The Witcher: Chimera
Chapter 16: The Bruxa and The Bounty
…
The faint morning light crept over the horizon as the Tuirseach household stirred with life. Svanrige Tuirseach, dressed neatly and adjusting the hem of his tunic, was preparing for his first day of work at the tavern near Novigrad. His youthful determination was apparent in his posture. , his focus set on proving himself capable in this new chapter of his life.
The sound of hoofbeats broke the calm, and Svanrige turned to see Veylan and Lady Erynn approaching the cottage. They dismounted gracefully, their expressions betraying the weariness of the long journey but also the relief of finally being home.
"You're back!" Svanrige greeted them warmly, his voice carrying a note of excitement. "How was Kaer Morhen? Did you…" He trailed off, realizing they had barely crossed the threshold. "Ah, forgive me. You've had a long ride."
Veylan smiled faintly, brushing snow off his shoulders. "It was eventful, to say the least. But it's good to be home."
Erynn's fiery red hair caught the morning light as she gave Svanrige a kind smile. "We'll tell you all about it later, but for now, you have your first day ahead of you, don't you?"
Svanrige nodded eagerly. "I do. I'm heading to the tavern by the outskirts of Novigrad. They've already got everything set up for me."
Veylan placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Take your time, and remember, you're representing your family and the Skellige Isles. You'll do fine."
With a confident nod, Svanrige adjusted his belt and headed toward the road, flanked by two escorts assigned to ensure his safety during the journey. As he walked away, Veylan and Erynn watched him go with a mix of pride and fondness.
Inside the cottage, the familiar warmth of home greeted them. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, and the faint smell of herbs lingered in the air. Veylan made his way to the small writing desk near the window, retrieving a sealed letter from the satchel slung over his shoulder. Alongside it was a delicate locket containing a lock of Ciri's silver hair, carefully enclosed as a personal memento.
He handed the letter and locket to a Nilfgaardian courier who had been waiting patiently. The soldier stood at attention, his armor polished and his expression stoic.
"This is for Emperor Emhyr," Veylan said, his voice steady. "It's from Ciri. She read his letter, and this is her response. She also asked me to include this," he added, nodding toward the locket. "Make sure he receives it."
The courier took the items carefully, tucking them securely into his satchel. "It will be delivered personally, Master Witcher," he said, bowing slightly. "The Emperor will know his daughter has replied."
With a salute, the soldier turned on his heel and headed down the snowy road toward the Nilfgaardian command post, his presence quickly swallowed by the stillness of the morning.
Erynn, now seated by the fire, watched Veylan with quiet contentment. "It feels good to be back," she said softly. "After everything we've been through... just to sit here feels like a luxury."
Veylan crossed the room, sitting beside her and resting his arm along the back of her chair. "It won't last forever," he said, his voice touched with a hint of weariness. "But we'll enjoy it while it does."
Erynn nodded, her emerald eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. "We'll find time to rest. And enjoy each other's company."
The two sat in silence for a moment, the peace of their home wrapping around them like a warm blanket. For now, they were home and they were going to make the most of it.
…
Later that day…
As winter's chill settled over the Continent, Veylan and Erynn found solace in the warmth of their home near Novigrad. The days had grown shorter, and the air carried the crisp bite of the season. It was during this time that Erynn prepared to celebrate Midinváerne, the elven Midwinter festival marking the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, imbued with magic and the promise of renewal.
Erynn approached Veylan with a gentle smile. "Midinváerne is upon us," she said. "I would be honored if you would join me in the preparations and celebrations."
Veylan nodded, his expression softening. "Of course, Erynn. Tell me what we need, and I'll gather the necessary ingredients."
Their first task was to collect evergreen branches, symbols of enduring life during the barren winter months. Together, they ventured into the nearby forest, the ground crunching beneath their boots as they walked among the snow-laden trees. Veylan's heightened senses guided them to the finest sprigs of pine and fir, which they carefully harvested, ensuring not to harm the surrounding flora.
Returning home, they adorned their dwelling with the fragrant branches, weaving them into wreaths and garlands that draped over doorways and windows. The fresh scent filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the hearth.
Next, Erynn prepared a traditional elven feast, featuring dishes that honored the season's bounty. Veylan assisted her in the kitchen, his hands adept at both swordplay and the more delicate art of cooking. They prepared roasted game, hearty stews, and baked goods spiced with cinnamon and cloves, filling their home with inviting aromas.
As dusk approached, they gathered candles to illuminate the night, each flame representing a wish for the coming year. Erynn showed Veylan how to carve elven runes into the wax, each symbol holding a unique blessing. Once lit, the candles cast a soft, golden glow, their light dancing across the walls.
With the preparations complete, they donned traditional elven attire, Erynn in a flowing gown of deep green, and Veylan in a tunic embroidered with silver threads. They stood together before the hearth, where Erynn began to sing ancient elven songs, her voice melodic and haunting. Veylan joined in, his deeper tones harmonizing with hers, the music weaving a tapestry of sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the night.
After the songs, they sat together, sharing the meal they had prepared. They spoke of the past year's challenges and triumphs, reflecting on their journey and the bonds they had forged. Erynn shared stories of elven traditions, and Veylan recounted tales from his Witcher path, each story bringing them closer.
