The radishes were coming in nicely.
Geralt pushed himself up from the dirt, wiping his hands on his slacks. Geralt always liked Radishes. Simple vegetable, you can bite right into them - Geralt remembered spending many days with nothing but a sack full of radishes to eat, back on the trail.
Even in retirement old habits were hard to kick.
Still - he wouldn't have it any other way. He looked back at his home, a little hut, just big enough for a family to be comfortable. In Kaedwen of all places because even once it was all over, Geralt couldn't help but be close to Kaer Morhen, the place he called home for so long . Smoke was coming from the chimney. That meant dinner was being made.
He entered his home, the one he built with his own two hands - and saw the love of his life, stirring a pot over the fireplace. It was a small hut, with light furnishings, but Geralt had always been rather spartan when it came to interior design. It was homely - a place Geralt would've liked to have grown up if it wasn't for the Witcher life. Geralt took a deep inhale, smelling his dinner.
Beef and cabbage stew. One of his favorites.
He looked over to the corner at the crib he had built, the soft cooings coming from it.
Their little miracle.
Geralt smiled, and walked up behind his wife, appreciating her long raven hair. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and buried his nose into her hair.
"Smells nice." He said, talking both about the stew and her perfume.
Yennefer. The love he thought he would never fully have, there, cooking for him and his child. The riches of the world couldn't make him give this up.
"Dinner will be ready soon."
Wait-
That wasn't Yennefer's voice.
Geralt took a step back in confusion. He sniffed again. That wasn't Yennefer's smell.
The woman in front of him turned around, and the silhouette of long Raven black hair transformed before him, into a pair of pigtails, topped with feathers. And instead of Yennfer's long face and violet eyes, Geralt saw the round freckled face of Philippa Eilhart, eye sockets filled with nothing but white.
Gerlat opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"Geralt?" Phillipa said, arching an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Did you not want stew?"
Once again, Geralt's mouth opened, attempting to say anything, but it was like his vocal cords were taken from him.
"What's wrong daddy?"
Geralt's head whipped around to the crib, where the infant was now standing, head just peaking over the edge of the crib, hair white and in pigtails, a summation of Geralt and Philippa.
"What the fuck?" Geralt's voice managed to finally creak out.
"Hey, not in front of the baby!" Philippa chided.
"Yeah!" The baby's voice squeaked in agreement
Suddenly, the front door burst open behind him. He spun around, and realized he was staring straight at a horn, as a unicorn's head hung through the door.
"Children are very impressionable." The unicorn spoke.
"What the fu-"
Geralt jolted upward in bed, gasping out loudly. An action he immediately regretted, as his side began to ache fiercely. He brought his hand to the pained area and looked down at it, realizing it was bandaged as the events of the last two days came back to him.
'Sloppy Geralt. Too sloppy.' Geralt thought as he looked at his bandaged side. His next thought was that he was in a rather large bed that seemed to have too many pillows. It didn't take much brain power to piece together that it was Keira's bed.
Gerlat felt stirring at his feet, and realized he wasn't alone. At the foot of the bed sitting on a chair and leaning over on the mattress was a sleeping Philippa. Least she was asleep until Geralt's movements woke her up. She sat up groggily, shaking the sleep from her head. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at a very conscious Geralt.
"You're awake!" She exclaimed suddenly.
"So are you apparently." He responded. Philippa didn't say anything to that. Instead she frowned deeply, distressed look on her face
"Philippa-" He began, but before he could get another word in, Philippa was on her feet, and on the bed, moving faster than he thought she could move. She was quickly straddling, pressing her ample chest to his bare one, arms around his neck.
"You idiot!" She cried out. "You could have died - you almost did!"
Geralt snorted a bit at the particular neediness he heard in her voice, and let one arm lazily wrap around her back. "Wouldn't be the first time. Hardly will be the last."
Phillipa pulled back a bit so she could look him in the face, giving him an eyeless glare. "Really, that's all you have to say after almost dying?"
"Not much to say."
They just looked at each other for a moment, before their minds seemed to link, and they both moved forward, crashing their lips to each other. Geralt's hands went to the small of her back, pulling her in possessively as Philippa rubbed her chest against him deliciously, and ground down into his lap. Geralt found after a near death experience, he was always particularly randy. As for Philippa, well with her hormones as volatile as they were, having Geralt out of commission only allowed it to build within her, making her antsy, horny, and all around an annoyance for Keira in general. Philippa was even surprised by her forwardness and abject neediness at the moment, but she didn't care to think on it, rather deeping her kiss with Geralt.
