20
Qrow kicked open the door to the dorm. Inside was a young man with silver hair, laying on his bed and fiddling with his scroll. "Hey," he drawled. "Can't get any connection. You think the net'll come back up soon?"
"I know you'll be coming back with me," said Qrow darkly, stepping into the room.
"Ooh," the young man winced, glancing up at him. "Shouldn't have done that."
"Done what?"
"Stepped into my parlor," said a soft voice behind him. He whirled.
A girl with green hair—one he recognized, since she'd been pointed out to him weeks ago—was shutting the door behind him. He must have walked right past her. She was facing away from him, but when she turned, her maroon eyes seemed almost to be glowing slightly.
He drew his sword. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said.
Emerald licked her lips. Sharp fangs flashed. "Funny," she said. "I was about to say the same thing." She rolled her shoulders, and bared her teeth—but her lips kept peeling back, her face deforming, her nose bending upwards into a snout, her fingers elongating into vicious claws.
Qrow swallowed. He'd known this girl was a vampire, but he'd been told she was just a child. Suddenly, that wasn't as reassuring as it had been.
"I do appreciate the donation," said Emerald, her words muffled and lisping around her teeth. "I'm so thirsty." And, with speed to rival even Ruby or Summer, she lunged for him.
He barely brought Harbinger up in time to block her. She struck the flat of the blade like a moving train, sending him flying back, straight through the brick wall, which crumbled against his Aura, and out into the open air. With a screech, she followed him out.
He whirled Harbinger, shifting it into scythe form, and tried to use its irregular shape to come at her from an angle she wouldn't expect. It worked, but she was just too fast. With a flap of wings that hadn't been there a moment ago, she launched herself skyward, over the point of his blade, then divebombed him. Her teeth closed around the haft of Harbinger, and her claws came over it towards his face.
They scraped against his aura as he shoved her away, pushing himself down even faster than the freefall already taking him towards the courtyard. Wrenching Harbinger away, he twisted, feeling the magic in his belly surge as he transformed. In his new form he managed to slip past her, flying above her and trying to remain in the blind spot between her wings.
She was just too fast. She batted him away with one of her wings, sending him spiraling out of the air. Her hand reached out to grab his tiny body between her claws.
There was a wet, slicing sound. Emerald screeched in fury and pain.
Qrow caught himself and turned.
Raven was falling, sword still extended, already halfway transformed back into bird shape, her portal closing behind her. As she fully shapeshifted, she dove, and he followed.
They transformed as they landed in the courtyard. "Thanks!" he shouted over the sirens.
She gave him an unreadable, complicated look as she sheathed Omen, then drew it again with a new, yellow blade. "Don't… mention it."
Across the courtyard, Emerald landed, nursing the stump of her hand. Her ichor was thick, and several shades darker than human blood.
Mercury, the boy in grey, landed beside her, shaking out his legs. "Need some help?" he asked, smirking, but keeping his eyes on Qrow and Raven.
Emerald hissed wordlessly at him, then glared at Raven.
Qrow raised his scythe. "There's more where that came from!" he called.
Emerald licked her teeth with an unnaturally long tongue. Her bleeding was already stopping.
"She's strong," said Raven, "but she's not all that skilled. Just be smart."
"And hope she gets unlucky," said Qrow under his breath."
Raven huffed something like a laugh. "That too."
Together, the Branwen siblings charged.
There was a moment of pure, unadulterated madness.
Summer's entire body felt like it was being submerged in a bed of dull needles—not sharp enough to hurt, but enough to be terrifying and unpleasant. There was a crawling sensation as if something was skittering inside her skull, tickling the folds of her brain. She thought she heard screaming, just on the edge of hearing, and whispers so loud that her ears ached. The pale green vortex that surrounded her wasn't green at all—it was some strange, terrifying, impossible color that made her eyes water and set her teeth on edge, and in the luminescent mist she could see the faintest suggestions of inhuman faced and eyes like pits of starlight.
Then they were out. Summer stumbled, Ciri's wrist falling out her grip as she fell to her knees, ratching.
She felt a rough hand, gentle on her back as Geralt knelt beside her. "Sorry about that," he said quietly as bile dribbled from her lips. "It's always rough the first time."
"You did warn me," said Summer hoarsely, wiping her mouth with the back of her palm. With some effort she stood back up—and her stomach sank to her toes.
