The Eternal Wish

by ChestOfStories

Yennefer asks Geralt to help her find a djinn on an old broken ship on Skellige Isles. After all these years, she wishes to finally know for sure whether their love was real. Meanwhile, The Wild Hunt is hot on Ciri's trail, and their world is in danger. Based on books and games lore with our additions. Feedback HIGHLY appreciated.

93. Chapter 93

It was a blonde sorceress by the name of Cynthia who came to Ciri's chambers once the sun had set and the skies had turned dark.

They exchanged no words beyond Ciri's instructions, and once on the outskirts of the forests outside Novigrad, Cynthia handed Ciri a coin she could use to summon the mage back for her journey home.

Fifteen minutes later, Ciri knocked on the door to Fealinn's cottage, her hood drawn over her head, face partially concealed.

It was a bit of waiting before the door cracked open with the elf's face peeking out. Her eyes widened in recognition, a smile bloomed on her face as she pushed the door open.

"Ciri! Gods, I'm so happy to see you! Come in, come in. I have some tea with an apple pie — still warm. A woman that's just left has brought it — I actually wondered if it was her returning. She sometimes forgets things…"

She closed the door behind Ciri and hurried to the stove for the kettle and mugs.

"Please, sit, dear."

"Thank you." Ciri lowered her hood and cast a quick look around the cottage before taking her seat. "I'm sorry to come so late. But I need your help."

"Oh, but it's not late until the sun is down," she said, setting a steaming mug of tea before Ciri. "Anything happened or you don't feel good? I'll be happy to help."

"I can't find Kain." Ciri decided there was no reason not to be straightforward. "Have you seen him lately?"

Her hand cutting the pie froze for a fracture of a moment, her brow furrowed. "I have… not today, though. He was going to take Griffin to a better hiding place. He also visited Ellander, as far as I know." She gave Ciri a plate with a pie slice, meeting her gaze. "Perhaps he is deliberately concealing himself to not alert the Wild Hunt."

"And leave me out in the open as bait?" Ciri arched a brow. "I don't think so. I think he is in trouble. How long ago did he leave with Griffin? Did he say where he was going?"

"Brokilon," she said, sitting down. "The griffin is accustomed to their forest and has a cave there. Kain thought there would be no better place — dryads would protect the beast with all they have, and no enemy would touch him. He might have lingered there a night… or he could have gone to Tretogor. He asked me for a favor and was supposed to pick it up there from a dwarf master."

Brokilon. Morvran's words about the dryads rung in Ciri's ear. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"What was this favor?"

"Something to be made of dimeritium," Fealinn said elusively. "He would show me once he had it." She sipped her tea. "Is Yennefer feeling better? Kain spent a lot of effort finding out what happened to her."

"Yes," Ciri replied distractedly, hurt that Kain was apparently doing something so important behind her back. Why wouldn't he have told her what he was up to? Did he not trust her? "She's herself again."

"Is she?" Fealinn appeared pleasantly surprised. "Oh, it's a relief. But… how…" She frowned, staring at Ciri. "How did you help her if he didn't come back to you to tell what he found? He had to return to you after Ellander."

"He didn't. I had to go there myself and talk to the oneiromancer." Ciri assumed Fealinn knew the story of Yennefer's illness. Seemed Kain was telling her everything.

Fealinn's face darkened a shade. "Something should have delayed him…" she uttered, seeming to hope rather than believe in her own words. "I would think Brokilon."

She leaned to cover Ciri's hand with her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. She mustered a smile for Ciri's sake.

"He might return tonight. Or tomorrow. Maybe we have to just be patient for a little bit longer. No one in Brokilon would harm or ambush him. I'm certain of it. He's under the Queen's protection, it's known to all."

"Perhaps." Ciri was not as hopeful. If Kain truly was in Brokilon, why was she not able to feel his energy like she used to?

No. Something had happened to him. Just as something had happened to Geralt.

She stood, dragging a hand over her tired face. "Thank you for your help, Fealinn. You will let me know if you hear from him, won't you?"

"Of course I would." She stood and approached Ciri, gently drawing her into a comforting hug. "I'm so sorry you're worried, Ciri. I'm worried, too. I hope he shows up before nightfall, but if he doesn't, come back to me. I'll do what I can."

---

The door to Istredd's quarters swung open after Ciri had disabled the lock with her dagger and hairpin, revealing a quite spacious room lined with shelves and tables carrying potion bottles and scrolls. It looked as though the sorcerer had brought all of his possessions to Vizima, but surely that could not be the truth.

She stood in the doorway for a few seconds, making absolutely certain no one was actually there to catch her red-handed. Istredd had left for Yennefer's quarters five minutes earlier (what he was doing there so late at night, Ciri did not know) but she would not underestimate him. Magicians were crafty creatures. An alarm system might not be too silly of an idea.

When no one appeared and no piercing sounds emanated from inside, Ciri entered and closed the door behind her again.

She slowly perused the shelves and their contents, refraining from touching anything, even if the illustrious colors of the potions and powders were tempting her.

It did not take long for her to find where Istredd must have originally hidden the anchor. The edge of a shelf was scorched with burn marks and was currently the only shelf not carrying glass vials.

Ciri let her hand hover over the marks, hesitant to touch lest she, too, be burned. What if the trap was still in place somehow?

But what would be the point?

She inhaled deeply and let her fingertips rise to the wooden surface, immediately drawing back as a flash of pain assaulted her hand, accompanied by the sudden and brief mental image of the thief experiencing exactly the same. Kain.

Ciri clutched her wounded hand with the other, expecting the worst as she peered down at it, expecting to see the skin and flesh burned from the bones. But the pain dissolved almost as soon as it had come. And her hand was whole and unharmed.

It had not been her pain, but his.

Still, the unpleasant effects of the vision lingered and made Ciri's heart pump harder and faster than the situation warranted. She breathed, trying to calm herself while revisiting the image.

Kain had taken the anchor. She understood why. She just didn't understand why he would not tell her about it. Have her help. And honestly, why had he not merely asked Istredd for it to be returned to their care? Did he not trust the sorcerer?

And the pain… it had been horrible. Enough to send a normal person into shock should it happen to them. How had Kain fared? Ciri didn't remember Lenna or Mother Nenneke saying anything about him being injured when he visited Ellander. Did that mean he had returned to Vizima after healing the oneiromancer?

Would Istredd have been able to sense exactly when his trap had been breached? It could help piece together Kain's activities that night. She would have to find a way to ask him.

Voices out in the hallway had Ciri fly into action, silently cursing her promise to Morvran of not using her powers. She didn't know if it was Istredd returning to his quarters or if it were merely servants passing through the hallway. But she did not want to stay and find out.

She opened the window behind the desk and quietly climbed out, gently pushing it closed again before letting her feet find a ledge on which to balance, scampering along the outside walls until she could find a place to drop down. She needed to return to her room before anyone noticed she was missing.

---

"What I can't understand is why they won't come back here!" Zoltan scoffed, filling their mugs with ale from the pitcher he had just brought.

Triss and Dandelion were forking their baked potatoes under a meat sauce enthusiastically.

"They are searching for Geralt," Triss said and took a sip. "Nilfgaard has more resources, more mages, and spies. Yennefer found both Geralt and Ciri thanks to Emhyr."

Zoltan snorted. "Horseshit! Why do ye trust them so much? What if they tell ye to make ye forget the history and rely on their noble intentions?"

"I trust Ciri and Yennefer understand what they're doing," Dandelion reasoned, reaching for his mug.

"Perhaps it's Yennefer," Triss mused and gave them a slow meaningful smile. "Istredd came there for her. And if she leaves the castle, she can hardly bring him here."

"And why in hells not?" Zoltan demanded. "If he's her friend, we call im our friend."

"Even when you don't trust sorcerers you don't know?" Dandelion chuckled.

"If he's helpin her," Zoltan spread his arms with a shrug, indicating his understanding.

"Maybe he's helping her so well she no longer hopes to find Geralt," Triss said quietly, forking her dinner.

"What is that shite's supposed to mean?" Zoltan scowled.

She looked up at him from her plate. "I think she is trying to find a new life for herself to cope with the loss of Geralt. I don't think she hopes to find him alive anymore."

Dandelion stilled with his fork halfway to his mouth. Zoltan's face fell for a second, then he scowled darkly.

"That's bollocks, Merigold," Zoltan said. "I've been telling ye all from the start - the Black Ones don't want to find im. We do! And it's here they both should be - with us, searchin!"

Triss shrugged, lowering her stormy gaze to her plate. "Fringilla and I searched relentlessly. But what is the point if we can't get inside the tower, nor find any trail outside? He simply vanished..."

"Nothin vanishes without a trail," the dwarf argued, leaning onto the table, his finger rapping against the surface in tact with words spoken. "See, that damned elf Sage is gone? I would bet my whole stash of Est Est he's involved! Probably sold Geralt to the soddin Riders so they lure Ciri out like the last time they tried."

"Only last time Avallac'h was doing everything in his power to save her," Triss put in. "Got cursed in the process."

"Aye, aye, so convincing," Zoltan cracked a nasty sneer. He looked from Triss's frown to Dandelion's flabbergasted mien. "Doncha think for a darn minute that it's strange for a fella who's supposed to know about things before they happen to fall under any curses or into any traps? No matter what happens, that bastard always knows which way to run. Because it's what he is. With that ploughin gift of his, he's able to play our lassie any way he wants."

"But..." Dandelion tried and fall short of arguments against that theory. It looked rather malicious. And rather persuasive, the more you thought about it. He dropped his fork and snatched his mug for a hearty gulp.

