"I don't get how it can be," Geralt complained as they set into a trot to let horses rest from extensive galloping. "How is it possible for them to have survived it?"

"I don't know, I wasn't there," Kain responded. "How exactly did she defeat them?"

"I wish I knew how to explain," the Witcher scoffed. "She was in a sort of a trance, angry, furious - like back at the Bald Mountain. She did the same thing, but rather to the dimension they were in. It started collapsing, and she whisked us away. I..." He heaved a sigh and reached for the water flask. "I didn't see enough, I'm afraid. It was hard to make sense of the chaos inside there."

"I understand," Kain nodded, his brow furrowed in heavy contemplation.

Geralt watched him for a while, then broke the silence. "What?"

Kain blinked, as if yanked from a slumber, and gave Geralt a bewildered look. "I don't know. I can't judge something I haven't seen nor felt."

"Don't fool me pretending you have no thoughts on it at all."

"My thoughts can scarcely help anything. But yes, I do have some. It's strange for me to believe she was capable of destroying all three Crones and their sanctuary despite the additional magic they drew from my blood. They should've been able to fight her, to prevent it, using the acquired Elder Blood power against hers. And yet she alone beat the three of them. You don't deem it strange?"

Geralt frowned darkly, searching himself for any argument. "Two of them were barely back, and the third was weakened by whatever she'd done to get them back," he ventured.

"Even so, you underestimate their power. They've been around for a very long time, their lands were soaked with their magic, and they had their own dimension to hide in. That wide a net requires an immense power that feeds from everything it can reach - people, marshes, animals, creatures, worshipping and sacrifices. They had a little world of their own in those swamps, Geralt. And then Ciri just shoots it to hell with one clap of her hands?"

Geralt stared at his brother, scowling, then an idea flashed in his mind. "Maybe it's what she did - send them off someplace else? Be it hell or another world, I don't care for as long as it's not here."

"Moving a dimension from world to world feels complicated. I'm not sure..."

"Once there, will you be able to sense anything?"

"Maybe... But I've been there with Yennefer, and I didn't sense their presence. It doesn't feel as if they're around, anymore."

"Then she did it? Either way, they're gone?"

"I would say they are," Kain succumbed.

"How do you explain that woman's raving? Who, or what, can be so powerful to send those swarms of drowners, hags and ghouls to attack people?"

"I wouldn't bet on the Hunt," the Cat Witcher reasoned.

"They have wizards," Geralt reminded.

"It would be strange if Aen Elle wizards could command the creatures of this world with such ease. The only creatures they use are their hounds, but we don't know whether they breed them specifically for war or tame them. I think it's former."

"Why?"

"Because their abilities are of magical nature, as well. And it's frost magic - the same kind the wizards use. Which means they rather bred the dogs. Frost magic is not a native to their world - it's an intruding force."

Geralt thought about it, and clucked his tongue. "It makes sense. Either way, we have to draw judgement once we're there. Perhaps the Crones weren't the last source of magic in the bog. Something or someone could have been waiting for their chance, and once the Crones were gone, they began to establish their own rule."

"Maybe the godlings know something," Kain suggested. "They're connected to the land and its creatures, they see and sense more."

"If we can find them."

They sent their horses into gallop again.

Ciri strolled down to the docks, unmindful of the fact she stuck out among the fishermen like a sore thumb, and continued on to one of the boats she found acceptable. Strangely, it was a woman who was attempting to secure its ropes to the docks. Old and with stiff fingers, she wasn't doing a very good job.

Ciri knelt down to help her. "This your boat?"

The old woman stood, wincing at an ache in her back as she straightened. "Aye."

That was unusual. Women not of nobility rarely owned property.

"Used to be me husband's," she explained as Ciri tied the knots. "He was a fisherman. Got himself killed by a flock of sirens two moons ago. Now I don't know what to do with the ruddy thing."

Ciri understood. She didn't think the woman would fare well trying her luck at fishing.

"You could sell it," Ciri suggested.

The old woman grimaced. "Times are too bad to part with coins unless absolutely necessary. Everyone around here have their own boats to tend to as is."

"You could rent it out. To travelers and the like," Ciri continued, earning herself a confused scowl from the woman.

"Travelers?"

Ciri dug her hand into her pocket and retrieved the coins Yennefer had given her, holding them up for the woman to see.

Her eyes went wide at the sight and when Ciri dropped the crowns into her hand, a bargain was struck.

