Something rigid pickled him on the neck and coldness spread across his body. Geralt opened his eyes and looked through his blurred sight. He was leaning on an iron bar that separated him from the outside. He was in a gaol then. Not surprising at all.

"Finally awoken, eh?" came a weak, feeble sound form his left. Geralt turned to the source.

Deep in the shadows of the gaol, sat a man with an old robe for cloth and a crooked skin that could've easily been mistaken for a monster. He was staring at Geralt, apathetical to the waterdrops that fell on his head from the roof every second.

Geralt had an urge to stand up and move as far as he could from the monstrosity, but he found himself chained to the ground. "What in the…"

"You're awfully strong for a Tarnished in Limgrave, did you know that?" he continued, "They had to chain you down or else you would have escaped from them."

"They?" Geralt looked outside of his gaol, no sing of guardsmen or other prisoners.

"Godrick's soldiers," he answered, "They really liked you, but worry not, I saved you from them." He rose to his feet, revealing a rectangular box hanging from his neck that was hidden to shadows, and walked to Geralt, "These quarters have been empty for gods know how long. Godrick doesn't want his guests wasted, he wants them fresh and strong, or strong as they get."

Geralt stared at the man and asked, "Who are you?"

The man stared back and thought for a second before answering, "Gostoc the Gatekeeper, at your service." He crept a hand to his box and pulled out a key from it. Using the key, he opened the gaol's door. Geralt widened his eyes. Gostoc turned to him with mirth in his eyes from his reaction, "I enjoy the solitude of these parts of the castle. Everywhere else is filled with filth and death, so it's a nice change to come to the dungeons and spend time with the ghosts."

Geralt did not care about any of that. "Unchain me."

Gostoc snorted, "You think it's that easy? You know how much of a trouble you were to me? Now it's time for me to collect my reward."

"And what makes you entitled for a reward, gatekeeper?" Geralt asked.

Gostoc widened his eyes and then frowned, "I-I saved you!"

Geralt shrugged, or emulated shrugging as the chains prevented his shoulders from moving, "Your mistake, not mine." He immediately regretted having said that. Damn it, why am I ruining my only chance of freedom? In Gostoc's eyes he could see rage, and also a hidden ambition. What if he chains me even further, with only one simple request that ravels into a tangled mess?

"You scoundrel…" Gostoc clenched his fists, "I should have left you to be grafted into Godrick," he mumbled under his breath, and then sighed, slowly calming down, "Still, you are my only hope. You will do my biddings, whether you like it or not."

Geralt raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

Gostoc grinned, revealing an empty set of teeth to him, "Because there is no escape from Stormveil Castle without the Gatekeeper's help. This castle is a puzzle unsolvable. No man goes out of here alive unless I wish him so."

"That's a bold claim, gatekeeper," Geralt rose his chained hands aloft, "Let's see if you can prove it."

Gostoc did not hesitate. He leapt and in a second had a key in the chains' keyhole. With a twitch, Geralt was unchained. "Well, go on then," said Gostoc, "But don't worry, I'll be watching over you, I won't let my champion die so easily." The witcher only snort as he walked out of the gaol. The Gatekeeper meanwhile crept back to his shadows and laid there.

Geralt turned around and faced a staircase before him. He climbed up the stairs and stepped into a poorly lit hall. He could see three floors above him and plenty of doors and corners surrounding the hall. Gostoc was right about two things, the entwined castle, and also the reek of death that filled the air. He had to find his weapons first, but where could the armoury be?

He heard hard steel steps rousing from a corner. He leaned to the wall and crept his head out slightly to see a round of guards pouring into the hall. Their leader bore a torch whilst the guardsmen behind him handled a wagon full of human bodies. Were they prisoners like him? Unless in wartimes, Geralt could find no excuse for killing prisoners. But that was a thought he did not want to linger on as he studied the many pathways before him.