Speaking of Keira-
"I leave you two alone for 15 minutes, and you two are already all over each other, in MY bed of all things." The blond sorceress said as she entered the room, a potion and some water in her hands." Despite her words, Keira had a large smile plastered on her face at the sight, which aggravated Philippa a bit. "Though I suppose with the prospect of single motherhood, Phil must be ecstatic that you're alright.
Geralt's eyes widened a bit, and he looked back and forth between Philippa and Keira.
"You told her?" He asked.
"Oh give me some credit Witcher." Keira said, setting the potion and water down on the nightstand. "I figured it out myself. And don't worry, I won't grill you with a thousand questions. I already did that to Philippa.
Philippa groaned, and regretfully slid off Geralt's lap. Keira just smiled at them even more.
"You two are certainly something, aren't you.?" She said, shaking her head a bit.
"How long was I out?" Geralt said quickly, wanting to change the subject.
"About two days." Keira said, pushing the water towards Geralt. He took it from the table and downed it quickly, not even realizing how thirsty he was. "Don't know what magic was in that Huntsman's axe, but it did a number on your side."
"Yeah, I can certainly feel it." Geralt commented, feeling the dull ache pulse again. Then a thought crossed his mind. "Wait - you two carried me out of the cave?"
"We're not laborers." Philippa scoffed, seemingly offended by the idea of it. "We levitated you out. Seems once the Hunt left, portals were working again. We brought you straight here."
"And Roach? She-"
"We got your stead." Keira assured
"What about the clues about Ciri?" Geralt asked, sitting more upright. He was working himself up. Philippa gently placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back down to the bed.
"Us sorceresses are perfectly capable at our own bit of detective work." Philippa commented. "We listened to the Elf's final message."
"And?" Geralt prodded impatiently.
"Admittedly it was as cryptic as his other messages." Philippa explained. "Seemed he knew the ruins weren't safe. Knew that the Hunt was on him. Told Ciri to meet him in the place where they were last together."
"And with Ciri, that could mean anywhere." Geralt sighed in frustration, leaning against the headboard.
"Maybe that's for the best. Means the Hunt doesn't know where she is either." Keira offered. Geralt just grumbled.
"There was another part." Philippa continued. "Mentioned some witches - a warning to keep away from them. The Witches of Crookback Swamp-"
"Crookback Bog." Keira corrected.
Geralt's eyes flashed to Keira, and the blonde sorceress internally kicked herself at her slip. Before Philippa could say anything else, Geralt had swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood quickly, looming over Keira.
"Keira! If you're hiding something-" He growled. Keira took a half step back, eyes flashing wide.
"But - I didn't say…" She tried, only to be cut off by Geralt.
"Why didn't you say anything earlier? I told you Ciri had a run in with a witch." Geralt demanded.
"I had no idea you meant them... If I'd told you something, you would have rushed off to find them... But we needed first to confirm that Ciri was here, right? I shall tell you everything now, of course."
"Now, after I safely lead you through the cave?"
"Oh, leave her be Geralt." Philippa said, moving in to step between them. It wasn't as if Philippa herself wasn't cross at Keira, but she could sympathize with the utility of withholding information until convenient. And even if she was cross with Keira, at the end of the day, sorceresses bound together. "It all worked out in the end, didn't it."
"Yes, I'm sure you and Keira enjoyed rifling through the Elf's lab."
"Geralt-" Philippa said in warning. She squared her shoulders to the Witcher and lifted her chin, almost as if daring him to say something else. Gerlat narrowed his eyes at the short woman, jaw working back and forth. "Even if Keira had told you about these witches, you know you would've found your way to those ruins regardless, and without Keira, we might not have made it, just barely as is - so please stop being so dramatic."
Gerlat's eyebrows arched up a bit at that, He hated to admit that she had a point, so instead he just mumbled "I'm not dramatic."
"Of course not." Philippa said, with a small smirk.
Geralt sighed. He was tired, he was sore, and he was sick of Velen. Looking over Philippa's shoulder at Keira, who at least looked a BIT contrite, he asked, "You know these witches?"