As midnight approached, they performed a ritual to honor the solstice. Erynn led Veylan outside, where they lit a Yule log, a symbol of light returning to the world. They watched as the flames crackled and danced, sending sparks into the star-filled sky. Hand in hand, they made silent wishes for the future, the warmth of the fire warding off the cold.
Returning indoors, they placed the remaining candles by the windows, their soft light a beacon in the darkness. Erynn took Veylan's hand, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. "Thank you for sharing this night with me," she said softly.
Veylan squeezed her hand gently. "It was my honor, Erynn. May the light guide us through the darkness, now and always."
…
Later that evening, the fire in the hearth burned low, casting a soft orange glow over the cozy interior of Veylan and Erynn's home. Veylan sat by the table, cleaning and sharpening his steel and silver swords. The rhythmic scrape of the whetstone against the blades filled the quiet space. Erynn was nearby, humming softly as she sorted through herbs for her next ritual.
The door creaked open, and Svanrige stepped inside, stomping the snow off his boots. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he carried a folded piece of parchment in his gloved hand.
"I'm back," he announced, closing the door behind him. "And I brought this." He handed the parchment to Veylan. "It was posted at the tavern. Nilfgaardian soldiers are looking for someone to investigate... well, something strange."
Veylan set down his sword and took the notice, scanning its contents. The details were brief but ominous: a request for investigation into several incidents involving dead animals found in the area, their blood drained, and faint human footprints that mysteriously vanished.
He frowned and looked up at Svanrige. "Have there been any casualties?"
Svanrige shook his head, setting his satchel on the bench. "No, that's the strange part. Only animals have been killed—deer, wolves, that sort of thing. But there's more." He hesitated, clearly unsettled by what he was about to say. "Some witnesses claimed they saw a raven-haired woman at the scenes. Twice, apparently. They said she ran off as soon as they spotted her, but... they're sure she was feeding on those animals."
"Feeding?" Veylan's eyes narrowed, his Witcher instincts kicking in. "Feeding how?"
"Drinking their blood," Svanrige said grimly. "The animals were found drained. Completely."
Erynn stopped sorting herbs, her ears twitching as she turned her attention to the conversation. Veylan leaned back in his chair, his mind racing.
"That's no ordinary beast," he muttered. "A raven-haired woman, feeding on blood, but leaving humans unharmed... I think we're dealing with a Bruxa."
Erynn's eyes widened slightly. "A Bruxa? Here?"
Veylan nodded, rising from his seat. "It makes sense. The footprints disappearing? They're incredibly fast and can mask their movements. The blood drained from the animals? Classic Bruxa behavior. The question is: why is she here? They don't usually hunt in such a controlled manner, and they rarely leave humans completely alone."
Svanrige's brows furrowed. "So... what does that mean? Is she dangerous?"
"She's always dangerous," Veylan said, pulling on his gear. "But the fact that no humans have been harmed, so far, means there's a chance this Bruxa isn't here to kill indiscriminately. She might be in control of her instincts, or... she could be building up to something worse."
Erynn crossed her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. "If it is a Bruxa, what's your plan?"
"First, I'll confirm it's her," Veylan replied, strapping on his silver sword. "Then I'll figure out why she's here. If she's just passing through, I'll let her go. But if she's a threat... well, you know the rest."
Svanrige shifted uncomfortably. "You're going tonight?"
"No time to waste," Veylan said. "The longer she stays, the greater the risk. Svanrige, good work bringing this to me. Stay inside tonight, just in case."
Svanrige nodded, glancing nervously at the notice on the table. "Be careful, Veylan."
Veylan gave him a reassuring smile, then turned to Erynn. "Stay here. I'll be back before dawn."
Erynn stepped forward, resting a hand on his arm. "Just... be careful. Bruxae are cunning."
"I know," Veylan said, his tone steady. "I'll handle it."
…
Later at the scene of one of the sightings…
Veylan crouched by a patch of disturbed snow, the faint glint of moonlight illuminating his amber eyes as he examined the scene. The air was cold and crisp, carrying the faint metallic tang of dried blood. He brushed his fingers over the hoofprints of a deer that had stumbled in its final moments, following the trail to where the carcass had been left. The animal's throat was torn, its body nearly drained of blood.
"No signs of a struggle beyond this point," he muttered to himself, scanning the ground. "Quick kill. Precise."
The footprints that led away from the scene were faint, humanoid in shape, but ended abruptly as if the individual had simply vanished. Veylan straightened, his sharp senses prickling. The lack of livestock or human casualties was curious enough, but combined with what Svanrige had shared, the situation took on an even stranger tone.
The next site was near the edge of a dense forest, where the remains of a wolf lay in the snow. Veylan approached cautiously, his silver sword ready on his back, though he doubted the Bruxa was still nearby. Kneeling beside the body, he examined the wound on its neck. Like the deer, the wolf had been drained of blood. The tracks around the site told a clearer story.
"A struggle," Veylan murmured, noting the scuffle marks in the snow. His keen eyes traced the scene: wolf prints circling, a single set of human-like footprints pivoting and leaping with agility that no human could match.
He spotted something unusual, a small bloodstain separate from the wolf's corpse. Dipping a gloved finger into the stain, he sniffed it and frowned. "Human blood," he said quietly. "She was injured."
