Red Rowan

by Indiannahjones

With the Wild Hunt defeated and Empress Ciri on the throne, Geralt thought he and Yen would be free to retire to Toussaint and settle down... but it seems the ghosts of Geralt's past are intent on coming back to haunt him. Geralt/Yen, past Geralt/Shani. [Inspired by a letter found in Witcher 3 if Geralt took the alchemists' potion in Witcher 2.]

21. Verbena

It felt strange to be home, after so many weeks spent traveling the way he used to. He had almost grown accustomed to the smells of nature again, the feeling of hard ground under him as he slept; even Roach seemed more restless now, blustering discontent whenever he put her back in her stable, as if the short rides into town were no longer enough to sate her taste for freedom. They were wild things, both of them, but Geralt's heart belonged to Corvo Bianco now, and he could not help but pause as he hung his swords distractedly by the door, taking a moment to notice the new coat-rack Yennefer had bought for him. It was an elegant piece, but more than that, it made him think of the woman who had purchased it, and he let out a soft breath as he ran his gloved fingers over the wood, admiring the design.

Yennefer had always had impeccable taste, but she had gone out of her way to make this place a home for him, and he could not help but feel a gaping hole in his heart at the thought of how long it had been since he had last seen her. It had been only a few weeks at this point, since before his journey to Kaedwen to find Eskel, but the time apart felt endless anymore, so much more painful than the years they had spent apart previously. Everything reminded him of Yennefer these days – the flowers in the valley, the whispering of wind through the trees – and he frowned as he realized how much different things were for him now, having once had a taste of true happiness.

He would never be satisfied with good enough anymore, he realized, not when he knew what perfect was, and he let his hand fall back to his side with a sigh, wondering when he would next hear from his wife again.

"Master Witcher," Barnabas-Basil prompted, causing Geralt to look up in surprise, still lost in his thoughts. "A letter arrived while you were out."

"From who?" Geralt asked, glancing down to the folded piece of parchment in the majordomo's hand.

Barnabas-Basil only shrugged. "No idea, Sir," he said. "It was left under the door. I didn't see the messenger, so I'd have to guess it was left that way intentionally."

Geralt faltered at the answer, but took the mysterious letter, noting the lack of a wax seal or any other distinguishing features; the only things he could observe from a cursory glance were some streaks of dirt and a faint smell of nature and explosive powder. Unfolding the letter, he skimmed the writing, noting the hastily-scribbled yet strangely elegant text, a juxtaposition he recognized as coming from one more familiar with writing in an Elder tongue.

Witcher, I heard tell through a mutual acquaintance of your recent retirement from the Path. I find this hard to believe, although I also hear you've purchased real estate in Toussaint, which makes it slightly more credible. I've half a mind to pay a visit to your home, to see for myself if the rumours might be true. I will not say when my arrival might be, in case this letter is intercepted before it reaches you. - Iorveth

Geralt snorted at the curtly-worded letter, folding it up and stashing it in his belt-pouch, before nodding his thanks to Barnabas-Basil and starting instead for the master bedroom, eager to change out of his armour. It had been years since he had last seen Iorveth, and after Eskel's news about Saskia, he had feared the elf might be dead – though he supposed it was just like the guerrilla leader to disappear without warning, only to show up years later on his own terms. He could not say he missed Iorveth so much, but any allied face from before his retirement was welcome these days, and he huffed as the bedroom door closed behind him, starting to strip out of his leather and mail to trade in for the more comfortable accoutrements of home.

With his armour laid out across the clothing-chest, Geralt sat down on the edge of the master bed, letting his long legs stretch out in front of him as he took some time to appreciate the quiet of home. He had only gone into town for a few hours that day, but it still felt like far too long; he preferred the solitude of Corvo Bianco, with his only companions those he could count on – the sight of the kestrel in the mirabelle tree, the smell of the flowers blooming in the gardens, the sound of Barnabas-Basil's soft footfalls as he moved through the house, making sure all was well. This room in particular made him feel the most at home, the way it smelled like lilac and gooseberries, mixed with the scent of leather and lavender, and he paused, before allowing himself a small grin as he realized this was the smell he had come to associate with happiness.

This was the smell of home, of everything he was fighting so hard to protect, and letting out a soft sigh, he glanced over to the xenovox on the bedside table, reaching out to pick it up and bringing it to his lips. If Yennefer was too busy to talk now, she could ignore him, and he would understand, but he could not go another minute without at least trying to get in contact with her again. "Yen?" he asked, quietly. "You there?"

The xenovox hissed, giving him hope for a moment, before it quickly returned to silence again. Then, an instant later, it fizzled to life again, before letting out a faint, reedy hum. "I'm here," Yennefer answered, her voice taking a moment to settle among the magical interference. "We're taking a bit of a rest at the moment… I wasn't sure when would be a good time to contact you. I didn't want to risk distracting you before you'd had a chance to complete your second task." She paused as she said this, seeming a bit flustered, before she took a small breath, letting it out in a relieved exhale. "It's good to hear your voice again," she added. "I was starting to miss it. It's been at least a few days."

"Missed yours, too," Geralt answered, feeling a smile cross his face at the admission. "Figured you were probably busy. Good to know everything's still okay."

Yennefer let out a tired sigh. "As good as it can be," she admitted, sounding notably more stressed this time. "We're still searching for someplace more permanent to stay, but it's been getting rather more difficult to navigate our situation. We tried to invest in disguises, to keep us from being recognized, but…" She paused again, as if unsure how to continue, before letting out another weary huff. "Well," she said. "You've no idea how difficult it is to disguise a six-and-a-half-month belly until you've actually tried."

"Shani's six and a half months already?" Geralt asked, unsure why that surprised him so much. He supposed he had spent so long counting by days that two whole weeks had managed to slip by without him even noticing.

"She is," Yennefer agreed, her tone making it clear she was just as troubled by this as he was. "We've had to take some risks, with that in mind. We didn't want to be in a strange place with no access to medical facilities in case some emergency befell her… Melitele forbid." She paused, seeming to consider this for a moment, before she let out another huff, pushing the thought from her mind. "We've been hiding out closer to major cities lately," she added, sounding a bit more flustered this time. "We figure it should give us better access to the herbs and medications required for her nausea and other pregnancy ails. Thankfully, with Eskel around, we've not had to worry about that so much—a witcher can easily go into town for potion ingredients without raising too many questions, unlike a bard."

"Eskel's been working well for you?" Geralt asked, glad to hear it.

Yennefer let out another breath, this one sounding much more relieved than the last. "More than I can say," she answered. "Eskel's been helping out immensely – though I suspect he might have something of a personal stake in the matter. Regardless, I have to commend you for your insight to send him along to join us." Geralt faltered, unsure what Yennefer could be talking about regarding Eskel's stake in their affairs, but he did not have time to figure it out before he heard her take another breath, preparing to continue. "We've felt the baby kick quite a few times in the last few days," she added, causing him to raise his brows. "Almost as if he knows something's happening… though at six and a half months, it's no surprise he's a bit more active. It's a blessing in itself that Shani's a doctor—the rest of us don't have to worry so much about what's going on with the baby's development."

"Thank Melitele for Shani," Geralt answered, nodding along distractedly to the news. He paused, taking a moment to think about everything Yennefer had told him, realizing he had no idea what kind of demands such a huge undertaking would entail – Yennefer was no stranger to being on the run, to making do with next to nothing with enviable ability, but she had always been alone during those times before, or with Ciri, never an entire party depending on her for their survival. Shani and Eskel were also survivors, but this was uncharted territory for Shani as well, and he could never remember a single story Eskel had ever told him about a bodyguarding job as high-stakes as this.

"When can I expect you back?" Geralt asked, trying to push the thought of how much stress they all must be under from his mind. "Been too long. Hate to wait 'til the baby's actually born to see you again."

Yennefer was quiet for a moment, before she finally let out a soft hum, still clearly thinking about it. "I doubt it will be that long," she answered. "With the addition of Eskel, our party's become a bit of a circus. Once we find a more permanent place for Shani to hide out, I'll see if I can't return to help with whatever I can." She paused, the thought of a more permanent hiding place still clearly weighing on her mind, before she finally let out a soft huff, realizing there was no point dwelling on what she could not control. "Have you… finished your second task yet?" she asked, trying to move the conversation back on track.

Geralt nodded, though he knew she could not see him through the xenovox. "Yeah," he said. "Finished it a couple days ago."

"I see," Yennefer answered, solemnly. "And… did Lambert put up much of a fight?"

"Didn't have to kill him," Geralt answered. "Figured out a way around it. Technicality in the wording."

Yennefer sighed gratefully at the news, though Geralt could still sense some tension from her end. "I suppose I should be relieved," she admitted. "Though I can't help worrying that might not have sat well with your demon."

"Definitely wasn't pleased," Geralt answered, truthfully. "Couldn't argue, though. Finished the task per his wording."

"So that means you've been given the third task now?" Yennefer asked, clearly trying to still sound supportive.

Geralt grunted. "Guess you could say that," he answered.