The citadel of Salem was massive. It dominated the horizon before them, as large as the hills around it, surrounded by exposed crystals of Dust spearing into the heavens. A reddish haze hung in the air overhead, as though the sky was overcast with blood. Grimm wheeled overhead—Nevermores, Griffons, and other, stranger subtypes like none she'd seen before.
"She certainly has a well-defined aesthetic," Ciri murmured, stepping up beside Summer and Geralt. Summer glanced at her and saw her nose was wrinkled.
"Can we get to the castle unnoticed?" Geralt asked quietly.
"Oh, I can get us into that central hall," Ciri said, pointing. "I just didn't want to risk teleporting us into a wall or floor until I was able to see the lay of the land for myself. But I'll be able to take us the rest of the way in just a minute or two."
"Oh, gods, we have to do that again," moaned Summer before she could stop herself.
"It really does get better," said Yennefer sympathetically. "I think you'll be surprised how much."
"I hope you're right," Summer said, "or I'm not going to be much help in there."
"Shorter jumps are easier," said Ciri. "Don't worry—it won't be nearly so bad this time." She held out her hands again. "I'm ready if you are."
They took her hands again, and again the green light swallowed them up. Ciri was right—it was much easier this time. Summer only felt mildly queasy when she stumbled out onto the marble floor of Salem's fortress.
"Yen," said Geralt as soon as they had all regained their balance. "You ready to—"
"Of course," said Yennefer, already pulling reagents out of her bag. "Geralt, can you start assembling my megascope?"
"On it," said Geralt, slinging the pack from his shoulders and reaching into it."
"Mrs. Rose, Ciri, we should establish a perimeter," said Regis. "There's no telling when Salem, or her servants, may become aware of us."
"Right," said Ciri briskly. She glanced at Summer. "Are you feeling up for combat?"
"…Mostly," said Summer weakly. "I'll be fine in a few minutes." She grabbed her waterskin and took a drink to clear her mouth of the taste of bile.
"Hopefully we have a few minutes," said Ciri. "Especially since it will take Mother at least that long to get her spell set up." She looked around, eyes darting here and there around the room. "You take that end of the room," she told Summer, pointing towards the large doors which led out of the castle. "Regis, you take the interior side. I'll be on the balconies."
Regis nodded firmly. "Very well. Call if you need me."
"Same to you," said Ciri, and vanished in a flash of green.
Summer took a deep breath, nodded to Regis, and jogged towards the doors, drawing Pinprick as she went. The only sounds were her and Regis' footsteps and the clanking as Geralt assembled Yennefer's equipment.
The silence was deafening.
Penny felt it the moment it happened. Suddenly, without warning, the thread of data connecting her to her father snapped.
She froze. Ciel jogged a few more steps ahead of her before noticing and turning back to her. "Miss Polendina?" she asked. "We need to get to the rally point."
Penny stared at her.
Attack, said a voice—an instinct—in her head. What? Why the heck would she attack? Sure, Ciel could be… frustrating… but that wasn't a reason to attack someone.
There was the sudden sound of gunfire—the rapid rat-tat-tat of Atlesian rifles. Penny's head snapped around.
A patrol squad of knights was firing down a street at something she couldn't see. In unison, they stopped. Turned to face them.
Their optics were an angry red.
Attack, said the voice again, and Penny realized it wasn't hers.
Before the knights could do more than raise their guns, Penny had grabbed Ciel, activated the thrusters at the base of her boots, and launched them both out of their site. Ciel shrieked, uncharacteristically rattled, as the bullets sailed through the air where they had been standing.
Penny flew into an alley, then landed and put her teammate (handler) down. "The military hardware network has been hacked," she said quickly as Ciel caught her breath. "Are communications still down?"
Ciel checked her scroll. "Yes," she reported, meeting Penny's gaze. She was quickly collecting herself, but her eyes were wide. "Are you all right? If the network—"
"I have an Aura," Penny said. "I assume that implies that I'm harder to control than ordinary knights. That does not make it impossible." She held out her hands. "I surrender to your custody, Recruit Soleil."
Ciel stared at her hands. "I don't…" she paused. "I'm afraid I don't have cuffs on me, Miss Polendina."
"Oh."
Attack, said the voice in her head. It didn't seem to be getting any louder, more insistent, or harder to ignore—but that didn't mean it wasn't profoundly terrifying to have a voice in her head, trying to get her to betray everything and everyone she cared about.
"I recommend we report to General Ironwood immediately," said Penny quietly. "If anywhere in the city will have facilities to hold me, it will be his flagship."