His thoughts drifted to the witness accounts. A raven-haired woman who had been seen dragging away the carcass of a wolf two nights ago, but not before intervening to save a child from the animal's attack. That didn't fit the typical behavior of a Bruxa. They were predators, not protectors.
The village at the edge of the forest was quiet, the residents still shaken from the events of the past few nights. Veylan approached a small house where the boy's family lived. The father, a weathered man with a wary expression, answered the door.
"You're the Witcher they sent for?" the man asked.
Veylan nodded. "I heard about what happened two nights ago. Your son was attacked by a wolf?"
The man stepped aside, motioning for Veylan to enter. Inside, the boy sat by the fire, his leg bandaged but otherwise unharmed. His mother fussed over him, glancing nervously at the Witcher.
"It wasn't just a wolf," the man said, his voice low. "That woman... she came out of nowhere. Just as the wolf lunged at my boy, she jumped in front of it. Took the beast down with her bare hands."
Veylan raised an eyebrow. "And then?"
"She didn't say a word," the man continued. "Dragged the wolf's body into the forest. She was... bleeding. My wife and I didn't know what to do. She saved our son, but... there was something off about her. Her eyes... not human."
The boy, emboldened by curiosity, spoke up. "She had black hair and pale skin. But she wasn't scary, not to me. She smiled at me before she left."
Veylan's expression softened slightly as he turned back to the father. "You're sure she didn't harm anyone else?"
The man shook his head. "Not a soul. Just the wolf. If anything, she saved us."
As Veylan left the village, his mind was awhirl with possibilities. The Bruxa had been sighted three nights ago, and since then, her actions had been strangely deliberate. Feral animals were killed, not livestock. She had actively saved a human child and then retreated into the forest.
"She's hunting," Veylan muttered under his breath, his boots crunching in the snow. "But not for sport or malice."
Whatever her reasons, it was clear this Bruxa was different. The question now was why.
And he intended to find out.
…
As Veylan moved deeper into the woods, the distant crunch of boots on snow caught his attention. He slowed his pace, his enhanced senses honing in on the source of the sound. A moment later, a group of Nilfgaardian soldiers emerged from the treeline, their black armor gleaming faintly in the moonlight. They halted upon seeing him, their expressions wary but not hostile.
One of the soldiers, a captain by the look of his more elaborate gear, raised a hand in greeting. "Witcher. You're investigating the sightings too, I take it?"
Veylan nodded, his amber eyes glinting in the low light. "I've pieced some of it together. You're dealing with a Bruxa, a lower vampire."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, and the captain frowned. "A vampire? That explains the bloodless kills."
"But there's more to it," Veylan said quickly, noting their tense postures. "She hasn't harmed anyone. All her targets have been feral animals, wolves, deer. Not a single livestock kill. And more than that, she saved a boy from a wolf two nights ago."
One of the younger soldiers, his face pale, muttered, "Saved a boy? A vampire saved a human?"
"Unusual, but it happened," Veylan replied. "And it doesn't end there. I'm certain she's trying to avoid conflict."
The captain crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow in thought. "We've heard reports ourselves. Earlier today, a woman matching the description found a missing girl who'd wandered into the woods. She walked her back to the village before disappearing again."
Veylan's eyes narrowed. "You're sure it's the same woman?"
The captain nodded. "The description matches, raven hair, pale skin, unnaturally graceful. The villagers thought she was some traveler or a forest spirit at first. It wasn't until the stories started connecting that we began to suspect something... otherworldly."
Veylan considered this new information, his mind racing. A Bruxa, a creature known for its predatory nature, actively saving lives and avoiding harm to humans? It went against everything he knew about their kind.
"She's behaving differently," Veylan said, almost to himself. "No livestock. No humans harmed. She's not hunting the way a typical Bruxa would."
"Could it be a trick?" one of the soldiers asked nervously.
Veylan shook his head. "If she wanted to lure people into a false sense of security, she wouldn't risk herself to save a child or guide a lost girl back to safety. This isn't about manipulation, it's survival. Maybe even... atonement."
The captain tilted his head, regarding Veylan curiously. "You think she's trying to coexist?"
"It's possible," Veylan admitted. "But even if she is, her nature makes it dangerous for her to stay close to human settlements. The longer she remains, the greater the risk of something going wrong."
The captain exhaled, clearly conflicted. "Our orders are to investigate and neutralize any threat to the locals. But if what you say is true... we'll hold off for now."
"I'll handle this," Veylan assured him. "If she's not a threat, there's no need for bloodshed. But if she's hiding something, I'll find out."
The captain nodded slowly. "Very well, Witcher. Keep us informed. If you need assistance, we'll be stationed near the edge of the woods."
As the Nilfgaardians moved on, Veylan lingered, his mind replaying the accounts of the Bruxa's actions. Saving children, avoiding livestock, feeding only on feral animals, it was unlike anything he'd encountered before.
As the Nilfgaardians moved on, Veylan lingered, his mind replaying the accounts of the Bruxa's actions. Saving children, avoiding livestock, feeding only on feral animals—it was unlike anything he'd encountered before.
The forest around him suddenly went unnaturally still. No rustling leaves, no chirping birds, not even the distant call of a wolf. Veylan instinctively placed a hand on the hilt of his steel sword, his amber eyes scanning the trees. Yet, his medallion remained silent. It didn't hum or vibrate, the telltale sign of magic or danger absent.