Yennefer bought strips of cloth from the tailors, a collector's basket, two fish pies to keep their energy levels high and tea that she infused with peppermint. Then headed to bargain a room at the local tavern. A tiny room with one narrow cot was available, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Yennefer took it. If she cuddled up with Ciri, she estimated, they would fit on the cot and get some shuteye. It would suffice.

"Were your negotiations successful?" she asked, showing Ciri to their room and shutting the door.

"Entirely," Ciri said.

In the morning she presented their borrowed vessel with a flourish. It wasn't all that big. but had a sail. If the wind was on their side, at least they wouldn't have to row.

She knelt and pulled the boat close by its rope, gesturing for Yennefer to get in. "Lady Yennefer."

The boat was basically a replica of the one Yennefer had procured for Geralt and herself some months ago, only it was far less aesthetically pleasing and stained with fish guts and blood. She could already imagine the smell. She smiled at Ciri and played along with her antics, sliding onto the boat, heading for the back so she could take charge of the rudder.

She waited until Ciri was on the boat, and then freed up the ropes that held the sails so she could add taunt to it and have it slowly haul them from the side of the dock for the open sea.

They hadn't made it very far before she released the sail, gathered what she'd bought and gestured for Ciri to take over. She needed to do some crafting.

"Just keep heading east."

Ciri obeyed, maneuvering past Yennefer to take her place.

"What are you going to do?"

"Make you something to help you breathe beneath the water. I'm not sure it'll work. I've tried it on different occasions, and some attempts have worked with success, and others… not. I also had more to work with in the way of all the right trimmings."

Not that what Yennefer had was that bad, but she'd have done better with buckles, and something actually fashioned to fit Ciri's face so it wouldn't end up being a hindrance. Gratefully, it was for one time use and provide her with the means needed to hang around down there long enough to find the container with the added carving. The next issue was if it would be a chest and how heavy it might be. They'd deal with that difficulty if and when it arose.

Like she'd done with Ciri's armor, she fashioned the half mask with magic, cutting away bits she didn't need, depositing them in the ocean as if she were worried about making a mess. All the while she'd kept an eye on their heading, spitting out directives as needed until eventually the Ingdalen Isle appeared.

"Go around the outside of the isle."

She needed a bit more time and she wanted to get a better feel of the sirens. Ciri was capable of taking care of herself – as much as Geralt was – and yet Yennefer couldn't rid herself of her concern. On land she could have helped, stood by with magic, ready to shield or throw literal fire, in the ocean, beyond her scope of view, there would be nothing she could do but wait. Ciri didn't really mind the risk. This was probably as close to witcher business she'd come since the battle of Oxenfurt, and she wanted to prove to herself, as well as Yennefer and Geralt, that she could do it.

Ciri steered the boat around the two islets, gazing at the circular strait between them where she assumed they would eventually need to go. So far, no sirens could be seen up above. That didn't mean they weren't lurking down in the waters.

"How will I know which chest to look for? There might be several."

"There are several," Yennefer agreed without looking up, the breathing device—nearly at its completion—sat in her lap as she added herbs to the pouch inside, with it, and to activate what she hoped would be the ability to breathe was a symbol for air. She focused her magic on the device, letting it dissolve from her palms as she voiced an incantation. The air around them became suffocating, abruptly pushing the sails with a wisp of force that jerked the small boat and then settled to the norm. The symbol inside was alight.

Yennefer carefully set the strange facemask on her thighs, twisted upon the wood seat and to navigate the approaching shoreline, raising a hand to gesture Ciri to stop once they got close enough to the place she thought the boat was sunk.

Another spell cast, and like when she'd come with Geralt, she confirmed that the wreckage was below them, along with what she could see to be one or two sirens or drowners.

She was beginning to feel nauseated.

She freed up an apple from the strip of remaining cloth she'd wrapped around it and took a bite, reaching into her pocket for the stone, crooking a finger to beckon Ciri.

"Study this stone for a moment. It'll be carved into whatever container Amos decided to use."

Ciri took the stone and held it the palm of her hand, running her thumb across the carving, studying the rune's lines and sharp angles until she was certain she would recognize it down in the deep.

"Got it," she said, slipping the stone back into Yennefer's care, gesturing to her crafted item. "How does this work?"

Yennefer pocketed the stone again, stood and lifted the half-mask to Ciri's face, indicating lightly how she was supposed to wear it. "The purpose of what I've made is for it to cover your mouth and nose and provide you with the air and ease you'd breathe if on land."

