The Witcher: Chimera
Chapter 20: The Aftermath and Healing
…
The air was heavy as the Toussaint guards prepared to escort Silvia Anna back to the castle. Her wrists were bound loosely, not out of cruelty but necessity, and every movement she made was a delicate reminder of how far she had fallen. Despite her earlier composure cracking, Silvia now sat quietly in the cart, her eyes distant and hollow. Dettlaff climbed in beside her without hesitation, settling beside her with an unwavering presence.
The guards, under strict orders from Duchess Anna Henrietta, were gentle, keeping a respectful distance as they prepared to depart. Though bound by duty, they recognized the deep connection between the higher vampire and the broken woman. Dettlaff's very presence seemed to anchor her, holding the fragments of her shattered self together.
Veylan stood nearby, watching the scene unfold with a solemn expression. His piercing gaze met Dettlaff's crimson eyes for a brief moment. No words passed between them, but the silent exchange spoke volumes. Dettlaff gave him a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude. Veylan responded with an almost imperceptible inclination of his head, his respect clear.
As the cart started to move, Dettlaff kept his hand near Silvia's, though he didn't touch her. His presence alone was enough to calm the storm within her. The guards rode at a steady pace, their postures tense but professional. Regis approached Veylan, his usually composed demeanor marked by exhaustion.
"She's lucky to have him," Regis said softly, watching as the cart disappeared down the road. "And I daresay he's lucky to have her. It's a rare bond, even for our kind."
Veylan nodded, rubbing his temple as the weight of the evening settled over him. "He'll help her heal, if anyone can. And maybe... maybe this will help him heal too."
As the two prepared their horses for the journey back to the castle, the tension of the night lingered. Regis, always the thinker, saddled his horse in contemplative silence before finally breaking it.
"Veylan," he began, his tone hesitant yet curious. "Do you think... it's possible that the Curse of the Black Sun has real merit? That it isn't just a tale of superstition? It's said that those born under it bring misfortune and pain to all around them."
Veylan paused mid-motion, the question hanging heavy. He finished adjusting his saddle and turned to Regis, his vibrant amber-green eyes meeting the vampire's inquisitive gaze.
"Possibly," he said, thoughtful. "Or perhaps it's something entirely different. Maybe it's not an actual curse, but the way those born under it are treated that creates the perception. Fear and superstition drive people to cruelty. They alienate and mistreat those children because of what they believe, because of what they fear. Over time, those children grow into the very thing others feared, shaped by the world around them."
Regis tilted his head, intrigued by the perspective. Veylan continued, his tone calm but honest. "To answer your question directly: no, I don't believe it's an actual thing. It's not some magical affliction that spreads misfortune. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, born out of fear and ignorance. If Syanna were truly a monster, she wouldn't have stopped. She wouldn't have chosen Dettlaff over her revenge. She could have sent those last three letters. But she didn't."
Regis absorbed the words, nodding slowly. "That... is a refreshing perspective," he admitted. "Rarely does one hear such honesty. It's easier for most to blame the stars than to face the truth of their own actions."
Veylan mounted his horse, patting the creature's neck before glancing back at Regis. "It's easier, yes. But it doesn't make it right."
Regis smiled faintly, mounting his own steed. "Indeed, my friend. Indeed."
…
The grandeur of Toussaint's castle did little to lighten the weight of the truth being delivered. Veylan and Regis stood before Duchess Anna Henrietta in her private chamber, her guards and trusted commander, Damien, stationed nearby. The Duchess listened intently, her regal composure cracking as the details of Silvia Anna's ordeal unfolded. Her gaze flickered between the two men as they recounted the events, their voices steady but heavy with the gravity of the situation.
When Veylan explained how Silvia had intended to call the whole thing off, that she had chosen Dettlaff over revenge because of the love she had found with him, Anna Henrietta's expression shifted from one of stern resolve to a profound sadness.
"You're saying," Anna began, her voice wavering slightly, "that my sister... my dear sister... she never wanted this to go as far as it did?"
"She was prepared to end it," Regis confirmed gently. "The final letter she was preparing was meant to tell Dettlaff where to find her, not as a blackmail demand, but as a plea to leave it all behind."
Veylan added, his tone soft , "In the end, she chose love over vengeance. That is undeniable."
The room fell silent for a long moment. Anna Henrietta's face was pale, her hands gripping the armrests of her ornate chair as though they were the only things anchoring her to reality. Her mind raced, replaying memories of her youth, of the day Silvia was banished. A lump formed in her throat as she whispered, "And she told you... about her banishment?"
Veylan nodded, his expression solemn. "She did. She spoke of how she was starved, beaten, and humiliated by the knights tasked with carrying out her sentence. She claimed it wasn't even her who set the Nilfgaardian diplomat's hair on fire, but you."
Anna Henrietta's lips parted in shock, her breath hitching. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, while Damien's expression darkened with quiet anger at the revelations.
Anna lowered her gaze, her fingers trembling slightly. "It's true," she said, her voice barely audible. "I... I was too afraid to defend her. I was the one who set the diplomat's hair alight in that foolish prank. But when it came time to confess, I was terrified of what they would say, what they would do to me." Her voice cracked, tears threatening to spill. "So I let them believe it was Silvia. I let them pin the blame on her, and I failed to protect her."
The room was so quiet that even the faint rustling of fabric seemed deafening. Anna Henrietta looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting Veylan's and then Regis's, her voice now carrying more strength . "All of this... it's because of me. I failed her once, and I cannot, no, I will not, fail her again."