Frowning, he studied the medallion for a moment, his mind racing. There was something here, no doubt about it, but whatever it was... it didn't mean him harm. Slowly, his tension eased as understanding dawned.
"Alright," he said aloud, his voice calm and measured. "I get the picture. You're a Bruxa trying to coexist, aren't you? Am I right?"
The air around him seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, and then a figure stepped into the clearing. She moved with the kind of grace that seemed more floating than walking, her raven-black hair cascading down her pale shoulders. Her crimson eyes locked onto him as she sniffed the air subtly, her lips curling into a faint, curious smile.
"You're not what I expected," she said, her voice melodic yet edged with an unplaceable sharpness. "A Witcher who doesn't kill outright but seeks to understand first. Am I right?"
Veylan's grip on his sword relaxed slightly, though he didn't fully let his guard down. "I've met enough so-called monsters who proved more human than the people hunting them. And you... you're not what I expected either."
The Bruxa tilted her head, her gaze studying him with an intensity that would unnerve most men. "I've heard of your kind," she murmured. "Witchers, hunters of our kind, slayers of anything deemed unnatural. Yet here you are, speaking to me as if I'm an equal."
"Respect is earned, not given," Veylan replied, his tone even. "You've gone out of your way to avoid harming people. Saved a child, guided a lost girl home, fed only on feral animals. I'd rather learn your story than swing my sword without reason."
Her expression softened, though the faint wariness in her stance didn't fade entirely. "And if my story isn't to your liking? Will you strike me down anyway?"
Veylan shook his head. "Not unless you force me to. But you don't seem the type. So... why don't you start talking?"
The Bruxa stepped closer, though still keeping a respectful distance. "You're an unusual man, Witcher. Perhaps... I'll humor you."
The Bruxa moved closer, her crimson eyes thoughtful as she seemed to weigh Veylan's sincerity. Finally, she crossed her arms and leaned lightly against a tree, her pale fingers brushing absentmindedly against the bark.
"I'll tell you a story," she began, her voice soft yet carrying a timeless cadence, as though the words had been rehearsed in her mind a thousand times. "A story of love and passion, and of a life born from two worlds that should have remained separate."
Veylan stayed silent, his amber eyes attentive, his posture calm but ready. The Bruxa's gaze flickered toward him, gauging his reaction, before continuing.
"My mother was a Bruxa, like me," she said. "Beautiful, powerful, dangerous. She lived on the edges of human settlements, feeding only as she needed, careful never to draw too much attention. She had resigned herself to an eternal life of solitude. And then... she met him."
Veylan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Him?"
"A soldier," she said, her voice tinged with a faint smile. "A man of Cintra, back when it was still a kingdom. He was no knight or nobleman, just a common man, patrolling the outskirts of his village. They crossed paths in the forest, quite by accident. She could have killed him then and there. But she didn't. Something about him... made her hesitate."
The Bruxa's eyes seemed to shine with an odd mixture of pride and melancholy as she spoke. "He wasn't afraid of her. Or maybe he was, but he didn't let it stop him. Instead of running, he spoke to her. Asked her name. Tried to understand her."
"That's rare," Veylan said quietly.
She nodded. "Rare enough that it melted the walls she'd built around her heart. Over time, their meetings became... deliberate. He would venture into the forest to find her, and she, though she'd never admit it, would wait for him. They talked, laughed, shared stories of their lives. What began as curiosity turned into something deeper, something forbidden. He even offered her his blood willingly, knowing what she was."
"That's... surprising," Veylan admitted, raising an eyebrow. "It was love," she said simply. "And love makes people foolish. But it also makes them brave."
Her gaze softened, the edges of her lips curling into a wistful smile. "Eventually, she found herself with child. Me. A miracle, or a curse, depending on who you ask. My mother told me I was the only thing she'd ever wanted and the one thing she'd never thought she could have. My father... he was ecstatic, though he knew what it meant."
"That you'd inherit traits from both of them," Veylan said.
She nodded. "Exactly. I'm a hybrid, Witcher. Neither fully Bruxa nor fully human. I've spent my life straddling the line between two worlds, never truly belonging to either. But it also gives me a unique perspective. I understand both sides, what it means to be hunted, and what it means to protect."
Her eyes met his, her expression steady. "You're the first Witcher I've ever spoken to who doesn't immediately reach for a blade. So perhaps I can trust you with my name. I'm Ravienne."
Veylan inclined his head slightly, his amber eyes glinting with quiet respect. "Ravienne," he repeated. "A name I'll remember."
"And you?" she asked, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "You're not like the stories of Witchers I've heard. Who are you?"
"Veylan," he said simply. "Just a Witcher trying to do what's right."
Ravienne's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Then perhaps you and I aren't so different after all."
Ravienne's crimson eyes studied Veylan intently as he began to speak, his voice calm and steady, yet carrying the weight of his extraordinary life.
"I suppose you could say I'm a grandson of a Higher Vampire who fell in love with an elven woman of Elder Blood," he started, watching for her reaction. Ravienne's expression shifted slightly, fascination tinged with understanding, as if she could sense the truth in his words.