Yennefer faltered, unsure how to respond. "Well, don't keep me waiting, Geralt," she told him after a moment. "What is it? Perhaps, if it's not too difficult—"

"Wants me to finish Ithlinne's prophecy," Geralt said, cutting her off before she could finish.

Yennefer paused, taking another moment to process. "The one about the world ending in frost?" she finally asked.

"Mm," Geralt agreed. "White Frost was half of it. Covered that during the Winter War. Other half's—"

"The part about sowing a seed, and bursting into flame?" Yennefer asked, her tone notably stiffer.

Geralt took another moment before answering. "Yeah," he finally said. "Part the elves took to mean—"

"That they should kidnap and rape Ciri, and attempt to force her to bear a child," Yennefer cut over him, too familiar with the details. "To bring a navigator into the world as powerful as herself, to open doors between realms for them." She took a deep breath as she finished, her solemn silence painting a vivid picture of her in his mind: her lips thinned, violet eyes sharp as icicles, posture rigid as she tried her best to retain her composure. "How exactly does he intend for you to fulfil that?" she asked after a moment, her voice clearly tempered.

"Prophecy never said it had to be an elf who had a kid with her," Geralt answered, feeling his stomach turn at the words. Yennefer said nothing, only listening in silence, but Geralt could almost feel the temperature of the room dropping, knowing she was waiting for him to continue. "O'Dimm changed the meaning, anyway," he added, knowing there was no way to make it sound better. "Said I didn't have to get her pregnant, just… had to… sleep with her. To completion."

Yennefer was quiet for a long moment, and Geralt clenched his jaw, waiting for her to break the silence. Then, finally, she took a deep breath, the sound nearly deafening compared to the quiet of before. "Choose your next words carefully, Geralt," she warned him, her voice low, as dangerous as he had ever heard it. "If you intend to tell me that your plan to fulfil your next task is to sleep with Ciri, I won't stay. I will leave. I won't be with a man who could do such a despicable thing to his own daughter. To my daughter."

Geralt frowned. "Still don't believe I'm better than that?" he asked, quietly.

Yennefer let out a huff, a bit softer than before. "I do believe it," she told him, her voice still stiff, though her words seemed reassuring. "You've done everything to prove it so. What I don't believe is that O'Dimm wouldn't force you to do something unspeakable in an effort to push you to your limit." She paused another moment, as if considering how far both of them had been pushed already, before she let out another long sigh, sounding much more tired than before. "I'm just not sure where that limit lies anymore," she admitted, the ice in her voice having all but melted. "There's so much at stake now, with the child's arrival so close. Where is the line anymore?"

"Line comes before sleeping with Ciri," Geralt answered.

Yennefer hummed in appreciation, still sounding on edge. "I hate that I have to be relieved to hear you say that," she admitted. Then, pausing another moment, she asked, "He said it has to be Ciri?"

"Cirilla Fiona, empress of Nilfgaard, noble of Cintra," Geralt confirmed.

Yennefer huffed again. "No way of skirting around that wording, I suppose," she admitted. "Though perhaps if you were to employ a doppler—"

"Thought about it," Geralt agreed, cutting her short. "Don't think he'd accept it. Claim it's not actually Ciri, doesn't hold any of those titles." He paused at the thought, before making a face. "Besides, only doppler I know is Dudu," he added.

"No need to explain," Yennefer answered, quickly. "I wouldn't be able to fuck Dudu, either." She paused, falling silent again, and again Geralt could just imagine her expression; the softness of her eyes as they searched the floor, dark lashes lowered, sucking her lip as she tried to think of a solution to an impossible task. "I'm not sure what other solutions exist," she said after a moment, sounding discouraged to admit it. "Whatever you have to do to complete this… I don't know that I want to be told about it. Just promise me that whatever you do, you won't hurt Ciri."

"Promise," Geralt answered. "Don't intend for Ciri to ever even know this task existed."

Yennefer let out a long sigh, still seeming troubled. "Good," she said, softly. "I believe you. And… Geralt?"

"Hm?" Geralt asked.

Yennefer paused again, before taking another deep breath. "Whatever you do… know that I love you," she told him. "For this, and everything else you've done for Shani and her baby."

Geralt smiled at her reassurance, though he could not help feeling there was something bittersweet in the finality of it. "Love you too, Yen," he told her, quietly, bringing the xenovox to his lips to kiss it.

---

The sun rose early through the window of the master bedroom, bringing with it a soft new day, and Geralt groaned as he rose out of bed, stretching his weary back before getting up to start his morning. Sleep had been uneventful, which he was grateful for, given his last nightmare with Renfri, and he yawned as he started to pull on his boots, getting dressed before heading into the house to look for something to do.

Without any leads on how to approach his third task, he now found his days full of waiting instead, anxious waiting, as if hoping a solution might fall into his lap if he were just patient enough to let it. He knew it was illogical, hoping like this, and that he was really only wasting time with his inaction, but the thought of any viable approach to the third task left him frozen, unable to proceed. There was a targeted malevolence to this task, he realized, one he had not quite felt with any of the others, as if O'Dimm knew exactly where to press to hurt him most, and had simply been savouring the build-up. Even so, he knew he could not waste another week or more waiting for a solution to miraculously appear to him, and he let out a low, frustrated huff, staring at the curved Koviri blade displayed at the top of his front-room plaque.

"Master Witcher," Barnabas-Basil prompted him, lifting a hand to get the witcher's attention. Geralt turned, looking up attentively, finding it hard to believe another letter could have come so soon after the first, but the majordomo only cleared his throat, indicating in the direction of the long hall leading towards Yennefer's study. "You have a visitor waiting in the library," he said, sounding a bit wary, as if not quite sure how to feel about their guest. "I informed them you were still asleep, but they opted to wait for you there, regardless."

Geralt frowned, curious. "Tall elven man?" he asked. "Neck tattoo, cloth eyepatch?"

"Not at all, Sir," Barnabas-Basil answered, sounding a bit taken aback by the imagery. "Were you expecting someone fitting that description?"

"Eventually," Geralt said. "Not for a while. If it's that girl again, send her away. Got nothing to say to her."

"It's not the girl, either, Sir," Barnabas-Basil assured him, sounding just as relieved as he was. "It's that charming older gentleman from before. The surgeon-barber, I believe Lady Yennefer said he was."

Geralt faltered, knowing instantly who Barnabas-Basil was referring to, and he nodded his thanks to the majordomo before starting down the hall for the library. The library was quiet as he approached, with only a soft tittering seeping through the double-doors, and he quickly pushed the doors open to let himself inside, eager to see his guest.

Regis looked up as Geralt arrived, his dark eyes soft, ringed with their usual tired circles, but he offered a smile at the sight of his friend, closing the book he had been reading and setting it face-down in his lap. "Geralt," he greeted him. "I'm glad to see you're awake. I didn't want to disturb you, but I wasn't sure how much longer I should expect to wait."

"Regis," Geralt answered, still a bit surprised. "Didn't realize you'd be back so soon."

Regis gave a soft chuckle at his honestly, reaching up a finger to pet the head of the kestrel perched on his shoulder. "It's been at least a few weeks since I left," he acknowledged, raising a bushy brow. "How long did you expect me to take?" He paused, giving Geralt time to consider, before he finally gave a soft shrug, setting his book aside on the nearby table. "Regardless," he said, sparing his friend the uncertainty of having to guess. "I've returned with a bit of news, though I admit it's less than I might've hoped."

Geralt frowned, settling down in the chair across from Regis. "Talked to Orianna?" he asked.

Regis nodded, scratching under the kestrel's chin. "To Orianna and a few others," he answered. "Who they are isn't as important. What is important is that I've learned a bit more about… well. Not demons, per se, but perhaps something else you might find interesting." He stopped, taking a moment to observe the witcher sitting across from him, before he pulled his hands back into his lap, folding them across his stomach and raising his brows. The kestrel gave a soft trill as Regis' hand was pulled away, but it quickly settled back down again, bundling itself into a fat black ball against the side of his neck.

"Before I get into my own long-winded tales, how did your pursuit of Eskel go?" Regis asked, tilting his head. "Did he give you the information required to complete your second task?"

"Found Eskel," Geralt answered, nodding. "Helped me take down a vendigo while we were in Kaedwen. Told me where to find Lambert afterward, so I sent him up to help Yen and the others in Kovir."

"A vendigo?" Regis asked, his sleepy eyes growing wide. "That's something you don't see every day. So you sent Eskel off, and then what happened?"

"Went to find Lambert," Geralt said, settling down more comfortably in his chair. "Helped me figure out the second task. Didn't have to kill him—just had him denounce the Path. Not really a witcher unless you're doing the job. Technicality saved his life."

Regis raised his brows again. "Brilliant," he observed. "If a bit risky. Upsetting a demon is never a good idea."

"Hm," Geralt agreed. "Figured that out the hard way."

"How so?" Regis asked, retrieving his hand again to fold it in his lap with the other.

Geralt frowned, taking a deep breath, not looking forward to having to explain again. "Gave me my third task when I got back," he answered. "Said I had to… sleep with Ciri. To completion."