Anna stood, her poise returning as she addressed her guards and Damien with a tone of authority that brooked no argument. "Silvia Anna is my responsibility. She is my sister. What kind of sister would I be if I abandoned her again after all she's endured because of my cowardice?"
Damien bowed his head, his loyalty to Anna evident in his measured response. "As you say, Your Grace. She will be cared for under your protection."
Anna turned toward where Silvia Anna sat quietly, her head bowed in shame and exhaustion, with Dettlaff standing protectively by her side. The vampire's piercing crimson eyes met Anna's, a silent warning in their depths, but she held his gaze. Her attention then shifted to her sister.
Taking a tentative step forward, Anna Henrietta hesitated before lowering herself into a respectful bow, her hands trembling. "Silvia," she said softly, "I have wronged you in ways that words cannot mend. But I beg you... I beg your forgiveness. I forgive you for what has happened. Please, do not let it end like this. Please forgive me, my sister."
Silvia Anna's head lifted slowly, her tear-streaked face filled with disbelief. Her lips trembled as she stared at her sister, the same sister she had loved, hated, and missed for so many years. For a moment, she said nothing, but the turmoil in her eyes was plain.
"You..." Silvia's voice cracked, her throat dry from tears. "You never stopped loving me?"
Anna's face softened, her own tears flowing freely. "Never. Not for a moment. I thought of you every day, regretting what I did. Hoping, praying, that you were safe, that one day I might see you again."
The tension in Silvia Anna's body eased, her shoulders sagging under the weight of years of pain. She reached out, hesitant, before taking Anna's hands in her own. "I... I don't know if I can forgive you right away. But... I believe you. And I don't want this to end like this either."
Dettlaff's hand rested lightly on Silvia's shoulder, his touch grounding her in the moment. Regis and Veylan exchanged a look, their silent understanding underscoring the enormity of what they had just witnessed. A fragile peace had begun to form. For now, however, the wounds of the past had begun to heal.
…
Later that night…
The muffled sounds of the evening banquet echoed faintly in the distance, but Veylan paid them little mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, on Erynn and the comfort of their private quarters. After the day's events, he longed for a quiet moment, and with everything finally in order, he intended to savor it.
Regis had stayed behind to speak with the Duchess further, promising to catch up with him later. Dettlaff remained with Silvia Anna, keeping vigil at her side. Veylan admired the higher vampire's silent strength, standing by the one he loved despite everything that had happened. He had been prepared for a grim ending, but somehow, things had turned out better than anyone expected.
He reached their quarters, opening the door quietly. The soft scent of herbs and candles greeted him, a comforting contrast to the tension of the day. Erynn sat by the window, her fiery red hair catching the moonlight as she glanced up from a book she had been reading and smiled. , and her emerald green eyes lit up when she saw him.
"You're back," she said, a warm smile spreading across her face.
Veylan closed the door behind him, walking over to her. "Everything's in order. Regis is finishing up the rest." He placed a gentle hand on her cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair back. "How are you feeling?"
Erynn leaned into his touch, her smile softening. "Tired. But... content." Her gaze flicked down briefly, resting on the slight curve of her stomach. "And hungry again."
Veylan chuckled, sitting beside her. "Let me guess, something bizarre again?"
She nodded, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Drowner hearts. Powdered rare minerals. And... bone dust. Oh, and don't forget the pastry treats we bought earlier, I'd like them sprinkled with crushed herbs."
Veylan laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You're making quite the list." He didn't mind, though. In fact, he found it oddly endearing. Erynn's cravings were unlike anything he had ever seen before, but considering the unique nature of their child, it wasn't surprising. Their little one was bound to be something special, part kitsune, part elder blood, and part... something else entirely.
"I'll get right on it," he said, standing up and heading toward the small alchemical station he had set up in their quarters. Carefully, he gathered the ingredients Erynn had requested, ensuring everything was fresh and properly prepared. He mixed the powdered minerals and bone dust into a fine blend, then sprinkled it over the pastries they had picked up from the market earlier.
As he worked, he glanced over his shoulder at Erynn. She watched him with a fond expression, her hands resting lightly on her stomach. It was moments like these that made everything he went through worth it, moments of peace amidst the chaos of their lives.
He returned with the prepared treats, setting them on a small table beside her. "Here you go. Rare minerals, bone dust, and drowner hearts... your very own gourmet meal."
Erynn laughed softly, taking one of the pastries and biting into it. "Perfect," she said between bites. "You're getting good at this, you know. Maybe after all this is over, you can open a strange cravings bakery."
Veylan smirked. "Only if you'll be my taste-tester."
They shared a quiet laugh, the tension of the day slowly melting away. For a while, they simply enjoyed each other's company, speaking of little things, stories from their past, hopes for the future, and what awaited them once they returned home.
Eventually, as the candles burned lower, Erynn leaned her head against Veylan's shoulder, her voice growing quieter. "You've done so much today. You should rest too."
"I will," he promised, wrapping an arm around her. "But for now, I just want to sit here with you."
As they sat together, the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of their shared presence. It was a rare, cherished moment of peace in a life that seemed to offer so few of them.
…
The pale light of dawn spread across the verdant fields of Toussaint, illuminating the sprawling grounds of the tourney. Brightly colored tents lined the paths, their banners fluttering in the cool morning breeze. Veylan adjusted his cloak as he dismounted Nimrael, his sharp amber-green eyes scanning the bustling preparations for the day's events. Erynn slid gracefully off her own horse, Ashbloom, her fiery hair catching the sunlight as she smoothed out her dress.