"My mother, their daughter," Veylan continued, "met my human father, and then they had me, a son of Elder Blood. Though, if I'm being honest, I hardly remember them. I was taken when I was young, kidnapped by rogue mages and alchemists. They were led by a rogue sorceress who saw me as an experiment rather than a person. They didn't just experiment, they twisted me, mixing me with at least a dozen different monsters."
Ravienne tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing. "Monsters? Like what?"
Veylan let out a soft sigh. "A little of everything, it seems. They infused me with leshen, Kikimora, Foglet, Rock-Troll, Fiend, Marr, even some higher vampire blood, though I don't know where they sourced it. That last bit activated my latent abilities, the ones tied to my lineage. And, well... here I am."
He spread his arms slightly, his posture deliberately relaxed, his hands resting at his sides, away from his weapons. Ravienne's eyes flickered briefly to his hands before returning to his face, her curiosity evident.
"I eventually escaped," he went on, his voice softening. "And I was raised by a clan of elves in the south. It was there that I started to understand who I was and what I could do. That's also how I met Erynn, a kitsune who became my love and companion. She saw the person behind the claws and the fangs, and she made me realize I didn't have to let what they did define me."
Ravienne's expression softened slightly, the wariness in her eyes giving way to a faint glimmer of empathy. "And now?"
"Now?" Veylan gave her a faint, almost rueful smile. "Now I take the occasional contracts and odd jobs. But like you said, I prefer to help monsters rather than harm them. Not everything that's different has to be dangerous."
He gestured toward the forest around them. "That being said, you haven't hurt anyone. In fact, it sounds like you've gone out of your way to avoid causing harm. Feeding on animals instead of people, even protecting a boy from a wolf... That tells me you're trying to live peacefully. And if that's the case, I want to help."
Ravienne's eyes widened slightly, and she leaned back, folding her arms across her chest as she studied him with cautious curiosity. "Help? How?"
"Well," Veylan said, his tone light yet earnest, "if you don't have anywhere to go, we can give you housing. A place to stay, meals to keep you fed, a roof over your head to keep out the cold. And if you're open to it, I think Erynn would love to meet you."
For a moment, Ravienne didn't respond, her gaze flicking away as if searching for hidden motives in his offer. But all she found was sincerity. Finally, she looked back at him, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief.
"You'd trust me? A Bruxa?"
Veylan shrugged lightly. "I've been called worse, and I've trusted far more dangerous creatures than you. Besides, everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves. And you've already started doing that."
Ravienne's lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile but wasn't quite ready to let her guard down. "You're a strange man, Veylan. But... thank you. I'll think about your offer."
"Take your time," he said, inclining his head slightly. "But the offer stands. No one should have to face the cold alone."
For the first time, Ravienne's expression softened into something that might have been gratitude. "Perhaps... we're not so different after all."
…
The forest edge was bathed in the silvery light of a crescent moon as Veylan stood calmly, waiting for the Nilfgaardian patrol. The faint crunch of boots on frozen ground heralded their approach, their dark armor glinting faintly in the cold light. The Nilfgaardian commander, a grizzled man with sharp eyes, stepped forward, his breath visible in the chilled air.
"Master Veylan," the commander greeted, his tone respectful but measured. "You summoned us. What have you found?"
Veylan glanced briefly over his shoulder toward the shadows of the forest where Ravienne lingered, her crimson eyes faintly visible amidst the trees. Turning back to the commander, he spoke evenly. "I've confirmed the presence of a Bruxa, as we suspected. However, she's not a threat to anyone."
The commander raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, prompting Veylan to continue. "She's been feeding exclusively on feral animals, wolves, deer, and has gone out of her way to avoid harming anyone. In fact, she's even saved a boy from a wolf and returned a missing girl to her village. Her actions speak for themselves."
One of the soldiers behind the commander shifted uncomfortably but remained silent. The commander folded his arms, his sharp gaze studying Veylan. "And your proposal?"
"I'll take responsibility for her," Veylan said without hesitation. "She'll live under my roof, have access to proper meals, and remain within bounds. She wants to coexist peacefully, and I believe her."
The commander's expression was unreadable for a moment. Then he glanced at his men, exchanging a silent look before turning back to Veylan. "You vouch for her, then?"
"I do," Veylan said firmly. "You have my word."
The commander exhaled slowly, his frosty breath curling into the night air. "Your word carries weight, Witcher. I trust your judgment, and so do my men. We'll leave this matter in your hands, but know this, should anything go wrong, it'll be on you."
Veylan nodded. "Understood."
With that, the commander gestured to his soldiers. "We'll return to file the necessary paperwork. Make it official. You've earned our trust, Veylan. Don't make us regret it."
As the Nilfgaardians turned to leave, Veylan turned back toward the forest. Ravienne emerged hesitantly from the shadows, her pale face and raven-black hair luminous in the moonlight. She lingered just outside the tree line, her crimson eyes watching the soldiers disappear into the distance.
"They accepted," she murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Veylan turned to her with a faint smile. "They trust me. That trust extends to you now."
Ravienne stepped closer, her expression conflicted. "I didn't think... I mean, after everything, I didn't expect them to agree so quickly."
"They know I wouldn't make this decision lightly," Veylan said, his voice calm and reassuring. "And I trust their discretion. You'll have a home now, a place to start over."
For the first time, Ravienne's guard seemed to lower. Her crimson eyes softened, and she nodded slowly. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," Veylan replied gently. "Just take this chance. Make the most of it."