Triss was fiddling with her mug, looking both alarmed and doubtful.

"Jus' think about it," Zoltan said, satisfied with the effect, leaning back in his chair. "Geralt has always been a nuisance to im. Then kitten-lad came along and the blasted elf was yet again unhappy to lose lassie to another man. Yennefer is also an obstacle."

Zoltan turned to Triss. "Maybe yer right about that wizard lover of hers - the Sage woulda known about such possibility, no? That Yennefer would seek consolation. And if she gave up on Geralt, she wouldn't be lookin. And eventually, Ciri gives up as well. And what sages do best is waitin."

"And Kain?" Triss asked, setting her mug back on the table, licking her lips.

"Ciri came lookin for im," the dwarf said, his face darkening with wariness. "He could be gone, too, for all we know."

"She'd come to us!" Dandelion said. "She'd tell us! Ask for help! We're her family."

"Maybe she didn't because the damn elf got to her first," Zoltan shrugged. "He'd try to become her only family. Convincing her that we're no help or use to her, that she should keep away from us to keep us safe - all bullshit like that. He's good at bullshit. Always has been. Look how little of her we see these days. I bet there's a reason. And I'd seek that ploughin reason with the bloody long-ears."

"That is just... too horrific to think about," Dandelion said, his mien a mask of suffering. "Why would you say all that to make my innards churn?! It was such a nice meal and you just had to open your mouth!"

"So ye open yer eyes and use yer head to think!" Zoltan said. "Does it all truly sound all that far-fetched, eh? Does it?"

"It doesn't," Triss had to admit. "But I've seen Yennefer today - just for a short conversation with tea - and she said she and Ciri are still dedicated to searching for Geralt."

"Oh yeah?" Zoltan smirked. "And where do they search for their sodding clues? Down in them Vizima sewers?"

"She didn't tell me anything specific," Triss said. "Nor did Fringilla. But..."

"What?" Zoltan and Dandelion stared at her expectantly, smelling some big news.

Triss heaved a sigh, lilted out her ale, and looked between them confidingly. "Philippa said she spoke to Ciri, and they came to an agreement."

"Awh that dirty bag of feathers!" Zoltan roared and glared at Triss. "What did she make lassie do now?!"

Triss shrunk a bit, uncertain. "Philippa didn't specify. But I know she wants to reinstall the Lodge."

"Jus' what our bloody world needs!" Zoltan smacked his palms against the table in indignation. "That wretched Lodge again."

"So what, it's Philippa and not the elf sage?" Dandelion asked, stupefied.

"Nah, the Sage is right there hangin on our gal's ear pouring his venom into it," Zoltan insisted. "But the damned hag is usin the situation. She always does. I can't understand, though, why Ciri would strike any deals with that cunt. What does the owl hag bargain with?"

"Promising to find Geralt?" Dandelion suggested halfheartedly.

"I seriously doubt she can," Triss sighed. "If anyone can find him, it's Kain."

"Maybe that's the problem now," Zoltan grumbled, pouring himself a drink. "That he found him."

---

The sunset was marvelous. Long and thin clouds blown across the sky like feathers swam in a palette of saturated colors from all shades of pink and violet to light blue that began to darken rapidly. The bloated radiating sun had just touched its bottom to the waterline of the horizon, and it looked like its hot liquid core had spilled into the sea.

The air was filled with sea salt and a whiff of tar from the recent maintenance job that the new Chancellor of Redania had ordered for the ship he had inherited upon the untimely demise of the last Redanian king.

His heavy footfalls with a slight limp vibrated through the deck boards, announcing his approach. There was once a time when that man of significant stature and girth was capable of moving with almost unnatural agility and grace, stepping lightly like a hunting cat. It was hard to believe now, but Morvran had heard about it from a few trusted sources. Those days were gone and the witcher Geralt was responsible. After he crushed Dijkstra's ankle during the infamous coup of Thanedd, the skill of cat feet was lost to Dijkstra for good.

"You better be careful," he said, stopping a few feet short of Morvran. "People unaccustomed to ships often fall overboard."

"I'll do my best to not set you up for such a dangerous setting."

Morvran turned to face the bear of a man behind him. Sigi was eyeballing him with a mien that reflected both disdain and interest in equal measure. He might be cornered but wasn't about to bother with any pretense.

"I have to admit, you got some gut to come here," he said.

All teasing aside, they were in the open waters; the Lighthouse and the Church Tower of Novigrad were a mile or two away. If Sigi decided the general was being a nuisance, there was hardly any better place to get rid of him.

"It's a big compliment coming from you, Count," Morvran smiled.

Sigi grimaced, "Don't call me that. Let us cut the horseshit short and get to what exactly you came here for. Want to kill me? Didn't think you preferred to make such visits personal, unless this is a special occasion to decorate your list of achievements."

Morvran folded his arms, leaning back against the boardside, observing the former spy with amused curiosity.

"I've been studying your political career very closely," he said. "There's a lot to learn, as well as admire. I would have made it personal in either outcome. However, the outcome you've just suggested is such a terrible waste I've never even considered it while thinking over our predicament."

Sigi measured him with a gauging look, folding his arms, his frown deepening. Then he emitted a scoff. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me, son. Especially since I know with ploughing clarity what a big bone stuck in the Emperor's throat I am and you are no more than an extension of his hand."

"Well, be it as it may, his hand is not the sole thing to define me," Morvran said. "There's more to it all and not as simple. I came to you tonight to forgo all horseshit as you put it. I want you to help me save you and the huge chunk of the North you've dedicated your entire life to. Think we can find a common ground?"

Dijkstra laughed; it was a harsh, rough sound. "Common ground for Nilfgaard equals their ground. You want to swallow everything you can get your dirty hands on — it's not changing, no matter how many treaties you lie your way through."

"Forgive my insolence to remind you how you lied your own way through a recent treaty with Temeria."

"If Temeria wants to be your whore — doesn't mean Redania will follow. I didn't spend my whole life on its service to sell it that cheap."

"Ah, then a higher price would have sweetened the deal?"

"We're beyond prices, General," Dijkstra drawled in his booming voice, his countenance reflecting boredom. "If Nilfgaard is unhappy with this outcome, you'll have to battle Redania and Kaedwen's armies."

"Oh, that is some interesting development," Morvran chuckled. "Is Kaedwen aware of that gamble?"

Dijkstra smirked grimly and spread his arms in a think-what-you-like gesture.

"You bluff professionally, I have to give it to you," Morvran said. "But we both understand that if the Empire offers Kaedwen the deal Temeria has gotten, the resources to support your ambitious challenge cut down to less than humble. You're standing on thin ice, and it's cracking under your feet. If you begin to move the way you threaten, we end up with a humongous waste of potential I mentioned earlier in regards to your assassination."

"There's always another way, General. I can kill you and risk a quick coup with Kaedwen and, hell, maybe Temeria has changed its mind by now, and being your vassal turned out to be less than acceptable for its pride. It might end with one more capitulation for Nilfgaard, and who knows, perhaps the last one. The North is waiting to be reunited against the vultures in black, we will never settle for any whore deal."

"If reunion was such a simple task — one you all yearning for as you state — it would have been accomplished a long time ago. Instead, we have a shattered plate with pieces that do not fit well together anymore. It's painful to admit, but before all those prominent rulers of your North met their demise for different reasons, they were busy gnawing at each other's necks for territories. Now, most of those territories are headless. We can sweep through them like a hurricane and there would be no more deals left."

"Then why don't you do it?" Sigi sneered. "If all this speech is not a mere boasting."

"Because no prosperity ever comes from war."

"It never stopped Emhyr before. Why do you tell me now about some sodding waste of potential when this game of teasing things that cannot be is a waste in itself with me. Leave it for cravens and spare my time."

Morvran fixed him with a sharp look. "I never tease things that cannot be — it's, as you correctly put it, a waste of time. When I offer something, it means I can make it happen. And when I ask you to meet me in the middle, it means I'm trying really hard to save your life and dignity."

"Dignity!" Sigi chortled. "My dignity is what you're after because there is nothing else you can do short of taking my life."

Morvran observed him with a hint of a smile. "I can do a lot of things, either for better or for worse. You're at the crossroad, and both your life and your homeland depend on which road you pick. We have already touched upon the bad choices. How about I show you what lies along the other road?"

"I'll be damned if it won't be a waste of my time," Dijkstra said, a brief wince of disparagement cutting through his features. "But at least I'll have a drink to make it bearable."

He turned and went towards the captain's quarters. Morvran sighed, allowing the smallest of smirks to touch his mouth before he composed himself and followed Sigismund inside.

"Let me ask you something, General," Dijkstra said, opening a bottle of Pomino. "What got your arse on fire to save me? All horseshit aside, what among all that crap you studied about me made you think you could use me like a whore for whatever the heck you have in mind?"

"That prudence you execute like art," Morvran said, accepting the offered glass with a nod of appreciation, and settled at the desk separating him from the big man. "I believe in your judgement and I'm eager to see if I was right."

"A hell of a gambler, aren't you?" Dijkstra cracked a lopsided simper.

"What is a politician's life if not a string of gambling escapades? It'd be rather dull otherwise."

Morvran took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips, proffering a faint smile.

"Before I make my daring move, however," he continued, "I wish to make one thing clear between us. The state of your relationship with Lady Eilhart."

Sigi snorted, his mouth creasing in bitter irony. "There's never such a thing as a relationship between that woman and anyone at all who might claim otherwise. Her one and only relationship has always been with herself. I don't believe in miracles, nor in that fact ever changing before it drives her into her grave. If it does, I'm not certain I'd be able to squeeze a tear out." He drank, eyeballing Voorhis, then smirked. "Wanted me to throw her into the fire to earn my cozy chair by your Emperial fireplace, eh?"