"It's... lively," Erynn said with a small smile, though her bright green eyes taking in every detail at the cacophony of voices, bells, and clanking steel.
Veylan glanced at her, his expression softening. "Lively is one way to put it." His gaze turned toward the large cage being wheeled into the arena, surrounded by guards. Inside, a hulking figure moved restlessly, its heavy, armored hide catching the light. A shaelmaar.
He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "And reckless is another."
As they approached the cage, the shaelmaar let out a deep, rumbling sound that resonated in Veylan's chest. The creature's massive, shell-like body shifted uneasily, its tail flicking as the bells attached to it chimed in discordant tones. Veylan stopped a few feet away, his senses tuning into the beast's distress. The air around it felt heavy, laced with confusion and fear.
Two guards stationed by the cage turned to face him. "Milord," one of them said with a polite nod. "Can we help you?"
"Yes," Veylan replied, his tone carrying a weight but calm. "You can start by explaining whose idea it was to bring a shaelmaar here. This isn't a good idea."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances before one spoke. "It's part of the tourney, sir. The knights are meant to face it as a test of courage and skill. It's tradition."
Veylan gestured to the cage. "Tradition or not, this shaelmaar is confused and scared. Those bells on its tail aren't helping, it's not just a sound to them; it's disorienting. Right now, all you're doing is agitating it further."
The second guard frowned, looking at the creature. "It's restrained, what's the worst it could do?"
Veylan sighed, stepping closer to the cage. "Shaelmaars are notorious for burrowing through the ground. They can use the earth itself as a weapon. I don't care how strong your cage is; if it gets loose, it'll turn the arena into rubble."
Erynn placed a hand on his arm, her voice gentle but carrying it's own weight. "You've seen its distress, haven't you?"
He nodded. "I have. It doesn't understand what's happening, it's trapped, confused, and the noise from the bells is only making it worse. This is a recipe for disaster."
One of the guards hesitated, clearly unsettled, but the other shook his head. "We'll inform the organizers, but the creature is already here. It's up to the knights to deal with it."
Veylan clenched his jaw but said nothing more. He turned to Erynn, who gave him a reassuring nod, and they continued toward the main tents.
Near the main pavilion, Veylan spotted a familiar figure—Sir Guillaume de Launfal, the honorable knight who was well-regarded across Toussaint. Guillaume noticed him and approached, his polished armor gleaming in the morning light.
"Master Veylan," Guillaume greeted with a respectful bow. "I did not expect to see you here."
"Nor did I expect to be here," Veylan replied, shaking the knight's hand. "But I'm glad we crossed paths. You're participating today?"
Guillaume nodded. "I am. The shaelmaar is my trial."
Veylan frowned. "Then you'll want to listen carefully."
Guillaume's expression turned serious. "I'm listening."
"Stay calm when you face it," Veylan said, his tone serious, but measured. "That shaelmaar is scared, and it doesn't understand what's happening. The bells on its tail are confusing it further, it's not a natural sound for them. If you want to get through this without unnecessary bloodshed, try to soothe it."
"Soothe it?" Guillaume raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"Sing," Veylan said simply. "Something gentle. A melody. It won't calm it completely, but it might keep it from attacking outright. And if you can, remove the bells. That sound is driving it mad."
Guillaume looked skeptical but thoughtful. "You're suggesting... I show it mercy?"
"Exactly," Veylan said. "The shaelmaar isn't here by choice. It's not a monster to be slaughtered, it's a creature being forced into this. Show it that you're not its enemy."
Guillaume's expression softened. "I'll do my best."
Veylan placed a hand on the knight's shoulder. "And if it comes to a fight, aim for its soft spots beneath the armor. But only as a last resort."
Guillaume nodded resolutely. "Thank you, Master Veylan. Your advice is... unconventional, but I trust your judgment."
As Guillaume walked away, Erynn stepped closer to Veylan, her green eyes filled with admiration. "You have a way with creatures, don't you?"
"Only the ones who give me a reason to," he replied with a faint smile. "And I've seen enough bloodshed to know it's not always the answer."
As the sun rose higher, the tourney grounds began to buzz with excitement. Veylan couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that the shaelmaar's presence would lead to trouble. But for now, all he could do was hope that Sir Guillaume would heed his advice, and that the creature's suffering would end without needless death.
…
The crowd roared as Sir Guillaume de Launfal stepped into the grand arena, the sunlight glinting off his polished armor. The banners of Toussaint waved high above the stands, and nobles and commoners alike cheered for their champion. Guillaume, however, did not revel in the attention. His focus was inward, his breath measured and calm as he steadied his heartbeat.
Each step he took across the sandy ground was deliberate, his shield held low, his sword sheathed. He exuded no aggression, no bravado, only a calm determination that was almost unsettling in its quietness. The crowd, eager for a spectacle, began to murmur in confusion at his demeanor.
From the far end of the arena, the heavy doors creaked open, and the shaelmaar lumbered into view. Its armored body shimmered in the light, its enormous, clawed limbs dragging it forward with a kind of resigned, primal grace. The bells strapped to its tail jingled with every movement, their discordant tones grating against the ears of all who heard them.
The creature paused, sniffing the air, its head turning left and right in confusion. It let out a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the arena, a sound of frustration and agitation. The crowd cheered louder, mistaking its unease for ferocity.
Guillaume stopped a few paces from the shaelmaar and took a deep breath. Slowly, he raised his hands, showing he was unarmed and meant no harm. Then, to the astonishment of everyone watching, he began to sing.