"I've never met them, but I've read of them." Keira explained. "In an old manuscript I found in one of the huts in the village. Witches venturing into Crookback Bog at times - to liaise between the villagers in the Crones, the Ladies of the Wood. The Crones appear to be intolerant of outsiders, but they help the local folk. Apparently, they stopped the spread of the plague in Velen."
"And do you believe that?" Geralt questioned.
Keira took a moment before answering.
"I'd love to shrug it off as the nattering of so many old women, yet... Throughout my first fortnight in Velen, I had horrible nightmares. Something was calling me out into the swamps. One night I decided to enter the dream consciously, render it lucid. I confronted the...thing directly. It broke contact at once. Peaceful nights ever since."
Philippa stiffened a bit, thinking back to the dreams and moments of dread that plagued her when they first arrived in Velen as well. Seems whoever these witches were, they're influence was far reaching.
Gerlat scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn't particularly want to go galavanting through some bog to find some witches that may or may not be there, but it seemed that's where the trail, if you could even call it that, was leading.
"Alright." Geralt said a bit wearily. "Let's go."
Philippa arched an eyebrow, and Keira looked in a bit of disbelief.
"What? Just like that?" Keira asked.
"Just like that." Geralt nodded. "These witches have information on Ciri. That means I need to find them."
"Your side is barely healed." Keira tried to reason. She wasn't wrong. His side ached like all hell, but it wouldn't be the first nor last time he traveled hurt.
"I'm fine." Geralt said, moving toward the door of the bedroom.
"Plan to head out without a shirt?" Philippa commented smartly.
Geralt looked down at his bare chest, remembering he was in fact without a shirt. "Where's my armor?"
"Wrecked." Keira answered "You can't go off all half assed Witcher. You don't even know where you're going. Crookback Bog is huge. You'd be looking for a needle in a…well a swamp."
"I'm sure that book you found might have some details." Geralt said, turning to face Keira.
"Yes, it might…but I might not be in the mood to part with it."
"Keira-" Geralt began sternly.
"I need your help." Keira said, cutting him off. "Assistance with something."
"I suppose leading you through those ruins so you could get to the elf's lab didn't count?"
"Didn't know you considered me such deadweight. I guess shielding you from hellish frost, keeping the mother of your child from being cleaved in two, and allowing you to recover in my bed was just a courtesy."
Geralt frowned. He understood not having efforts appreciated, but he didn't have time for this. The Hunt could be anywhere, moving in on Ciri. Sure they might not have figured it out yet - but it was only a matter of time.
"I'm not saying I don't appreciate what you've done for us, but-"
"Witchy lady? Are you comin' back? I can't stand ere' all day" I voice called out from outside the bedroom. The voice of a man - not normal however. The timber of his voice seemed lacking yet it seemed to echo unnaturally.
"Keira, what was…is someone out there?" Philippa asked in confusion. She had been so hyper-focused on the recovering Geralt, she hadn't really paid any attention to what Keira had been up to in the spare time - she'd never let Geralt know that though.
"I-" Keira began, but Philippa took initiative before the sorceress could come up with an excuse, moving past Keira out the door, followed promptly by Geralt.
When they moved into the next room, into Keira's study, the pair's eyes immediately went to the green glow illuminating from the corner. A lantern, a lamp, was situated on the floor - pointed at the conjunction of the wall. Philippa recognized it as the lamp Keira took from the Elf's lab. She was vague about what it did at the time. All she told her was she had traded the elf a powerful potion for it, one to stave off memory loss. Philippa's curiosity was answered by what the lamp was illuminating. Within the light stood a man - well the essence of one - a man of intangible shadows, but still a man. Even in his form, the outline of his face and clothes could be made out; he looked the simple type. A villager. At where his feet would've been was a blackened skull.
By now, Keira had walked into the room herself, shaking her head.
"Well, seems this cat is out of the bag." She sighed, before moving to the lantern and shutting it off. The shadowy figure gave her a sparing glance, before disappearing into nothingness.
"Keira, didn't know you were interested in that kind of magic." Philippa admonished.
"Don't be a hypocrite Phil." Keira countered. "You're the one who always told me dark magic was a nebulous term. All about intent."
"And what exactly is the intent of this?" Gerlat asked.