"Amazingly poetic, and reflects the sense of it. Deep down I sort of hear that tiny voice warning me about her viewing the state of your relationship in quite a brighter light yet, if you know what I mean."

Dijkstra shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "If I had to contemplate every single man or woman who views their relationship with me in this light or that, I'd be long gone to madness. Whatever she plots in her crazy head is none of my business, regardless of anyone else's interest in conducting business with me."

"In that case, we might yet find some middle ground, Count," Morvran smiled, toasting Dijkstra with his glass, and took a sip.

"In my turn," Dijkstra said, "I want to grasp how much of what is leaving your mouth is in Emhyr's voice?"

"Ah, the prudence," Morvran admired, his eyes dancing with amusement. "You are quite familiar with Emhyr by now. But there's a part of him no one ever sees… aside from me. That part of him has a clear understanding that I am most likely what succeeds him. And in that understanding, we tend to seek and find our common voice."

He drank, savored the taste on his tongue, then took a deep breath. "Now, let us get down to essentials."

Dijkstra sat back, sipping his wine, and listened to what the young Nilfgaardian bastard had to say. Quite soon, a spark of interest ignited deep in his attentive stare.

---

It began to darken outside when Jagna knocked on Ciri's door and timidly peeked in.

"Your Highness?"

Ciri was busy training with her sword, moving around the room with the ferocious grace of a fighting predator, adding grunts and growls to relieve her stress from feeling so helpless and baffled.

Jagna bowed her head as though guilty of something unforgivable and spoke quickly. "I apologize for disturbing your time of privacy, Your Highness, but you have a visitor. She is waiting in the library... Would you wish for me to bring her here? She said the conversation needs to be private."

Ciri blew a tuft of ashen hair from her eyes, breathing hard as she regarded the maid. "Who is it?"

"Lady sorceress, Your Highness. Should I invite her here? Or do you need to take a bath and change your clothes first? If you forgive me, Your Highness... you're... uh... sweating..."

Which sorceress, though?

Ciri squinted. "Brunette? Face like a grumpy potato? Probably insulted you three times just during introductions?" She really didn't want to see Philippa. "If so, send her right in. She doesn't deserve a freshly bathed princess."

"I haven't seen, Your Highness," Jagna said, beginning to tremble a little, afraid to anger the princess with her lack of awareness. "I've been told to notify you about a lady mage."

"It's fine, Jagna. Send this mage in immediately. Thank you."

"Oh... But... Your Highness... A bath... Your clothes... Allow me to aid you? It's court etiquette, I have to follow it, Your Highness. I will be quick, I promise! If you just wait a moment..."

Jagna made it truly quick.

She shot out of the room like a spooked squirrel and returned with two more servants carrying two buckets of hot water. They put Ciri in the tub and quickly wiped her clean with cloths and aromatic oils, then clad her in a fresh shirt and leather pants. Her hair was brushed into a neat bun, and then the servants left her ready for her visitor.

Not a full minute passed before Jagna let the lady in and delicately closed the door, leaving them alone.

"Greetings, Your Highness," Lenna bowed. "I'm happy to see you well. General Voorhis told me to visit you before I went back home. Is there anything else you require my aid with?"

Ciri was surprised. She'd anticipated another tedious political battle.

"Lenna. I… No, I don't believe so." She frowned. "General Voorhis told you to see me?" Perhaps she had misunderstood.

"Yes, Your Highness," Lenna said, frowning a little. "I trusted he knew what you needed and that you might have requested to see me... Are you absolutely certain you have no requests?"

Ciri searched her mind, taking a seat on the foot of her bed. "You wouldn't happen to have any talent in tracking missing individuals, would you?" It was mostly said in jest, and yet her tone retained a slight hint of hopefulness.

"As a mage, I might be able to try if the trail isn't cold," Lenna said wistfully. "But magic is rarely precise, Your Highness, and dreams are even more vague and very difficult to interpret. I could try to help you, but there is never a guarantee when you deal in magic."

"Someone I know once used the service of an oneiromancer to find me," Ciri mused, remembering Geralt had told her. "She triggered some sort of dream. Or vision. Is that something you are able to do?"

Lenna sighed and gave a small lenient smile. "As an oneiromancer, I serve as a conduit between my client and what the client needs to learn. To do that, I need to know about my client and the question my client has, be it an issue or a person. I need to know about my client's relationship with the issue or the person in question, about feelings and emotions, for they direct the magic of dreams. Once I have my answer, I shall invite a dream about it that my client will share with me. And it's our hope that this dream provides needed information."

Lenna paused, a small apologetic smile passing through her lips.

"You have to understand something, Your Highness," she added. "The information the client needs to know always comes. However, it might be not something the client expects, or it might be misinterpreted and then the clue is lost to misunderstanding. The ability to understand that message is what it all depends on."

"So what you are saying is that it might not be the breakthrough I'm hoping for?" Ciri asked, lips quirking in a small smile. "Truth is, I will take any information right now. We are stuck."

"It could be a breakthrough if it's interpreted the right way," Lenna said. "If you have no other way to find information, then I suppose what I can do for you could help. Perhaps it's why General Voorhis sent me to you? What do you need to know?"

"Well, two people I care deeply about have gone missing," Ciri explained. "Kain is one of them. We're struggling to find their trail. Or anything about their disappearances really."

"Kainar is missing?" Lenna asked, astonished. "You know when or where it happened? It could help, for the trail should be still warm."

"Last night," Ciri said. "I haven't been able to account for his whereabouts after he left Ellander."

"Oh, that is troubling, indeed," Lenna mused, rubbing her forehead as if there was a hint of a headache starting. She raised her eyes to meet Ciri's expectant gaze and made a few steps towards her. "I believe we can try to have a dreaming session and see what it shows if you are ready to reveal some things to me to aid the process."

"Of course." Ciri stood, hesitant. "Would it be alright if I ask Yennefer to join us? She is the sorceress you helped me with. She should hear all this information as well."

"If you both are seeking the same answer, it could help," Lenna nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Yennefer had joined the two, both she and Ciri eager to discover if any new revelations could be found.

"What do you need to know?" Ciri asked Lenna, seated atop her bed once more.

"Whether you have any suspicion about Kainar's disappearance?" Lenna picked a chair at the tea table and settled, inviting Yennefer to follow her example. "Or who is responsible and why? Any suspicions will do, because they reflect whatever intuitive knowledge or clues you might have. It's important. As well as your guess about the last place he visited before going missing."

"I believe he was taken," Ciri confessed. "Same as Geralt, his brother. As for who is behind it… Could be Scoia'tael. Could be The Wild Hunt. Could be some grimy politician hoping to blackmail us."

"What is your relationship with the missing men?" Lenna asked, glancing between Yennefer and Ciri.

"Geralt and I are lovers," Yennefer replied, glancing at Ciri, curious about her own explanation where Kain was involved. "Kain and I are… we don't really have too much of a relationship. I appreciate who he is to Geralt though."

"Geralt and Yennefer are my parents," Ciri added. "Not by blood but choice. And Kain is my… friend. We haven't known each other long but we've become close."

"All right," Lenna said. "You need to lie down and get comfortable to share the dream. Try to think about them, but do not expect anything specific — try to keep your minds open to whatever answers could come."

When they all settled, both Ciri and Yennefer realized how difficult it truly was to keep from thinking and wondering, from reaching out to certain suspicions or fears that were stirring within them like a ball of snakes.

From the dark of the deepening dream came a veil of fog. Light as a feather, it was coiling and changing into figures and faces endlessly until a black silhouette of a tower rose behind it; far away at first, it began to grow, faster and faster, until filling the whole vision with its saturated darkness, turning Yennefer's heart to ice and stealing her breath. A gleam of polished black stone, dead faces, bloated and discolored, trapped beneath its surface, staring up with bulging eyes filled with despair and torment, their mouths opening wide… changing endlessly from foes to friends and to dear ones… screaming soundlessly to never be heard…

They dissipated like mist, torn by a bunch of riders on horned mounts. Eredin cracked a predatory smile as he spotted Ciri, and Caranthir, riding by his side, his blond hair flying, raised a finger to his lips conspiratorially.

Like a murder of crows, they swept through, taking the dark with them, and beneath it was an old tiled floor leading to a hole in the ground. Jagged rocks bulged from the soil, green lianas snaking along the walls leading down into an ominous cave. Something gleamed down there, shimmering like a portal… a shadow of a fox slipped quickly away into the dark…

A corpse lay in the dirt, its mouth open wide in a silent scream that vibrated through the caves around… and other screams sounded from deep within the cave as though there was a massacre…

From the darkness flashed lightning, revealing stormy waters, waves crashing and throwing a ship, wind tearing at its sails… Another flash, and a Cat School medallion fell down on a tiled floor with an echoing clang…

Fire reared up in two urns, lighting up a huge cat statue between them, and under it a silhouette of a man on his knees on the floor within a circle… His white hair shone in reflected fire like a halo around his face concealed by shadows… Chains lay around him like dead silver snakes, cuffing his wrists… A live big cat was creeping towards it from the shadows, hissing like a snake, and from another dark corner a Wild Hunt hound showed its ugly muzzle… A wolf howled somewhere far away… A fox hiding behind the chained man, its green eyes shining like two coins…

A scream tore through the air, deafened by a blast of thunder, and in another flash of lightning outlined the arcs of elven ruins buried under the growth of moss and lianas, white like ancient bones concealed in dirt… Cracked tiles with grass and moss growing between them as they began to sink into the ground… A seal cracked in two, decorated with a broken cross, and a nine-pointed star was gleaming dimly with a pulsating violet light…

Lenna gasped, waking, her hands flying up to cover her eyes, then rubbing her temples.