It was a slow, steady tune, soft and melodic, carried with the calm resolve of a knight who sought to bring peace, not harm. The song floated across the arena, weaving its way through the noise of the crowd and reaching the ears of the shaelmaar.
The creature froze, its growling subsiding. It turned its massive head toward Guillaume, tilting it slightly as if trying to make sense of the sound. Guillaume continued singing, his voice unwavering, even as the shaelmaar's immense frame shifted toward him.
The crowd gasped.
Guillaume, with deliberate slowness, began walking toward the shaelmaar. His shield remained at his side, his sword untouched. He moved closer and closer, his steps careful and calculated. The shaelmaar watched him intently but did not attack. The agitated movements of its tail slowed, the bells jingling less and less.
The tension in the arena was. The crowd leaned forward, their breaths held. Even the Duchess, seated in her royal box, looked on with wide eyes.
Guillaume reached the shaelmaar's side, his song never faltering. He circled carefully to its back, where the bells had been fastened to its tail. The shaelmaar shifted slightly, growling low but not in warning—more like a creature unsure of its surroundings but trying to trust.
Gently, Guillaume knelt and reached for the bells. His hands moved with the precision of a surgeon as he unclasped the straps one by one. The bells fell into the sand with a muffled thud.
The shaelmaar stilled, its massive frame trembling for a moment. Then, to everyone's astonishment, it flopped onto its side, exposing the soft, vulnerable flesh of its belly.
The crowd gasped, and then a stunned silence fell over the arena.
Guillaume stepped back, his song fading as he observed the shaelmaar. It let out a deep, rumbling sigh, its massive claws curling inward as it began to relax. The creature's eyes closed slowly, its breathing deep and even. It was asleep.
The crowd erupted in cheers, their shouts deafening as they rose to their feet. Even the Duchess stood, her hands clasped over her heart as she watched the spectacle.
Guillaume, for his part, merely stood there, his expression calm. He gave a small bow to the Duchess before turning to leave the arena. The shaelmaar remained where it was, resting peacefully in the sand, free of its torment.
As Guillaume exited, Veylan watched from the shadows of the arena's entrance, a faint smile forming on his face, "Well done, Sir Guillaume. Well done."
Erynn, standing beside him, nudged his arm with a grin. "I think he's earned more than just applause for that."
Veylan nodded, his admiration for the knight growing. "He's earned the shaelmaar's trust. That's worth more than any prize."
…
As the sun climbed higher into the Toussaint sky, the next step of the festivities began: the melee. The crowd roared with anticipation as the knights prepared to clash in teams of four, a test of coordination, strategy, and raw skill. The knights filed into the arena, their armor gleaming, banners flying high. Among them, Guillaume stood tall, his poise calm but focused, a testament to his recent dedication and training.
Veylan, observing from the stands alongside Erynn, leaned on the railing, his sharp eyes scanning the competitors. His attention drifted momentarily to Lady Vivienne, who sat nearby, her delicate hands clasped as she watched the proceedings. She seemed captivated by Guillaume, her cheeks tinted with a faint blush whenever his name was called. But it wasn't just her shy demeanor that caught Veylan's attention.
There was something else.
A subtle, shimmering aura enveloped her, faint but unmistakable to someone like him. The magical energy felt... peculiar. Not threatening, but reminiscent of something wild, untamed. He narrowed his eyes, focusing harder. It was almost avian, like the fleeting essence of a bird flitting through the forest. Intriguing. If he didn't know better, he'd guess it was tied to some kind of illusion magic, an enchantment hiding something about her true nature. But what?
"Interesting…" Veylan muttered under his breath, earning a curious glance from Erynn, who nudged him gently.
"What is it?" she asked, her emerald eyes twinkling with curiosity.
He shook his head slightly. "Nothing certain. Just... something unusual about Lady Vivienne. I'll keep an eye on it."
The melee began with a thunderous cheer from the crowd, pulling Veylan's focus back to the field. Knights charged into the fray, the clash of steel ringing out across the arena. Guillaume's team moved as a cohesive unit, his leadership evident as he called out commands and coordinated their strikes. Unlike others who relied solely on brute force, Guillaume demonstrated a careful balance of aggression and defense, wearing down his opponents systematically.
His swordsmanship had improved markedly. Each parry, feint, and riposte was executed with precision, and his strikes were delivered with purpose. Veylan couldn't help but be impressed as Guillaume faced off against a particularly formidable opponent, a towering knight wielding a heavy two-handed mace. The knight swung with crushing force, but Guillaume nimbly sidestepped, using the opening to deliver a calculated blow to his opponent's knee, bringing the knight crashing down.
The melee raged on, but Guillaume's team steadily gained the upper hand. His teammates followed his lead, their movements precise and coordinated. One by one, their opponents were forced to yield, their armor battered and their stamina spent. Guillaume himself stood out not just as a fighter but as a tactician, directing his team with the skill of a seasoned commander.
By the end of the match, three of Guillaume's teammates were still standing—a rarity in melees of this scale. Their opponents, meanwhile, had been either eliminated or forced to retreat. The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers echoing through the arena as Guillaume and his team were declared the winners.
As Guillaume removed his helmet, his face glistening with sweat but alight with pride, the crowd chanted his name. From her seat, Lady Vivienne's smile grew wider, her blush deepening as she clapped enthusiastically. Veylan caught the way her gaze lingered on him, a mix of admiration and affection clear in her eyes.