Eventually, he chose a narrow staircase that orbited upwards, leading him to the second floor. Afterwards, he was in a corridor which ended to an open door. From afar, he could see a leg hanging from the door. He brushed the leg aside and entered into a large room. Looking at the roof, he saw an uncountable number of human body parts hanging loose. Geralt cursed under his breath. The smell of death was even stronger here, for piles upon piles of covered corpses tangled in each other littered across the room and dim torchlight upon walls meagre in number failed to light a mostly darkened room. Geralt had no torch of his own, these dim rays of light were his only source to find a path between the scattered corpses.

The throbbing sound of heavy chainmail echoed throughout the room. Geralt looked around, and saw a large figure creep under a lightened point and disappear in the darkness. Something metallic screeched on the ground. Geralt quietly crawled aside, trying to move away from the sound. A pair of hands strangely placed appeared under a torch, wielding two thrusting swords, but then he saw another pair of hands too far from the former found their way to the light. A creature connected the hands but Geralt knew not what.

Suddenly, the screech resumed as the creature moved forth, first a face appeared, then a crouched body and finally, Geralt saw the beast on full sight: a human with four arms. He was looking at the witcher, silently taking pleasure at the new found prey.

Geralt took a step back and looked around; a door was on the other side of the room. He could reach it if he ran, but the chances of the beast catching him was high too.

The creature meanwhile crawled forth. Geralt waited for him to come closer. When he was close enough, he rose his hand aloft and casted Igni, spurting blazons of fire directly at his face. As the creature wailed and scrambled back, Geralt leapt aside, and ran towards the door.

But the beast ran faster, and in no time reached him. He thrust his sword towards Geralt, but he dodged it around and jumped to a corner. The sword went into a torch and got stuck in it. The creature flipped his sword and threw the torch at Geralt. The witcher spun around but the fire lunched onto the corpses and began burning them. Now he really had to get away. The beast leapt at him. Taking a risk, Geralt took one of the burning bodies and casted Aard, throwing it forcefully at his foe. The corpse went through the many swords the beast held, and got stuck on them. While the creature was busy ridding himself off the burning corpse, Geralt leapt to the door and ran away.

A long corridor sat in his path. The beast was already freed from the corpse and was running towards him. Geralt traced through the corridor and noticed an opened window at the end of it. Underneath it was a rooftop. Between broken bones and death, he chose jumping out. He fell on the rooftop but his weight pierced through the week material and had him fall on the ground with his back. He groaned in pain before rising to his feet. He was now in the courtyards, which was filled with soldiers patrolling. He turned around and saw an opened door hidden behind a wall. It was not on the eyesight of the guards, so he crouched and snuck towards it.

He entered a small hall decorated with red carpets and walls. He straightened and looked further inside, no soldiers or beast could be found. He breathed relief and began preparing a map of the castle in his mind. He had to find the arsenal or else he would be doomed.

"Hello." Suddenly, he heard a sound from behind. He spun around and saw a man standing beside a chapel; wearing an enormous hat, his eyes were hidden and a cap rested upon his shoulders. "A newcomer, I gather? Welcome to the Stormveil Castle."

"Greetings," said Geralt cautiously, "Are you a guardsman?"

Oh, but the gods, no," he led out a chuckle before walking forth, "The name's Rogier, a graceless sorcerer," he rose his hand aloft, "And you are?"

Geralt's ears piqued at the man's occupation. He took his hand and said, "Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher."

"Pleasure to meet you, Witcher Geralt," said Rogier, "May I ask what business you happen to have in Stormveil Castle? This place is not, after all, friendly as you have noticed."
"I was brought here as a prisoner," Geralt answered, "And now I'm trying to find the arsenal, to retrieve my weapons and get out of this place."
Rogier's smile grew wider, "Oh, how ambitious. But you know that the arsenal is nowhere near this place, right?"

Geralt shook his head, "No idea. Everywhere I go is the same, bodies, guardsmen, and a beast with four arms."

He tensed, shocked, but kept his smile nonetheless, "You fought a Grafted Scion… barehanded? How did you survive?"

"By not trying to win against it," Geralt answered, "Escaped at the first chance I got."

Rogier nodded, "So, you have your wits about you. That's a trait not many of us Tarnished have—including myself, of course. "

"Why is that?" Geralt asked.