Ciri's breathing was labored. It felt like she'd stopped breathing entirely during the dream and now had to make up for it. Her mind was racing with all the information and images that had flooded her mind and struggled to put it all together.

One image took precedence, however.

The fox.

"Crevan."

"Your Highness?" Lenna turned to her, puzzled.

"The sly fox," Ciri murmured. "I think I know who that is meant to represent."

Yennefer was mulling over the details, rubbing her forehead. She had forgotten about her djinn business for a while after Ciri's issues and then Geralt's disappearance. She knew Geralt hadn't even cared for it to begin with. But was she as desperate to continue? And what did the white-haired man in chains mean? Was that Geralt? In connection to her, or what she was doing to him, or had done to him?

All of it was a mixed mess.

"Remember what I warned you about," Lenna said. "Some things might not be what they seem to be. Or represent what you think first. Some things might be misunderstood. Be very careful when deciphering what you saw, Your Highness. Their lives depend on it."

Ciri nodded. "Understood." But she still couldn't shake the feeling that Avallac'h was a part of the equation. She just didn't know how yet.

"Does anything of what you have seen make sense?" Lenna said when her headache began to subside. "I cannot provide any assistance to interpret it. It shall be your task."

"To me, yes. It does," Yennefer said. She understood the ways of magic. It would be up to her to decipher it and she already had her ideas forming. "Thank you."

Ciri felt less certain than Yennefer appeared to be, but Lenna would not be able to help her with that. "Yes, thank you, Lenna. For your time and your assistance. We have much to think over."

"I'm happy to be of service, Your Highness," Lenna said, getting up. "And you, Lady Yennefer. I shall leave you to it."

She bowed and removed herself from the room.

Yennefer reached for Ciri's hand, tapping her wrist gently. "Are you feeling well? You seem shaken."

"I am simply trying to make sense of it all. I know we had their disappearances in mind, but it does not mean everything we saw has to be connected to that, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. I'm assuming it's glimpses of what we've been through or, perhaps, of what we want…"

The Dijnn and the shackles appeared in her mind's eye again. Along with guilt. The tower memories were fresh, but she was beginning to feel desperate to find Geralt, to make up for whatever suffering he had to be enduring. If he was alive. She no longer believed that Ciri had a hand in it and could ever harm Geralt in any way, but where was he? What could the tower have possibly done to him?

The idea of going back there to find him made her blood turn cold. Whom else could she approach for help?

"What sticks out for you the most?" Yennefer asked.

"Avallac'h," Ciri confessed, rubbing her face with a sigh. "I mean, even if he hadn't appeared in this vision… Where the hell is he? Are we to assume he's missing as well? He must know by now how all this is tormenting me. If he were able, he would have come to me. Wouldn't he?" Not a question for Yennefer to answer. No one truly could, except for Avallac'h himself.

"I don't know enough about the man to say," Yennefer answered. She knew his kin though, and she was curious to know if there had been anything deeper between the two. Anything carnal. Bonhart appeared unbidden in her mind's eye, and her stomach turned.

Yennefer set a hand on Ciri's knee and squeezed gently. "What do you think? Do you think he likes to torment you?"

Ciri blinked, surprised. "No. He's calculating but not needlessly cruel. Either he is unable to reach me or… he has a good reason for not doing so." She sighed. "Of course, his definition of a good reason usually differs from mine."

"Do you have any special way of contacting him? Some way you can try and send him a message?"

"No." Ciri shook her head. "I want to go search for him in Skellige. Triss tried and failed. But I may get lucky." She wasn't sure if that should be her first priority, however. "I have yet to hear from Morvran about Francesca and Ida. I will have to wait for him until I do anything further."

"So where does that leave us? Should we split up?" Yennefer wasn't enthused about that idea. "We haven't made any headway and I'm beginning to worry. Really worry. Those images were... unsettling. Did you recognize anything else?"

Ciri stood and took to pacing the room, searching her mind. "Eredin and Caranthir, Tor Zireael, some sort of ruin… I do not remember having seen that place before. Do you?"

Yennefer tried to recall what she'd seen of the ruin, the hooded statues hidden in the greenery, elven ornaments around the white stone arcs. Anything that might jump out at her to trigger the name. "I don't know for sure… I might have, I've studied more than one ruin in my life. The best I can do is more research." Thankfully they were already in a place that had a large source library.

Ciri nodded. "That would be helpful. You should try to get some sleep as well. There may not be much of it in the coming days."

"So should you," Yennefer said and brushed a hand over the top of Ciri's head. Since they'd reconciled Yennefer made a point of touching her consistently, showing Ciri affection, fearing that bond would be snatched away from them again.

"Do you wish to sleep here?" Ciri offered, moving to get her ready. "We may get a few hours before Morvran returns."

After a timid knock on the door, Jagna peeked in and bowed. "Your Highness, Lord General, and Lady Vigo are expecting you."

Ciri sighed, flashing Yennefer a small smile. "Suppose I am off, then."

"Would you like me to come with you?"

Ciri shook her head. "Morvran will help me. You should get some rest. Perhaps see if you can find any clues about those ruins?"

Yennefer nodded. She had no intention of pushing, pleased that Ciri was beginning to feel comfortable around the castle. "I'll do that."

---

Ciri knocked on Morvran's door a few minutes later, trying to stifle a yawn and rub some color into her cheeks.

"Good to see you, Cirilla," Fringilla greeted, letting her in.

Morvran was pouring himself a glass of water at the tea table, and nodded as Ciri entered.

"Are you certain you are up for this now?" Vigo asked, surveying the girl with a hint of doubt. "You seem weary."

"Little secret from someone who is constantly on the run? I am always weary," Ciri said with a small smile. "Where are we meeting?"

"In the place of Francesca's choosing," Fringilla said. "Which means we have to stay sharp."

"Has Lenna helped your quest?" Morvran asked, sipping his drink.

"Possibly," Ciri replied. "Yennefer is researching as we speak. What do I need to do once we get there?"

"Improvise," Morvran smiled. "But on a more serious note, you will probably need to repeat the promises you have offered Lady Eilhart. Can you do that and look very convincing and eager?"

"I shall do my best," Ciri said. "Considering everyone's lives depend on this working."

"It has to work because you will be telling the truth," Morvran said. "Aen Seidhe are beyond trusting anything coming from dh'oine."

"Time to go," Fringilla said and opened a portal like a shimmering doorway in the wall. "We don't know what place they have picked, so be careful and alert."

She made an inviting gesture, then stepped in the last.

---

They found themselves in a spacious room. The white of the white marble that didn't darken with time betrayed the elven origin of the hideout. Thick branches of lianas and crawling ivy snuck through the tall windows and spread their paws over the walls, hung from the high ceilings, concealing the carved decorations. In the middle stood a long marble table peppered with dry leaves and twigs. Tiny magical light spheres floated around providing more light to an otherwise dark room. Two old golden candelabras on the table had three lit candles each.

Francesca stood at the head of the table, her fingertips gliding slowly along the edge as if caressing the cold stone. Her hair so light it seemed nearly white cascaded down her chest, her fair complexion made her look like Ice Queen from an old fairy tale Ciri recalled hearing in her childhood.

Ida stood a bit aside, her face as composed in nonchalant attention as Francesca's. Her fiery red hair framed her beautiful features, and an elegant necklace of red corals with white and black pearls decorated her neck.

"Interesting to see you after all these years, Cirilla," Francesca said as Ciri approached with her companions close behind her. "You have grown into a young woman. However, I hear the insolent girl is still hiding behind that renewed flesh. Is that so?"

"You say insolent. I say survivor," Ciri replied softly, allowing a small smile. "Greetings, Francesca. Ida. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us."

"Time we can give you depends on what you wish to tell us," Francesca said. "Perhaps, you did grow up, after all. If so, it's a shame that it happened too late."

"This insolent brat wants to give you that which my father neglected to," Ciri said, already wishing the whole thing was over with so she could leave. "Interested?"

Ida sighed subtly and moved behind the blonde elven queen like a shadow. She approached the old huge fireplace at the wall, decorated with flowery ornaments and slender figurines of elves playing among trees. When she lit the fire with a wave of her hand, the marble decorations began to glitter like fresh snow in sun rays.

Nothing betrayed any emotion on Francesca's beautiful face for a long moment while she stared at Ciri; then something gleamed in the depth of her blue eyes.

"Look around," she said, raising her hands in an indication of the room surrounding them. "Behold Craag An, a true gem in the crown of Alder Race in its days of glory. All this splendor and beauty lost, hidden away, and grown over like a pearl dropped in a pile of dirt and pebbles." She turned to Ciri, her eyes blazing with blue ice. "Because of dh'oine my people had to flee and abandon what they've built and poured their souls into. Dh'oine took everything from us with no negotiations, no consideration for any treaties — they just pushed and pushed like a cloud of plague, destroying everything in their wake without thought or feeling." Her mouth creased in a bitter sneer. "And you come here to ask me whether I am interested in what dh'oine have to say. What do you think?"

"I understand how deep those wounds are," Morvran put in, stepping from behind Ciri to stand by her side, his eyes set on the elven queen. "It's hard for us to fathom the true extent of what you and your people have suffered before either of us was born — because you have been there in person and seen everything with your own eyes. We acknowledge that pain and distrust of your people, but we would never have come here with empty promises, or lies. Because both Princess Cirilla and I understand the true deadly potential of the stretching conflict between our races and where it will lead unless we find a way to resolve it now."