"Looks like Guillaume's got someone rooting for him," Erynn teased softly, nudging Veylan with her elbow.
Veylan smirked but didn't comment. His thoughts lingered on the magical aura he'd noticed earlier. There was something about Lady Vivienne that didn't quite add up, and his instincts told him it was worth keeping an eye on. Still, for now, he chose to focus on the festivities, silently acknowledging Guillaume's well-earned victory.
…
Later that night, the castle had settled into a hushed tranquility, the energy of the day's festivities replaced by the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the arched windows. Veylan was seated in the library, poring over some old texts regarding magical enchantments, when Guillaume approached him, his armor gone, replaced by a simple tunic and trousers. The young knight's face was troubled, his usually confident demeanor shadowed by hesitation.
"Veylan," Guillaume said quietly, his voice breaking the stillness of the room. "Do you have a moment?"
Veylan looked up, setting the book aside. "Of course, Guillaume. What's on your mind?"
Guillaume stepped closer, his hands fidgeting as though unsure how to begin. Finally, he sighed and sat across from Veylan, leaning forward with an intensity that belied his usual composure. "It's about Lady Vivienne."
Veylan's brow raised slightly, but he waited for Guillaume to continue.
"I... I think something might be wrong," Guillaume said, his voice laced with worry. "I've noticed things, small things, but enough to unsettle me. She avoids spending too much time outdoors, especially during the day. When she thinks no one is watching, she seems... uneasy, almost as if she's hiding something."
Veylan regarded him thoughtfully. "You think she might be cursed?"
Guillaume hesitated, then nodded. "I can't be sure. It could just be paranoia on my part, but... I care about her, Veylan. I want her to be happy, to be free of whatever might be troubling her. If there's even a chance that something's wrong, I need to know. And if it's nothing, then I'll have peace of mind."
There was a sincerity in Guillaume's voice that Veylan couldn't ignore. The young knight wasn't looking to satisfy idle curiosity or to pry into Vivienne's private life; he was genuinely concerned for her well-being.
"I'll see what I can do," Veylan said after a moment, his tone calm but carrying a seriousness. "If she's cursed, or if something else is troubling her, it's worth investigating. I can talk to her, or at the very least, observe her closely and try to uncover what's going on."
Guillaume's shoulders seemed to relax slightly, and he gave a small, grateful nod. "Thank you, Veylan. I just... I just want her to be alright. That's all that matters to me."
Veylan stood, placing a reassuring hand on Guillaume's shoulder. "I understand. Leave it to me. I'll handle this delicately."
Guillaume managed a faint smile. "I appreciate it. Truly."
As Guillaume left, Veylan turned his gaze back to the texts on the table, his mind already working through what he knew about curses and magical auras. The faint shimmer he'd noticed earlier around Lady Vivienne came to mind, and he resolved to keep a closer eye on her. Whatever was going on, it was clear that Guillaume's concern wasn't unfounded. And if Lady Vivienne needed help, he would do what he could to uncover the truth.
…
The moon hung low over the dense Toussaint forest as Veylan moved silently through the underbrush, tracking Lady Vivienne from a cautious distance. Her path was erratic, weaving through the woods as if she were driven by instinct rather than direction. He paused when a faint rustling ahead gave way to the sound of deep, low breathing. A panther.
Veylan froze. The sleek black feline prowled toward him, its eyes gleaming like molten gold in the dim light. Slowly, he raised a hand and cast Axii, his Elder Blood heightening the intensity of the sign. The panther's tense muscles relaxed, its growls fading into a low purr as it backed away into the shadows. Veylan exhaled softly, thankful for the momentary reprieve.
Pressing onward, he soon stumbled upon her discarded cloak and clothes strewn across the trail. His sharp senses picked up on the faint smell of her perfume, mingled with the crisp, earthy scent of feathers. Among the garments lay a large yellow feather. He crouched and picked it up, inspecting it closely. The magical aura around the feather was unmistakable, it matched the aura he had sensed on Vivienne earlier. It even carried her exact scent.
He turned his attention to a movement in the distance. Perched on a low-hanging branch was a radiant yellow bird, its eyes locked onto him with an almost unnatural intelligence. Its feathers shimmered faintly in the moonlight, the same aura radiating from its form. Veylan stood still, watching as the bird tilted its head before flitting further into the woods. It paused occasionally, glancing back as if beckoning him to follow.
He complied, moving quickly but quietly, careful not to lose sight of the strange guide. The bird led him over a hill and to the mouth of a dark cave. As the bird disappeared into the shadows of the hill, Veylan hesitated, a deep growl from within the cave meeting his ears. The stench of musk and rot wafted out, unmistakable to a seasoned Witcher. A spotted wight.
"Fantastic," Veylan muttered under his breath, already reaching for his gear. Spotted wights had been thought extinct for centuries, making this find both a rare and dangerous opportunity. He pulled out his specially designed silver-meteorite net, a set of demetrium cuffs, and a prepared syringe containing his potent paralytic concoction. If he could capture the creature alive, it would be an invaluable gift to scholars at the Institute of the Wolf.
Veylan tightened his grip on his gear and entered the cave, his heightened senses guiding him through the darkness. The spotted wight was there, its hulking form illuminated faintly by the moonlight filtering through cracks in the cavern's ceiling. It snarled as it spotted him, its beady eyes filled with malice.