"Can you carry me up there?" Ciel asked, looking at her with mingled fear and sympathy.
"I hope so," said Penny.
Attack, said the voice.
"I really, truly hope so."
The silence hung thick and oppressive. The worst part was that it took Summer more than a minute to notice that it had ended.
There was a strange, unsettling sound, like the lowest, deepest groan stretched out so long that the sound came out more like clicking than a voice, echoing as if through a long tunnel. Summer had no idea when it had started. She only noticed it because it was getting louder.
She looked around, searching for its source. She found it. Something was hovering just outside one of the tall, narrow windows of the great hall. It looked like a sphere of black crystal, lit from within by a shuddering storm of blood-red, with irregular plates of bone-white armor seemingly affixed to it. The sphere rested upon a base of black flesh which ended in teeth, and below those dangled several red tendrils like ribbons.
It had no eyes, but Summer was certain to her bones that it was watching her.
She didn't cry out. She didn't call the others. She just raised Pinprick, pointed it at the thing, and fired a bolt of lightning through the window.
The electricity diffused over its surface like water splashing on metal, leaving it completely untouched.
"What was that?" Geralt asked, turning sharply towards her from the center of the room. He followed her gaze.
"We've been spotted," Summer said grimly.
The howling began outside. Summer turned, snapping a new cartridge into Pinprick and slashing through the stone beneath her. Ice Dust burst forth, exploding into crystalline reinforcement to seal the great doors shut.
On the other side of the hall, she heard the doors to the rest of the keep burst open. She resisted the temptation to look.
As the Grimm began to beat on the doors from outside, she raised her blade into a guard. The others would deal with whoever or whatever was coming from deeper in.
She would keep them safe from what was outside.
With a single sweeping blow, Ruby bisected three Atlesian knights. She continued the motion, carving through the head of the Beowolf lunging for her, scattering it into black dust.
Blake landed beside her already spinning. She fired a burst from Gambol Shroud at the air above her. There was a strangled caw, and a lesser Nevermore plummeted to the earth before shattering against the asphalt.
"Short range comms are back up!" Blake shouted at Ruby over the din. "Get onto team comms!"
Ruby nodded. "Cover me!" As Blake moved around her, Gambol Shroud rattling off shots at irregular intervals, Ruby pulled her Scroll out of her pocket and quickly linked her Scroll to their the emergency channel. The others were all already in, and Yang's voice emerged from her Scroll immediately.
"—working on evacuating downtown with some Atlesian marines," she was saying.
"The Atlesians are still working with us?" Weiss asked, sounding harried. "Their knights certainly aren't!"
"Speaking of which, has anyone heard from Penny?" Ruby asked, though she didn't have much hope.
"Nope, sorry Rubes," said Yang. "You holding up okay?"
There wasn't time to get into the fact that the sudden burst of activity was already starting to slowly chafe through the calluses she'd built on her stump, nor the fact that she felt as though she had more aura to spare than she ever had before. "I'm okay," she said, and it was true—it all balanced out. "Blake's with me." She looked up, then blinked. "One sec."
She stepped between Blake and her clone, tossing her scroll in the air, then slashed Crescent Rose forward, spearing it into the ground ahead of her, scoping in, and firing a Gravity round. The four Beowolves which had been closing on a terrified man were scattered, blasted into the walls of the nearby storefront. One burst right through the glass door.
Ruby glanced up, caught her scroll, and brought it down in front of her face again. "Okay," she said. "I'm back. And yes, Weiss—the Atlesians are still on our side. It's just the robots that have gone nuts."
"They think someone must have taken Ironwood's flagship," Yang said. "That's why the knights are going crazy."
"Then we have to take it back," said Ruby.
"How?" Weiss asked, a little shrill. "Unless your leg has built in rockets, none of us can fly!"
Built-in rockets. Beside her, Blake started, and Ruby knew she'd had the same idea.
"The lockers," Blake murmured.
Ruby grinned. "Weiss," she said. "You're still in Beacon, right?"
"Yes."
"I've got a mission for you," Ruby said. "Get down to the locker rooms and send us our lockers. You'll need to do it manually, with the network still down."
"Are you serious!?" Weiss asked, and now she was more than a little shrill. "You want us to launch ourselves on literal rockets and try to hit a flying airship by just eyeballing the ballistics!?"
"We've all got Gravity Dust," Ruby said mildly, absently reorienting Crsecent Rose and firing an incendiary round at another group of Grimm. "You've got Glyphs. The way I see it, we just have to get sorta close."