Regis faltered, his grey brow furrowing, seeming entirely lost for what to say. "That is… certainly a task," he answered after a while, letting out a long breath and leaning back in his chair. "Your demon has stopped even pretending to pull punches, it seems. But there must be a solution. There always is." He paused, chewing his lip, his dark eyes searching the floor as he pondered. "Well… let's see," he said after a while, looking up to Geralt again, his brow still knitted. "How uncommon a name is Ciri? Perhaps you could turn on some of your old witcher charm. There have to be plenty of pretty young ladies named Ciri who would swoon at the thought of being wooed by a witcher."

"Not that many," Geralt answered, darkly. "And not the end of it. Original task was to complete Ithlinne's prophecy. Only backed off when he realized time would be an issue. Still said it had to be Cirilla Fiona, empress of Nilfgaard, noble of Cintra."

Regis let out a wary hum, lifting his finger to rest it pensively against his gaunt cheek. "Slightly more complicated, then," he agreed. "I see. Though perhaps still not impossible."

Geralt faltered. "How?" he asked, taken aback.

Regis paused again, before finally shrugging, letting his hand return to his lap. "I've no idea, Geralt," he said, honestly. "I'm only trying to be supportive. It's the least I can do, unfortunately."

Geralt let out a dark huff, realizing it was unfair to expect Regis to know any more than he did; the task had been built to be impossible, and hoping for an easy solution was a fool's errand. "What'd you find out from Orianna?" he asked, hoping to hear some good news for a change.

Regis took a deep breath, stretching out his long legs in front of him as he thought. "Well… the more I spoke to my acquaintances, the more we began to have… suspicions, of something," he admitted, frowning a bit. "We're not certain how accurate our suspicions are, of course—especially with this new task as an added variable—but… we all had a talk about it, and we agree that…" He paused, holding in another breath, before he finally let it out again, looking a bit bewildered. "Well," he said. "We're not sure these tasks are of any actual use to your demon, truth be told. That is to say, he's not doing them in an effort to benefit himself—rather, everything seems to point to him doing this solely in an effort to hinder you."

"Torture me, you mean," Geralt answered, darkly.

Regis tilted his head, seeming less convinced. "There is that, I suppose," he returned, tentatively. "Though we're not entirely sure that's his sole intent, either. Take into consideration these first two tasks—while they may have seemed insurmountable, they were never truly… malicious, if you understand my meaning."

Geralt grunted, furrowing his brow. "Seems pretty malicious to ask me to kill another Wolf School witcher," he countered.

Regis nodded along, still seeming unsure. "Agreed," he said. "If that was the path you'd chosen. Though the task also gave you the option of creating a new Wolf School witcher as well—which is, of course, something you do not possess the capability to do. But the option being there still makes me think it was meant as a viable alternative."

"So what're you saying?" Geralt asked. "He's just trying to distract me? Keep me busy while he does… what?"

Regis paused again, thinking it over a moment, before he finally shrugged. "That's where we're not sure," he admitted, honestly. "The only thing we could think would be to buy more time for those hunting Shani. But of course, that makes hardly any sense, either. Shani is of no threat to him—she's only human. A medic, yes, and a brilliant one at that, but just a human, in the grand scheme." He stopped, reaching up to pet the kestrel's head again, and the bird gave a soft trill as it leaned into his touch, enjoying the attention. "The only other thing we could think of would be that he might ask you to do something horrific that would benefit him directly for your third task," Regis added after another moment. "And given the mounting fear for Shani's wellbeing, it might force you to do that which you might otherwise never do. But now that you've been given the third task, and it's… that…"

He stopped again, thinking a while, before he finally made a face, trying to correlate one with the other. "Well… I'm not sure what to think anymore, quite honestly," he concluded, letting out a weary sigh. "My best guess has gone out the window, along with any logic I might've tied to his motivations to this point."

"Nothing that benefits him about me fucking Ciri," Geralt answered, the vile words numb on his tongue from repeating them.

Regis frowned, seeming to consider something, before he finally raised a finger, seeming to have come to a thought. "Well… and now, don't take this the wrong way, Geralt," he began, looking up at the witcher with a warding stare. "I'm in no favour of you actually doing anything of this sort, but… hear me out, for a moment. Ithlinne's prophecy—its intent was to create a navigator of unforeseen ability, correct? By mixing the blood of Lara Dorren with the blood of a powerful Aen Elle, it would create a child whose ability to open gates between worlds outshone even Ciri in its enormity."

"Right," Geralt answered, nodding in agreement. "Would create a powerful Source. But O'Dimm hates Sources. Been steadily killing them, far as I know. Feels threatened by their abilities."

"Perhaps," Regis answered, moving his sharpened finger to rest on his chin as he pondered. He paused, his dark eyes solemn, his bushy brows drawn as he stared intently at a spot on the floor, and Geralt could not keep his gaze from moving to the kestrel preening itself serenely on the vampire's shoulder. They were such unusual little birds, he thought, affectionate to a fault to everyone but him, and he frowned as he remembered how aggressive the kestrel in the stables had been, finding it hard to believe this was the same bird. "Remind me," Regis said after a moment, causing Geralt to look up, drawn back in. "Have you ever been transported to another realm by O'Dimm? Another… world, perhaps, outside of our own?"

"Only one," Geralt answered, a bit surprised to be asked. "Land of darkness and shadow. Took me there when I challenged him for Von Everec's soul."

"Interesting," Regis commented, leaning back in his chair. "And he seemed able to move freely between our realm and his?"

Geralt paused again, before nodding. "Just the one," he said. "Don't think he can travel to any other realm unless summoned. Think he could only travel back and forth from his own realm because he had unfinished business here."

Regis nodded again, his greyish lips pursing, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. "And he was the only one to come through from that realm?" he asked, steepling his hands across his chest.

Geralt shook his head. "No," he said. "Brought other demons, too. Cat, dog… caretaker. Whatever Von Everec asked for. Had to bring them through one at a time, though, pretty sure."

"So he can travel to our realm when summoned, and between his world and ours while he still has unfinished business," Regis concluded, thoughtfully. "But he can only bring one thing at a time with him in either direction."

"Seems that way," Geralt agreed.

Regis frowned, his expression twisting. "Doesn't that seem awfully inconvenient?" he asked.

Geralt shrugged, folding his hands over his stomach. "Never really thought about it," he admitted. "Don't spend my free time thinking about O'Dimm." He paused, taking a moment to consider what Regis was insinuating, before he thinned his lips with a low hum, staring at a spot on the floor as he turned it over. "So you think O'Dimm's trying to get me to make a navigator for him?" he concluded, looking up again with a frown. "Seems like a huge stretch, hate to say. Even if Ciri did have a kid, no way she'd let it fall into his hands. Not to mention how long it'd take. Laying the groundwork for something that'd take… years."

"For you, perhaps," Regis agreed, tilting his greying head in acknowledgement. "But from what you've told me, he seems to exist at all points in time simultaneously. Sowing the seed of his plan now, as it were, would mean years of waiting for you – but not for him. He could simply skip forward in time and collect on his prize, fully formed."

Geralt made a face at the thought. "Wish people'd stop calling it a seed," he said.

Regis ignored this remark, lifting a finger again to press it to his lips in thought. "There is… one other thing that still troubles me," he admitted, speaking slowly, as if not quite sure how to word it.

"Just one?" Geralt asked.

Regis nodded, seeming undeterred by the question. "For the time being, yes," he agreed. "The vampire you fought – the mula. I can't for the life of me figure out how it got here. In order for more vampires to come through to this world, the gate to our own world would need to be opened. But as far as I, or any of my connections know, it still remains closed." He paused, his stern brow furrowing, his thin lips pursing into a troubled line at the implication. "The gate is a powerful intersection, guarded by an even more powerful vampire," he explained, gravely. "There's no way any mere adventurer could've snuck in undetected to meddle with it."

"What about O'Dimm?" Geralt asked.

Regis let out a long breath, his expression still drawn. "I thought about that," he admitted. "And while I don't doubt he could've gotten past the Unseen Elder to enter the intersection… you said yourself he is unable to open gates of his own volition. And besides, what would be the point of doing so? To bring through one vampire? That seems like a monumental effort for… absolutely no payoff." He paused again, allowing his hand to return to the other, steepling again in deep thought. "If he wanted you doing these tasks for him, it would serve no purpose to have you dead," he pondered. "And even if he did want you dead, there are much less convoluted ways to go about it. It's utterly illogical."

"O'Dimm's logic doesn't always make sense," Geralt answered, though he had to admit Regis had a point. "What about a mage? Possible someone could've portalled in, gotten access that way?"

Regis made another face at the thought, his greyish mouth twisting to one side as he considered. "I suppose so," he said after a moment. "Though they'd have to be a powerful mage, or someone with highly specialized training. Likely both. No off-the-cuff court sorcerer would have the skill to sneak in past the Unseen Elder." He paused again, taking another deep breath, his dark eyes searching the shelves behind Geralt, as if looking for a particular book. "Someone like Yennefer, perhaps," he added after a moment, causing Geralt to look up, surprised by the observation. "With her education in magic and specialization in portals, she might be able to do it. But whoever it was would have to be reckless, even foolish, to try. The Elder does not take well to uninvited visitors."

"Keep mentioning the Unseen Elder," Geralt observed, his brow furrowing at the name.