The fight was grueling. Veylan ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding its sharp claws and teeth while trying to ensnare it. The silver-netting glinted as he threw it, tangling around the beast's limbs. It thrashed violently, nearly breaking free until he managed to wrestle it to the ground. For five long minutes, he fought to tie it down, using every ounce of his strength and skill to restrain the creature. His armor bore scratches, and his breaths came in ragged gasps, but he succeeded in injecting the syringe into its thick, veiny forelimb. The paralytic began to take effect almost immediately, the wight's movements slowing as its breathing became shallow but steady.
Veylan secured the demetrium cuffs on its wrists and ankles, double-checking the bindings to ensure it couldn't escape. The creature now sat slumped against the cavern wall, its grotesque, spotted form rendered inert. Veylan leaned against the cave wall for a moment to catch his breath, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Extinct, huh?" he muttered, studying the immobilized beast. "You're going to make quite the impression back at the Institute."
But first, there was another matter to attend to. Straightening, Veylan turned his attention back toward the cave's exit. The yellow bird's strange behavior, the discarded clothing, and the aura all pointed to Vivienne. Something was wrong, and he needed answers. Securing the wight for later retrieval, he set off to follow the bird's path once more, his determination renewed.
Veylan stepped cautiously into the clearing, the faint glimmer of moonlight reflecting off a tranquil pool at its center. There was magic here, ancient and powerful no doubt about that, humming softly like an unseen melody. He could see her there, Lady Vivienne, her back to him. Her form was not entirely human, soft golden feathers adorned her shoulders and back, her hands now talons, and her face carried the delicate structure of a bird's. She turned slightly, her piercing eyes catching the light, filled with sorrow and resignation.
She didn't flinch as Veylan stepped closer. "You wanted me to find you here," he said softly, his voice calm and even. "This place... it's important to you, isn't it?"
Vivienne nodded, her voice shaky as she replied, "This is where I want it to end. If it happens here, at least I'll be at peace."
Veylan eyebrow raised in surprise. in confusion. "End? What are you talking about? Witchers are supposed to hunt monsters who harm others, not people. I don't see a monster standing here."
She turned fully then, her feathers catching the faint light. Her form was graceful, elegant even, but undeniably birdlike. Her voice carried a weight of anguish. "What do you think I am, then? What do I look like to you?"
Veylan's eyes softened as he studied her. "If I had to guess," he began carefully, "I'd say you're a person afflicted by a curse. But you're no monster. If you were, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Her rigid stance seemed to relax slightly at his words, the tension in her shoulders easing. She hesitated before speaking again, her tone quieter now. "I've been like this for as long as I can remember, hiding what I am. But it's becoming harder. Every day, it feels like I'm slipping further away."
Veylan nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Judging by what I see and feel, I'd wager you're cursed in a way that ties your form to this pool. I can sense its magic, it's strong, ancient. I'm guessing it's what allows you to keep your human mind when you take on your bird form. But it's also becoming harder to maintain your human side, isn't it? That's why you wore those magical perfumes at the tourney. They helped mask your condition."
Vivienne's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "You... figured all of that out so quickly?"
"It's my job," Veylan said with a small, reassuring smile. "Now, from what I can gather, there are two ways to help you."
She tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Two ways?"
He crouched by the edge of the pool, dipping a hand into the cool, shimmering water as he explained. "The first option involves an egg ritual. We'd transfer the curse to an unborn chick. It's dangerous, though, not just for you, but for the chick as well. There's no guarantee it'll survive the process, and even if it does, the curse might not transfer fully."
Vivienne flinched at the mention of the unborn chick, the thought clearly unsettling her. "And the second?"
"The second option," Veylan continued, standing and facing her again, "involves a reflection ritual. You and someone you trust would stare at your reflection in this pool while using a drop of blood, mine, specifically. My blood has been used to break curses before, and based on the magical aura around you, I'd say your curse is tied to something before you were even born. That's why it's so deeply rooted."
Vivienne blinked, her feathered form trembling slightly as she absorbed his words. "And... this ritual. It wouldn't harm the other person?"
Veylan shook his head. "No. My blood would act as a neutralizer, a bridge of sorts. It's safe for both you and whoever helps you. If you want my opinion, I think this is the better option. It poses no risk to you, no risk to anyone else, and we don't have to harm an innocent creature to free you."
Vivienne looked down at her taloned hands, her voice barely being heard by herself. "You really think this could work?"
"I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't," Veylan said. "But it's your choice. Whatever you decide, I'll do everything I can to help you."
Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment, searching his face for any hint of doubt or insincerity. Finally, she nodded, her voice steadier now. "Then let's try the second option. If there's a chance, any chance, that I can be free of this without hurting anyone, I'll take it."
Veylan's lips curled into a faint smile. "Good. Then let's get started."
…
Later that night, Veylan rode back to the castle, his presence drawing the attention of the guards stationed at the gates. But it wasn't just him they noticed—it was the creature strapped securely to his horse, its rigid body barely moving save for the slow rise and fall of its chest. The spotted wight, once thought extinct, was very much alive, though currently paralyzed by Veylan's carefully administered concoction. Its wide, darting eyes betrayed its awareness, even as its body remained immobilized.
One of the guards stepped forward, his jaw slack as he took in the sight. "By the gods... is that...?"
"An actual spotted wight," Veylan said, dismounting smoothly. "Yes, it is. I suggest you fetch some scholars to arrange for its safe transport. I recommend sending it to the School of the Wolf. They'll know what to do with it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study something long thought lost."