"I mean… you're kinda right," Yang admitted begrudgingly. Then her voice went muffled, as if she was covering her scroll to speak to someone else. "You go on ahead! My team has a plan!"
"I—but—fine!" Ruby could practically see Weiss throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Give me three minutes! And I'll need your locations!"
"I'll be at Verdanna Mall," said Yang cheerfully. Ruby heard the unmistakable sound of Ember Celica loading in a new round. "In the parking lot. Try and be quick, there's a lot of Grimm here."
"Blake and I are at the intersection of…" Ruby glanced up at the nearest street sign, then rattled off the names. "Reconvene when those lockers are launched, girls!"
"Aye, captain!" Yang said brightly before disconnecting.
Yang's smile dropped away as she hung up on her team. In the distance, she heard the rattling gunfire of the Atlesians she was—hopefully—giving time to get away.
She pocketed her scroll, then looked up at the gathering horde of Ursae, trying not to think of the deafening roar from just a few streets over she'd heard while they'd been speaking.
Just three minutes, she told herself. You can last three minutes.
The door leading deeper into the citadel didn't burst open. It didn't explode outward, it wasn't blasted off its hinges. It opened slowly, without so much as a creak.
A huge man stepped out, broad and muscled, with arms like small saplings. His hazel eyes darted between the small team, lingering on Yennefer's ongoing ritual.
"Well," he said. "I don't remember letting you folks in."
Ciri burst into existence beside Geralt in a flash of pale green light. "I don't remember knocking," she said. "Who are you?"
"Hazel Rainart," said the man. And you must be the Witcher's team."
Geralt felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "You knew we were coming," he said, voice low.
He didn't really expect an answer, but he got one anyway. "We knew you were leaving Vale," said Hazel. "Never imagined you'd be crazy enough to come right to us. You know she can't be beaten, right? That's kind of the idea."
"Is that why you're working for her, then?" Ciri asked, lips quirked in a sardonic smile. "How does the saying go—if you can't beat them, join them?"
"Something like that," said Hazel flatly. His hands reached into his pockets and emerged with two crystals of raw Dust in each hand. He glanced down at them, then looked back up at Ciri. "I could try and fight all of you," he said. "But I'm not the one who can't be killed, so I think I'll get her."
"We're not just going to let you fetch your boss," said Ciri. "Like you said—you'll probably lose to all of us."
At that moment, there was the sound of splintering wood from the other end of the hall. Geralt spun around.
A Beringel has burst through the door and was now trying in vain to hit Summer as she dodged around it, peppering it with blows from Pinprick. She could take it, Geralt was certain—but more Grimm were already flooding in behind it.
He swore. "Regis, help Summer!" he called, turning back around. In his momentary distraction, Hazel had turned away from them to go back into the keep.
"Oh, do stay a while," said Ciri, already in his path, before slashing at him with Zireael.
Hazel leapt back out of her reach. Then, with a grunt, he drove the Dust crystals directly into his own shoulders. His pained shout was inarguably genuine. By the end of it, he was slightly stooped, hands open and held out like claws. Raw magic flowed down his arms like fissures in rock. His eyes seemed almost to glow, suddenly the color of liquid gold.
Geralt quickly took note of the four Dust types—Fire, Ice, Lightning, and Gravity. Most of the standard combat forms.
He and Ciri quickly took up combat stances on opposite sides of the man. He cast his head from side to side, trying to keep both of them in his view at once. He must have realized the futility of the attempt, because it was he who broke the stalemate, turning on a dime and charging straight for Geralt. The witcher sidestepped, but when Hazel kept going, he realized his mistake—the man was headed straight for Yennefer.
Geralt bit back a curse as he leaned forward, starting into a sprint after him, but Ciri intercepted him first. She burst into being in Hazel's path in a bloom of green flame, thrusting out of thin air with Zireael as she did so. Hazel took the blow to his aura with a grunt, then swung at Ciri, who danced back out of the way. Then he spun, raising a fist crackling with electricity straight towards Geralt's cheek.
Geralt, already committed as we was to his momentum, took the blow. It sent him tumbling, denting his aura heavily. He managed to roll back to his feet, then had to leap out of the way as Hazel leapt after him, both arms coming down heavily onto the ground where Geralt had been.
Ciri didn't give him Hazel the time to follow up again. She fell on him like a storm of silver and light, flashing in and out of existence all around Hazel. He couldn't land a hit on her, but his aura was monstrously strong, and though she was whittling it down, it wasn't at all clear how long it would last, or how long it would take him to get in a lucky hit.