At this, Regis looked up quickly, his expression clearing, as if surprised Geralt would ask. "Yes," he said after a moment. "He's a very old and very vicious higher vampire. He's the one who guards the gate to our world, and has for as long as I can remember. I may be over four hundred years old, but he existed long before I was ever born."

Geralt hummed at the thought. "Triss mentioned the fabric of reality seemed weaker since the Winter War," he noted. "Said the Lodge thought it might even mean another Conjunction, worst case scenario. Any chance the gate to your world could also be weakening? Might've let something slip through?"

Regis raised his brows at the question, allowing a small, bewildered titter to escape his lips. "I doubt anything could have slipped through—that's not how gates work," he answered, frankly. "However, if some mage were to find his way in and meddle with an already weakened gate…" He paused, his expression turning slowly solemn, before he thinned his lips, folding his hands across his chest once more. "Well," he said. "The thought is not a pleasant one, but… I suppose there's only one way to find out." He stopped, his dark eyes lowering, before he took a deep breath, seeming unsure whether to continue his train of thought. "How much do you know about the Conjunction of the Spheres, Geralt?" he finally asked, looking up again.

"Only what I learned at Kaer Morhen," Geralt admitted.

Regis nodded. "And of the Spiral?" he asked.

Geralt paused to think, before shrugging. "A lot less," he admitted. "Multiverse theory and philosophy were never my strong suits."

"I see," Regis answered, nodding slowly. "Well, then… how would you feel about going on a perilous trip? I must warn you – it's one you may not survive. I wouldn't be offended if you said no."

Geralt faltered, taken aback by the sudden turn, but found he could not keep his curiosity from piquing. "Not ideal," he answered, honestly. "But nothing new, either. Never steered me wrong before, Regis."

Regis chuckled, though Geralt could hear something wary in the sound, as if he were still unsure he was making the right choice in asking so much of his friend. "Your vote of confidence is appreciated," Regis said, starting to get up from his chair at last. "Meet me tonight at the dock by the Cockatrice Inn, then, under the willow tree. I've a few things to prepare before we go, but the sooner we can get this done, the more chance we have of understanding what all we've gotten ourselves into."

The kestrel on his shoulder peeped in protest as Regis stood, hanging on with its sharp little claws, but the vampire held up a hand to steady the bird, making sure it stayed secure as he moved towards the door. The kestrel trilled as they walked, looking over with its sharp yellow eyes at the witcher once more, before both man and bird disappeared from the room, leaving Geralt to ponder what lay ahead for the evening.

---

A watchful, red-eyed crow peered down at Geralt from the branches of the willow tree, its inky outline a daunting stain against the brittle white of the willow bark. The crow had been sitting in the tree since before his arrival, and now seemed intent on not letting him out of its sight, and Geralt frowned as he stared back up at the bird, wondering if these vampiric familiars spoke the way Yennefer's kestrels did. He remembered Regis mentioning that vampires had long ago learned the language of crows to use them as spies, but Geralt had only ever known corvids like these to pick up and repeat a few words, nothing more. Perhaps that was why he never quite seemed to get along with birds, mundane or magical, he thought – he had no interest in learning their language, and even less in them learning his.

Letting out a grunt, he leaned against the tree again, crossing his arms as he waited for Regis to arrive, before looking up into the night sky, wondering how Yennefer and the others were faring tonight. The sky was already dark by now, with the first glistening stars peering out through the cloud cover, but he did not have much longer to contemplate before he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching across the lea. Looking out towards the sound, he watched as Regis approached the last few steps to meet him, a few last wispy tendrils of greyish smoke still curling from his shoulders as he came to stand beneath the tree with the witcher.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" Regis observed, glancing up at the crow in the tree as well. The crow cawed as it met eyes with the vampire, before it finally turned to leave, flapping off into the gathering night. Regis hummed, turning his attention back to Geralt, before his expression grew suddenly solemn, as if something were weighing on his mind. "I feel it is my duty to warn you," he told him, his voice sounding grim, almost hesitant to speak. "To meet the Unseen Elder is to face mortal danger. You are a friend, a dear friend. I'd rather you not risk your neck unnecessarily. What we learn here… it may help us, or it may not. We may be going into the clutches of sure demise for nothing."

"Better to take risks to learn the truth than risk nothing and learn nothing," Geralt answered, bluntly.

Regis paused, before nodding, seeming unable to find a reason to counter his argument. "Very well, then," he said, indicating with a wave of his hand toward the nearby dock. "The place we're going is across the water. It's difficult to find, so very few have done it. Thankfully, Oriana told me how to get there, and gave me the key, so we likely won't have the same trouble."

"Didn't take Oriana for the helpful sort," Geralt admitted, glancing over to the dock as well.

Regis shrugged. "Ordinarily, I would agree," he answered, his hand moving to curl around his bandolier strap. "But we've been on rather better terms of late. I suspect she's still rather soft on you for sparing Dettlaff's life."

Geralt grunted, pushing himself up from the tree. "Don't tell her I'm married," he said. "Need all the help we can get."

Regis chuckled, starting to follow the witcher as they made their way down to the dock, until he finally came to stand in front of a small dinghy bobbing idly in the current. "I'm not normally one for nautical travel," he admitted, stepping one foot cautiously into the boat. "But alas, as you've not yet mastered smoke travel, it appears we must make do. I doubt your portal skills are much better, knowing your delicate constitution."

Geralt hummed. "Not the one who's scared of boats," he said, stepping down into the dinghy with one sure motion. "Four hundred and fifty years to get your sea legs, and still complaining. Don't think I'm the delicate one here."

Regis laughed good-naturedly at the jab, before finally getting into the boat, moving to take his seat at the bow. Then, taking a deep breath, he lifted his head, feeling the cool breeze on his face as Geralt pushed them off from the dock. "Anything you can tell me about this Unseen Elder?" Geralt asked, gripping the tiller as the sail began to pick up wind.

Regis opened his eyes again, his greying brow furrowing. "Only that he takes unkindly to guests," he answered. "Especially the unannounced."

"Great," Geralt said, sarcastically. "Assume you've got a plan, then? Some idea how to appease him?"

Regis nodded, seeming confident. "Yes," he said. "The custom when meeting an Elder is to bestow upon him a stone symbolizing peace. This type of stone occurs only in Haakland, and is very rare."

"Assume you've got one," Geralt answered.

Again, Regis nodded. "I would be a fool not to," he agreed. "Though alas, it may still not be enough. Even with the offering, we may have to rely on my personal charm to attain the answers we seek."

Geralt hummed, but said nothing, knowing Regis was joking, though he might as well not have been – Regis' special talent was his exceptional empathy, something most vampires took for granted, but Geralt had seen Regis diffuse even the most impossible of situations with little more than a soft voice and a few gentle words. He had no idea how well this talent would hold up against other vampires, of course, having only ever seen it used on mortals, but still he had to believe Regis knew what he was doing, and would make the right call, should it come down to it.

Pointing ahead of the boat then, Regis indicated towards a soaring chasm of rocks in the near distance, and Geralt looked up at the gesture, furrowing his brow at the enormity of the approaching island. "It's just ahead," Regis said, gripping the side of the boat as it bounced along a wave. "A fortunate thing, too. I'm not sure how much longer I'd be able to withstand your coxswaining."

"Never had anyone complain about my coxswaining before," Geralt answered, trying to hold back a grin.

Regis turned, looking back across the boat at him, but he did not have a chance to respond before the boat stopped short, its angular nose bumping against the wooden posts that marked the tie-off for the landmass he had indicated. The dock, whatever was left of it, was barely more than a few crooked beams jutting out of the water, the rest of the structure having long since rotted from disuse and disrepair. Regis sighed as Geralt straightened the boat, before the witcher jumped out into the shallows to secure it, only to watch as his vampire companion disappeared from the bow, only to reappear on the shore an instant later, dry and unruffled. Geralt grunted, slogging his heavy boots across the lake floor and up onto the beach, before wringing what he could from his armour, realizing it was a lost cause to try and dry off before heading in.

"I doubt the Unseen Elder will take offense if you're a bit damp," Regis told him, glancing down at his soaked clothes.

Geralt hummed, looking down to his dripping trousers. "One way to put it," he said.

Regis nodded in agreement, before turning to start up the path towards the cliffs, hardly checking to see if Geralt was following behind, and Geralt let out a frustrated huff as he followed along, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sloshing in his boots. "I asked you before if you were familiar with the concept of the Conjunction of the Spheres," Regis said, talking as they went. "As you may already know, the Conjunction was an interdimensional cataclysm, one that struck some fifteen hundred years ago. Before that, this world was inhabited solely by nonhuman races—elves, dwarves, and others, likely long extinct. These nonhuman races were the ones to build the first magnificent cities, give birth to high culture, and made the first steps toward enlightenment. After the cataclysm, however… all of that changed."

"Humans came in and ruined everything," Geralt guessed, dryly.

Regis nodded, seeming less lighthearted. "You'd be correct," he said, honestly. "In a way. The Conjunction of the Spheres introduced not only humans to this world, but potent magic, along with all manner of monsters and other… nonhuman beings."