"Well, this is actually what I need assistance with in fact. The cursed isle on Lake Wyndamer - you've heard of it, I'm sure." They hadn't, but Keira pushed on regardless. "The local peasants mumble incessantly about it, about the wraiths that haunt it. They claim none who go there return."
"Cursed island. Can't say I haven't dealt with those before." Geralt noted. "How'd it come to be cursed?"
"That's what I don't know! I must break this spell, yet I've been unable to identify its source."
Philippa pursed her lips at Keira. Something wasn't adding up. "Why?" She asked.
"Why?" Keira repeated.
"You said it yourself that you despise this place and its inhabitants, and now you're trying to break curses for them?"
"I fail to lift the curse and they could conclude that their great and powerful witch isn't so great." Keira explained. "Not enough to conceal me from the witch hunters and risk getting sent to the gallows themselves."
Philippa crossed her arms over her chest. The answer seemed plausible enough, but she felt as if Keira wasn't telling them something. She was an expert on that matter after all.
"Keira, we don't have time for this." Geralt reiterated.
"If you want the book you do." Keira stated. "Look, you're a Witcher. You break curses like farmers plow fields. It wouldn't even take more than a day."
"That a fact?"
"The more time you spend arguing with me, the more time you're wasting."
Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. He really needed to stop hanging around sorceresses.
"Fine." He finally sighed after a moment. Keira smiled in satisfaction.
"Splendid."
"Great, going to a cursed island - lovely addition to our adventure." Philippa stated dryly.
"Oh, I'm sure you two are dying to be alone after spending all this time with me." Keira said with a wide grin. "A little family time."
Philippa went red in the face, and opened her mouth to sputter out some sort of insult, but luckily Geralt saved her from the embarrassment.
"I'm going to need something to wear."
"Ah yes, I've handled that." Keira stated. "One of the villagers thought himself an adventurer in his younger days. Had an old outfit - he was about your size before he put on some weight. It's back in the bedroom on the dresser."
Geralt nodded, and went back into the bedroom to change. After a moment, he called out "THIS is it?"
"Beggars can't be choosers Geralt." Keira replied. Geralt grumbled some reply under his breath, but otherwise didn't respond. Phillippa gave Keira a confused look, who in turn returned with a wink. Philippa thought she was missing something, until Geralt stepped back into the study.
Seems that whoever donated the clothes obviously didn't get into anything that was too dangerous. Geralt was given a cotton shirt as an underlayer - short-sleeved. The outfit also came with Navy blue pants of leather and wool. Geralt didn't find them terribly comfortable. The only protective aspect of the get up was the deep navy brigandine vest that he wore over the shirt. Geralt felt a bit exposed - under armored. In his younger days he might have got on wearing light attire, sometimes unusual. He remembered the spiked jacket of leather he used to wear, back when his hair was short and he wore that ridiculous circlet. But he had grown accustomed to wearing full covering - especially in the war years.
Philippa however didn't mind his new attire at all. The short sleeves were doing marvelous things for his arms - muscled and scarred. Nearly swoon worthy, but she'd never admit that Despite her efforts, she found herself grinning as she took in his appearance; Keira was as well.
"Would you two stop gawking at me." Geralt said irritably, folding his arms over his chest, only showing them off more ironically.
"Oh let us girls have a little eye candy." Keira teased.
"We don't have time for this." Geralt grumbled. "Island - details."
"Alright alright." Keira said, moving to her work station on her map of Velen. "The island is here." She pointed out on the map "Fyke Isle. The temporary home of the former lord of Velen, Vserad."
"Temporary?" Philippa questioned.
"Well - it wasn't his home for long. He's dead, along with a dozen villagers. Least that's what the villagers say. Some went to the island to beg for food. It turned into a massacre."
"A massacre? So the peasants who went to the island for food - this lord had them murdered?" Geralt asked.
"The villagers say he had them poisoned." Keira replied with a shrug.
"A real gentleman." Philippa noted.
"Hm... I never met him, but he didn't seem such a cruel man judging by what a mage from the isle told me." Keira said.
"A mage lived on the island? Would I have known him?" Philippa asked.
"No - he was a local mage. We became friends during my time here." Keira said, sounding a bit sad, but there was something else in her voice. Something that made Philippa wonder. "We were friends. Sadly, he died that day as well. Very few survived. Yet even those who escaped the island suffered agonizing deaths. Strangely, they did not seem to have been poisoned."