The sorcerer smirked and took a step back, thinking for a second before answering, "Let's just say I have not stumbled upon this accursed place just for a refreshing stroll, I've come here for grander purposes."

He did not specify further, and Geralt did not wish to pry, for he needed this sorcerer's help if he wanted to return to his world. "Well, I hope you find what you're looking for. I need to get going as well, if I want to find the arsenal."

"Wait a minute, my friend," said Rogier as he rushed his hand to Geralt's shoulder, "You have seen what's on the outside, haven't you? Do you truly think you'd be successful against all of these soldiers barehanded?"

"I can't sit around and do nothing," Geralt argued.

"Yes, but let me accompany you. I may not know this castle thoroughly, but I can lead you to the arsenal."

Geralt hid his smile, but he was gratified that the sorcerer accepted his persuasion. "But what about your own task?"

Rogier shrugged, "Who knows? Perhaps I'll find it along with you." He pulled out a thin sword from the sheath tied to his belt, "Seeing as you are barehanded, this rapier shall be our only resort against enemies. But we will be discreet most of the times, this is only for emergencies."

Geralt nodded, "Alright then, where should we go?"

"To the outside," said Rogier, "Come with me." He crouched and walked out of the chapel, Geralt following him.

As they stepped out of the red room into the courtyards, Rogier gestured that they had to go to the other side, beyond all of those guardsmen. He unsheathed his rapier and slit a nearby guard's throat. Geralt walked to another and snapped his neck. Afterwards, they quietly walked behind a bush that extended throughout the courtyard. At the end of the route, was a tower, their destination. "We might want to be careful," said Rogier, "There's a giant guarding the door. Not the friendliest sort, I wager."

"I can distract him," said Geralt.

Rogier turned to him, surprise written on his face even with his eyes hidden, "Oh? And how so?"

Geralt turned to the giant strolling in the area. On the giant's left laid the ruins of a wall now turned to a cliff. Geralt quickly thought of a plan and stepped out of the bushes, revealing himself to his prey. The giant turned to him, his eyes weakly opening to recognise the intruder. He rose his club aloft and ran towards him, swinging his club with utmost strength.

Geralt dodged his blow and spun around. The sound of the club crushing into the ground alarmed the other guardsmen who ran to small ballistae scattered around the higher parts of the courtyard. Geralt hid behind the giant as they shoot and some of their bolts even landed on the giant. The pain enraged him as he whipped around with his club, offering no comfort to Geralt.

The witcher leapt aside to the cliff and waited as the giant got closer. His foe swung at him, which Geralt again dodged. As he spun around, he casted Aard at the giant. The forceful bolt of wind broke the giant's stance as he fell backwards from the cliff onto his death.

Quickly, Rogier spurt out of the bushes and ran through the new coming bolts to reach him. He yanked Geralt towards the tower. Once they were inside, safe from the ballistae, they breathed relief.

"Well, that was quite impressive," said Rogier, "So you are a sorcerer as well?"

"No, those were but simple tricks," Geralt answered, "Every witcher learns them, but they pale in comparison to sorceries of the trained sorcerers."

Rogier bombinated in response, "Would you mind clarifying this occupation of yours? I've never heard such a name throughout my life in the Lands Between."

Understandable, Geralt thought. "Essentially monster hunters; draconids, necrophages…"

"Necrophages? Care to elaborate?" Rogier asked sharply.

"Well, it includes monsters like Graves Hags, resembling deformed women who prey on corpses, and Drowners, drowned men returned as monsters," Geralt explained.

"Interesting," the sorcerer dropped his, seemingly bothered by the new information he was receiving. "Let us tarry no longer. The arsenal is nigh." Geralt did not pry and simply followed Rogier as they ventured inside the tower.

They slipped into a large kitchen. Pods, dishes, and ovens everywhere, albeit all were empty. Instead, Geralt smelt the foul sense of withered corpses and jerked his face. Rogier noticed his expression, "First time, eh? Then you for sure won't like what those creatures are doing there," he rose his hand and pointed. Geralt followed his finger and saw a man feasting on a pile of corpses.