"Like vampires," Geralt provided.

"Exactly," Regis agreed with a nod. "But that was only the beginning. For you see, the Spheres are part of a larger system, comprised of a multitude of worlds—or, more succinctly, a Multiverse. And every world, or Sphere, in this Multiverse is linked in a cosmic astrolabe called the Spiral. Whenever another Sphere passes close to this world, our world, it causes the fabric of that particular gate to grow thin – the gates being the places where collision first occurred during the Conjunction, where each type of monster or being first came through to this world. However, no gates should ever be fully open unless another catastrophic event like the Conjunction were to occur… barring intervention from a powerful navigator, of course, though those with that level of power are nearly nonexistent."

"Ciri has that level of power," Geralt put in.

Regis nodded again. "Precisely," he said.

Geralt frowned at the thought. "Fascinating stuff," he acknowledged. "No clue how any of it relates to O'Dimm, though."

Regis let out a sigh, finally coming to a stop in front of a rough stone wall at the back of an outcropping, before he pulled his sling-pouch around, starting to search inside for something. "I admit, that's as far as I've gotten," he confessed, pulling out what looked like a flat, rectangular stone from his bag. Then, holding up the stone to the wall, he paused, allowing it a moment to attune, before the stone began to glow a vibrant yellow in his hand, giving off a tone like the hollow ringing of a crystal wine glass. Another moment later, the stone wall began to shudder, and then groan, before it gave off a loud grinding noise, and as Geralt watched, a stone door began to slowly lift from the rock wall, revealing a long, dark passage beyond.

Tucking the key back into his bag, Regis turned to look at Geralt again with a satisfied huff. "It worked," he said, sounding pleased. "And a good thing, too. I'd be hard pressed to seep through this gate as a puff of fog."

"What's inside?" Geralt asked, stepping to the cave opening and peering down the dark stairwell. "Know what to expect?"

Regis pursed his lips in thought. "Hm," he mused, taking his bandolier strap again. "Vampires?"

"Funny," Geralt answered, deadpan.

Regis only smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "You mustn't blame me for trying to lift the mood," he confessed, indicating down the stone steps into the cave. "We, neither of us, knows what may lie ahead. One can only laugh while his heart still circulates."

Geralt made a face, but said nothing, instead only nodding for Regis to go ahead, before he started down the long stone steps after the vampire, following behind him as they made their way into the cave. After only a few moments of walking, he could hear the stone door grinding to a close behind them, but he kept his focus on the path ahead, not allowing himself to think they might be trapped down here for good. Regis knew what he was doing, and he trusted Regis to get them out of there alive, but he could still not help noticing how quiet the cavern had become with the door now shut, sealing the silence in. The only sounds he could hear were the shuffling of pebbles beneath their boots as they walked, and from somewhere deeper, the sound of dripping water, wearing down the sediment from years of toil. Not a single living sound interrupted the stillness of the cave, the unnatural quiet; not one stray squeak, not one soft scuffle of legs from a retreating insect.

"We must be close," Regis noted, causing Geralt to look up, furrowing his brow.

"How can you tell?" he asked.

Regis turned, indicating the cave at large. "Listen," he prompted.

Geralt frowned, confused, but lifted his head regardless, checking to see if there was something he had missed. "Don't hear a thing," he admitted after a while. "Not one rat, one bat… dead quiet."

"As I said, he despises guests," Regis agreed, letting out a wary breath at the thought. "Even those without language know enough to steer clear of this place."

Geralt hummed, trying not to think how reckless one would have to be to go where even vermin refused, but he said nothing about it, only allowing Regis to take the lead once more. A pool of standing water sat waiting at the bottom of the stairs as they approached it, and he made a face at the thought of how long it had been collecting, drip by drip. He could almost see his reflection mirrored back at him in the face of the stagnant pool, but he quickly interrupted it with a tramp of his boots, following Regis as he continued towards the Elder's abode. Despite the dreariness of the caves, he could not help noticing that there were fixtures down here, past the stairs, hanging lanterns flickering with firelight and full-bellied braziers throwing long, eerie shadows across the walls. There were other stairs here, as well – stairs leading to other long hallways, dark and cold with neglect, and he found his mind distracted with the thought of where they might lead, nearly running into Regis as the vampire suddenly stopped short in front of him.

Regis paused, his thin lips drawing, before he finally looked up, staring at something on the ceiling. Geralt frowned, before following his line of sight, staring up as well to see what he was looking at.

Had he not known what they were looking for, Geralt might have mistaken the figure on the ceiling for a large, pale cocoon; as it was, he appeared as a nearly-shapeless smudge, almost imperceptible against the rocks of his home. The witcher had never seen a vampire like this before, having grown so used to Regis and his like, and he made a face as he stared at the Elder, at the pockmarked and skeletal frame, at the rigid shoulders making an unnerving triangle down to his emaciated waist. He wondered if the Elder was still asleep, having not been expecting visitors, until he heard the creature rattle in a long, wheezing breath, the sound so unearthly it gave him unwilling chills.

"Nac… thi… sel me thaur?" the Elder spoke, each word sounding like a death rattle.

Geralt faltered, before turning to Regis again. "What'd he say?" he whispered, not wanting the Elder to hear.

Regis made a face, seeming nervous to answer. "It's our language, Geralt," he said after a moment, just as quietly. "He asked why we've disturbed him from his rest. His—tomb. The exact phrase doesn't translate." Reaching into his satchel then, he pulled out a large, crystalline stone, shaped almost like a human heart, before holding it out in one hand towards the Elder, causing it to glint salmon in the low light of the cave. "Spureni veres nac atranes," Regis said, bowing his head and turning his eyes to the floor. There was a waver as he spoke this time, Geralt noticed, as if his reverence was masking a much more powerful fear. "Avile cleva Regis, etu—"

Regis paused, turning to glance over at Geralt, before indicating with a motion of his head for him to follow suit. Geralt faltered, still unsure what was being said, but did as he was told, bowing his head and lowering his posture to one knee. "—Mi lautni, Geralt of Rivia," Regis continued, turning his eyes to the floor again. "We've come to consult your wisdom, Elder One. We fear… someone may have interfered with the fabric between worlds. We wish to ask of your knowledge, so that we may try to resolve this. If we can."

The creature on the ceiling was silent for a long time, as if considering whether or not to take the gift. Then, faster than their eyes could follow, the stone was gone, snatched from Regis' hand by a chill wind passing them by. The Elder gave a low growl as he appeared again atop a nearby outcropping, turned the unusual offering over in his hands, before he looked up to stare across the cavern at the two of them, watching as they lifted their heads to look up at him at last. He looked like a corpse, Geralt thought – desiccated, starved, pockmarked and bloody from ritualistic scarring, his yellow eyes glowing out of his sunken face as he took the witcher in like a man contemplating a gnat. The Elder's long claws clicked eerily together as he pawed at the stone, before he lifted his bulbous head, his sharp teeth raking his shrivelled lip as he sucked in a breath to speak.

"What answers do you seek?" he asked, his voice slow and guttural, like a corpse being dragged across gravel.

Regis took a sharp breath, before he straightened again, looking up to address the elder vampire. "We've seen… creatures," he said, reaching up to grip his bandolier strap in an anxious motion. "Creatures which do not belong here. Ones we believe may have come through from the world of vampires."

The Unseen Elder snarled, his lip peeling back to show his blackened gums and razor teeth. "Creatures?" he asked, the word more growl than language. "What… creatures have you seen?"

Regis wet his lips, seeming nervous to answer. "A mula," he finally said, trying hard to sound confident. "We believe someone may have brought it through to this world. May have… meddled with the gate. To what end, we're still not sure."

The Unseen Elder said nothing, only stared intently at Regis as he spoke, before he turned his gaze across to Geralt instead, as if trying to decide whether the witcher might be to blame. "I guard this gate," he finally answered, the words as slow and steady as his other responses. "The gate between this world and ours. The gate… remains closed. For now. But it shall open again… one day. In a hundred years. Two hundred. Three hundred. Perhaps sooner. Perhaps… very soon."

Geralt frowned at the answer, glancing over to Regis, before looking back up to the Elder again. "What makes you say that?" he asked. "Did something happen?"

The Elder took a deep breath, his piercing gaze sliding over to rest on the witcher again. "There has been… a shift," he said after a while, his words slow, taking his time to answer. "A change in the energies. It comes and goes… but it is there. Always there, of late."

"What does that mean, a shift?" Geralt insisted, starting to get annoyed with the Elder's roundabout responses. "What kind of change? What energies? Something happening with the gate we don't know about?"

"Careful, Geralt," Regis warned, speaking under his breath, and Geralt could clearly hear the fear in his lowered voice. "The Elder is granting us great clemency by speaking with us at all. We mustn't do anything to rile him." He stopped, turning his dark gaze up to the Elder again, as if to weigh his reaction, but the Elder did not seem to have heard him at all, only staring fixedly at Geralt like a cat sizing up a bug. "We don't want him to retract his assertion of goodwill," Regis added, softly. "This is more than I think I've heard him speak in millennia."

"Wish he'd say something useful," Geralt noted, but he did as he was told, closing his mouth and waiting for the Elder to speak.