She let Ciri inspect it, and once she was ready, moved behind her to secure the strips of cloth at the back of head with an old fashioned double knot.

"Is it hurting you?"

"No," Ciri said, her voice muffled. "Feels a little strange, though. But as long as it works."

She shrugged out of her heavy coat and removed her sword and boots. They would only weigh her down. Her dagger was allowed to stay in her belt, however. Just in case.

"Alright. Are you ready?" Yennefer looked far more nervous than Ciri felt.

Yennefer nodded hesitantly, wanting to hold her back and keep her from going into the murky water.

"As ready as I can be," the enchantress murmured, raising a hand before Ciri could jump in. "Don't go too far down before you test it. Stay at the surface… make sure it works as it's supposed to and then dive…"

"Of course," Ciri promised airily, diving in soon after.

The water was freezing. It felt like needles stabbing at her skin, and Ciri's head ached from the cold plunge.

She remained beneath the surface despite the instant urge to get back up, swimming deeper. The natural inclination to hold her breath under water didn't allow her to test the efficiency of the mask. Not until her lungs burned in protest. When she finally had to give in, she was amazed at how easy it was.

Now, only the freezing cold was a problem. She swam as quickly as she could, down into the darkness. It quickly dawned on her she should have asked Yennefer for an additional source of light. It would have given her a better overview of the crater-shaped hole where the remains of the wreck rested.

She didn't dwell on it. Had no time. She simply swam as close to the ship as possible, taking hold of the old slippery wood with her hands and allowing it to guide her as she searched.

There was nothing of interest up on deck, and only when Ciri swam in through the gap where the ship had been torn in half did she find several crates and chests. It had probably been the cargo room of the ship.

She searched the various boxes for any sign of the rune-carving but found none. So she was forced to search anew, her limbs trembling and aching from the unbearable cold, her fingers stiff and highly unwilling to cooperate.

When a set of talons grasped at Ciri's arm from behind, she acted on pure instinct, grabbing the dagger from her belt and using her power to shoot forward, letting the momentum of her speed do the work as the blade cut into a siren's skull.

The creature stilled immediately and floated to the surface. In the distance, Ciri saw its approaching sisters.

She urged herself back down to the ship again and shifted crates out of the way by use of magic until a small lockbox that had been nestled between them was revealed. Ciri reached for it greedily and felt a jolt of excitement when she saw the rune clearly atop its lid.

This was the one.

Not a moment too soon. The remaining sirens were coming for her, all slick scales and sharp teeth, reaching for her, craving blood.

With the box tucked under one arm and her dagger abandoned on the ocean floor, Ciri unleashed her own thirst for vengeance, shooting streams of boiling water at the sirens and delighting in their shrieks as they covered their faces with webbed hands.

Another few floated silently towards the surface, while the others rushed away to regroup.

Ciri didn't give them another chance to attack. She jumped back to the boat with a victorious smile concealed beneath her mask.

Yennefer hadn't bothered to sit down since Ciri disappeared beneath the water, her eyes trained on the spot she'd been, watching as bubbles rose and then faded, giving away to the natural sway of the ocean.

She was still staring at the water when she heard a rush of water and saw a body come up, floating above the surface as if once it had died it had been rejected and could no longer stay within the depths of its ocean home.

A siren.

Yennefer cursed softly and uttered the same incantation she'd used to spy on the ocean floor when she'd been with Geralt and they'd searched for the wreck. The spell gripped the boat and allowed her to see through the floorboards but no further than a few spaces before it became useless. It was too deep.

A moment later nausea washed over her and the spell fell away. She'd exerted herself and her body was beginning to rebel. More corpses followed, none—thankfully—belonging to Ciri. Yet. Before she could take a closer look or consider more magic, Ciri appeared in a flash of green, sending the small boat into a gentle rock, a lockbox tucked almost nonchalantly under one of her arms.

The sorceress wanted to hug her.

"Sit," Yennefer commanded, squeezing past Ciri to make a move for the back of the boat, wanting to put some distance between the isle's sirens.

When they were far enough away and she thought they'd have less chance being attacked, she undid the tension in the sails and got to her feet again.

"Were you hurt?"

"Just a few scratches," Ciri said through chattering teeth. "I got it." She handed Yennefer the lockbox and reached for her coat and boots to put them back on.

Yennefer took the lockbox, set it down on the floor of the boat and moved to inspect Ciri's scratches. She'd hate the girl to endure more scars because of her.