"By the gods," Geralt mumbled.

"Indeed, savages one and all," said Rogier as he walked closer to the cannibals, Geralt behind him following closely.

"Ugh, is this all you've got, you miserable hacks? Just skin and bones. Only skin and bones. Where's the muscle when you need it?" Geralt heard a familiar voice rising from the cannibal.

Rogier tensed, and thrust his rapier forward, pickling the cannibal's neck was its end.

The man jumped in fright, and turned around, revealing himself to be Gostoc the Gatekeeper. Whatever words he wished to utter faded once he saw Rogier's face, who held his sword to the former's neck. "We meet again, Gostoc, but the circumstances remain the same; you are still at my mercy. But I shall give you none."

Gostoc opened his mouth to speak but Rogier interrupted him, "Keep your disease-ridden mouth shut. I wish to hear none of your ramblings."

Geralt stepped beside Rogier and turned to Gostoc. "What were you doing with those corpses?"

Rogier answered him instead, "What everyone else does: grafting."

The witcher frowned, "What do you mean by grafting?"

Rogier stared at him, and perceived Geralt's ignorance. His lips turned into a pitiful smile as he brought the rapier down, "Well, Geralt, there's a reason why the lord of this castle is called Godrick the Grafted."

Just then the realisation hit Geralt. The reason for all those corpses and hanging limbs was…grafting. He jerked in disgust as he thought about that beast—'the Grafted Scion'. All those hands belonged to other human beings, but were grafted into one monstrosity. The lord of this castle must be a sight to behold, Geralt thought. "Who took that hand from you, Gostoc?"

The Gatekeeper turned to him, fear vanished from his eyes and a poignant expression taking its place, "Godrick."

"So that's the reason you wish for his death—vengeance," Geralt further questioned, and Gostoc nodded at that.

"Yet here you are, modelling after your retched lord," said Rogier.

"Who are you to condemn me?!" Gostoc shouted, "Have I not suffered enough?!"

Rogier yanked the Gatekeeper forward and held his sword close to his neck, "Then let me relieve you from all this pain, you miserable hag. It would be my pleasure to do so."

Suddenly, they heard rapid movements rousing from nearby. Gostoc recognised them at once, "The soldiers! They are coming for us!"

Geralt cursed, "They're too many to fight. We won't survive against them."

"Set me free, I can lead you to safety," said Gostoc.

"You won't live long to do that, Gostoc," said Rogier, "For I'll struck you down. In the name of my lost Grace, I will kill you."

Gostoc grabbed Rogier's hand that was choking him, "You fool! You won't step out of this room alive!"

The sounds of the guardsmen were increasing, their numbers must have been higher than Geralt expected. There was no time to waste, he yanked Rogier backwards, "Set him free." Rogier looked at him and for a second, Geralt doubted he would agree, but the sorcerer reluctantly released Gostoc, who at once was on his feet, running towards a direction. He beckoned them to follow and Geralt and Rogier heeded him.

They climbed down a staircase and turned left. Then Gostoc led them to a giant iron door which he opened using one of his keys. Geralt helped him push the doors aside and they all ushered in. Afterwards, they closed the doors again as the guardsmen nearly reached them. Their constant blows on the doors echoed throughout the room.

Darkness encompassed the room, as if it was long forgotten that such place existed. "Those doors are impregnable," said Gostoc, "The soldiers won't be able to storm in."

Geralt casted Igni into the air and lighted the few steps ahead of them. On a corner, a blue light was burning. He headed there and bent down, only to see the blue light fade and give place to a thin bone resting on the corpse of a knight. The bone shone, and its warmth radiated to its surroundings. He grabbed the bone and turned to his companions.

Rogier was the first to notice his discovery, "Ah, I see you have found a homeward bone, Geralt."

"What is that?" Geralt asked.

Rogier gave a surprised expression before answering, "A Tarnished who sees the Light of Grace can travel between the Sites of Grace, but us graceless Tarnished have to use homeward bones that only transfer us back to the Roundtable Hold. It's a handy tool, especially at times when you don't want to die."