Francesca laughed. The sound of it was both pleasant and cold.

"This is so childlike. So like dh'oine. You are nothing but children, knowing no better than pulling wings off butterflies simply to observe them crawling around pathetically and in pain you would never feel. How would this ever be resolved, General, if not by growing up and learning wisdom? However, I am afraid the time is too short for your people to learn anything. It is always easier to destroy than to build anything. Your ape race is incapable of creating beauty and preserving life. You can only stomp it all into the dirt and march on like an army of Zerrikanian fire ants."

Morvran didn't seem perturbed. He was watching her with entertained interest; his blue eyes seemed nearly black in the poorly lit room, with tiny orange flicks of fire reflecting in them. He wasn't quite smiling, but there was a ghost of it in the corners of his mouth.

"If you have decided in advance that whatever we can offer is childish and unworthy of consideration, why meet us?"

"To satisfy my curiosity," Francesca gave a light shrug; a string of tiny white stones around her neck glistened. She looked at Ciri with a derisive appraisal. "My father was so hopeful for Hen Ichaer to rise up from the ashes of this human invasion like a swallow calling for spring and liberation of our people. I have long stopped believing in that myth. Nevertheless, I wanted to see whether this ashen-haired bird grew up to become a swallow or a mere sparrow. And I see that she doesn't even speak for herself. She has grown no feathers to fly — what is there to speak about?"

"Survival of your people," Ciri said as if that was obvious. "Everything you said about humans is absolutely true. Our ancestors committed atrocious acts against your people. Some of us still do. But make no mistake, Francesca. This is not just a human trait.

"Your cousins, the Aen Elle, did the exact same thing millennia ago to our kind." She gestured to Morvran and Fringilla. "I understand why it would be tempting to put your trust in them. They can provide you with a future much brighter than any human ruler could. Only they won't. No matter what they promise, Aen Elle are liars. I've experienced this firsthand. They consider no one their equal, not even Aen Seidhe. Your existence would not become better with them in charge."

She paused and took a few steps closer to Francesca, her face softening. Ida was still listening, but otherwise seemingly ignoring them all.

"I can't take back the past. But I can promise that the next ruler of Nilfgaard will be different than those who came before. They will not discriminate between the races and will work tirelessly to change the state of things as they are today. Elves, halflings, witches, women… No one should be treated as lesser than the rest of the population simply because of race. And we should all equally share this world we have made our home.

"Words are cheap, I know. Especially coming from those who have made promises before and not followed through. But I am asking you – no, begging you – to consider that what I am saying is true. Do not put your faith in the invaders who threaten everyone's very existence. Stand with us. Fight with us. We need each other."

"We stood with you!" Francesca said, her eyes blazing. "We fought with Nilfgaard! And look what it brought us to! My people were banished from the land that was promised to them, condemned for the very acts they committed to aid your bloody father, Cirilla. Do not dare ask me to fight for you when there is absolutely nothing you can give me and guarantee that no one shall take it away as soon as the victory is on dh'oine side."

Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed a finger at Ciri, "You had a chance to change the world. By joining the Lodge and carrying out our will, you had a chance to bring the promised Swallow into this world. You could have become a power to reckon with. But you threw this world under the hooves of your horse when you disappeared. You had no thought or desire to stand and protect it all. So why don't you do what you do best — leap away and disappear when it's time to fight? What would stop you from taking Yennefer and her witcher and leave us all to be damned?"

Fringilla made to say something, but Morvran locked a hand around her wrist and cast a curious look at Ciri.

"You all expected too much of a child who had just won her first chance at freedom," Ciri countered, her own ire rising. "I spent years and years on the run. A year may mean nothing to you whose lives can last centuries, but for us mere mortals a year of a child's life feels like a lifetime."

She tried to hold her angry tears at bay but could feel her own gaze blaze as passionately as the beautiful elf before her.

"I was all alone. Hunted. Violated. Constantly running because most of those I met on my path either wanted to rape me or sever the head from my shoulders. Some wanted both! I have been used as a plaything for those who were stronger than me. I have watched the few people I cared about slaughtered like mongrel dogs before my very eyes. For the famed Aen Elle, I was nothing more than an incubator to be filled and discarded.

"And when I finally managed to escape and find my way back to the only family I had left, I was expected to join forces with a group of sorceresses I hardly knew. To part with my family once more so I could become the pawn and — once again — an incubator to satisfy Philippa Eilhart's ambition. I escaped one hell and The Lodge immediately demanded I jump into another one. To forgo any and all personal need and desire and continue down the path of loneliness and suffering."

The tears had spilled and Ciri angrily wiped them away, still staring up at Francesca's impassive face.

"I was young and naive. I didn't believe the Wild Hunt would be able to pursue me again so soon. After learning firsthand how stubborn and difficult I can be, I hoped their desire to capture me anew had waned. And I was wrong. I admit it.

"I may still be young. But the past few years have taught me valuable lessons. One being, with the power the unicorns of Tir ná Lia helped me unlock, no one can ever hold me against my will again. I no longer fear having to face my enemies."

Ciri cast a quick glance Ida's way, to gauge if the sage had any reaction or opinion at all. But her features were much like Avallac'h's – hard to read and decipher.

She turned back to Francesca. "I can only promise that I will fight with all my might to remake this world so your people get their rightful place with you as their queen. I will fight for your land and your titles. And if you still do not wish to join me, at least do me the courtesy of not lumping me in with the Emperor. I am not my father. And I am not his mistakes."

Francesca began to smile, and that smile oozed nothing but despise and irony.

"Are you sincerely attempting to invoke my pity for your horrible childhood?" she demanded in a raised voice. "Are you complaining to me about being mistreated by the human scum who wanted to rape and beat you?!

"You have been out there on the streets for a few meagre years and came back a virgin with a few scars. You, the privileged princess of Nilfgaard and Cintra, wanted by Alder Folk and kings, protected by an elven sage, a powerful sorceress, and a bunch of witchers! You, the golden child, are complaining to me?!

"Aen Seidhe girls are being hunted, raped, beaten, and skinned alive and put to fire at stakes every bloody day out there — by your kin! By the human apes! Our young are lost every day, every hour for centuries, Cirilla! Centuries! Can you give us back centuries of impossible suffering and torture? Can you pay back all the tears and blood spilled? Can you change every dh'oine man and woman to teach them to view us as equals?! You have nothing to give! You have no crown, you deny your titles and your witcher sword means nothing on the battlefield where my people are fighting! Do you understand that?"

"This is exactly the point of our meeting here, Lady Findabair," Morvran stepped in, speaking in a calm tone. "Forgive me for correcting you, but Princess Cirilla hasn't come here emptyhanded. She is the true Princess of Cintra and the true heir of the current Emperor of Nilfgaard — and so am I. Together we extend our hands to you because we want to change the world for your people without any more delays or betrayals."

"How can you promise anything without an actual crown on either of your heads?" Francesca retorted. "Unless you intend to overthrow Emhyr var Emreis tomorrow and provide legal guarantees, we have still nothing to discuss. Waiting for the Emperor's demise is not what I intend to do, either. My people and I are beyond any waiting."

She cracked a viperous sneer. "You are here because you are scared. You smell the end of your age upon this land, and you come to me with your tails tucked between your hind legs like beaten dogs. You know People of Alders are coming to wipe your kin off the Continent, and then our people inherit it as it was meant to be. There is nothing you can do to stop them."

Morvran smiled. "I truly do understand in full force how tempting it all sounds and seems — in theory. But as a queen and duchess, you are certainly aware of how cheap the words or legends are. What makes you so adamant that Aen Elle will win the world for Aen Seidhe? Have they given you all their promises and guarantees you are accusing Princess Cirilla of not being capable of providing?"

"We are the same kin," Francesca stated with cold confidence. "There is no treaty or deal between us — we are one. They are coming to deliver our people from dh'oine infestation. And together we shall restore our Alder Race's legacy and Hen Ichaer shall be reborn."

It was Ciri's turn to smile now, though not from glee or mirth but rather incredulity.

"They do not consider you their equals," she repeated. "They have come to this world for centuries, and taken with them dh'oine and Aen Seidhe alike. Not for liberation. For servitude. There are no free Aen Seidhe in Tir ná Lia. Only slaves."

She extended one arm in Francesca's direction, offering her hand. "I have seen this with my own eyes. Search my mind to witness for yourself. Unless you are too afraid to see the truth?"

Francesca didn't favor Ciri's hand with any attention; she raised her own and gestured at something in the depth of the room drowning in dark.

Three hooded figures detached from the shadows and stopped a few feet away from the table. One of them approached, slipping her hood off, and stood by Francesca's side. It was a young Aen Seidhe with light golden-brown eyes and a chestnut braid lying over her shoulder and breast. Her face was beautiful despite a scar running from her cheek and crossing her upper lip.

"This is Seiaghal," Francesca said. "One of our best scouts." She turned to the girl. "Tell them."

Seiaghal told them how more and more of the dh'oine villagers take to hunting Scoia'tael because the Redanian and Kaedwen garrisons pay for each dead Scoia'tael regardless of age or gender, regardless of what the said victims have been through before their death. How for more coin the villagers bring elven females to the garrisons where they get brutally raped and tortured before their execution.

Seiadhal told them how a few seasons ago her small scout group of three had been tracked down to an abandoned hideout by a group of dh'oine. They overpowered the malnourished and exhausted elves, beat her companions while pinning her down to the ground, then set the still-alive elves on fire after cutting off their ears to prove their kill at a garrison.

