Kit, who was now Lydia. Her brown eyes seemed to look directly at him but he knew better. Lydia only saw Arvid.
At first, they did not say a word, just looked and carefully started touching each other as if seeing the other was not enough. Arvid's thoughts flew by Geralt unfiltered. He could not believe it, could not quite grasp that he and Lydia had a human form – albeit only temporarily.
"I always imagined us growing old together but not quite like this." Lydia smiled when she touched Geralt's beard.
"I imagined that too, growing old. But not quite growing like a tree." Arvid's remark made Lydia smile despite the circumstances.
"Do you regret it?"
"I wish things had gone differently." Lydia tightened her grip around his hands. "But we spent our lives together. It's what I wanted."
Arvid nodded. Geralt felt the relieve that flooded Arvid as Lydia hugged him tightly. They stayed in their embrace for a long time and Geralt understood why. He had felt the loneliness of decades Arvid had gone through without the warm touch of the girl he loved.
They sat down eventually, leaning against each other and the still kneeling, immobile leshen, hands intertwined. They did not talk. There was no need to. They had gone without communicating in words for so long that the act of speaking had become superfluous. What was there to say anyway, Arvid thought. He did not need to say that he loved her, she knew that, had been knowing for decades for every time she became conscious, he had been there waiting for her. In all those decades, he had never once not shown up. Had filled the village with her beloved flowers – his creations, only for her. Had grown bushes and trees that resembled people so she would never be alone.
But it was going to end tonight. They could only borrow the bodies of their gracious hosts for so long.
Shortly before sunrise Lydia muttered: "It's time, don't you think?"
Arvid nodded. "I'm grateful for this last night."
He did not want to go. But there was no way he would go back to what they were for all eternity. For so long he had lived with the fear of somebody discovering the village, cutting down that little tree that meant everything to him. The fear was worse than his cursed body.
Arvid turned to face her, one hand on the side of her face. "Always," he said.
"Always," she agreed before she closed her eyes and kissed him.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still.
"Thank you" was the last thought that Arvid directed at Geralt before he vanished, simply disappeared. Suddenly it was him who held Kit in his arms, her eyes now blue again. She silently cried. And Geralt thought that he might have too had his body been able to.
Lydia and Arvid were gone from this world. As was so often the case, the curse to their miserable existence could be broken with a kiss. But trees and leshens could not do that – a cruel joke that Cassius had played on them. Only now that they had been able to borrow bodies, they were finally free of their forms. After so long.
Geralt had witnessed many tragic stories in his life. He found it easier to forget them when someone was directly responsible for their own misery. But these two had been only children, powerless in the face of a sorcerer that knew neither scruples nor mercy.
They knew that ending their curse would also end their existence. While they had no proper bodies, they had matured nevertheless. The person who had shared Geralt's body, while unable to perceive himself in that way, really had no longer been a boy but an old man who was tired of fearing for the safety of the woman he loved.
The dead leshen next to them started to vibrate before suddenly a tree burst out of its back. Within seconds a weeping willow had grown out of the cursed monster's corpse. Geralt and Kit were engulfed by curtains of slender branches as the tree kept growing until it covered nearly the entire village, absorbing the remnants of the leshen into itself. A memorial, a tombstone, Geralt realized.
"Let's stay a while," Kit whispered as she stared in awe around her.
They sat down, just like Lydia and Arvid had done, Geralt embracing Kit. Fireflies started to emerge, illuminating the night around them.
"I think they have come to mourn," Geralt remarked who had been able to feel the connection between Arvid and the forest. He might have been a human at heart but as a leshen he had inevitably formed a bond to the forest and all creatures in it.
"I hope they can find their peace." Kit's voice was small. She was huddled in Geralt's arms, crushed by sadness for the two strangers.
"I'm sure they will. They had more time together than most people. Maybe not the way they wanted to but I have a feeling they grew into it," he tried to console her, squeezing her tightly.
Kit nodded. "I wish we could have done more for them. They didn't deserve this."
A sob shook her body when she buried her face in Geralt's chest.
"I know." He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I'd rather be a tree than be without you," he answered the question that hung between them unspoken.
"I know." Kit slung her arms around his neck and kissed him, desperately. He tasted the salt and kissed it from her cheeks, rubbed his nose against hers. He had witnessed and therefore felt the kiss shared between Arvid and Lydia. It was so very different from the one he received from Kit.
When dawn came and the fireflies slowly disappeared, Geralt and Kit left.
For a while, the story of Lydia and Arvid weighted heavily on Kit. She did not talk about it or cry but Geralt could see it anyway. Her empathy, the empathy that had made it possible for her to connect to him, her greatest strength, was also her greatest weakness. He could only imagine what it must have felt like to her. It was not that Geralt had remained unaffected; carrying the soul of an innocent boy suffering this cruel fate was no small feat. But the witcher was better at shaking it off. He had experienced the horrible fates of the less fortunate over and over again – he had learned early on that dwelling on them did not help him nor did it help them.
And while Kit mostly talked about the positive aspects of her world, she never neglected all the negatives so he was well aware that she knew misery. But experiencing it so directly must have been new to her whereas Geralt was used to it. He had not grown cold – he was simply able to accept much faster that there was nothing to be done. Kit still had to learn that.
Eventually she noticed the worried glances he would give her if she had not said anything in a while.
"I'm okay, I promise," she would say and smile. "Life isn't exactly fair where I'm from either." She sighted. "I asked for an adventure and now I got it. Should be more careful of what I wish for."
Geralt was about to say something but she continued: "It's odd but you know what? Somehow, I feel like I'm now more part of this world then I was before. Maybe there was some good in this after all."
He reached for her hand. Compassion, resilience, a growing fearlessness, seeing the best in the worst. She may not have been powerful in a conventional sense but she had strength – a lot of it. And was that not exactly what one needed when being with a witcher?
For a moment that realization gave Geralt hope that they would be able to overcome anything.
Note: Thanks for everybody who's still leaving comments – it always reassures me that there is still interest and that the story is not yet going in a wrong direction.