The guards exchanged incredulous glances, still struggling to wrap their minds around the rare creature before them. "A spotted wight... here in Toussaint," one of them muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Be sure to handle it carefully," Veylan added, there's a half-life till the paralysis starts killing it within a few days, so I'd suggest you prepare a barrel with some substances that can preserve it's body when that happens.
As the guards hurried off to alert the scholars and arrange for the wight's transport, Veylan spared the creature one last glance. Its eyes followed his every movement, filled with a mixture of confusion and lingering rage that only a wild beast could make.
"Get ready… your about to be part of a new breakthrough." Veylan muttered with a smirk earning a slight growl from its throat before he said, "You'll be in good hands," he murmured before turning away, making his way toward Guillaume's quarters.
…
Knocking lightly on Guillaume's door, Veylan waited for the knight's voice to call him in. Inside, Guillaume was seated near a small hearth, still wearing his casual tunic from earlier in the evening. He looked up as Veylan entered, his expression curious but tinged with concern.
"Veylan," Guillaume greeted, standing to meet him. "What brings you here at this hour?"
Veylan closed the door behind him, his face serious. "It's about Vivienne."
Guillaume's eyes widened slightly, his concern deepening. "Is something wrong? Is she alright?"
"She's... managing," Veylan said, choosing his words carefully. "But she needs your help. There's something she's been keeping hidden, something I promised to handle delicately."
Guillaume motioned for him to sit, his posture tense. "Go on."
Veylan took a seat across from him and began explaining. "Vivienne has been afflicted with a curse. Since before her birth, she's been bound to a magic that turns her into a bird. You've likely noticed her avoiding sunlight and staying indoors as much as possible. It's not just for propriety—it's because the curse is worsening. She can barely maintain her human form now."
Guillaume leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together. "A curse... I thought something was troubling her, but I never imagined... Is there a way to help her?"
"There is," Veylan replied. "A ritual tied to the magical pool near the woods where I found her tonight. It's safe, but it requires someone she trusts to stand with her, to anchor her through the process. That person has to gaze at her reflection with her in the water's surface. I'll provide a drop of my blood as a stabilizing element, it's been used to break curses before."
Guillaume's eyes widened as he processed the information. "And you think I should be the one to help her?"
"I do," Veylan said without hesitation. "And so does she. Vivienne suggested I speak to you about this because she trusts you. She feels safe with you, and that's going to matter when the time comes. Your presence will put her at ease, which is exactly what she'll need."
Guillaume leaned back, exhaling slowly. "If it's what she needs... then of course, I'll do it. Whatever it takes to help her."
Veylan nodded, a faint smile breaking through his usual stoicism. "Good. You handled the shaelmaar with remarkable calm earlier today. That same steady composure will serve you well in this."
Guillaume looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if preparing for what was about to happen. "When do we do this?"
"Soon," Veylan said, rising to his feet. "I'll finalize the preparations and let you know. For now, rest. You'll need a clear mind when the time comes."
Guillaume stood as well, "Thank you, Veylan. For helping her. For helping us."
Veylan inclined his head. "We're all trying to do what's right. And if anyone can help her through this, it's you."
The next morning, Veylan made a brief stop at the local bank in Beauclair to ensure that his funds from the spotted wight's bounty had been deposited. The marble walls of the bank gleamed under the morning sun, and the air was filled with the quiet murmur of clients discussing business. Veylan approached the teller, a middle-aged clerk who blinked nervously when the imposing Witcher set his leather-gloved hands on the counter.
"I'm here to check on a recent deposit," Veylan said, his calm but firm tone cutting through the din. "From the universities."
The clerk nodded quickly, flipping through the ledger with practiced precision. "Ah, yes. The spotted wight. Quite a stir, that. A total of twenty thousand crowns was transferred into your account just yesterday. Your reputation precedes you, sir."
Veylan gave a faint smile. "Good. I'll need twenty coins for expenses."
"Of course, right away." The clerk counted out the coins, setting them neatly into a pouch before sliding it across the counter.
Veylan tucked the pouch into his belt and offered a nod. "Keep the rest safe. I've no intention of walking around with a fortune."
The clerk chuckled nervously. "Wise decision, Master Witcher. Have a good day."
As the sun dipped low on the horizon, Veylan returned to the tourney grounds, where Guillaume was waiting, his armor gleaming from his earlier victories. Lady Vivienne stood by his side, her eyes bright with pride as she clasped Guillaume's arm.
"You were remarkable today," she said, her voice full of warmth.
Guillaume blushed slightly. "It was all for you. Every lance, every strike."
Veylan approached them, his expression softening as he observed the pair. "It's time. Let's head to the clearing."
They walked together, the tension softened by the affection between Guillaume and Vivienne. As they neared the magical pool, a low growl startled them. A wild bear emerged from the shadows, its massive form blocking the path.
"Stay calm," Veylan murmured, stepping forward. He extended his hand and cast Axii, his glowing sign calming the beast. The bear snorted, lowering its head before ambling off into the forest.
Guillaume exhaled in relief. "You make it look easy."
"It's not about force," Veylan replied. "It's about understanding."
…
The clearing was bathed in moonlight as they arrived at the pool. The water shimmered with an ethereal glow, and the air was thick with ancient magic. Veylan began preparing the ritual, mixing reagents and carefully uncorking a vial of his blood.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice steady.
Vivienne took Guillaume's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I am. No matter what happens, I will always love you."
Guillaume turned to her, his eyes full of resolve. "And I, you. Always."
Veylan stepped back, his preparations complete. "Step into the pool together. Hold hands and gaze into your reflection. The magic will do the rest."