Geralt gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and raised his hand. His fingers twisted into the sign of Axii.
Hazel stumbled, shaking his head like a wet dog, and Ciri capitalized on the opening. She appeared before him, wound up, and struck him hard across the temple with the hilt of her sword. Hazel's aura shattered. He fell tumbling, landed in a sprawling heap, and went still.
Ciri and Geralt looked at each other for a moment, panting. Then Geralt jerked his head towards Summer and Regis on the other side of the room. "Go help them," he said. "I'll watch the door."
Ciri nodded, and was gone.
Geralt spared a glance for Yennefer, who was so absorbed in her spellcasting that she seemed entirely unaware of the battle ongoing not thirty yards from her. He knew better. She knew exactly what danger she was in—and she knew, also, that if she allowed her focus on her magic to bend even a little, the results could be far worse than what a mere Grimm horde could do to them.
Geralt turned, faced the door, and took a guarding stance. The opening yawned before him like a portal; empty, for now.
Raven sidestepped, allowing Emerald to sail screaming by, mere inches from her face. Then she spun and, with a triumphant shout, drove Omen's Lightning-Dust blade directly into Mercury's standing leg even as he raised the other to kick at her.
He let out a strangled cry as he fell, his leg jerking and buckling at the knee. Raven gave him a kick in the side, sending him rolling away across the flagstones, then turned just in time to see Emerald lunging for her throat. The girl was scarcely recognizable at this point. Her green hair was a shaggy mane framing her misshapen, elongated face; her maroon eyes now glowed blood-red; her white teeth were long and sharp as a raptor's talons; and her fingers now ended in blades like long knives.
Raven tried to dodge out of the way, but even as she moved, she knew she wasn't fast enough. Fear boiled over in her blood, and the moment seemed to stretch for minutes.
Then Qrow was there, between her and the vampire, and Emerald clanged into the flat of Harbinger. He careened into her, and they were both sent sprawling.
Raven leapt out from under her brother and scrambled to her feet even as Emerald shrieked and spread her wings for another charge. Raven raised Omen to defend herself.
Gunfire echoed through the courtyard. Emerald hissed, her head turning like a bull's presented with the matador. Raven followed her gaze.
A squad of Atlesian specialists had burst onto the scene—led, it seemed, by the sister of Ruby and Yang's Schnee teammate. The Schnee's face was set in hard lines, seemingly devoid of fear as she stared down the nightmare beast across the courtyard. Four other specialists formed up around her, weapons out and aimed.
Emerald's gaze slowly moved from the Atlesians, to Raven and the slowly standing Qrow, and back again. Then, as if coming to a decision, she bared her teeth, spread her wings, leapt skyward and fled.
The Atlesian's didn't lower their weapons. They turned them a few degrees to the right.
Raven felt her heart sink. "You're not aiming those at me," she said.
The Schnee considered her. "The General," she said clearly, "believes that you betrayed us to the enemy."
"Wait, hang on, what?" Qrow said, stepping in front of Raven. "How the hell did Jimmy come up with that one?"
"I'm not privy to his reasons," said the Schnee. "Will you come quietly?"
Raven bared her teeth. "If you think—"
She was interrupted by a rushing sound from the building beside her. She turned.
Four rocket-lockers, one after the other, ascended into the sky.
"Specialist Schnee." The new interruption came from behind the Atlesians. Schnee turned.
Ozpin stood there, face solemn, both hands resting on the hilt of his cane. "I will personally guarantee that Raven Branwen has not betrayed us," he said. "I will stake my reputation and my life on it. We cannot afford to doubt each other now. I would call James, but as I'm sure you're aware…"
"…Communications are down," finished Schnee grimly. "You're asking me to disobey a direct order."
"I'm asking you to exercise good judgement," said Ozpin. "I think I understand how James came to this conclusion, but there are things he has not considered. Please, Specialist. Trust me."
Schnee stood still for a moment. She was facing Ozpin, and Raven couldn't see her face. Her subordinates were still aiming at Raven.
Then she raised a hand. "Weapons safe," she ordered.
The Atlesian's holstered their weapons. Raven resisted the temptation to sigh in relief. Qrow did not.
"Brothers," he swore. "Seriously, Ice Queen?"