The Elder was silent for a while, his glowing eyes wide as orens in his rotting face, before he finally let out a low hum, the sound reminding Geralt of chanting he had once heard coming from deep in a wood. He had attributed the sound to druids then, but he supposed it could have been anything now, and he felt himself shiver as the guttural bass travelled up his spine, causing him to clench his teeth. "The fabric… the veil between realms… has been growing weaker," the Elder finally answered, the words strained, stretching them out as he spoke. "As if… something is a work. Pulling… tearing. Soon, the fabric will be… much thinner. Too thin. There was… a moment…" He stopped, the words trailing off, before he lifted his head, staring at a spot on the ceiling, and Geralt turned to see what he was looking at, only to be met with more darkness.

The Elder opened his mouth, letting it hang for a moment, as if struggling to breathe, before he finally let out a long, vile breath, the sound almost like air whistling through a cavern opening. "A moment…" he said, still speaking slowly, continuing as if he had never stopped at all. "A moment where it felt… weak. Too weak. But only for that instant. It passed as quickly as it came. I felt… it mattered little. A few seconds, nothing more. A flux in the fabric. It is… possible something came through when it happened. Though how… I could not be sure. Nothing has passed by my sight since then. Nothing has entered… nothing has left."

"Possible someone got in another way?" Geralt asked, seeing Regis visibly stiffen at the question.

The Unseen Elder groaned, turning his eerie eyes back to Geralt again. "It is… possible," he answered. "Though only one has ever gotten in before. He did not… last long."

"Who?" Geralt asked. "Who got in before?"

The Unseen Elder paused at the question, his thin lips drawing into a grim, displeased line. Then, lifting a long-fingered hand, he pointed towards the far end of the cave, to a corner bathed almost entirely in darkness. From the faint light reaching the crevice, Geralt could just see the maw of an adjoining cavern, obscured from sight by a veil of shadow, clearly meant to conceal it from unobservant eyes. The Elder hummed as the callers took note of it, drawing his hand back in towards his sunken chest, before he disappeared again from his rock outcropping, retaking his place on the ceiling too fast for either of them to register. "Seek your answers," the Elder hissed, his speech drawing out again in a sinister drawl. "But do not stay long. I grow tired, and… require peace. And rest."

"Come, Geralt," Regis prompted, his voice barely above a whisper. Reaching out a hand to the witcher, he touched him lightly on the back of the arm, before tilting his head towards the cavern opening, indicating for Geralt to follow him into the caves.

Geralt frowned, but did as he was told, following Regis towards the cavern opening, ducking into the hollow after the vampire and noting the sharp drop into the cavern's depths as they went. He could not help feeling that a less observant man might have fallen to an injury from such a height, but he was not an unobservant man, and he made sure to keep his feet securely under him as he followed Regis towards the intersection. The air seemed different here, he noted, even from his first steps into the gate's proximity; he felt a strange tightness in his chest, as if his skin were being pulled taut across his body, and he nearly jumped as his medallion began to hum, growing ever more insistent the further down they travelled. He could feel his hair prickling across the back of his neck, hear the soft sound of dripping water from somewhere deeper in the caves, and he let out a sharp breath as the path continued to wind, wondering if they would ever emerge from the gathering darkness.

"Are you doing alright, Geralt?" Regis asked, glancing back over his shoulder at the witcher.

Geralt hummed at the question, thinning his lips. "Been better," he admitted, seeing no reason to lie. "Wish I'd known we'd be doing this. Would've brought some cats."

Regis frowned at the observation, reaching out a hand to brush the wall of the cavern. "I'm afraid I don't understand the inference," he admitted. "I'm not sure what help cats would be down here."

"Cats absorb magic," Geralt explained, holding out a shaky hand to find the cavern wall as well. "Drawn to places of high magical frequency. Intersections like this one give off a lot of chaos energy. Harmful to most, but like catnip to cats." Listening for the sound of Regis' footfalls in the dark ahead of him, he followed the vampire around a bend in the trail, before he suddenly felt a sharp drop in the path, realizing they were going down what felt like a set of stone stairs. "Magic doesn't affect cats like people," he added, taking the steps slowly, not wanting to fall. "They love it. Soak it up like sponges. And by soaking it up, make it easier for others to get through."

Regis let out a captivated breath, pausing to look back again as he reached the bottom of the steps. "The concept is fascinating," he acknowledged. "But the execution sounds like a nightmare. To do that, you'd literally have to be—"

"Herding cats," Geralt agreed, reaching the bottom of the steps. "Yeah."

Regis chuckled, tickled by the thought. "You witchers really do get up to more than people give you credit for," he observed. Then, turning away again, he pointed ahead towards an adjoining stone corridor leading deeper into the caves. Geralt frowned, squinting ahead, realizing that he could just see a soft, bioluminescent light glowing out from the passage, and that the sound of splashing water was clearer to his ears now, less a drip and more of a torrent. "I believe the main intersection lies just up ahead," Regis said, sounding wary, as if unsure even he wanted to go that far. "I've never actually been down here, myself – few have, if any – but… I believe I can feel it getting closer. If that makes any sense."

"Makes sense," Geralt agreed, nodding. "Still no sign of whoever the Elder said came here before, though."

"He must have gotten deeper into the intersection than this," Regis observed, his brow furrowing. "Though how he managed it, I'm still not sure."

Geralt grunted, realizing that conjecture was getting them nowhere, before he started instead towards the passage Regis had indicated, having to give his eyes a moment to adjust to the low blue glow inside the corridor. A cluster of dew-shaped pods hung in a starry tangle from the ceiling, throwing soft light across the cavern walls, and he stared up at the formation in wonder, having never seen bioluminescent growths quite like these before. He wondered if they were natural growths, or perhaps something unique from exposure to such strong magical energy, and he had to resist the urge to reach up and pick one, knowing Yennefer would love to see them as well. The feeling of Regis at his arm was enough to bring him quickly back to reality, however, and he shook the wonder from his mind, instead moving to continue on through the cave towards the sound of running water.

"Sounds like a freshwater spring," Geralt commented, thankful that he could finally see the path in front of him again. "Water that collects near intersections always has its own magical properties. Can stave off curses, heal wounds. Sometimes attracts unusual magic beings."

"Somehow I doubt whoever came down here was looking to stave off a curse," Regis returned, letting out a wary hum.

Coming to the edge of an outcropping, Geralt dropped down, taking a moment to make sure Regis was following, before he started ahead again through the dream-like darkness, dotted every so often with the soft blue glow of the luminescent clusters. The stones down here were different from the ones in the caves they had come from above – there were man-made structures among the rocks down here, the crumbled remains of architectures lost to time. The sound of rushing water was almost thunderous now, as if the ocean were beating right at his door, and, turning to look towards the sound, Geralt noticed a faint light flickering in the darkness just ahead. It was not a blue light like the others, but orange, like the light from a manmade fire, and as he turned to approach, he could hear the sound of flowing water growing louder with every step.

Geralt figured that whoever had built this fire had likely been drawn in by the promise of fresh water as well, and as he made his way closer, a tiny camp soon came into view, nestled on the shore of a deep, dark pool. Two waterfalls fed into the pool, creating a din much louder than the sum of its parts, and he made a face as he looked the setting over, wondering where so much water could be coming from or going. The small campfire that had initially drawn him in flickered forlornly amongst a scattering of abandoned supplies, and Geralt frowned as he squatted beside it, watching the flames dance and lick the air. It was impossible to think that whoever had been here before them had come through so recently, but as he watched the flames jump and crackle, he realized that the fire was the least of their worries.

As he watched the fire, he began to notice that the shapes in the flames kept repeating, a few seconds of time caught in a loop, so smooth and seamless he was sure most mortal eyes might have missed it. A bit of ash flickered off into the dark as he watched it, shimmering for a moment before vanishing again, only for it to leap off again an instant later, floating up before disappearing back to its original location. Geralt felt his skin prickle as his medallion gave another soft hum against his chest, and he pushed himself back to his feet with a grunt, turning next to look up at the two waterfalls again. Narrowing his eyes at the streams, he saw after a moment that he had been right to look twice – while one waterfall was indeed feeding into the pool, the other was flowing just as powerfully backwards, drawing the same amount of water out in an endless, unnatural loop.

"Magic moves strangely here," Regis observed, coming to stand beside Geralt at the edge of the water.

"Mm," Geralt answered. "Almost like it knows we're not supposed to be here."

Regis gave a soft hum, thinning his lips to a troubled line at the thought. "It seems our friend didn't stay long at his camp," he observed, turning to glance back at the abandoned supplies. "Strange that he would leave so much behind. Almost as if… something made him leave in a hurry."

"Went further into the caves," Geralt answered, pointing to a light set of footprints still tamped into the silt. "Probably came here looking for something. Whatever it was, didn't find it out here."

"Not before something found him, at least," Regis agreed, letting out another soft huff at the thought. "Though unfortunately for us, whatever it was he was interested in is what we're interested in as well. As much as I dislike the idea of travelling further down, it seems we have little choice."