"So dead villagers, a dead lord and a dead mage." Geralt counted. "Sounds like we'll have an interesting time."
"Before you two go, take this." Keira grabbed a small device from her desk. A Metlaic octagon that fit in the palm of her hand - with a set of metallic lips sticking out from it.
"A xenovox - nab that from the Lodge's supply as well?" Philippa asked.
"No, no - these came from the Elf's lab as well. Nabbed a pair while you were fretting over Geralt."
"I was not fret-"
"You two should be off now." Keira interrupted. "I've a skiff you can use to reach the isle - at the edge of the water just east of here. Follow the channel south and go to the center of the lake. You'll see the tower. It's impossible to miss. Oh, and you'll need the lamp of course. There likely won't be anyone alive on the island - but the dead shall guide you.".
Geralt and Philippa rode to the channel west of the village. As she said, Keira had a boat waiting for them - Philippa wondered where she had gotten herself a boat. Geralt didn't have much sailing experience, but he could handle the small single sail skiff. They sailed south, down the channel to the large lake. Lake Wyndamer was the bread and butter for most people in Velen - providing fish and freshwater, however with the war ravaging the land, and allowing the monster population to be unchecked, drowners, rotfiends and various other monsters threatened it's shores, making unfortunate victims of the populace.
It would take a few hours to reach the isle - the lake was that big. Luckily they had the wind on their side, so that sped up things. Outside of Keira's description based on the rumors of villagers, neither knew what to expect from the isle, though as they drew closer, a dull headache came upon Philippa - small and niggling at first, but steadily growing as they sailed. Geralt looked back from the mast, seeing Philippa rub her temple.
"You okay?" He asked.
"I'm- fine." Philippa said slowly. "Think I figured out why Keira didn't just come and handle this herself. The magic this place is letting off - I feel like someone is tap dancing on my skull."
"Hm - my amulet has been vibrating for the past 15 minutes." Geralt noted. "Do we need to turn back?"
"Please - I'm made of sterner stuff than Keira. I'll be fine..." Philippa insisted.
"But-" Geralt asked, sensing there was something else.
"...but there's clearly something Keira isn't telling us about all of this." Philippa alleged. "Her aspirations might not be the highest of most sorceresses, but staying in the graces of a bunch of peasants? Keira hates the countryside more than I do. She wouldn't do something that would extend her time here. She's up to something."
"You don't seem to put a lot of trust in your friends." Geralt commented.
"Don't get me wrong, Geralt. I trust Keira with my life - I just don't trust her with her own."
"Geralt? Philippa? Can you two hear me?" Keira's voice projected from the xenovox tied Geralt's belt. "Have you reached the island yet?"
"Speak of the devil." Philippa said quietly.
"Keira, we hear you. We'll be there soon." Geralt told Keira.
"Splendid. I'll contact you again soon."
"Wait Keira, we need.-"
"She can't hear you, Geralt. The xenovox only works one way. She can contact us, but once she ends her call, we can't contact her back." Philippa explained.
"Great." Geralt sighed.
They sailed for another hour or so before reaching the shores of the isle, and by then the headache Philippa had was nearly making her grind her teeth. The magic there was…unpleasant. Full of hate and despair.
"Come on - let's get this over with so I can get off this island before my head explodes." Philippa complained.
"H*-ve you t- ma-*" The xenovox crackled, Keira's voice coming through garbled.
"What? I can't hear... Great, broke already. Sheesh. Short-lived, this magic.." Geralt remarked.
"Looks like we're on our own."
Geralt looked around, his ears perking back. "Not quite."
Suddenly, the clicks and growls that Philippa could say she had become all too familiar with. Seemed the drowners at the shore were waiting underwater until Geralt and Philippa docked - they preferred to attack on land, despite their amphibious nature. 4 of them emerged from the water, just as ugly as the last time the pair saw them.
Geralt reached back for his silver sword - before remembering that it wasn't there. Broken in half off the skull of Nithral.
"Bugger" He cursed, drawing his steel sword instead. It wasn't idle- but it was all he had at the moment. Philippa took note of this, and to Geralt's surprise, actually SMIRKED.
"Perhaps you should fall back, Geralt. You're not currently equipped for this." Philippa drawled.
"Shut up, Philippa." Geralt said, greatly irritated.
"Oh it's not your fault. Just stand there and look handsome while I get this done."
"You're just loving this, aren't you?"
