Chapter 1: The Echoes of Wishes

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The moon hung high above the palace of Cintra, casting a silvery glow over its grand towers and battlements. The ancient stones, steeped in history, gleamed under its light, and the banners of the Lion of Cintra swayed in the gentle breeze. Despite the grandeur surrounding her, a young girl sat alone in one of the highest chambers, feeling as small and insignificant as a whisper in the night.

Ciri's green eyes, flecked with shades of silver, stared out from her window, but she did not see the vast city below. Her gaze pierced through the distant horizon, as if searching for something that lay beyond the walls of her gilded cage. Her room, filled with luxurious tapestries, velvet drapes, and plush bedding, felt cold and suffocating—a prison rather than a sanctuary. She traced idle patterns on the windowpane with her fingers, imagining the adventures she could be having instead.

A warrior's spirit beat within her chest, but the world saw her as only a princess. Her grandmother, Queen Calanthe, was a fierce ruler, a lioness on the battlefield, but to Ciri, she was just another force that kept her tethered to this life of royal expectations. Everyone around her bowed, smiled, and did her bidding, but they were all faces behind masks—no one truly saw her, no one truly cared.

With a sigh that carried the weight of a thousand dreams left unfulfilled, Ciri whispered into the quiet room, "I wish… I wish someone would come and change this lonely existence."

It was a plea born from the depths of her heart, one that resonated with an ancient power buried within her. Unbeknownst to the young girl, her Elder Blood, a legacy of untamed and mysterious magic, stirred in response. Invisible threads of energy rippled through the room, delicate as spider silk but powerful as any storm. The magic wove through the air, seeking, searching—reaching far beyond the walls of Cintra, across time and space.

Far away, in a small house on Privet Drive, another child lay awake. Harry Potter was curled up in the cupboard under the stairs, the small, cramped space lit only by the thin strip of light from the gap beneath the door. His thin blanket provided little warmth, and his tiny body shivered in the chill of the night. The Dursleys had locked him in there again—punished for another so-called misdeed. It didn't matter what it was anymore; they always found a reason.

Harry stared at the shadows on the wall, feeling the familiar ache of loneliness settle in his chest. It was a weight he had carried for as long as he could remember. He didn't know why he was different, why his aunt and uncle hated him so much, only that they did. The other children at school had parents who picked them up, who smiled and hugged them. Harry had no one. His world was defined by locked doors, sharp words, and the constant feeling that he didn't belong.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to picture himself somewhere else. Anywhere else. In his mind, he saw himself as a hero—maybe a magician like in the stories he secretly read at school. He imagined casting powerful spells, saving people from danger, or riding into battle with a sword at his side, armor gleaming under the sun. Sometimes, he dreamed of being a knight who could save a princess. But the one thing he dreamed of most, the one thing he coveted more than anything, was magic itself. Real magic—magic that could change his life.

With a desperate whisper, he breathed into the darkness, "I wish… I wish I could go somewhere—anywhere—and change their existence."

The words were a spark that ignited something deep within him. Harry's magic, raw and untrained, flared to life. It rippled through the cupboard like a gust of wind, bending reality itself as it responded to his deepest longing. It was a power untapped, a force waiting for a moment like this.

The magic shot out, searching for a kindred spirit—a soul as desperate and lonely as his own. Across the boundaries of worlds, it reached out, finding its answer in a castle room where another child had whispered a similar wish.

The room around Ciri glowed softly as the Elder Blood connected with Harry's magic, and the space between them began to bend. The air shimmered, and a gust of wind swirled through her chamber, lifting the tapestries and sending papers flying. Ciri stumbled back, her eyes wide as she saw the light gather in the center of her room, forming a bright, pulsating ball of energy.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the power—it was wild, uncontrollable, but somehow, it felt right. It was as if this magic had come to answer her wish. She stepped closer, breath hitching as she reached out.