When Yennefer was sure it wasn't life-or-death she let her hands graze Ciri's arms, warming her up as she had done by the hot spring so she could get into her clothes without a struggle.

"Thank you for retrieving the lockbox for me."

"It was my pleasure. I do so enjoy adventures." Ciri was grinning, even through the cold. She gestured to the lockbox. "Are you going to open it?"

"Not until we're somewhere safe," Yennefer answered, shaking off the increasing nausea she felt intensify from the added magic she'd used.

She withdrew from Ciri and picked up the lockbox, sliding it beneath the cut off material so that when they approached the docks it wouldn't be spotted and no one would contemplate robbing them of it. They'd drawn enough attention to themselves, the last thing Yennefer wanted was to deal with was thieves before they managed to get back to the inn in Novigrad.

She returned to the back of the boat, set the sail and unhurriedly carried them back to the fishing village.

"Did the mask I made work in your favor? Do you think it's something I should look at marketing?"

"Worked as well as can be expected. Might want to tweak the design, though. Something... sleeker."

"When all this war is over you should help me with that. Any crowns made we can put toward you – your future."

"How much coin does one need travelling the world to slay monsters?" Ciri asked, pulling the coat tighter around herself. "But I will help you. Free of charge. Because I am a loving daughter."

"You are and always have been a loving daughter. That has never been a doubt. Nevertheless, don't you think you need enough coin to be comfortable and well fed? Surely you'll want to have a home of your own one day?"

Ciri shrugged. "I don't know. Never really thought much about it. I've always favored people over places."

"You're still young, that may change," Yennefer stated.

Fifteen minutes later they were back on the dock and Yennefer was collecting the lockbox.

"Do you have it in you to take us back to Novigrad?"

"Of course," Ciri said, making certain the boat was neatly tied up where she had found it earlier. "To the inn?"

Yennefer stepped off the boat with none of her usual grace. She was exhausted. The magic use had done her in quite a bit. "If you please," Yennefer said softly, hugging the lockbox to her chest.

Ciri placed a hand on Yennefer's shoulder and led her a little way off the docks, behind one of the shacks where they could travel without anyone noticing.

A second later they were in Geralt's room at the inn. Yennefer looked like she could use some time to rest. But Ciri still had to ask. She was curious.

"Will you open it now?"

Yennefer nodded and shuffled over to the bed, sinking down onto the edge, removing the cloth from around the lockbox. She let the fabric flutter to the floor, removed the stone from her pocket and slid it into the groove within the wood made to cradle it. The lockbox opened. Inside was a handful of parchment with messy script that was almost illegible (untouched by the water it had been submerged in) and half stubs belonging to an assortment of banks. One such bank she recognized was in Novigrad.

"No jewels," Yennefer teased, smiling tiredly. "However, it seems we'll have to make a trip to the bank and see if we can collect whatever Amos has stored there."

"Do you wish me to go there alone?" Ciri asked because Yennefer looked dead on her feet, while Ciri felt quite rejuvenated by their little trip.

She removed the fur coat and draped it over the solitary chair in the room, loosening her hair and ruffling it to make it look more presentable despite the effects of the saltwater.

Yennefer wanted to take Ciri up on her proposal, but at the same time she wasn't sure if her daughter had ever dealt with bankers before. They could talk circles around people.

"It's probably best if I go with you."

Yennefer sighed and lay back on the mattress to get of the rest her body desired. "How much daylight is left?"

Ciri cast a gander at the window, calculating. "I don't know. Two hours?"

Two hours was plenty, and yet, now that Yennefer had stretched out on the bed she couldn't even think about getting to her feet. She flipped the lid shut on the lockbox, murmured a word and heard the stone pop free of its spot on the box as it fell to the mattress.

"We'll wait until the morning to tend to the bank," Yennefer said, forcing herself to sit up, collecting the stone so she could pocket it and keep it safe. She pushed the lockbox in Ciri's direction and gestured to another chest pushed against the wall out of the way.

It held Yennefer's herbs, relics and other devices she'd made or bought to help her with magic.

"Put the box in the chest."

Ciri obeyed, then made for the door. "I will go find you something to eat and drink. Help get your strength back. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Don't worry with the food, I'm not hungry," Yennefer replied, smiling her thanks, following Ciri's progress to the door. She was supposed to be keeping an eye on Ciri and presently she could hardly keep them open. "Tend to yourself and keep out of trouble?"