Ravienne's lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. "You're a strange man, Veylan. But... thank you."
"Come on," he said, gesturing toward the path leading back to his home. "It's getting cold. Let's get out of the frost."
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ravienne took a step forward, leaving the forest behind.
…
The warm glow of lantern light spilled from the windows of Veylan's cottage as he and Ravienne approached. The comforting scent of wood smoke and faint traces of spices filled the crisp winter air, making Ravienne hesitate for a moment. Veylan noticed her pause and gave her a reassuring nod.
"They're expecting us," he said softly. "Come on."
Inside, Erynn and Svanrige greeted them warmly. Erynn, her fiery hair catching the light, stepped forward with a welcoming smile. "Welcome, Ravienne," she said, her voice gentle but sincere. "We've prepared a space for you. It's modest, but it's yours."
Svanrige, standing beside Erynn, offered a polite nod. "It's the least we could do. If there's anything you need, just let us know."
Ravienne followed them as they led her to a cozy room near the back of the cottage. Her crimson eyes widened slightly at the sight. The room was simple but comfortable: a sturdy bed draped with a clean blanket and soft pillow, a small wardrobe for her belongings, a wooden trunk at the foot of the bed for valuables, and even a polished mirror on the wall. A side table held a few modest toiletries, and the space was filled with a sense of thoughtfulness.
As if sensing her hesitation, Erynn said, "We wanted you to feel at home. If there's anything you'd like changed, just say the word."
Ravienne turned slowly, her expression unreadable for a moment, before her voice came in a whisper. "This is more than I could have dreamed of."
"And there's more," Veylan added, gesturing toward a small table near the bed. A plate rested there, holding a freshly prepared rabbit, raw but neatly presented with silverware beside it. "I figured you'd prefer it raw. It's fresh, and we can prepare more when you need it."
Ravienne's crimson eyes shimmered faintly, her voice breaking just slightly as she said, "I... I don't know what to say. No one has ever... done this for me."
Erynn stepped closer, her own emerald eyes soft. "You don't have to say anything. Just know you're safe here. We take care of our own."
Svanrige, leaning casually against the doorway, added with a grin, "Besides, Veylan's been making a habit of surprising people. You'll get used to it."
Ravienne looked between the three of them, her guarded expression softening. She turned back to Veylan, her voice trembling with gratitude. "Thank you. All of you. I... don't think I've ever had a place to call my own."
Veylan smiled gently. "Now you do. Rest here, eat, and settle in. You're part of this household now."
As Ravienne sat carefully on the bed, running her fingers over the blanket as if testing its reality, Veylan, Erynn, and Svanrige stepped back to give her space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt a flicker of hope, a chance for something beyond mere survival.
Her life as a wanderer was over. For the first time, she was home.
…
As Erynn gathered her shawl and made her way toward the door, Ravienne's sharp senses caught something, a faint rhythm, soft yet steady. She froze, her crimson-tinged eyes narrowing as she instinctively focused on the sound. It wasn't coming from Veylan, whose powerful heartbeat she had already attuned to, nor from Svanrige, seated just outside the room. This was something smaller, quieter.
Her gaze darted to Erynn. Ravienne's eyebrows shot up as she tilted her head, listening intently. Then, realization dawned. The faint sound was coming from Erynn herself, from just beneath her stomach.
Ravienne's lips parted in surprise, and without thinking, she spoke. "Erynn... wait."
Erynn turned, puzzled. "Is something wrong?"
For a moment, Ravienne hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Veylan, who was just stepping into the room. "No... not wrong," Ravienne murmured, her voice unusually soft, almost reverent. She met Erynn's gaze, searching for the right words. "It's just... I can hear it."
"Hear what?" Veylan asked, Ravienne's expression softened, a small, rare smile curving her lips. "A heartbeat. Faint, but there. Inside her." She pointed gently toward Erynn's stomach.
Erynn blinked, stunned. "A heartbeat?" She placed her hands over her abdomen, her own breathing quickening. "You're sure?"
Veylan's expression shifted, a mix of awe and disbelief. He stepped closer to Erynn, his amber eyes wide with hope. "Is it possible?" he asked.
"After everything?"
Erynn's gaze searched his, her emotions raw and unguarded. "I don't know... but if Ravienne says she hears it-" Her voice broke, tears welling in her emerald eyes. "Then it's real."
Veylan's hand moved instinctively to cover hers, resting protectively over her stomach. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the revelation settling over them.
Ravienne took a step back, her usual composure giving way to a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "I've never heard anything quite like it. Strong, but... different." She hesitated before adding, "Whatever it is, it's extraordinary. Just like the two of you."
Erynn leaned into Veylan, her voice trembling with emotion. "A child... our child." She looked up at him, her gaze filled with wonder. "It's a miracle."
Veylan tightened his hold on her, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.
Ravienne watched the moment unfold, her usually guarded heart warmed by the sheer depth of their love and hope. She turned her gaze downward, giving the pair their space but silently marveling at what she had just discovered, a heartbeat that would shape their future in ways none of them could yet imagine.
…
The next morning brought a crisp, wintry chill to the air, but it did little to stifle the buzzing whispers that spread like wildfire through the region. In the taverns along the outskirts of Novigrad and deeper into the heart of the city, Nilfgaardian soldiers who had caught wind of the miraculous revelation could hardly keep their excitement to themselves.