Schnee shot him a glare, opening her mouth to retort, but Ozpin interrupted. "There is no time for infighting," he said sharply. "The Atlesian knights have been turned against the civilians of Vale. I can only assume that someone has seized the bridge of James' flagship."
Schnee turned back to him so fast that her coattails fluttered. "What!?" she exclaimed. "But how—?"
"I do not know," said Ozpin. "But someone will need to retake the ship. Specialist, I may not be your General, but would you take on this mission for me?"
Schnee didn't bother to answer him. "Back to the Bullhead," she ordered her team. "Move!"
As the Atlesians rushed away, Qrow cleared his throat. "Okay," he said, "can you explain how the hell Jimmy came up with the idea that Rae betrayed us to Salem?"
"Something forced them to accelerate their timetable," said Ozpin quietly. "The timing is no coincidence. Geralt, Regis, Yennefer, and Summer left on their mission, and not three hours later—all this? No—this was deliberate. Somehow, she knew they would be gone."
"Wait," Raven said. "Where the hell did you send Summer this time?"
Ozpin gave her a taut smile. "And that is what Ironwood did not consider," he said. "You didn't even know they were leaving. It wouldn't be unreasonable to expect you might, but I know you didn't. So, if we have a traitor, it is not you."
"You think she timed all this just so that those four people would be out of Vale?" Qrow asked. "Seems like a lot of trouble to go to, unless she knows about Geralt."
"I highly doubt she does," said Ozpin, "but at this point it is far too late to do anything to change course. We cannot contact the team. We cannot undo whatever leak informed Salem. We have no source as to why that information led to this action. All we can do is defend this city, and hope that Geralt succeeds in his mission."
"You sent them to assassinate Salem," Raven realized with mounting horror. "You sent Summer to take out a god, with only three other people for support. Are you insane!?"
Ozpin grimaced. "I am starting to wonder that myself," he said darkly. "But insane or not, for now—I have a job to do." He tapped his cane against the ground. "Salem's agent will be using the chaos to attempt to access the Vault. Peter and Barty have gone to slow her, but I need to get down there." He met Raven's eyes. "I would appreciate your assistance."
Raven's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm a Maiden?"
"Yes," said Ozpin, "and so is she."
Summer rolled out of the way of another attack from one of the strange, batlike Grimm, then stabbed at the Beowolf she'd almost run into.
The crush of Grimm was barely being held back. She'd never really thought about the fact that their bodies vanished, but suddenly she wished keenly that they didn't Bodies could have served to form a barricade, but all the Grimm left behind was dust, already blowing away in the wind of the next Grimm's passage.
A Centinel burst from the ground behind her, hissing, and lunged at her while her blade was occupied with a minor Deathstalker. Before it could hit her, there was a screech as Regis descended from above, plucked the Grimm out of the earth with a tug, and flew back into his aerial battle with the flying Grimm overhead, wielding the spitting Centinel as a whip.
Summer dispatched the Deathstalker then leapt away from a Beringel slamming the ground. She found herself beside Ciri as the younger woman drove her sword through the skull of a Lesser Taijitu, then spun it to lop off its other head.
Cresting the hill in the distance, Summer could see larger Grimm approaching. They seemed content to take their time, here in the heart of their territory. Summer wondered if that was an instinctual knowledge that their enemies were pinned, or if Salem was controlling them directly, and enjoyed taunting them with the inevitability of their death.
Shows what she knows, she thought grimly.
Even as she thought the words, she heard Yennefer's voice behind her. "Done!" she cried. Then she shouted a series of twelve strange syllables.
A black wind blasted past Summer, flowing out of the building in a rush of cold. The Grimm recoiled. She spun around.
Yennefer was standing in the center of the hall, but the hall looked utterly transformed. The ancient, but clearly maintained, black marble hall was replaced with gray stone, one wall of which was completely blasted open. Through the hole, Summer could see a landscape utterly unlike the one visible through the open door. Fires burned on hills still green in patches, but the last remnants of the grass were burning away to leave a blackened heath. The red storm outside was nowhere to be seen, and behind the plume of smoke rising from the burning citadel, the night sky was visible in all its scintillating brilliance.
Yennefer was staring down at a figure kneeling at her feet. The woman was facing away from the sorceress, her white hair done up in an intricate style reminiscent of a crown. She was staring at something lying in the dust. With a thrill of sick horror, Summer realized that it was a child's doll.
Salem threw her head back and screamed her rage to the sky.
Then, on the other side of the room, from behind where Geralt was staring at the vision before them, Salem said, "Well. This is a surprise."