Tarnished, this word must have meant more than an attribute. It must be a form of entity, an order of people, like the Witchers. He would want this then. Geralt walked towards Rogier and extended his hand, "Here, take it."

Rogier shook his head and declined, "You'll be needing them soon. Wandering in the Lands Between without one of this is a bold and stupid choice."

This is a good time to discuss it, Geralt thought. Gostoc was off to wander in the dark himself, but even if he managed to eavesdrop, Geralt would silence him. "While we're here, can I share a secret with you, Rogier?"

Rogier cracked a smile, "Well, I'm flattered that you deem me fit for sharing secrets, Geralt, even though it has been little time passed since we've met. Of course, share it with me, I'm all ears."

"I'm not, in truth, a Tarnished like you," Geralt admitted.

His smile fell, "Go on."

"A creature from your world somehow found a way to trespass into mine. He now roams free in my world whilst I was transferred here. I need to return or else he'll kill people dear to me," Geralt paused, looking for any disbelief in Rogier's face. He did not show astonishment or doubt, so he continued, "I was brought here through a portal, one that is now closed. I need the help of a sorcerer to open it—a sorcerer like you."

Rogier did not answer immediately. He brought his hand to his chin and pondered. Perhaps he thought him a madman, or perhaps he was thinking of the implications the travelling between worlds bespoke of. Either way, it took him some time to look up again. "Well, it's not implausible. I would like to help you, but I know not how."

"I only need you to find the portal," said Geralt, "It's somewhere in the sky. If you can make it reappear, it would be reopened as well."

Rogier nodded, "I shan't take a vow, for what you have presented is a task even toilsome for the mages at Ray Lucaria Academy, but I shall help you however I can, if my knowledge allows me."

"Thank you. That is all I ask."

"Hey!" Gostoc exclaimed, interrupting their conversation, "Look what I have found!"

Rogier flinched; there was clearly a hatred of Gostoc in him, and Geralt could speculate the reason behind it. Nevertheless, the two walked towards the Gatekeeper. He was sitting beside an enormous hole carved in the middle of the room. Geralt could not see how far its length was, for the darkness did not allow him, but it went deep into the ground.

Rogier opened his mouth agape and fell to one knee, his hand creeping to the ground, where laid numerous black roots risen from the depths of the hole. "It can't be…" he murmured.

"What is it?" Geralt asked.

"Deathroot." Gostoc gasped as Rogier wearily inspected the roots. "They are growing apace, soon to be devouring this whole castle. There is no mistake, the Prince of Death abodes somewhere underneath."

Geralt looked at Rogier, his face was lit up, a new found passion burnt in his words. "You plan to climb down, don't you?"

Rogier turned to him, "I have to, my friend. A porpuse beckons me down there. If I refuse this opportunity, I'll forever be lost, a graceless Tarnished with nothing to live for."

"You have lost your mind already!" said Gostoc, "These young Deathroorts look deadly enough, but you want to see the source of it all, where something certainly will kill you?"

"Well, Gostoc, unlike you, I have a courage to face the dangers life throws at me," said Rogier as he rose to his feet, "Geralt, cast your lighting sign, if you please." The witcher did as he was told. The fire decreased the darkness inside the hole, and revealed a system of strong branches of the Deathroot tangled together throughout the hole.

"A landing, just as I thought," said Rogier as he stepped forth.

Geralt did not know what to do, but he had to make a choice. There are other sorcerers in this world, too, a dark voice in his mind claimed, but he was endeared to this man before him, even during this short time together. He didn't care for the fact that he was barehanded, he had to make sure Rogier was safe, so he pulled the sorcerer back and said, "I'm going with you."

Rogier was genuinely shocked, so much that he found himself at a loss of words. "That's… very self-sacrificing of you, Geralt. Thank you."

The blows on the doors grew louder, which startled Gostoc to his core. "I-I'm going too!" he stammered.

Rogier didn't say anything, but Geralt nodded in gratitude to the Gatekeeper. He stooped down and looked through the hole. What crazy world have I walked into? He thought as he jumped down the cliff into the branch underneath.