"They made me watch my friends burn and scream," she said, her eyes shining with a sheen of tears on her otherwise stoic and cold countenance. "And then, while their bodies were still steaming, the dirty dh'oine turned on me, ripping my clothes, kicking and punching me into submission. I cried out a curse — an ancient cry for justice and vengeance I remembered from what my grand-grandmother had told me in one of her stories of days of old. I cried it out with all my might and despair, and then the sky turned dark and lightning struck down not far from us, spooking the men into a bout of religious fear. And then a rider appeared, a glow around him, his horse horned, and a long red cape flew behind him. He saved my life, killed the dh'oine, then healed my wounds. He was much taller than me, had long blond hair and emerald eyes. He asked my name, but never told me his — I didn't dare ask. He said he heard my call because we are the same. He was of Dearg Ruadhri. He said they would wipe the world clean of dh'oine and it would belong to Alder Folk as it was meant to be. He asked for my wish, and I said I wanted vengeance. The same night the village of those ape beasts was no more."

Seiaghal looked between Ciri and her human companions, triumphant.

"They are coming, Dearg Ruadhri are coming to cleanse this world. There is no stopping them."

She looked to Francesca and was dismissed with a nod. She pulled her hood back on and disappeared into the shadows with her two companions, silent as the night itself.

"She wasn't the only one saved by Dearg Ruadhri from dh'oine's vicious attacks," Francesca said. "There are too many stories among Scoia'tael to dismiss them as lies or wishful thinking. It is happening. If you wish to convince my people that Aen Elle are enemies to us as they are to you — I do not believe you could ever achieve it, for Aen Elle proved the opposite with their deeds."

"They saved me, too, once," Ciri said, and although sympathetic to Seiaghal's experiences, she would never believe the Aen Elle would grant their cousins the freedom they so rightfully desired. "They came out of nowhere and distracted the group of men who were pursuing me across a frozen lake. They saved my life. So they could manipulate me to step into their trap where I had no other option but to give them my body, my future child, and as it turned out, the rest of my existence.

"I am not saying they are not capable of kindness. I am saying that when the time comes and you are no longer needed for them to win this war, their true intentions for Aen Seidhe will become clear. And since you are so blinded by hatred – justified as it is – that you cannot even consider the possibility I am speaking the truth, you will only doom your people further. I am sorry I could not convince you."

Ciri shot a look at Morvran and Fringilla. "Let's go. They have already chosen their side."

Morvran didn't move, his attentive eyes fixed on Francesca.

"We perceive your side very clearly, Lady Duchess," he said. "And here is ours. Even if you and your people stand against us humans alongside Aen Elle, we shall win this war and drive the invaders out. We, humans, have enough resources to come together in the face of death to our kin. We shall enable the Lodge as it wishes and we have immense powers of all wizards and sorceresses of Ban Ard and Aretuza, both human and nonhuman. We shall forget our meagre squabbles and join against the invading force — North, South, East, and West, all in one like a fisted hand. This is our land, soaked with our blood, feeding our magic. Every tree and stone shall stand on our side, Lady Findabair - as Aen Seidhe, you should understand that, given your enhanced understanding of nature.

"We came here not to ask for your help to win, but to offer you a rightful side in this world upon our victory. You say we cannot change the minds of men to accept your kin? If you join them against the invaders, that shall happen naturally. I've been to war, I know how it binds the hearts of all races.

"If you refuse our hand, however, we cannot guarantee what becomes of your people or you. More than anything, Princess Cirilla and I yearn to avoid the bloodshed and butchery that's been going on for too long. We beg you to allow us to stop it."

Ciri didn't speak for fear of creating even more aggravation in their elven counterparts. It was fascinating to watch Morvran work, to see him utilize his diplomatic skills in a way Ciri never could. She truly sounded like a child compared to him.

"Aen Elle are a very powerful race indeed," Ida spoke, nearly startling everyone. She had been so quiet in her chair at the fireplace, it was easy to forget she was present. "However, their power to open Ard Gaeth was lost after the Conjunction. They found their way here for Lara's gift. They need Hen Ichaer — what remains of it in Zireael's line. Anything else is secondary because they cannot save anyone without Ard Gaeth. Restoring that power takes ages. If they open the Gate before the power is restored fully, before the Swallow from the prophecy is ready, the world can become unstable. It could provoke another conjunction and tear the fabric of space and time."

"Cirilla is no Swallow!" Francesca said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Nor is her Cat Witcher."

"Red Riders are currently unable to bring here their whole army," Morvran elaborated, meeting Francesca's eyes with a lenient expression of a patient teacher explaining a tricky problem to a feisty child. "They don't have the power for it. All their wizards can do is bring a few units at a time through their frost portals, and it takes immense effort to maintain them. Their attack on Oxenfurt was crushed by just one Redanian company led by the Chancellor with three sorceresses and two witchers. Whatever force they promise to bring here to annihilate dh'oine they certainly do possess but cannot bring in, simply because no portal they are able to sustain at this time can afford it."

"What do you want from me?" Francesca hissed.

"If you stop helping Aen Elle, simply stop providing your scouts and aiding their progress, it shall count as strategic effort," said Morvran.

"Nilfgaard is responsible for my current position," Francesca retorted. "I am no queen, and Scoia'tael no longer respond to me as their ruler because Nilfgaard forced me to disown them. If your issues are with Scoia'tael aiding the Aen Elle agenda - I cannot stop them. Nor the dryads."

"You can rejoin the Lodge and accept our offer and oath and explain your decision to every Aen Seidhe that would be willing to listen to you," Fringilla said. "I have no doubt in your people's trust in your opinions and beliefs. They followed you after your father disowned you. They shall accept your choice. And we, in our turn, shall proclaim how Queen of Dol Blathanna set aside her hatred for humans to help save the world from utter destruction so we all could survive. It is the best outcome for your people, even if your pride does not appreciate how belated it comes and at what price. But please, think it over."

"Let us take a closer look at our perspectives, shall we?" Morvran added. "If Aen Seidhe stand with the Red Riders, there could be two outcomes: one is what we have described because Aen Elle are incapable of opening their Gate, which renders their promises impotent. The other is their unlikely victory and then they still will not give you this world to own. They will take it as their own and make you their servants because they believe your people are tainted by human oppression and some interracial ties that made your kin unclean in their eyes.

"In the poorest outcome of your accepting our offer, you are the rightful queen of Dol Blathanna and free elves; Scoia'tael are pardoned and repatriated if they wish so; the Lodge is active and you are a part of it if you wish to be. I said the poorest outcome because that would be the assumption that humans won't discard their prejudice towards your kin. Surely that shall breed some conflicts here and there, but it is the work of rulers to resolve such conflicts, and so you as a queen and the current ruler on our side will seek to install peace. At the very least Aen Seidhe will have their kingdom where they won't be disturbed, and humans can stick to their own lands and borders. Wherever they clash because of sharing the same land, the instigators of conflicts shall be punished equally by the new law — and we rulers shall see to that as well. Does even that poorest outcome not sound better than what we have now?"

"It is as you say, dh'oine," Francesca smirked. "Sounds well in theory."

"Our goal is to make it work," Morvran said. "We swear an oath to you that Dol Blathanna will be your realm for all Aen Seidhe. All Scoia'tael shall be pardoned and free to return to their land under your rule. New laws shall be implemented and people on both sides shall be forced to learn and live by those new rules. We shall do everything in our power so no ruler that comes after us betrays that pact. Whatever proof or guarantee you wish to have we shall provide."

Ciri still remained silent, wishing she could slink back into the shadows like Seiaghal had a few minutes earlier.

Whatever the final outcome of this meeting, she wished it would come soon. Be over and finished with. This was a battleground where Ciri had close to no power, and it made her feel pathetically helpless.

"Are you prepared to confirm your oath with blood?" Ida asked, raising from her chair to approach the table.

She observed Morvran, then Fringilla and Ciri, her eyes dancing ironically. It reminded Ciri of Avallac'h whenever he knew something Ciri did not.

"You know what such oath means, do you," Ida added.

"Indeed," Morvran said. "And it's a yes from me."

Ciri was more hesitant. She thought she knew the meaning of such an oath, but she wanted to be entirely certain.

She addressed Ida this time because if there was one thing she had learned about sages, it was that they never passed down the opportunity to educate someone. "It means should the oath be broken, death will claim you?"

There was the subtlest of smiles touching Ida's lips fleetingly. "Eventually, yes."

"Explain, please?" Ciri asked.

"By the time death comes, you'd be desperate for it," Francesca said, something akin to glee deep in her icy blue eyes.

"That's all? No hidden promises or secret clauses?" Ciri asked, her gaze still on Ida.

"Anything you wish to add as such?" Francesca asked, annoyed.

"If I am going to sign a magical contract, I want to know exactly what it contains," Ciri retorted.

"You are not required to sign anything," Ida said. "The nature of your power implies that you can abandon this world to its fate as you've done before. This oath is for someone who intends to see it through or perish. You, Cirilla, cannot be trusted with this." Ida looked to Morvran. "Now this treaty depends on whether your actions will be as good as words."

He nodded. "I am aware."

Ciri threw her arms up in exasperation. "I didn't–" She had to stifle herself, her words turning to incoherent angry muttering as she slinked back to let Morvran finish his negotiations.

Ida turned her hand palm-up and whispered a spell; a crystal, clear as an icicle, appeared out of thin air.

"There is nothing more powerful for storing information in our world than crystals," Ida explained, more for Ciri's sake. "This crystal is my creation, but the origin of crystals doesn't matter — all of them serve the purpose equally, be it a crystal that's been forming within the earth for centuries or a crystal a mage creates with a spell. The latter is certainly more potent for blood oath, for the mage controls the crystal and thus the oath enclosed in it — the life that oath depends on."