"Did you hear?" one soldier exclaimed, his tankard slamming onto the wooden table. "Veylan, the Witcher, his companion, Lady Erynn, is carrying his child."
"The son of Elder Blood himself having an heir?" another added, his voice tinged with awe. "These are strange times indeed."
In another corner of the same tavern, a bard was plucking absently at his lute, his ears pricked as he listened intently. With a flourish, the bard turned to his partner, a woman with striking golden hair and a warm smile. "Priscilla," he said with a mix of intrigue and excitement, "this might be the story of the age."
Priscilla arched a brow, her curiosity piqued. "Do you think it's true, Dandelion? Or just another tale spun by soldiers who've had one too many drinks?"
Dandelion, never one to let the truth get in the way of a good story, leaned back dramatically. "If it's true, it's nothing short of historic! A Witcher with Elder Blood, his child born of an elven Kitsune... oh, the songs I could write! The ballads!"
Priscilla rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her growing interest. "If this is true, Dandelion, it's more than a tale. It could mean... so much. To so many."
He nodded, his usual flamboyance tempered for a moment by genuine thoughtfulness. "Yes, it would. We should pay them a visit. If anyone can confirm the truth, it's me."
She sighed, but her smile was indulgent. "And you won't rest until you do."
"Precisely!" Dandelion declared, standing and slinging his lute over his shoulder. "To Veylan's household, my dear! Adventure and history await!"
Priscilla shook her head but followed, knowing full well that wherever Dandelion went, trouble, and inspiration, was sure to follow. Together, they set out, their destination clear, and their minds brimming with questions about the enigmatic Witcher and his equally mysterious companion.
…
As the morning sun rose higher, casting a pale winter light across the countryside, the sound of hoofbeats echoed along the road leading to Veylan's household. Dandelion, resplendent in a bright doublet that defied the muted tones of the season, rode ahead with his lute slung over his back. Beside him was Priscilla, more sensibly dressed for the cold, her eyes scanning the scenery with a blend of curiosity and caution.
When they arrived at the cottage, Veylan was already in motion. Clad in his Witcher gear, he was fastening the clasps of his armor while inspecting a crate filled with neatly organized vials, cables, and rune-inscribed bindings. Nearby, a cart was being prepared with an array of tools and nets, along with a few empty reinforced cages.
Erynn greeted the visitors first, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight as she stepped out to meet them. "Dandelion, Priscilla," she said warmly, though with a hint of surprise. "What brings you here?"
Dandelion dismounted with a theatrical flourish, spreading his arms wide. "My dear Lady Erynn, news of your miraculous... addition to the family has spread faster than wildfire! How could I, the humble chronicler of our age, resist the urge to see it for myself?"
Priscilla rolled her eyes but offered Erynn a kind smile. "We heard the news from the Nilfgaardians in town and wanted to offer our congratulations."
Erynn blushed slightly but waved them inside. "Veylan's just preparing for a hunt. You're welcome to speak with him, though I doubt you'll want to join him."
"Oh, nonsense!" Dandelion said, striding toward the yard where Veylan was working. "I've been on many an adventure with Geralt, haven't I? A little monster hunting won't scare me."
Erynn chuckled softly and followed, while Priscilla shook her head. "He'll regret those words soon enough," she muttered under her breath.
In the yard, Veylan turned as they approached. His amber eyes flicked over the newcomers, and a faint smirk on his face. "Dandelion. Didn't expect to see you here."
The bard grinned, undeterred by the Witcher's imposing presence. "And yet, here I am! I hear congratulations are in order, but what's all this?" He gestured to the equipment being loaded onto the cart.
"Preparing to collect some specimens," Veylan said simply, motioning to the vials and cables. "Ghouls, alghouls, rotfiends, maybe a few drowners. They're festering along the riverbank again."
Priscilla raised an eyebrow. "Specimens? For study?"
Veylan nodded, picking up a vial filled with a shimmering green liquid. "This is a paralytic concoction. Inject it into the heart of a rotfiend, and it stops their chain reaction. Without it..." He let the sentence hang, leaving the implications clear.
Dandelion blinked. "You mean the exploding part? You can stop that?"
"Only if I hit the heart directly," Veylan said, holding up a syringe attached to a rune-inscribed injector. "It's not foolproof, but it works. For ghouls and alghouls, these cables and nets—" he gestured to the neatly coiled steel ropes lined with intricate runes—"keep them contained. They're strong enough to hold even a berserk alghoul."
Dandelion's mouth hung open as Veylan demonstrated how the cables worked, pulling one taut to reveal the glowing runes that activated on contact with monstrous flesh. "Ingenious," the bard muttered. "But... why?"
"Because killing them only solves part of the problem," Veylan replied. "They're like vermin. You kill a few, and more show up. Studying them helps us understand their behavior and biology. Maybe even figure out how to stop them from festering in the first place."
Priscilla looked impressed. "You're not just a hunter, are you? You're trying to change how people deal with monsters."
Veylan shrugged. "It's practical. Fewer lives lost in the long run."
Dandelion clapped his hands together. "Well, I must say, Veylan, you've given me a lot to think about. But tell me, how do you deal with these... rotfiends? You mentioned injecting their hearts?"