"Always do," Ciri jibed and closed the door behind her.

Downstairs she found Zoltan behind the counter. She leaned on it with her elbows and fixed him with an imploring smile. "Is there food?"

The dwarf laughed cheerfully, closing his accounting book. "Not that ye have to ask that, Ciri - of course there is! Dinner time is comin! Ye know it's sacred, even if we don' open yet." He stepped around the counter, his mien mischievous. "Fried chicken with a siding of baked apples and cranberry sauce. How 'bout it?"

"Sounds divine!" Ciri grinned and sat down. "Are you certain you can afford to waste such good food on a non-paying customer?"

Zoltan scoffed loudly on his way to the kitchen. "Yer family, lassie."

He returned in a few minutes with a tray loaded with two huge dishes holding whole fried chickens surrounded by baked apples and peppered with spices and herbs. He set the dishes down, then two small bowls with the sauce and gave her a proud look.

"You're a treasure," Ciri said, eyeing the food with a watering mouth. "Everyone should have a Zoltan of their own."

She helped him move the plates off the tray and slipped off her chair to find them glasses.

"Nah," he waved a hand, settling across from her. "Yer just hungry. What of yer sorceress? She hungry, too? If she's around, that is. Haven't seen her since ye two bolted."

"She's more tired than hungry," Ciri explained. "She'll probably demand something a little later after she's rested." She cut a piece of chicken and ate. "So, has Dandelion not been back since the attack?"

"Demand," Zoltan snorted into his mug, then shook his head a no. "Still back at Oxenfurt. Baskin' in all the glory he can gather while he can. Triss and two of them witches are there, too. Maybe he plans on going back with one of them once they're done rebuildin'."

"And, um, what is he actually doing?" Ciri found it hard to believe Dandelion would take part in the physical rebuilding of the city's lost buildings.

"No clue. Maybe bossin' them around commandin' where which statue goes, I dunno." He shrugged, dipping another drumstick into sauce, and sunk his teeth into the juicy meat. "Ye can go see him."

"I think I will, if Yennefer is going to sleep the evening away."

Ciri's gaze drifted to the stairs where Avallac'h was just descending. He didn't spare either of them a glance and simply sat down at one of the empty tables.

Ciri chewed on her chicken, trying not to look too amused.

Zoltan granted the elf a brief gander, then sighed and reached for a napkin.

"I'll get yer friend some meal," he grumbled, sliding off the chair, and headed for the kitchen.

Ciri could feel Avallac'h's gaze on the back of her neck, burning so intensely it was hard not to turn around. She couldn't be certain of what he was feeling, but if her past experiences of taunting him with Lara had any worth, he would be silently fuming.

"You left again," he said calmly. More of an observation than accusation.

Even without looking, Ciri knew that was meant for her. There were no one else in the room since Zoltan left.

"Yes," she said simply, tearing another chunk of meat off her chicken.

"Where to?"

She didn't answer for a long time, mulling over the decision of whether to tell him the truth or not. She came to the conclusion it wouldn't truly do much harm to tell him. And yet, it felt private. Yennefer and Geralt's business more than Ciri's.

"You don't need to know," Ciri said finally.

"There was a time you would tell me everything," he responded.

Ciri narrowed her eyes, her gaze set on her glass in front of her. "That was before I learned your affection for me is false. The means to an end."

"What makes you think such a thing, Zireael?" His voice was soft. Deceptively so. Ciri wouldn't let herself be snared again.

"It's evident in the way you treat me. The way you speak to me." She just had to have someone else point it out before she could truly see it for herself.

"As a pupil?" Avallac'h asked. "A child in need of guidance?"

"As dirt beneath your shoe," Ciri answered heatedly. "As something disgusting you are forced to drag around with you for the time being."

"You are wrong," he said with that same infuriating calm. "You, Zireael, are the only one I have cared for in quite some time."

Ciri stabbed at her food with her fork, trying to block that statement out and not linger on it. She could not be drawn in by him again. No matter how good it felt to be loved by him.

Another moment of stretched silence.

"You went swimming," Avallac'h mused.

Ciri turned in her seat, a look of astonishment on her face, their most recent thread of conversation temporarily forgotten.

How did he know such things? How could he possibly know?

"Did you follow us?" she asked suspiciously, though she couldn't see how that was possible. Avallac'h could not travel by will like she and Yennefer.

His lips tilted in an almost imperceptible smile as he watched her. "No need. Your hair."