Geralt hummed, turning away from the campsite and waterfalls and instead focusing on the trail of footprints leading deeper into the caves; a stone arch illuminated the path ahead, its ceiling aglow with a cluster of luminous pods, and he huffed as he made his way up the rocky slope towards the passage leading into the deeper parts of the intersection. He could hear Regis following behind him, the vampire clearly less accustomed to scrounging over rough terrain, and he paused as he reached the top of the pass, allowing Regis a moment to catch his breath.

"Thought you'd be eager to see your gate," Geralt admitted, giving Regis another few breaths to recover. "Closest you've been to your home world in a while. Figured you'd be interested. At least, academically."

Regis gave a soft chuckle, though Geralt could tell there was little humour to it. "Academically, it's fascinating," he agreed, straightening again to take hold of his bandolier strap. "But being so near to something so… primeval, I suppose? …No, that's not the word for it." He paused, sucking his lip, his dark eyes searching the ground as he tried to put thoughts into words. "I'm not sure how to describe it, exactly," he said after a moment, sounding a bit disheartened to admit it. "We've been here on the Continent for so long that some of us have grown almost… domesticated, in a sense. And we like it that way. Those who prefer to linger closer to where the feeling of our own world is strongest are…"

He paused again, his sharp teeth skating across his lip as he thought, his face lined with concentration. "More poorly adjusted," he concluded after a moment, looking up to the witcher again. "It calls, Geralt – like an old comfort. Like a cradle and a warm bottle calls to those who have outgrown them. That is why our Unseen, like the Elder, prefer to stay close to these gates, these… intersections. They yearn so deeply for whatever small bits of comfort can be drawn from these places that… well, I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say they could likely not survive very long without them. But we who have broken from these hollow comforts, these… whispers, promises of things we'll never see again… we do not wish to be drawn back, for fear we may not have the strength to pull free again."

Geralt frowned. "What about you?" he asked. "Can't be easy, being so close to something like that."

Regis faltered, seeming surprised to be asked, before he finally forced a wan smile to his face, the expression reminding Geralt, even in the low light, of someone having eaten something unexpectedly sour. "I appreciate your concern, Geralt," he said, speaking slowly, as if not quite sure how to respond. "But I am fine to be here. I have more experience than most in the practice of… resisting temptation." He paused again, tilting his head, before turning his gaze once more to the tracks Geralt had pointed out earlier, staring in the direction they disappeared to, as if wondering how far they might lead. "Shall we continue?" he asked after a moment, sounding a bit too chipper for Geralt to buy. "I'll go on like this for ages, if you let me. You enable me terribly, Geralt, in my love to expatiate."

"Figure somebody should talk around here," Geralt answered, giving a soft snort. "Not gonna be me."

Regis chuckled at the comment, the sound oddly forced, before he started again on the path after the witcher, following behind him as the trail of footprints led them through a narrow passage, fanged on all sides by dark stalagmites. The dull blue glow from the hanging clusters made it seem almost like the stones were growing around them as they walked, but Geralt only made a face as he continued through the tunnel, wondering if he had said something insensitive again. Pausing as he reached another set of stone steps, he turned, ensuring Regis was still behind him.

"Didn't mean to insult you," Geralt said, causing Regis to look up, surprised to hear it.

Regis blinked a few times, before his bushy brow furrowed, his lips sucking into a thoughtful line. "You didn't insult me," he assured the witcher, sounding a bit pensive, as if still unsure how to feel. "In your shoes, I might find reason to be troubled as well. But there's nothing to be concerned about with me, I assure you." He stopped again, before his soft gaze fell to a piece of earthenware tucked to one side of the passage, an ancient piece of pottery Geralt realized he never would have noticed, had the vampire not pointed it out. "I've long moved past any desire I might've once had to return to our world," Regis added, thoughtfully. "This is my home now. But there are some—others—who have tried to exist solely in your world, and have found that it could not sate them. All the bloodshed, all the finery and feasts—nothing could compare to the faintest whiff, the feeblest taste of home."

"Take it you've met some of these vampires," Geralt noted, feeling a bit on edge.

Regis took a deep breath at the thought, his thin shoulders rising with his chest, before he finally let it all out again in a long, exhaustive exhale. "Not personally, no," he admitted. "I don't make a habit of seeking out the ill-adjusted. And Toussaint's vampire community are notoriously unwelcoming to those who would threaten the peace of our most socially-established. I was more referring to the likes of Khagmar – those who could never truly adapt to a world shared with other intelligent beings." He paused, thinning his lips again, his expression stiffening as he lifted his head in thought. "Khagmar was a prisoner of his most primal instincts… as he remains to this day," he explained, solemnly. "Here, in the only place he can exist without turmoil. A slave to his inability to leave behind that which he can no longer have."

At this, Geralt looked up, startled. "Khagmar's here?" he insisted. "In this cave?"

Regis paused again, before turning to look at him. "That's what we believe, at least," he agreed. "All the literature we have on the subject points to the fact that the Unseen Elder… may, in fact, be Khagmar. Though no one has ever been brave or foolish enough to ask him about it directly."

Geralt hummed darkly at the thought, trying not to think just how close they had come to such a notorious murderer, before he turned his attention to the path again, following the footprints as they led out of the tunnel. He paused for a moment as he exited the shaft, giving his eyes a moment to adjust, before he felt his heart skip as the cavern beyond finally came into clearer view.

The intersection was so much bigger than he could ever have guessed, so large it was hard to believe it was so long unexplored, though with the Unseen Elder guarding its entrance, he supposed it had a better chance of staying hidden. The cavern spread out like a vacuous cathedral, its streams and valleys seeming almost alive, splashing and gleaming with the low blue glow of its bioluminescent flora. The broken architecture from the last few rooms made more sense now, as did the pottery scattered along the path; he could tell that this place had been beautiful once, but time and ennui had long since taken their toll. Now, stalagmites the size of belltowers rose from the floor like watchful guardians, with only a thin stone bridge built by mortal hands spanning the path over the treacherous floor. The bridge had been broken in several places, its construction melded by time into the stone itself, and Geralt let out an awed breath as he looked across the hollow, wondering how far their adventurer had gotten.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Regis asked, coming to stand beside him at the edge of the bridge. "Hauntingly beautiful, in its own way. It's no surprise people would want to see it."

"Don't think our adventurer was on a sightseeing mission," Geralt answered, looking up the path ahead. From just before them in the darkness, he could make out a small glimmer of orange among all the blue, and he frowned, turning away from the breathtaking view to investigate the anomaly.

The ground felt strange beneath his feet here, as if something were pulling him down with each step, holding his boots to the glowing grout as though they might not know to stay rooted otherwise. The flicker of orange grew brighter as he neared, shifting from one pinprick dot into two, and then into four, until he finally reached a small, circular break in the bridge, a nest-like hollow of debris and natural growth. Four candles sat in the middle of the hollow, flickering warm light in an endless holding pattern, but he found his attention quickly drawn instead to the body lain out across a pile of books, scattered over the rocks.

"Guess he didn't make it far after all," Geralt noted, squatting beside the adventurer's corpse.

"Further than expected," Regis acknowledged, following him into the clearing and squatting beside the corpse as well.

Geralt grunted, looking up to scan the site, noting that the books and candles were not the only things the explorer had brought down with him – at the far end of the clearing sat a megascope, broken into pieces by some powerful force. The metal rods and shattered glass disc were scattered over the rocks, thrown about with as little care as the scholar's books, and, reaching down to one of the books, Geralt picked it up, turning it over and frowning at the title, Monumenta Elforum. "Seems our scholar was into elves," he noted, setting the book aside again.

"Or races from other worlds," Regis returned, thoughtfully, picking up another book from near the body, The Aen Seidhe and the Aen Elle. "Which would make sense, if his primary interest was in gates and Conjunction theory."

Geralt frowned, but said nothing, only moving to dig through the explorer's pockets instead – the body was ice cold, which seemed strange, considering the still-lit candles and other aspects of frozen time, but as he turned the corpse over, he noticed the massive teeth-marks in his neck, realizing the body had been bled dry.

Regis only huffed at the sight of the bite-mark. "No surprise there," he said, standing from the corpse to allow Geralt to continue his looting. "There are likely protofleders skulking about these caves. Creatures that never quite adapted to life outside the environment of the gate."

"Got something in his pocket," Geralt answered, standing from the corpse and shaking out a sheet of parchment. The idea of vampires strengthened by the energy of the gate was not a pleasant one, but he tried to push the unsettling thought from his mind, instead setting to skimming the note to see what had drawn the explorer to his death. Between the blood on the man's clothes and the damp conditions of the cave, he had expected the parchment to be all but illegible, but he found he could still make out most of the text as he turned to Regis again, holding it up to read by the candlelight. "Ten minutes after arrival," he read aloud. "The teleportation worked. I managed to get into the caves with most of my equipment. Most importantly, the megascope is in perfect condition, so I should be able to communicate with Ban Ard."

"Ban Ard?" Regis repeated, his bushy brows lifting. "The mages' school? I… suppose that makes sense. As an academic institution with magical leanings, I can see why they might wish to further their studies on Conjunction theory." He paused, his greying brow furrowing then, his mouth twisting into a troubled gash at the thought. "Though, that being said, the reasoning for taking such a risky approach seems unclear," he added, sounding a bit bewildered. "Even if they had wanted to study the gate, there are regulations in place to prevent this sort of reckless trialling. Ban Ard is an educational institution—its very existence hinges on compliance with certain human-rights guidelines."

