"Time travel in magic is widely believed to be impossible, with only one exception. Elder blood remains the only magical substance capable of allowing time travel. The blood of Lara Dorren exists only in Cirilla, and thus to all but her, time travel cannot occur."
~Phillipa Eilhart, Case-Specific Magics, and Phenomena.
The witcher moved through the dark dense forest. The marshy ground bowed under the hooves of the witcher's horse. The sun had set long ago and fog coated the marshy forest. This did not deter the witcher however as the mission was more important. The silver medallion in the shape of a roaring bear vibrated lightly on the witcher's neck. The witcher looked ahead, with pupils in the shape of slits like a cat, and saw through the trees to the cottage in the center of the forest. The witcher had traveled far to get to this cottage, now with the goal in sight, the witcher began to get excited, but quickly contained it. The witcher's horse began to panic as they ventured deeper into the forest towards the decrepit and molding cottage.
"Shhh, Sarah. Calm yourself. No harm will come to us." The witcher said in a calm tone while casting the sign of axii on the horse
They rode up to the cottage, the smell of rotting flesh permeating the air. The witcher dismounted quietly and moved towards the front door. The witcher knocked on the door and it opened as if on freshly oiled hinges. The witcher stepped inside the dark and dusty cottage and was greeted by a hideous creature. It was a grotesque and bloated woman covered in an assortment of grime and muck. She had a disheveled face and she reeked of blood and piss. She moved slowly and had an air of danger about her. Although the medallion vibrated powerfully the witcher made no impression.
"Who be there at my door, a witcher come to slay me, or an imposter?" The decrepit woman hissed.
"I am no imposter but I am not here to kill you either, I am a customer." The witcher said calmly.
"You? You are a witcher. How can that be? There are no woman witchers." The old woman said, pointing a finger at the witcher.
The witcher smiled and said, "We are a rare breed indeed."
The witcher stood in the doorway wearing armor made from monster leather and inlaid with silver bindings. Two swords were strapped to her back, one silver, one steel, both made from a meteorite and enchanted bindings. Also on her back was a loaded crossbow and a sharpened silver encrusted armshield. On her belt were an assortment of pouches containing a variety of objects and elixirs. She had short black hair and orange eyes with slitted pupils which contrasted with her moderately pretty face. She was well built but slim and her average-sized breasts were hidden under her flat-chested armor. As the witcher stared at the woman, her eyes shown in the darkness, creating an intimidating image.
"Said you were a customer, you did." The old woman said.
"Yes, I'm here for something only you have." The witcher said calmly as she sat down in a moldy old chair.
"And what would that be?" The woman asked.
"Elder blood." The witcher said.
The old woman doubled back in surprise, as much as she could with her frame anyway. The witcher stared calmly at her, without blinking or moving her gaze. The woman could tell that this person was serious about what she had said, so she controlled herself.
"Sorry… how did you know that I had elder blood." The woman said slowly.
"I followed a trail." The witcher said not moving her eyes off the woman.
"And why should I let you have it? Many want the blood for evil means." The woman said, receding from the witcher's gaze.
"Because it is rightfully mine. Can you not smell the faint hint of Lara Dorren on me?" The witcher said.
The woman smelled the witcher and could agree that, though faint, there was the scent of the elder blood in her.
"This makes no sense?" The woman said, "Cirilla never sired children and Pavetta died nearly 200 years ago. How? Tell me."
The woman was shouting now, but the witcher remained unphased.
"That is exactly what I want to find out." The witcher said, "Now what do you want in exchange."
The woman calmed down and in a low, slow voice said, "Give me some of your flesh."
"What, why?" The witcher asked.
"Rare for rare. The last vial of elder blood, for the flesh of the rare female witcher. I won't ask what you'll do with the blood, and so I won't tell what I'll do with your flesh." The woman said with a hint of excitement.
The witcher sat in silence for a while. The howling of some horrific monster sounded in the distance. The witcher knew what monster it was, and even its size and its sex. A male Fiend. I could get a good price for its third eye if I killed it. The witcher thought this before shaking the thought from her mind and continued to contemplate her decision. After a good 10 minutes of thought, she reluctantly agreed, deciding that the ends justify the means. She drew her carving knife from her back and carefully cut off a piece of her skin. It was slow and painful work though she carried on with her reward in mind. As she cut into her own flesh the old woman began to get more excited. When it was over her wound already began to heal quickly, she cast the sign of herlay to quicken the healing. As she handed over the piece of her own flesh that was dripping with fresh blood, the decrepit woman was nearly jumping with joy. It made the witcher question her choices, but she gave over her flesh anyway.
"Excellent, now tit for tat." the woman said retrieving from a locked box, a vial of dark red liquid.
The witcher pensively reached out towards the vial but the woman drew her hand away. The witcher was about to pounce on her when the woman spoke.
"Now I must warn you, miss… um," The woman started.
"Chris of Kaedwen." the witcher said, anxious to get the trade over with.
"Now I must warn you Chris of Kaedwen, all who have the elder blood in their veins bear a target across their backs, any who are tied to you will meet a terrible fate." The woman said.
The Witcher made no indication that the woman's words had deterred her, because they hadn't. The witcher reached out her hand and the woman placed the vial in it. The witcher stood slowly and walked towards the door. Just before she left she said, "Pleasure doing business with you."
Once outside she noticed a grave she hadn't seen before. The grave did seem to explain how the old woman had gotten the blood. It read: Vysogota of Corvo. This was the cottage where Ciri had stayed after she escaped Bonhart. She knew the story well, it was one of the few she liked. She knew that Ciri still lived, her life prolonged by the lodge, though she resigned herself to the fact that she would never get to meet her in person. Still, the fact that she had just been in such a historical place was quite astounding to her.
She shook those thoughts aside and began working. She mixed the blood with a multitude of different chemicals. It took around 5 to 10 minutes all the while the howling of the fiend seemed to get louder and louder. Once the elixir was to her liking she injected it into her artery. She braced herself for some horrifying transformation, but it never arrived. She wasn't concerned however because she could feel the cold blood moving through her veins, slowly creeping its way through her body. She assumed that once her body began to produce more, she would begin to see its effects. Little did she know the effects had already begun.
As the shrieks of the fiend grew louder she swiftly mounted her horse and rode off back the way she had come. She didn't look back nor did she ever intend to return to that place. However, there was never going to be a place to return to, for the decrepit old woman had tied herself to the witcher's destiny, and so the Fiend found her. The Fiend tore apart the house with its immense strength and then began to tear apart the women. The witcher never heard the screams that echoed throughout the forest.