In that moment, on the other side of the connection, Harry felt a tug, like a hook pulling at his very being. The light in his cupboard grew until it was blinding, and with a jolt, he felt himself being lifted, pulled away from the darkness he'd known his whole life. The sensation was dizzying, but he didn't resist. If this was magic, he wanted to go where it led him.

The blinding light enveloped him, and in an instant, the cupboard was gone.

The light vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving the room in silence. When Ciri opened her eyes, she saw a boy, about her age, sprawled on the floor in front of her. His clothes were strange—simple and plain compared to the fine tunics and dresses she was used to—but what caught her attention most were his eyes. They were bright green, wide with surprise.

"Who are you?" they both blurted out at the same time, the words filling the silence.

The boy scrambled to his feet, his expression a mixture of confusion and excitement. "I—I'm Harry," he stammered, looking around in bewilderment. "Where am I?"

Ciri blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. "You're… in my room. In the castle of Cintra." She paused, then added, "I'm Ciri."

Harry glanced around, taking in the grand tapestries and the ornate furniture. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. "I wished… to be somewhere else," he said slowly. "And then, I ended up here."

Ciri's eyes lit up, a hopeful smile spreading across her face. "You're here to save me!" she exclaimed, the excitement of a child filling her voice. "I knew someone would come!"

Harry's heart leapt. The idea of an adventure—of being the hero he had always dreamed of—made his pulse race. "Yes!" he said, grinning. "We can be knights together! We'll fight monsters and save people!"

Ciri nodded eagerly, the sadness in her eyes replaced by a spark of hope. "We'll be the strongest warriors ever!"

Together, they began to hatch a plan, their excitement bubbling over as they whispered conspiratorially. Ciri explained the layout of the castle, and they decided they would sneak out that very night when the guards were least likely to spot them. It felt like the beginning of a grand adventure—exactly what both of them had wished for.

But as the night wore on, and the castle's torches dimmed, the sound of distant explosions and screams broke the stillness. Both children froze, their eyes wide with fear. The walls shook, and Ciri grabbed Harry's hand.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.

"It's an attack," Ciri whispered, her face pale. "The Nilfgaardians."

Just then, they heard a roar outside, and Ciri's eyes filled with terror. "My grandmother—she's still in there!" she cried, trying to pull away.

Before Harry could react, they saw a figure plummet from one of the towers, and Ciri's scream pierced the night. "No!" she wailed, her voice breaking. Harry grabbed her hand, pulling her away as the chaos around them grew louder.

"Run!" he shouted, leading her through the hallways and out into the courtyard. The night was alive with the sound of metal clashing and screams echoing from every corner. Harry held tight to Ciri's hand, determined to protect her, even as fear clawed at his own heart.

But just as they reached the edge of the woods, a cruel laugh echoed through the darkness. A man stepped out, his armor glinting dully in the torchlight. "Going somewhere, little princess?" he sneered, his hand resting on his sword. "Come quietly, or the boy dies."

Harry's grip tightened. Despite the fear coursing through him, he stepped in front of Ciri, his voice steady. "I won't let you hurt her."

The man laughed again, raising his weapon. In a moment of panic, Harry pushed his hands forward, and without knowing how, a burst of magic shot out. The force blasted the man back, and he fell, clutching his throat as his eyes widened in shock.

Harry and Ciri stood frozen, staring at the fallen man before the sounds of footsteps snapped them out of their trance. They fled into the woods, Harry clutching a dagger he had taken from the downed man. Ciri held the throwing stars Harry handed her, gripping them tightly as they ran.

As they stumbled through the darkness, the weight of their situation began to sink in. But even as fear and exhaustion clawed at them, the promise of adventure—of becoming knights and fighting together—kept them going. And as they ran, the bond between them, born of magic and desperation, grew stronger.

This was only the beginning of their story.

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Hello to those who may read this, this is the first chapter of a Hero's wish, and i hope you enjoy! God bless all of you.