The sorceress made short work of the drowners - blasting them to bits with fires. Philippa had grown rather adept at fighting these types of monsters during her travels with Geralt. She saw them as more of a bother, pests, than actual threats at this point.
They two moved inland, running into more monsters as they went - seemed the island was completely overrun with drowners and rotfiends. Geralt felt a bit useless with Philippa taking point with her magic, setting the necrophages ablaze, sending them flying with telekinetic spells, and a variety of other offensive magic that turned them into ash and pieces. Well Geralt wasn't COMPLETELY useless - he made goot bait, distracting the monsters while Philippa went to work with her spells.
It infuriated Geralt to no end, almost as much as it turned him on to see Philippa so confidently and effortlessly fight monsters. Once upon a time he would've doubted Philippa would even want to get her boots dirty, but here she was, doing Withcer's work and only complaining a bit. He couldn't voice any of that though - he didn't think Philippa's ego needed to get any bigger at present.
After working their way through a dozen or so monsters, they reached a tree line that the trail they were on cut through. Geralt checked if there were any more monsters in the immediate are - they were in the clear for the moment.
"Quite the workout." Philippa said, panting a little. She actually managed to work up a sweat.
"Don't let it go to your head." Geralt grumbled.
"Never."
"Hrm. Alright, since we're more or less on our own here - we need a place to start looking. 'The dead shall guide us.' Geralt said, repeating Keira's words.
"So we're looking for remains."
"Sounds about right." Geralt nodded. He began to look for tracks - any remnants of people being on the island. They're hard to make out with the number of rotfiend and drowner tracks crisscrossing the dirt and mud, but he spots what looks like 3 sets of human footprints. He takes a deep inhale, and even though the stink of monsters and the swampland flood his senses he manages to pick up the faintest scent of human remains.
Geralt inclines his head, indicating to Philippa to follow him. She stays close by his flank, just in case she needs to incinerate some more beasts for him. They kept moving inland, toward the castle until they reached the outer palisades - mostly in ruins. There were various shacks and huts built around the tall standing tower - on stilts as Geralt and Philippa had to wade through knee high water to get close.
"Looks like the former lord was worried about Nilfgaard eventually coming for him." Philippa stated, taking note of the various fortifications and barricades all in various stages of disrepair. "Think the man might have had an inflated image of himself."
"Lotta good all this protection did him."
"Yes - when peasants get an idea and a foul mood amongst themselves, they can make or break just about anything." Philippa said primly. "And - Geralt, you're glowing."
Geralt arched an eyebrow at Philippa before looking down at his hip and realizing he was in fact glowing green - the magic lamp tied to his hip slowly pulsated a dull light. The Witcher looked around for a moment, before pointing at the ground several feet away.
"There." He said. Where Geralt was pointing was a pile of bones - not much left of them. Drowners barely left scraps, but it was enough for the lamp to detect. Geralt took the lamp from his hip and the pair walked closer. When they came within a few feet, the lamp lit up bright green, projecting over the remains. Like back at Keira's house, a shadowy figure of a man appeared, two of them.
"Millie!" One shadow spoke, body looking rigid and urgent "we gotta flee! Quick now! Millie? Millie, what's with ye?"
The shadow named Millie dropped to its knees, grasping its head. "I dunno... So hot...burnin' - agh!"
The shadow of the man still standing looked around in fear at a long gone enemy. "What? No, no, stay back!" He screamed.
"Don't...leave me! Millie yelled, before evaporating as soon as he appeared. Unfortunate last words as far as they went.
"What do you think got to them." Philippa asked?
"Not sure." Geralt admitted. "Thousand things can kill you here, and that's before introducing an escaped noble and a mage. Whatever the answer is - we gotta see what's in this tower.
The pair moved around to the front of the tower towards the entrance. They moved towards the door, but a stab of pain went through Philippa's head, one intense enough to almost make her buckle. Geralt notice immediately, and grabbed her by the shoulder to keep her from falling.
"Are you okay?" He asked urgently.
"It feels as if the tower just fell on my head." Philippa groaned. "W-whatever's in there is deeply troubling."
"Do you need to wait outside?"
"And leave you one sword down with a powerful magical being?" Philippa scoffed. She brushed Geralt's hand off her shoulder and stood up straight, powering through the pain. "I think not. Now, let's see what this tower holds."