There were times that Geralt would forget that he was a century old. It wasn't that old in the grand scheme of things - he personally knew plenty of people twice, thrice, even four times his age. Still, some days he would wake up and feel like he was a fresh face on the Path, at the very start of his journey. That all of the notable events of his life happened in the span of a couple of years at most.

Then there were days like this, when he felt ancient. "Ciri, calm down and take a breath. What did you do?" He asked his adoptive daughter, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Blood dripped freely from her nose as she heaved for breath, fat drops of sweat forming on her brow before flowing down her cheeks. He hadn't seen her this spent since she was a little girl determined to run the gauntlet to the point of collapse.

He glanced over his shoulder at the dead creature. The crystal dragon was no more, revealing an abnormally large man with his chest and armor caved in. As if he had been hit by a swing from that monstrous sword Guts wielded. One moment, Geralt was preparing for a fight and the next the creature laid dead. He almost thought he blinked and missed the killing blow, but he didn't blink during a fight. The only clue to what happened was Ciri herself.

"We need-" Ciri tried to rise, but her legs gave out from underneath her. Geralt caught her, holding her up but Ciri was looking out to something in the distance. "We don't have much time. The Wild Hunt is invading."

Well… "Fuck," Geralt cursed, summarizing his thoughts rather efficiently.

"They found an alternative to me. I… I think it's already started," Ciri said, wiping blood on her forearm and only managing to smear what was on her face. "They wanted me to transport everyone at once, but with the way they have now… they can ferry over hundreds at a time." Ciri explained, looking at Guts. He seemed to understand some unspoken message because his jaw clenched and his expression became one of violence. His shadow began to swirl, itching to take the form of the cursed armor he now bore.

Moments like these, Geralt felt every injury and scar. He might not be old, but he sure wasn't young.

"We have to do something. I… I'll take us there, and we-" Ciri began but Geralt cut her off.

"You can barely stand. You aren't doing anything," Geralt told her in no uncertain terms. She also wasn't the little girl that hung off of every word he said anymore. Still, he trained her well enough for her to recognize her own limits.

Ciri's expression was one of fury, "People are dying." She snapped at him, and he met her gaze unflinchingly. There was too much good in Ciri.

"People are always dying. You can't save everyone and you know that. You won't he able to save anyone if you kill yourself with your power," he replied, his tone blunt. That got her to look away, telling him that she already knew. She just hadn't wanted to face it. He understood that better than most. Every decision he ever made had a thousand and one different consequences - some good, some bad, and some he'd give his sword arm to take back. Inaction was the same beast, and the hardest part of the job had always been knowing that if he had been a little faster, or if he went one path instead of the other…

It was easy to have regrets as a Witcher. Which made one lesson above all the most important to learn.

"It's not your fault. You've done what you can, so take a breath so you can do more." He told her, looking out at Dandelion's tavern. It was a ruin now. Though, thankfully, Dandelion didn't seem to mind any, as he was just glad that his tavern was the only casualty.

"I hate it when you're right," Ciri muttered and Geralt turned his attention to Guts, who looked like he was struggling with that same lesson. Geralt wasn't entirely sure what his history was with this Griffith, but he had his suspicions. Those weren't important at the moment, however.

"Only when I tell unpleasant truths," he told her as Yennefer approached, looking thoroughly exhausted with the day. She was mad at him, Geralt knew, but even anger looked good on Yennefer. She smoldered. Angry as she might be, she was distracted by the situation.

"We clearly can't remain here. This city was a mess and that was before a dragon showed up," Yennefer decided, and with a wave of her hand a portal manifested. Geralt must have grimaced because Yennefer shot him a look. "Suck it up, Geralt. Nothing will happen to you." Ciri sounded too amused for her own good, but all the same, the two of them hobbled forward. After taking a bracing breath, they stepped through it.

The portal took them to a place that Geralt didn't recognize, but if he had to summarize it in a few words - decrepit villa came to mind. It was clearly a villa fit for nobility, but it had been neglected. Cobwebs gathered in the corners, there was a fine layer of dust on everything, while every piece of furniture was covered in a white sheet. It was warm, though. Faint humidity. They were south of Novigrad, and a view of the mountains covered in a dense forest told him that they were more south east than straight south.

"Let's find you a bed," Geralf decided, each footstep leaving a trail in the dust.

"Geralt…" Ciri muttered, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, Geralt saw that she was completely spent. "We need to release Emhyr. Send him back to Nilfgaard to rally another army. We're… going to need it." She signed as Geralt was more dragging her than carrying her when her legs lost their strength. "The more time… they have, the more they can send over…"

"I'll take care of it," he reassured her, finding a room that had a couch the would serve as a bed. Pulling off the sheet and sending up about two decades worth of dust, he rolled her onto it to find that Ciri was fast asleep the moment her back touched the bed. Her breathing was deep and even with a faint whistle from the drying blood in her nose. Geralt swallowed a sigh as he looked down at her, taking a seat in a chair nearby after setting his swords aside.