Ciri frowned. "What?"

"I know you, Zireael. We've been together for years. Your hair... it only curls like that in saltwater."

Ciri reached for her long locks. They were indeed more wavy than normal.

Avallac'h's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, even as he watched her. "Hers did the same."

She stared, confused, yet suspecting. Lara Dorren. It always came back to her.

Ciri turned back to her meal, a contemplative frown locked in place. She heard the scraping of Avallac'h's chair as he stood and soon after felt his hand on her shoulder. His voice was soft.

"I hope there will come a time when you will confide in me again, Zireael. I am the one who knows you best. The one who can help you." His hand fell away and the elf glided towards the stairs. "Tell the dwarf I will take my meal upstairs."

Then he was gone and Ciri was left feeling a growing sense of unease and longing.

Zoltan returned not a full minute later with a tray in his hands. He grimaced annoyance at the sight of the Sage's empty table.

"Ah, sod the damn elf!" he hissed, and looked to Ciri as if for an explanation. "Went upstairs, didn't he, the ploughin' bastard?"

"Afraid so," Ciri said, no longer able to eat the rest of her food. "Just leave it for the next person to come down for dinner. You don't have to serve him, Zoltan."

"Ye ploughin' right I don't," he nodded, and sighed, shaking his head. "But it's about the pride of this establishment, lassie. Not about me."

He went for the stairs.

"Pour me some ale, will ye," he threw over his shoulder, climbing the steps.

Ciri stood and moved behind the counter to pour Zoltan his drink, taking the time to clear away her own plate while he was otherwise occupied.

Her little chat with Avallac'h had put her in a mood and she now felt the need to leave the inn behind for a few hours.

Zoltan came back quickly, and announced, "Left it at his door like he's in prison," as he sat down to finish his meal. He bit another juicy piece of meat and chewed, studying her. "Ye all right? He tell ye something nasty?"

Ciri shook her head, sipping from what remained of her drink. "No more than usual. Certain elves are just... difficult to get along with."

"Certain?" he chortled. "All of them bony arses are difficult, I tell ye."

The dwarf downed his ale and picked a baked apple with his fork.

"Tell me how yer doin'. Spent a bit of time away from him - guess it felt good, eh?"

"Yes, it did." Though Ciri could admit to herself she missed what the two had a year ago. The absolute certainty Avallac'h had her best interest at heart.

"But I am doing fine. Better than fine now we're back and can start plotting again."

"Plottin'?" He perked up an eyebrow.

"What to do about The Hunt. I'd like there to be a day when we are the attackers. Take them by surprise."

Zoltan frowned, pondering as he chewed. "But hell knows where those bastards are," he reasoned. "Wasn't it another world? No mage I ever heard of could bring an army through a portal. I heard plenty of those died tryin'."

"They say I can," Ciri said, eyes on her drink. "Maybe one day... Even if I were to die, it'd be worth it."

"No, lassie, it would mean they won." He looked at her with a somber face, a bit sad. "No need to stick our noses into their damned world. We better figure out how to keep theirs from ours. Let 'em die out there like rats if we block their ways in. I wish I knew how it's done, but then I'm no mage or scholar."

"I've been to their world. It's beautiful." Ciri emptied her glass and smiled softly at Zoltan. "We'll be victorious in the end. You'll see. We are more powerful than Eredin predicted."

"Yer more powerful," the dwarf emphasized, smiling. "And yer kitten witcher. The rest of us not mages are tryin' to help the best we can. Our strength is in numbers and team work. Though them elves work well together, I should give 'em that. So we need a better plan." He pricked the last apple with his fork and sank his teeth in it.

She whispered cunningly. "That's where the plotting comes in."

Ciri stood and stretched, eyeing the door. "I think I shall go see Dandelion. Make sure he is still alive. Will you let Yennefer know if she asks for me?"

"Of course," he sighed as if the mere reminder of a sorcerer wore him out. "Ye might as well tell him he's got a cabaret in Novigrad to manage, in case he forgot."

When Ciri arrived in Oxenfurt, it didn't take her long to track down Dandelion.

The streets were fairly busy, mostly with townspeople putting away their work for the day, whether that be their merchant stalls or building materials. No point in such work when darkness had fallen for the night.

She found Dandelion in the tavern where the two had once shared a meal, fiddling with his lute and surrounded by admirers of the female variety. They didn't even look up as Ciri approached.

"Hard at work, I see."