"Hm," Geralt answered, glancing back to the shattered megascope at the edge of the clearing. "Maybe." He stopped, looking down to the paper again, skimming it over once more before holding it up to continue. "Thirty minutes after arrival," he read. "I have already observed numerous gravitational anomalies, which suggests that Sorel Degerlund was right – the boundary between spheres really is very thin here. More tests should allow me to determine whether a passage to our world has really opened up." He stopped, his eyes falling back to the name – Sorel Degerlund – before he looked up to Regis again, his expression grim.

"Don't think this has to do with Ban Ard," he concluded, folding the paper and tucking it into his hip-pouch. "Not entirely, at least. Somebody with connections at Ban Ard wanted this information, but… don't think it was the school."

"Who, then?" Regis asked, looking concerned.

Geralt paused to think, before shaking his head. "No idea," he answered, honestly. "Mention of Sorel makes me think it has something to do with Rissberg. No clue who it could be, though. Sorel died years ago, and Rissberg's defunct now. Lost all semblance of legitimacy when the elder grandmaster died."

"Well, certainly not Sorel, then," Regis concluded, his own brow furrowing at the thought. "But… is it possible it was someone interested in his work? Someone who figured out how to perfect their methods using the trial and failure of a human guinea pig?"

"A sadist," Geralt concluded.

Regis shrugged. "Or a desperate man," he suggested, sounding less judgemental. "One can't always assume a man driven to extremes did so because he found it the most appealing option."

Geralt grunted, not quite liking the parallels between this observation and his own circumstances, before he turned away from the corpse and broken megascope, starting instead for the exit of the cavern system. "Should get out before we overstay our welcome," he said, hearing as Regis followed quickly behind, clearly in agreement. "Don't want to end up like that guy. No telling how long he's been down here."

"Years, I would imagine," Regis answered, glancing back towards the corpse, as if trying to judge from appearance. "Decades, perhaps. The Unseen Elder never mentioned when he came down, only that he did not last long. Though…" He paused, his greying brows creasing his face with thoughtful lines as he considered. "It does seem rather tragic, never knowing what became of someone," he added after a moment, pensively. "Never being able to collect their corpse, or offer them a proper burial."

"Hm," Geralt answered. "Have a hard time sympathising with someone who portalled into a vampire's lair. Doing stuff like that, gotta know there's a chance you'll never come back."

Regis let out a soft hum, lifting his head. "Perhaps," he agreed, sounding only half-convinced. "Though some might say the risk is worth the payoff, depending on what they seek to gain. For example, I happen to know someone rather skilled in taking unnecessary risks for the sake of protecting those he cares about."

Geralt looked back at the jab, noting Regis smirking across at him in the dim cave light. "Smartass," he said, unable to help a small smirk of his own from forming.

---

The night air was cool on the witcher's face as he stood at the edge of the grassy ledge, looking out over the glittering reflection of a thousand stars trapped in the dark water below. From somewhere to his left, on a higher ridge, a place of power hummed, causing his medallion to shudder, but he only narrowed his eyes as he stared across the water, wondering when the last time was he had allowed himself to just enjoy the view. It was beautiful here, despite what he knew rested just a few kilometres beneath their feet, and he took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the clean air of a place long untouched by man.

"Well, that went better than expected," Regis noted, coming to stand beside him at the edge of the cliff.

Geralt huffed, turning to look at him. "All your Unseen that… hm… welcoming?" he asked.

Regis paused, taking a moment to consider, his thin lips narrowing in thought. "No," he finally answered, musingly. "They vary. Some are conceited, others imperious, but… most can be reasoned with. But him…" He stopped, trying to think of a way to explain what he had observed. "It was clear each word was a great effort for him," he said after a while, his brow furrowing. "Interacting with others, it seems, it… causes him physical pain."

"Hm," Geralt answered, turning to look out over the water again. "Never really thought about it, but… Conjunction of the Spheres was also a cataclysm for you, for…" He trailed off, realizing what he had been about to say, before noticing that Regis had turned to look at him, expectantly.

"Monsters?" Regis smiled, though Geralt could tell there was little joy in his expression. Then, chuckling softly, he shook his head, turning to look out over the water again. "No euphemism required," he said, sounding more tired than affronted. "You needn't seek one." He paused again, taking a moment to think about this sobering observation, before he finally took a deep breath, sucking his lip as his hand returned to his bandolier strap. "I daresay it was worse for us," he agreed after a while, tilting his head as he thought. "You arrived by the thousands, while we were but a handful. Not much choice – assimilate with you… or shut ourselves off from the world. Like him."

Geralt grunted, frowning. "What happens if someone opens the gate?" he asked, warily.

Regis took a deep breath, lifting his head, his eyes growing oddly distant as he considered. "Chaos, for you," he said after a while, his tone even, as if discussing a bout of stormy weather. "For the vampires coming through, however… a feast. With the opening of a gate – like this, or any other – passage between worlds becomes not only viable… but probable. Interplanar travel will no longer require Elder Blood portals or unicorn magic—for anyone, including the likes of Gaunter O'Dimm. Post-conjunction creatures will be free to return to their own worlds – or to travel en masse to this one."

Geralt made a face at the grim thought. "But, why?" he asked. "Why this world?"

Regis paused again, as if trying to put words to an explanation he had never quite considered, before he finally let out a soft him, his thin lips pursing as his brows drew darkly together. "This world – this place – is the lynchpin," he explained after a moment, lifting a hand, as if to place a marker on a map. "You are, for all intents and purposes, the centre of the known universe. The conjunctionary pinnacle, as it were – the place where the Spheres were, and are, always destined to collide, in their ethereal rotation. Here there is a unique, singular advantage to anyone looking to disrupt the natural flow of the Spiral."

Geralt took a moment to consider this, before finally agreeing with a solemn hum, looking out to the water again. "Guess I can see that," he said, still not entirely on board. "And so long as O'Dimm's got a contract to collect on, got no obligation to leave. Go back to his own plane."

"Precisely," Regis agreed. "Which is likely why he's been going out of his way to make each task more impossible than the last. The longer he can stump you with his demands, the more time he buys to do… whatever it is he's planning."

Geralt nodded, before frowning again, realizing the logic still made no sense. "Can't figure out what his endgame would be, causing another Conjunction," he admitted. "If that's really his intent."

Regis shrugged, seeming just as perplexed. "Perhaps it isn't," he admitted, letting out a wary sigh. "I admit any logic to that end is lost on me as well. But the fact still stands that whatever he's doing, it's causing irreparable harm to the fabric of reality." He paused, his solemn brow furrowing, staring off across the water, to the stars reflected silently in its dark surface. "The fabric has begun to weaken, whether he intended that as an effect of his time here or not."

"So basically, no matter what I do on this last task, he wins," Geralt answered, hating to hear himself say it. "Get Ciri pregnant, he gets a navigator. Spend time finding another solution, gives him more time for his agenda. Means the only way to beat him at his game—force him back to his plane—is finish the last task, quickly."

"And how exactly do you intend to complete your task?" Regis asked, turning to look over at him now, his dark eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't actually consider doing anything to Ciri."

Geralt shook his head. "No," he answered. "Have to find another way."

Regis hummed, turning his gaze back out to the water. "Perhaps you could find her another suitor, then," he suggested. "Arrange something."

Geralt let out a hard huff, wrinkling his nose at the prospect of setting Ciri up. "Not gonna prostitute my daughter out to complete a task, Regis," he said, disgustedly.

Regis clicked his tongue to his teeth in disapproval. "That wasn't my inference at all, and you know it," he returned, sounding affronted. "A fling with a casual beau is not at all the same as prostitution."

"Hm," Geralt answered. "If someone asked you to arrange a fling for your daughter, would you do it?"

"Not at all," Regis answered, honestly. "But I also don't have the fate of my unborn child and possibly the world at stake."

Geralt let out another tired huff, turning his eyes out to the silent water again; it was so peaceful, so calm, oblivious to the turmoil going on just above on its banks. "Doesn't matter," he said after a while. "Not gonna sleep with Ciri. And not gonna set her up to sleep with anyone else."

"Well then, what?" Regis asked, turning to look over at Geralt again, expectantly.

Geralt shrugged. "Dunno," he answered. "Hate to say it, but… might have to ask Ciri for help on this one."

Regis faltered, seeming unsure how to react, before he finally furrowed his brow again. "You intend to ask Ciri directly?" he asked, sounding bewildered that anyone could be so bold. "I can't imagine how well that conversation might go—asking for ideas on how to get around having to sleep with her for a contract."

Geralt made a face, wrinkling his nose again. "Not gonna say it like that," he argued, bluntly. "Just… if she knows any other Cintran nobles. Possibly also named Ciri."

"And who are also empress of Nilfgaard?" Regis asked, sounding less convinced.

Geralt let out a long sigh, looking out to the water again. "Never said the plan was perfect," he admitted.