Ever since his memories returned, it felt like he spent every waking moment on the move. First searching for Yennefer, then searching for Ciri while being just one step behind. Even when he found her, the hits just kept coming. The Djinn, planning to make her queen of the world, and now the Wild Hunt.

This was one of those moments that Geralt felt the aches in his bones, feeling strangely ancient. He lived a far more exciting life than most, and even this had been too much for him. He heard a squeak of the doors opening, and he smelled Yennfer's perfume even before she entered. Gooseberries. Yennefer strode into the room, overlooking Ciri as she slumbered with a concerned expression that she was trying to hide.

"It's not the first time she's pushed herself too far," Geralt reassured her. "She's always been fine with a little rest."

"That was before she altered time itself. Believe me, Geralt - space is far easier to meddle with than time." Yennefer replied, waving her hand as magic swirled around it. Despite her sharp words, the concern did ease out of her face when she saw that Ciri was simply sleeping. Then, with another, the drying blood was cleaned from her face, eliminating the whistling from one nostril.

Hm. "Have you tried?" Geralt questioned, earning a sharp look from Yennefer's violet eyes.

"Of course," Yennefer seemed to dismiss the question entirely. "A dead end as far as magic goes. You'd need to dedicate hundreds of years to it to even see if it would be possible. Even with the Elder Blood, I didn't…" Yennefer trailed off with a sigh. Geralt thought of the child - Judeau. Wasn't a coincidence that Ciri managed to do that for the first time when she clasped hands with him.

But there was little point in dwelling on the issue when they had so many others to dwell on. "The others?" Geralt prompted, making Yennefer's lips thin.

"Guts, Casca, and the… child are here. I sent Emhyr back to Nilfgaard… while Triss is organizing her mages," Yennefer answered, her tone clipped. "Ciri is right. The Wild Hunt are here in force for the first time. Small disruptive forces to pave the way for a full invasion, it would seem."

Not what he wanted to hear, but he wasn't surprised. "Is this place safe?"

"As it can be. The wards require some maintenance, but I had it prepared some years ago in case we-... if Ciri needed to hide," Yennefer caught herself with a rare slip of the tongue. To that, Geralt could only swallow a sigh.

Yennefer had heard the truth and found that she didn't care for it. And he knew her well enough to know that repeating the same point would only make her already thin patience with him wear out faster. Normally, when things got like this, they'd go their separate ways. Then, in a decade or two, they'd find their way together again.

Yennefer must have had the same thought because she spoke up. "The Djinn. I had a wish in mind when we were searching for it." She remarked, bringing his attention to her. Her jaw clenched, as if she regretted even bringing it up. "Time and time again we've been pulled apart and together. How much of that is because of what we feel towards one another? How much of that is the result of your wish?"

Geralt still recalled the wording of his wish. All too well. "Does it matter?" He asked her, and that caught her attention.

"Considering the past few decades, I would imagine you would at least be a little curious," she observed, sending him a measuring look. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"Because it wouldn't change anything. Not for me," Geralt told her as bluntly honest as he could manage. He was all too aware of what she meant. There had been moments, usually when they found themselves at each other's throats, that he wondered if he would care for her at all if it weren't for that damn wish.

In the end, losing his memories gave him his answer. His time with Triss was very different than his time with Yennefer. Very different. It was all… passion. A honeymoon. But, his time with Yennefer was the flame itself and sometimes, when dealing with fire, you ended up burned. It just wasn't reason enough to swear off dealing with fire ever again.

As usual, blunt honesty was Yennefer's weakness. A conflicted expression passed over her face, hesitation in her eyes before they narrowed into a glare. Not because of the past, but because she knew he had intentionally cranked up the charm. Something he rarely did with her. "Is that so?" And despite her evident annoyance, she wasn't dissatisfied with it.

"That's so. The others… they had their reasons for not telling me about you. I'll let them tell you what they were. Triss," Geralt said, and her gaze turned frosty. "She thought you were dead. She thought she was helping me."

"Helping herself more likely," Yennefer muttered, her tone bitter.

"Yen…" Geralt trailed off, leveling a look at the witch. Yennefer ignored it completely to bite her bottom lip as she waved him off.

"Save it, Geralt. I'll be informed of her reasons myself. As for you… you didn't remember me."

"I didn't remember anything," he corrected.

"Then you did," Yennefer prompted. He understood what she wanted to hear.

"When I did, I tried to find you," Geralt confirmed. That seemed to mollify Yennefer ever so slightly. He was throwing a few others under the wagon but… well… better them than him.