Morvran held out his hand; Ida made a quick gesture, and blood began to pool on his palm from a small but deep cut. Ida placed her crystal on it, and Morvran closed his hand around it for a few moments. When his fingers uncurled, the crystal was of deep red color. Ida took it from him and observed with a satisfied smile.

"It is done," she said, and the crystal disappeared in the folds of her cloak. "If the oath is broken, you pay with your life, General Voorhis."

Morvran nodded. "Now it's your turn," he said, glancing at Francesca. "If there is anything concerning Scoia'tael and their connection to the Wild Hunt, tell us. Both witchers are missing, and we have to find them. We strongly suspect your people are involved."

Francesca gave a vexed sigh. "There are a few rogue Scoia'tael units that could be responsible," she said. "I have heard… rumors of Scoia'tael assisting Dearg Ruadhri with their navigation magic and routes. They might know where your Vatt'ghern and his brother are kept, if your suspicions are correct. But I have no knowledge of how to locate them. These rogues work in deep connection with Brokilon dryads here and remain under their protection. This land is not mine and I have no power over those units. I couldn't convince them to reveal any information even if we were to find out exactly who those Aen Seidhe are." She looked at Ciri. "You might want to try your luck with the Brokilon Queen. I trust she might remember the little brat once brought before her."

Francesca shrugged, cracking a jocular smile, then raised her hands, and an arc of swirling gold opened in the wall.

"We are finished here. I do not wish to remain here any longer."

"Have a safe trip," Ciri said, not entirely sure she meant it.

She turned to focus on Morvran and Fringilla, frowning in thought. "Kain already has connections to Brokilon. To the Queen herself. I can't imagine they would ever allow him to be harmed."

"You propose to ask her," Morvran said. He exchanged a look with Fringilla and sighed. "All right. If you need to, Fringilla shall stay with you and bring you home after. I, however, have to depart now - humans are not welcome here. And, Cirilla, please, if you sense any danger for yourself - use your power and flee back to the castle. We cannot afford to lose you like witchers. Do not forget they're being used as bait for you."

Ciri nodded. "I understand." She reached for his hand to examine where Ida had worked her magic. "Do you need someone to heal that?"

"It will be taken care of, do not worry." He smiled. "Be careful here and try to make it quick."

He nodded to Fringilla, and the sorceress opened a portal; they watched him go.

"Do you have any experience with the dryads?" Ciri asked the sorceress, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

Fringilla closed the portal and gave Ciri a humorous look. "And here I thought you and their queen went a long way back."

"Got lost in there as a child. I don't remember much," Ciri confessed, glancing around the overgrown ruins. "I'm guessing you're not able to open a portal in their forest?"

"We are in their forest," Fringilla said, smiling condescendingly. "I suppose using magic would invoke their anger. We better find a way out of here. I believe we shall be escorted from there on."

It was exactly what happened. Once they walked out from what appeared to be an overgrown town hall of old elven times, a group of three dryads, two of them armed with bows, approached.

"The meeting is over," their leader said, eyeballing Ciri and Vigo with animosity. "Why are you dh'oine still here?"

"We seek an audience with your Queen," Ciri said. "A common friend of ours is in trouble. Kainarel."

She watches the dryads closely to see if his name triggered any reactions. Nothing in their derisive expressions shifted.

The leader scowled. "Who are you to expect our queen to see you?"

Ciri had had it with sour women for the night, but she retained a calm and polite composure. It was not the dryads' fault Francesca had gotten on Ciri's nerves.

"We do not expect. It is a humble request. From Fringilla Vigo and Cirilla of Cintra."

The dryad leader gave it a bit of thought, glancing from Ciri to Fringilla, then said, "Follow them."

She gave the other two some quiet instructions and then jogged away.

Ciri and Fringilla began to walk with their escort.

"I hope she remembers who Cirilla of Cintra is," Fringilla murmured.

"If she's as fond of me as Francesca and Ida, I hope she doesn't," Ciri whispered back, her eyes wide as she examined the trees on either side of their path.

It wasn't a short walk, and by the time they began to notice more dryads around besides trees and bushes, it was beginning to dawn.

Suddenly, the dryads stopped.

"The girl goes alone," one of them said, her voice curt as if barking orders. "The witch goes away now."

"I have to accompany her for her safety," Fringilla resisted. "I've got my own orders, same as you got yours."

The dryad shook her head. "You go. The girl goes alone or not."

Ciri hesitated a moment, gauging her surroundings.

"It's alright, Fringilla," she assured the sorceress with a small smile. "I will find my way back."

She was not entirely certain she was safe with the dryads, but she wanted to believe in the best outcome. Kain held so much respect and affection in his heart for these women, she decided to trust his instincts.

Fringilla was skeptical, but there was not much else to choose from.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said. "If you're not back within an hour, we shall come for you. And it might start a conflict, so mind it, please. Don't be long. General will want to see you."

When she disappeared through a portal, Ciri was led along a few secret paths and finally, she beheld the dryad settlement.

Duén Canell was still a forest of trees, but these trunks were thicker and taller, their canopies vaster and denser. Inside the trunks were dryads' homes. Ciri was marched through the town, and dryads stared after her with equal curiosity and disapproval. Even their young ones — those that seemed older than ten — watched with wariness and disdain.

Queen Eithne was waiting in the sacred grove, standing at the big wooden chalice that grew from the ground and contained the Brokilon Water. She observed Ciri with her calm and impassive silver eyes.

"You return, child," she said. "After all these years. All grown. Do you seek to join us this time?"

Overwhelmed by the incredible structures of the settlement itself, the dryads, and the Magic that soaked the earth, Ciri momentarily lost some of her usual flair.

She lowered her head in a respectful bow to the Queen that stood before her before eventually meeting her gaze.

"I'm afraid not, Your Highness," Ciri said honestly. "But I thank you for allowing me to meet with you. Kainarel. He is missing." It seemed right to get straight down to business. To not waste time. "And so is Geralt of Rivia. The Witcher I left with that day as a child." She assumed the dryads remembered him well, but she couldn't be certain. "I come seeking information. Should you have any you'd be willing to part with."

The Queen hemmed wistfully, studying Ciri.

"You were born with a burden of debt, child," she uttered eventually. "Lara's debt. That debt has to be paid - that heavy duty lies upon your shoulders. They will tear this world apart unless you pay it. If you run from it, they shall come for your loved ones. And they shall come for Gwyncath."

Ciri held her breath, her heart immediately picking up speed. "Is that what has happened? Have they taken him? Have they taken Geralt?"

"I have no knowledge of what happened to either of them upon their departure from Brokilon," Eithné said. "What I'm telling you now is what you have to know. If you don't pay Lara's debt, they will come after your loved ones. And mine. And I shall be protecting my kin, Zireael. So will Gwyncath. Perhaps it's what he already did - to save my daughter's seed, his brother, and you."

"He would never do such a thing without telling me. Not would Geralt. They know I will never stop searching."

Ciri rubbed a hand over her face, suddenly very tired. "Do you really think if I give them my child, they will be satisfied? It will only allow them to breach this world in larger numbers. It may take a few more decades before it happens but… the result could be even more devastating."

Ciri watched the Queen curiously. "Do you wish I would? Give myself over to them?"

"It is not my choice to make, not my debt to pay," Eithné said. "The age of dh'oine is coming to its end, child. I am telling you like I have told Gwyncath. Anything you wish to do shall merely prolong their agony for another moon or season, perhaps more. But dh'oine have no future. They have destroyed it like they destroy everything they touch. I shall not weep for them. Whatever comes in their stead cannot be as devastating."

"We can only hope," Ciri murmured, no more able to fault the Queen for her dislike of the humans any more than she had Francesca's.

She was disappointed by the lack of answers considering Kain and Geralt's disappearance, but now more than ever she suspected they'd ended up in the hands of The Red Riders. A terrifying thought.

She pushed out of her reverie and lowered her head in a quick show of respect once more. "Thank you, Your Highness. For your time and words. I shall consider them wisely."

Eithné nodded. "Do so, Swallow. Consider carefully, for your choice is your destiny."

She reached out to stroke Ciri's cheek.

"Gwyncath confides to his little Scoia'tael friend," she added. "She knows of his choices and desires. She knows."

Ciri frowned in confusion. "His Scoia'tael friend? I didn't know he–"

Oh. Of course. It made so much sense now.

Ciri's hand came to gently rest atop the dryad Queen's before it could leave her cheek, craving that motherly affection now she felt so lost and vulnerable. "Thank you. I will speak with her again."

---

Just mere hours after she'd struck a deal with Morvran, Ciri was forced to break her promise. Without the use of her powers, she'd never make it back to Vizima on time.

However, the palace was not her first stop. Fealinn's hut was.

She knocked on the door, having barely resisted the urge to teleport straight inside.

The door opened, breathing a whiff of fragrant air in Ciri's face - a fresh apple pie with cinnamon. Probably another gift from a happy customer.

"Ciri! Good to see you all right!" Fealinn stepped aside, letting her in. "You haven't found him, I take it." Her brow furrowed in worry. "He hasn't returned here, either."

"I need you to tell me what you know." Ciri didn't waste time with pleasantries this time. "About Kain. You have been holding back."

"Ciri, I…"

Fealinn heaved a sigh and slowly went to the stove for the tea kettle.

"I know he spoke to Yennefer before you," she said, "in secret as Yennefer requested. Stole the anchor from that wizard to see if he could find out what happened to her. And he came here after, and told me Avallac'h was the one who took Yennefer out of the tower and left her in Skellige to be found by druids."