"Ciri! Finally!" He jumped up, his lute swinging back over his shoulder with flourish of being executed for years. "Excuse me, ladies and lords, I have to give time to my precious friend here. I thank thee for your willing ear. We shall continue at another time."

He bowed and slipped through the disappointed crowd, herding Ciri in front of him toward a free table, no doubt reserved for him by the owner.

"Where have you been?" he inquired when they sat. "Where is Geralt?"

Ciri couldn't help but take some sick satisfaction in the crowd's disappointment and Dandelion's prioritization of her over them. Therefore, she had a smile on her face when she settled opposite him.

"We killed the Crones of Crookback Bog," she said casually. "Then stayed a few days with Nenneke to recover."

Dandelion gasped loudly, stilling, and slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes gaping at her over his hand. "Oh gods, Ciri! You did?! Oh, darn, I had to be there! Must have been such a grand adventure! How could you leave me out? How could you?!"

"They would have eaten you alive, Dandelion. Literally. They liked to do that."

She laughed softly at his outraged expression.

"Yennefer and I returned today by magic. Geralt and Kain chose to travel by horse."

"No wonder there," he scoffed, then frowned at her again. "I won't forgive you until you give me every detail of how it happened. And... you said recover? You had to recover? What happened and how bad was it? Is everyone all right? Or did they... eat someone's leg or arm? How's Geralt?"

"They managed to get Kain. Nearly bled him dry." Ciri lowered her voice as a couple passed their table, not wanting her story to carry to the rest of the group. "We had to get him to Nenneke to help him heal. Geralt is fine." She gave the bard a pointed look. "As is Yennefer, thank you for asking."

"Oh gods," he gasped, his face as eager as a five-year-old's when presented with a new toy. "That's awful... Is he fine now? I'm glad the rest of you came out all right. But, Ciri, how reckless of you! It's not just some monster contract. It's bigger... How did you do it? You have to tell me all of it, ALL of it. Now. You hungry? Thirsty?"

He waved a hand, and a young girl hurried from the counter to get his order - it was a bottle of Erveluce and a fried rabbit leg.

"Zoltan's already fed me, but I could use a glass of wine." The serving girl smiled and nodded and headed off to tend to her new order.

Ciri leaned in close to Dandelion again, enjoying his rapt attention. Unlike Avallac'h, he wouldn't truly chide her. He was too preoccupied with the story of it all.

"He was close to dying for what felt like ages, but after a while he recovered little by little. He seems fine now."

She paused when the girl returned with her wine then proceeded to tell Dandelion everything. Well, mostly everything. She told him of the fog and how she and the witchers had been separated, how Kain had been captured by the wily crone, and how Geralt and Ciri had recruited Yennefer's help to get them into the Crones' dimension. As well as the Crones' downfall.

"They had already alerted The Hunt. There was a scouting party in the bog a few days later, probably thinking the crones would deliver us to them all neatly wrapped up in a bow."

"Oh horror, Ciri!" Dandelion exclaimed, pouring wine. "Are they still there? Are there more? What if they come back here? We just finished making the Academy yard look decent!"

"Don't worry," she assured him, one hand squeezing his before claiming her glass. "They died screaming. Well, most of them."

Dandelion frowned, confused. "What does it mean? You've defeated the whole Hunt, too?! Really? Is it over now?!"

"Of course not. Don't be silly. I meant the scouting party Eredin sent."

"But... are there more? And what are their plans? We're still living in fear here. What if another attack is coming? So many died..."

"How would we know that?" Ciri frowned as well. "Think Nenneke told us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we've been spending our time defeating the Crones and then with Nenneke at the temple. Where would we get intel on what The Hunt is planning further?"

"How would I know? Maybe you managed to find out anything before, you know... killing that scouting unit? It would be truly helpful to find out anything. Look at us, Ciri, we're defenseless here. Practically defenseless! Our sorceresses can do some marvelous things, but the enemy numbers surpass anything we can put against them. Well, save the Nilfgaardians, I guess." He drank.

Ciri's eyes took on a faraway look; she was deep in her thoughts. "I suppose I could have tortured them to give up their secrets. But such low status soldiers rarely know much anyway."

"Ciri," Dandelion reprimanded, "you don't have to do such things. It's a job befitting people like Dijkstra and Philippa Eilhart. Leave it to them. They might have no soul to lose anymore."

She smiled a little. "You all think I'm so young and innocent. That I am not capable of cruelty. Trust me, Dandelion, I am more than capable."