Silence filled the room, a far more comfortable silence than the frigid one Geralt had come to expect as of late. They weren't quite there yet, but things were getting better. They would get there yet.

…

Something had changed within her, Ciri realized, distantly aware of time passing even as she laid on a bed, completely oblivious to the world in a deep and heavy slumber. She could feel the seconds slipping through her fingers like so many grains of sand. The seconds turning into minutes, minutes to hours, and hours to days. All the while she was held underwater, unable to surface and return to consciousness.

More than time, she could feel space rippling through the Sphere. Even the smallest of ripples disturbed her, as if someone was casting stones into a still lake. She felt it - Yennefer and Triss working together, their bonds not yet mended, but pushing that to the side. They opened and closed portals by the dozens, working more freely than they had dared to in a long time. Triss' mages helped them every step of the way - some in exchange for favors, and others because they realized what was awaiting them.

They weren't the only ones. Almost rhythmically, Ciri felt the Wild Hunt slip into the Sphere, bringing dozens of riders at a time. Those riders were unleashed into the countryside - it couldn't even be called raiding, because they took nothing. They simply destroyed the fringe settlements, burning homes, and forcing the few survivors to limp towards larger settlements. Already, the way for the invasion was being paved.

It didn't help things that Triss and Yennefer and even her father weren't prioritizing defensive measures. They were gathering an army, transporting soldiers to Novigrad. They were waiting for her, Ciri knew, but she still struggled to breach the surface and rejoin the waking world. Three whole days passed as she slumbered uselessly. The price to be paid for her meddling with Time. Even if it was hers, it didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. Just as her sword could lop off her own head as easily as it could another's if she used it recklessly.

All the same, she fought. She clawed at the surface, scratching at it as she tried to breach it. To wake up.

Then, without any warning, she suddenly did, with enough force that she all but launched herself out of bed and fell to the floor with a thump and a grunt. Ciri sighed, her body still aching from the strain and the bed rest, but her mind at least felt crystal clear. It took her a moment to find her legs, as three days of rest left them feeling like a newborn fawns'. With a little effort, Ciri managed to stand and wobble forward towards the door. Idly, she realized that she had been moved at some point because now she was in a bedroom that was fit for… well, a queen, she supposed.

By the time she reached the door, she felt a little more normal. And by the time she reached the end of the hall, Ciri felt as good as she ever did. Except for all the burning questions and the urgency that gripped her heart. Where was everyone, to start with?

Stepping into the loft, her gaze swept over it to find a rather luxurious manor. But, more importantly, she found someone familiar standing on a balcony as she spied on something that laid beyond it. Given the chaos of the past couple of days, Ciri thought that it was more than fair that it took her a moment to realize who she was. "Casca?" Ciri tried, making the women flinch ever so slightly, turning around as a hand went to the sword at her hip.

It was strange seeing Casca so… aware, Ciri realized. A welcomed strangeness, of course as the woman spoke to her for the first time. "You're awake?" Casca realized, letting go of the hilt of her sword. "You've been out of it for three days. Everyone was starting to get worried."

So it had been three days. "No need to worry. Just needed to catch up on some beauty sleep," Ciri managed to jest before realizing that she hadn't bothered to look in a mirror. Casca saw the bluster for what it was and gave Ciri a simple smile. "This… is our first time actually talking, so… I'm Ciri. Well, Cirillia, but the only ones who call me that are Yennefer and Geralt when they're mad." She was rambling a bit, but she couldn't help herself.

This was Casca. The woman who managed to claim Guts' heart, no matter what he might say about it.

"I remember you," Casca informed, sounding somewhat hesitant. "A little. The time I was… it's rather fuzzy. I get more snippets and impressions rather than memories." Well, that was good. And it was nice to hear that she had made an impression.

Approaching, Ciri saw what Casca had been spying on. Guts and Judeau stood in a clearing with Judeau wielding what seemed to be the largest stick he had managed to find. It was double his height, easily, and he wielded it with little grace as he took wild swings at Guts, who mercilessly parried and blocked them without taking so much as a step. He even went as far as to deliver small, harmlessly, attacks when Judeau dropped his guard too low.

Guts' expression, however, is what stole her attention. There was a tenderness in his gaze she hadn't seen in him before.

"Adorable. He's going to be a real danger when he gets older," Ciri remarked, a smile in her voice. In more ways than one. As a Source, he was power incarnate when it came to magic. And if he was half the swordsman Guts was… not to mention, both Guts and Casca were both beautiful people, so it stood to reason that Judeau would be too. A terror on the battlefield and a heartbreaker. Nobility, too.