Ciri stared. "What? Avallac'h did? How does Kain know?"

"The anchor." Fealinn poured a mug of herbal tea and set it in front of Ciri with a plate of pie. "It was all Cath could get out of the stone. He didn't tell you to not upset you - Avallac'h is your… Well. He said if Sage wouldn't tell you himself, he might have to. But he had other worries - he wanted to help Yennefer. He went to Ellander for the oneiromancer. I trust you found out?"

"Yes." For some reason, Ciri felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach. "Why would he do this? I need to know these things! I tell Kain everything. We're supposed to be a team!" She finally slumped into a chair and hid her face in her hands, taking deep breaths. "What else do you know? About his choices and desires?"

"What?" Fealinn frowned and sat in her chair facing Ciri with a both repentant and sympathetic look. "Please, my sweet, try to understand. He didn't want to hurt you while you were so worried about Yennefer. If you learned that about Avallac'h the same night Cath did, it wouldn't have changed anything for Yennefer, but it would have stung you badly. He wanted to spare you the pain until he knew more — for your sake. He tried to protect your heart from pain. Nothing more."

"Forget it. It's not important now." Ciri lifted her head, trying to regain her composure. "I will chastise him for it later." She wrapped her hands around the mug of tea, letting the warmth seep into her bones. "I'm coming directly from Brokilon. I was asking for information about Geralt and Kain's disappearance. The Queen directed me to you. I assume that means you know more than I do still."

Fealinn bit her lip, averting her eyes to her own mug, her fingers wrapped around it.

"He went to Brokilon after Ellander to take Griffin there. He visited Morénn's grove and spoke to Eithné. The Queen passed him a parcel supposedly left there for him by Geralt."

She raised a hand and pointed where a longbow and a quiver stood by the wall.

"Cath said he had left it with Skellige druids. It would mean Geralt had visited Ermion before leaving it in Brokilon. And there was a message, a cryptic one: Geralt wanted Cath to join him for a hunt. Cath was dead set on it meaning the Hunt had Geralt. He didn't think of anything else because of the word and… well… because of the tower, too. Those visions you two had."

Fealinn met Ciri's sharp green stare, looking as if there was a battle of doubt and resolve raging within her.

"He deduced that, since Avallac'h had been inside to pick up Yennefer and was also present in the visions — it was connected. And that meant Caranthir could have been there at some point as well. Cath somehow thought it was connected to Geralt. And he wanted to find out how… it was driving him insane. He thought the answer was in front of him, but he couldn't just grasp it."

Ciri didn't take her eyes off Fealinn, scared she'd miss some important detail if she didn't give the woman her undivided attention. "Alright."

Ciri had come to the same conclusion, though simply from guessing rather than putting together these helpful clues.

At least some good had been revealed. Geralt was alive. He was alive.

"Then what did he do? Did Geralt tell him where to meet?"

"It was just that message. He didn't see Geralt, and he was certain that even if Geralt truly had visited Brokilon, he couldn't have been himself."

She sipped her tea to wet her throat, her fingers near white as she pressed the mug in them too tightly. She then set it on the table and gave Ciri a hollow look with repentance splashing there like stormy waves.

"He came back different, you know. Something happened to his usual reason and calm - like something was gnawing at him from inside. As though that stupid message was like an obsession. He was sure the answer lay where Geralt had disappeared. In those catacombs under Oxenfurt.

"Oh, Ciri, I begged him, near stood on my knees, to not go alone, to be reasonable. He was ill after Ellander and tired... He was in no shape. I asked to help you with Yennefer so the three of you could go there after... I don't think he listened. I feel it in my heart he went there on his own. Couldn't wait. Like a mad devil possessed him."

Ciri was silent for a long moment. All she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears and her heart pounding.

"Geralt was taken by The Hunt once before," she said finally, unsure if Fealinn knew. "Or rather, he gave himself to them to save Yennefer. When I found him, he was different. As you say, not himself. Almost like in a trance. It was their magic. I would not put it past them to use other jinxes as well."

"Elven magic is indeed quite potent," Fealinn agreed. "Especially when it's Aen Elle with their decades of training."

She locked her eyes with Ciri's again. "Now that Yennefer is well, you're safer with her. If that wizard can help - or anyone both of you trust - please, Ciri, ask them. Don't do it like Cath, don't venture there alone. It is a trap. If one of Aen Elle has set it up, it's a suicide to go unprepared."

"One of the Aen Elle?" Ciri asked, puzzled by Fealinn's choice of words. "Are you thinking of anyone specific?"

Fealinn winced, hesitating, glancing away to pick up her mug. "I think Cath believed it was Caranthir - avenging what you did to Eredin."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Ciri replied. "He's a spiteful brat."

"And a very powerful mage," Fealinn added. "Trained by a sage. Perhaps only Avallac'h knows how to deal with him."

He's not that great, Ciri wanted to say, but worried she would come off as the spiteful one. So she didn't comment.

"I have to go. They're expecting me back in Vizima."

"Of course," Fealinn murmured, averting her eyes. The wrinkle between her brows deepened.

She cast a glance at Kain's bow, biting her lip, then looked back to Ciri with some sort of desperate uncertainty.

"Please, be very careful. I understand why you trust Avallac'h, but he is Aen Elle. You might not know what is truly going on between him and his people. He might not be telling you the whole truth."

Ciri narrowed her eyes. "What makes you say that? You think he did something to Yennefer when she was in his care?"

"We have no way of knowing that. We can only think it over from the light of what benefit he could get from it. Sages hardly do anything unless it benefits their plan one way or another."

"Then why are you so skeptical of him?" Ciri countered. "Is it just because he is Aen Elle? Have you met him before?"

"How well do you believe you know him?" Fealinn played back. "How much does he ever tell you or explain? He left Yennefer out there and just walked away. And what if the druids hadn't found her in time? And if he knew where she was - had he also known all this time where to find Geralt? If he is a sage, could he have prevented Cath's disappearance? Or chose not to?"

"Trust me, Avallac'h has a lot to answer for and I intend to make him do just that as soon as I find him," Ciri said. "He's never been fond of Geralt or Yennefer. And the feeling between them is mutual. But I never thought he would actually allow harm to come to either of them if he could prevent it."

"What about Cath?" Fealinn blurted out, throwing her hands up in frustration, and then bit her lip, darting a somewhat wary glance Ciri's way as though regretting voicing it.

"Fealinn," Ciri said in her sternest adult voice, staring the elf down much like Calanthe would when Ciri was a child and had been naughty. "Is there something you're not telling me again? I need to know everything! Hurt feelings be damned! This is life and death!"

"Don't you think I understand that?" Fealinn retorted. "That is the problem! How can I know I won't make it all worse? It's not for me to tell! But he..." She heaved a shaky sigh, running both hands through her hair. "Oh gods, Ciri. I don't know what to do."

"What could possibly make this worse?" Ciri questioned. "What? Was he and Kain plotting behind my back?"

"No!" Fealinn cried in horror. "Gods, no! Cath would never do such a thing! He refused—"

Ciri leaned in, suddenly wishing she was taller so she could intimidate with her very presence. "Finish that sentence."

Fealinn stared at Ciri for a long moment, her lips pinched while a very hard decision fought to be made inside her anxious mind.

Eventually, she closed her eyes momentarily in resignation and met Ciri's piercing gaze.

"I beg you, Ciri, hear me out with a cold mind," she pleaded. "Be very wise and reasonable about it. You're right, it's life and death, and your life depends on how carefully you tread."

She took a gulp of her tea and told Ciri about Kain's accidental trip to Tir ná Lia when they lost each other inside Tor Zireael. How Avallac'h was waiting for him there. She told Ciri what Avallac'h proposed and how they discussed it, word to word as Kain had told her.

"Cath would never betray you, Ciri," Fealinn added when the tale was finished. "Even though he doubted he made the right choice, he couldn't leave you without help in that tower. He would never leave you behind like that."

Cold was not an accurate description of Ciri's state of mind by the time Fealinn stopped talking. There was an odd buzzing sound in her ears, as though a swarm of mosquitoes had taken up residence inside her head.

She clenched her fists on her lap, fingernails digging into her palms.

"I'm going to kill him," she said. "No wonder Avallac'h is hiding. He knows what awaits him."

She stood abruptly, tasting blood from how hard her teeth gritted down on the inside of her cheek.

"Thank you for telling me. I'll find Kain and bring him home. I'll find them all."

"Ciri, please, listen to me," Fealinn jumped off her seat and took the girl gently by the shoulders, holding her stormy emerald eyes with hers. "Do not do anything rash. You don't know enough, no one does — which is why Cath was in doubt. With sages, we cannot know how their mind works and why they do what they do. If you confront Avallac'h about it outright violently, you might make it all worse. What if you can't free Cath without him? What if Geralt's life depends on him as well? Please, Ciri, think about it. Be very careful, very reasonable. To play on a par with him you have to be as calculating. Ask Yennefer for advice, she is the only one you can trust now."

She let go and made a meek attempt at an encouraging smile. "I wish I could help you more, I swear I do. I'm worried sick about both of you but I feel so helpless. There is close to nothing I can do. I'm no sage, nor a battle wizard."

"You're fine, Fealinn," Ciri assured. "Just keep yourself safe. And let me know if you hear any news. I will keep you updated on my end."

"If you need me, please, come. And I'll be grateful for any news, as well as any help I can I shall provide. May you be guided and kept safe on your Path, Ciri." She leaned in and gave Ciri a warm parting embrace. "Be safe."