The pair waded into the cool water, their movements deliberate and synchronized. As they reached the center of the pool, Vivienne and Guillaume turned to face their reflections. Veylan uncorked the vial, and a drop of his blood floated upward, suspended in midair. It pulsed with a soft red glow before bursting into a radiant flash of light.
The brilliance was blinding, forcing Veylan to shield his eyes. A low hum filled the air, the magic surging through the pool like a tidal wave. Then, silence.
When Veylan lowered his hand, Vivienne stood in the pool, fully restored. Her feathered features were gone, replaced by her human form. Her skin glowed with health, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Guillaume reached for her, his voice breaking with emotion. "Vivienne... it's you."
She touched her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's gone. The curse is gone."
Veylan nodded, stepping to the edge of the pool. "The magic recognized the bond you share. It anchored her to the person she loves most."
Guillaume pulled Vivienne into a tight embrace, the two of them holding onto each other as though the world had disappeared. Veylan stepped back, giving them their moment.
As they emerged from the pool, Vivienne turned to Veylan, her voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you. You've given me my life back."
Veylan inclined his head, a faint smile on his lips. "You did the hard part. I just gave you the tools."Bottom of Form
…
Later at the palace…
The warm, golden light of Toussaint's setting sun bathed the palace in a soft glow as Veylan returned from his day. Lady Erynn was there waiting for him , her growing baby bump subtly outlined beneath her elegant traveling cloak. Her fiery red hair shimmered in the twilight, and despite her delicate state, she held herself with the grace and strength of someone who had weathered countless storms.
As they entered their quarters to prepare for the evening, Veylan looked toward the wardrobe, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We'll need to look the part tonight. Dettlaff and Sylvia deserve a night of peace after everything they've been through."
Erynn chuckled softly, her fox-like ears perking up at that. "And here I thought Witchers didn't care for courtly manners. You've been spending too much time in Toussaint."
"It's growing on me," Veylan admitted, his amber-green eyes twinkling with amusement as he carefully selected his outfit.
He chose a deep forest-green doublet embroidered with silver thread, its pattern reminiscent of vines climbing a castle wall. The outfit was completed with polished leather boots and a belt adorned with a discreet medallion of his insignia that he had custom made, a subtle reminder of his roots.
Erynn's choice was equally enchanting. She selected a flowing elven gown in shades of deep gold and autumn red, its design a fusion of Aen Seidhe elegance and Toussaint's opulent style. The gown featured delicate embroidery of blooming flowers, with plenty of room to accommodate her growing belly. She adjusted a silver pendant around her neck, the soft glow of its enchantment adding a touch of magic to her radiant appearance.
"You look breathtaking," Veylan said as he offered his arm to her.
Erynn smiled, her emerald eyes sparkling. "And you look far more dashing than any Witcher has a right to."
…
The dining hall was resplendent that evening, its long tables adorned with the finest linens and arrangements of Toussaint's famous flowers. Soft music played in the background, and the flickering candlelight added an air of intimacy to the gathering.
Dettlaff and Sylvia Anna sat side by side, an undeniable warmth between them. Sylvia's face was no longer marred by anger or scheming, but by genuine contentment and a touch of nervousness as she adjusted to her new circumstances. Dettlaff, ever composed, appeared more at ease than anyone had seen him in years.
Guillaume and Lady Vivienne were also present, seated nearby and radiating happiness. Guillaume, still beaming from his victory in the tourney, held Vivienne's hand as they quietly discussed their future plans. Regis had arrived as well, his calm and thoughtful presence completing the circle of friends.
When Veylan and Erynn entered, the room's attention shifted to them. Erynn's presence was particularly noted, her unique blend of elven and kitsune grace drawing admiration and curious whispers. Veylan greeted everyone with a polite bow before taking their seats near Dettlaff and Sylvia.
After dinner, the evening transitioned to a small, private ball held in one of the palace's grand halls. The polished floors reflected the warm glow of chandeliers, and the music shifted to lively melodies that invited everyone to dance.
Dettlaff and Sylvia were the first to take the floor. Their movements were fluid and effortless, and though Dettlaff was unused to such displays, he adapted with surprising elegance. Sylvia's face glowed as he led her, a rare smile gracing her lips.
Nearby, Guillaume extended his hand to Vivienne, who accepted with a delighted laugh. They moved with practiced ease, their love evident in every step.
Finally, Veylan turned to Erynn, offering his hand with a smile. "May I have this dance?"
"You may," Erynn replied, her tone playful as she took his hand.
They moved gracefully across the floor, Veylan's strength and Erynn's agility making them a striking pair. Despite the subtle awkwardness caused by her growing belly, Erynn laughed as Veylan spun her gently, her fox-like eyes glowed with warmth.
As the night wound down and the music softened, the group gathered near the large windows overlooking Toussaint's vineyards. The view was breathtaking, the moonlight casting a silver sheen over the rolling hills.
Dettlaff stood beside Sylvia, holding her hand as they looked out into the distance. "For the first time in centuries," he murmured, "I feel... free."
Sylvia smiled softly. "And for the first time, I feel whole."
Guillaume and Vivienne shared a quiet moment, their foreheads touching as they whispered to each other about their plans for the future. Regis sipped a glass of wine, his thoughtful gaze resting on the group as a rare smile forming on his face.
Veylan and Erynn stood slightly apart, his arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him. "This," Erynn said softly, "feels like a dream."
"Toussaint has a way of making even Witchers believe in dreams," Veylan replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.