The poet looked hurt. "Is it something to rejoice about? Or you think Geralt and I should be proud of your skills in cruelty?" He sighed. "Ciri, we understand you're a grown-up, but it doesn't mean innocence is something shameful or... or silly solely befitting a child."

"Innocence in this world gets you killed," Ciri said somberly. "You don't have to be proud. But you should know I don't need anyone to perform acts of cruelty for me. If it has to happen, I can do it."

"But then you should understand that both of us would always try to prevent it - because it's you. We love you, Ciri. It's not a weakness to let yourself be loved by your family. And you get so defensive at times... It's like that love is a burden. Is it, Ciri?"

"It is if you hold me back. If you cage me." Because her magic would not allow such a thing. It had taken Ciri a long time to truly understand, but she did now; her power could save or destroy the world. And she would not be forced to hide anymore.

Dandelion was astonished. "How do we cage you, Ciri?"

"You want me to be who I was before. You want the child. The girl who depended on everyone else to save her. Because she wasn't strong enough to do for herself." Ciri drank. "I'm not her anymore, Dandelion. That girl died in the Korath desert."

"Ciri," he gasped, his hand rising to his chest as if something pinched in there. "How can you say that? We accept you for who you are, who you've become. We love you for you - not for any of our expectations. It's just..." He searched himself for better wording. "Is it so bad and unforgivable of us to want only the best for you? Do you truly blame Geralt for wishing you a life without fights and violence and torture that you have to inflict? Is it so wrong to wish you didn't have to do these things?"

"You can wish it with all your might, but that doesn't change the fact that it's the reality I live in. And have for many, many years." She drank again, her expression thoughtful. "Geralt was angry because I killed those Hunt soldiers. As if I didn't have the right."

Dandelion studied her with a sort of wariness you reserve for your trusty old mare that's suddenly bolted and thrown you off. "Perhaps you've misinterpreted his sentiments," he dared assume, while deep down he felt he understood Geralt's feelings perfectly.

Ciri shook her head, speaking into her cup. "No. It's because he doesn't trust me. He doesn't think I can walk and hold a sword without impaling myself upon it. You should have seen the way he looked at me..."

Ciri didn't even truly know how to describe it. All she knew was that Geralt had never given her such a look before and it somehow felt as though he had screamed at her.

"Of course he looked at you all funny - he was scared for you!" Dandelion argued. "I am, too! We're always scared to lose you and you insist of putting yourself in danger. It worries us and always will, because we care about you a great deal, Ciri! Don't you understand?"

Ciri tilted her head as she watched him, trying to decipher the emotion on Dandelion's face. "Geralt is constantly in danger. I don't try to make him hide," she said. "You should be pleased I am able to take care of myself. That life has taught me how to do that."

"We are! But you can't fault us for worrying. No one makes you hide - we're trying to help you get your freedom the best we all can."

"You're upset," Ciri noted, her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you say such things!" he nearly cried, but kept his voice low. "Such unfair things! I've known Geralt for decades and he's not what you describe. He'd never want to keep you locked or unhappy. He'd rather die."

Then why did Ciri feel like everything had been the opposite of that lately?

She watched Dandelion for a long time, trying to read his features. But she found nothing more to enlighten her. So she shrugged. "If you say so."

Shock thrust through Dandelion like a spiked sword, but he managed to keep his face on mere confusion. He reached for his glass and downed it in one swallow, his breath hitching for a moment.

"Did... um... Did Geralt tell you something that made you think these things?" he managed.

"No. Of course not." Ciri said pleasantly, closing herself off. She shouldn't have said anything. Dandelion would surely tell Geralt everything and then she would have to face more questions. As though there was something wrong with her.

Ciri drained her cup and stood.

"Zoltan asked me to remind you about your cabaret?"

Dandelion blinked, then recognition flashed in his eyes. "Wants me to return and mind the bar while he gambles the nights away."

"Oh. Do you want me to take you back? Or are you staying?"

He looked at the fried rabbit leg he had not much wish for left, and had more wine. "I'd stay another day or a few. To not blame myself for leaving them too soon, you know. It's been hard on this city."

Ciri glanced towards the gaggle of women Dandelion had been sitting with earlier, unable to help a slight smile. "Sure. Stay safe, Dandelion."

She turned and left.

He looked after her, unable to say anything to stall her, to ask, to coax... And then he didn't know if he would make it better or rather worse.

"Oh gods," he breathed, and drank his wine.