"He's going to be a problem child if he's half as stubborn as me or Guts," Casca corrected but there was pride in her voice. And that very well might be the case because Judeau got right back up when Guts swept his little legs from underneath him and resumed his attacks with renewed vigor. "Thank you. For helping him," Casca suddenly said as she gazed out at the two, her expression… fragile, if Ciri had to call it something.

"I don't think I did that much," Ciri began, only for Casca to shake her head.

"I've known Guts a long time. After Griffith… did what he did, I know how devastated he must have been. The Band of the Hawk was his family. He would have been worse than he was before he met us," Casca remarked, catching Ciri's attention. Casca caught the look and elaborated. "I used to call Guts a mad hound. For longer than he deserved, admittedly. But, in the early days, Guts was a rabid dog that I thought was going to bite Griffith. He hated us, and he was every bit as dangerous to us as he was to our enemies… it took a long time for him to open up. And longer for me to see that he was a lot kinder than he liked to pretend."

Ciri was silent, thinking on her and Guts' first encounter. Guts had been gruff, certainly, but he never struck her as a danger. Then again, he had fought through the night to protect some kids, so as much as he would like to act like a prickly bastard, she saw right through it.

"What Griffith did drove me insane. And I know it must have destroyed Guts," Casca continued in a soft voice, watching as the other children joined the fray - all of the orphans that Guys helped save - armed with sticks as they sprinted to Judeau's aid. It was a memory to cherish, she decided, seeing Guts besieged by a half dozen kids who all wailed on him with sticks, his expression thoroughly indifferent as he seemed to be considering swinging back. "I wasn't there. I couldn't be. So, thank you for pulling him back from that."

Ciri scratched at her neck, hearing the earnest gratitude in Casca's voice. "Ah, well… it's not like he didn't help me. Not sure any of this would be possible without him."

To that, Casca simply smiled but said nothing. And, as much as Ciri hated to ruin the tender moment, she did have pressing questions that needed to be answered.

"Where is everyone?" Ciri questioned after a small pause, and Casca took a moment to answer as Guts seemingly had his fill of being used as a training dummy and started sweeping the legs out from underneath the children as if he were a broom. That was more inline with what she expected of him - Guy's didn't really strike her as the type to let someone win.

"Novigrad, as far as I'm aware. Guts and I remained here to protect you until you woke up since we're also targets." Casca answered, and again, Ciri was proven right. Novigrad was the gathering ground. "Dandelion is also here, if you wish to talk to him."

She did, honestly. Mostly to apologize for what happened to his tavern. But Ciri knew that enough time had been wasted waiting on her. If she was right twice, then it stood to reason that most, if not all of what she felt was true. Meaning that there was an odd two thousand members of the Wild Hunt terrorizing the world, and while that number might seem small, it was nothing compared to the tens of thousands that were coming. She would just have to make it up to him when everything was said and done.

Casca seemed to understand, because she offered a small nod. Finally taking a step forward, she called out to Guts, "Ciri is awake. It's time."

Ciri felt genuine guilt seeing the hardened mask that she was used to seeing slide into place as Guts readied himself for the battles to come. Reaching out with a hand, Ciri grabbed hold of Casca before teleporting them both down onto the ground.

"You're finally up," Guts remarked, though he did sound faintly relieved.

All things considered, with all the abuse he went through… Guts was the one that should be held up in a bed, but he seemed just fine. "Sorry about that. Are you ready?" She asked him, knowing that she would need his strength. This wasn't a battle for a crown or a throne. This was a battle for the fate of the world.

Guts didn't even need to think about it. "I am," he answered. Then he looked down at Judeau, who looked up at him with wide eyes and a faint frown. Hesitantly, the most that Ciri had ever seen in Guts, he reached down to rub Judeau's head. "Work on your guard."

Ciri had to swallow a laugh but Casca didn't bother in favor of kneeling down and bringing Judeau in for a hug. "We'll be gone for just a little bit. Then we'll come home and we'll stay together. Forever and ever." She swore, and to an untrained ear, they might assume it was an innocent promise to their child to soothe their fears. But Ciri heard the steel in that promise. That no matter what, they would return, even if they had to rip a hole in space and time to get back to him.

Judeau simply nodded with stoicism that Ciri assumed came from Guts, returning the hug before giving his father a small nod. Then his gaze settled on her and Ciri felt the weight of expectation in that gaze.

He was no normal child. Not in heritage, not in ability, and not mentally.

"You can count on me," Ciri replied, answering that expectation. Judeau nodded, and took a step back. There were no tears or sniffles.

Reaching out to both Casca and Guts, she took a deep breath as she pulled at the power in her blood.

This was it.

The beginning of the end.

...

A little calm before the storm. Next chapter will be a big one that covers the battle with the Wild Hunt, and then we have an epilogue. I already have most of the battle written out, so Castoff will likely end sometime this month or early next month.