Veylan smirked faintly and held up the injector. "With precision. Watch closely. If you're coming along, you might learn something."
…
An hour later, they were on the riverbank. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the ground was churned with claw marks and broken branches. Dandelion stayed close to Priscilla; his usual bravado muted by the eerie surroundings.
Veylan motioned for them to stay back as he spotted a rotfiend sniffing around a pile of carrion. With practiced ease, he moved silently through the underbrush, his medallion vibrating faintly. When he was close enough, he launched a steel net over the creature, the runes activating with a crackling glow as the rotfiend thrashed and snarled.
As it struggled, Veylan approached calmly, syringe in hand. He knelt swiftly, plunging the needle into its chest with precise force. The rotfiend let out a guttural wheeze, its body twitching before going completely still.
Dandelion, watching from a distance, let out a low whistle. "Remind me never to complain about ballad-writing being hard work."
Priscilla gave him a sharp look. "If you're not careful, you'll end up as another specimen."
Veylan secured the paralyzed rotfiend with the cable, dragging it toward the cart where another cage was waiting. "And that," he said, glancing back at the bard, "is how you catch a rotfiend."
Dandelion swallowed hard. "I think I'll stick to ballads, thank you."Bottom of Form
…
As the scholars and guild representatives finished inspecting the specimens, their awe turned to focused discussion. The caravan they brought with them, six wagons reinforced for carrying dangerous cargo, was soon loaded with the caged rotfiends, alghouls, ghouls, and barrels containing the paralyzed drowners. Each monster was carefully cataloged, every detail meticulously recorded under the supervision of both guild officials and Nilfgaardian officers.
Once the last specimen was secured, the lead scholar approached Veylan with a formal nod. He was an older man with spectacles perched on his nose and ink stains on his fingers.
"Master Veylan," the scholar began, his voice full of respect, "we cannot overstate the importance of your work. These specimens will provide unparalleled insight into the anatomy and behaviors of monsters, advancing our knowledge in ways previously unimaginable."
Veylan smirked lightly, his arms crossed. "I'm sure it will. And the payment?"
The scholar gestured to one of his assistants, who approached holding a small leather pouch and a scroll of parchment sealed with a wax crest. The pouch jingled faintly as the assistant handed it over.
"The full payment of 20,400 crowns has been deposited into your accounts in Novigrad and Oxenfurt," the scholar explained. "Additionally, this pouch contains 32 crowns for immediate expenses."
Veylan took the pouch and tucked it into his belt, then inspected the parchment. It bore the insignias of the Novigrad banking guild and the Oxenfurt Academy, confirming the transactions. He nodded, satisfied.
"Efficient as always," he said, handing the parchment to Erynn, who was nearby, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings.
"Transporting these specimens required an extensive caravan," the scholar continued. "We'll ensure everything is handled carefully, and we'll report any findings back to you, should you wish to be kept informed."
"Good," Veylan said, his amber eyes glinting. "Let me know if anything unusual turns up. And if you need more... you know where to find me."
The scholar bowed slightly, his admiration for the Witcher evident. "Indeed, Master Veylan. Your reputation precedes you, and I expect this will only add to it."
As the caravan set off, creaking under the weight of its monstrous cargo, Veylan turned to Erynn, who smiled faintly.
"Think they'll be able to handle all of that?" she asked, nodding toward the departing wagons.
"They'd better," Veylan replied. "That's enough coin to buy half the Continent if they mess up."
Erynn chuckled as the two headed back toward the road, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the forest. "And here I thought you were doing this for the science."
He gave her a playful smirk. "I am. But it doesn't hurt to get paid for it, does it?"
…
Meanwhile outside of Velen…
outskirts of a rugged village near Velen, where a Witcher from the School of the Cat named Kael arrived in the dead of winter. Unlike most of his kind, Kael carried himself with a calculated calm, his piercing green eyes always scanning his surroundings. His feline medallion hummed faintly as he walked into the village tavern, brushing snow from his worn cloak.
Kael wasn't here for a drink. He had been hired to take care of a Bruxa allegedly terrorizing the area. But the contract had felt... wrong. The details were vague, almost deliberately so. Worse, whispers in the criminal underworld hinted that the Bruxa wasn't the only target, the Witcher of Elder Blood, Veylan, had also been marked for death. Kael wasn't one to walk into traps, and this entire situation reeked of one.
…
A short while later…
Kael made his way to Veylan's cottage outside Novigrad, his boots crunching against the snow as he approached. The warmth of light spilling from the windows was a stark contrast to the bitter cold surrounding him. He hesitated for a moment, then rapped on the door with a gloved hand.
Veylan answered, his amber eyes narrowing slightly as he sized up the unexpected visitor. "A Cat," he muttered. "Haven't seen one of your kind around here in a long time."
Kael smirked faintly. "Not many of us left these days. May I come in? This isn't the kind of conversation to have on your doorstep."
Veylan stepped aside, gesturing him in. Erynn, seated by the fire, glanced up curiously but didn't speak. Ravienne was nowhere to be seen, likely keeping out of sight for her own safety.
Kael removed his cloak, shaking off the snow, and sat across from Veylan. "I'll cut to the chase. I've been hired to kill a Bruxa in the area. But the details stink. The job didn't come from a local village elder or merchant, but through channels that... let's just say, aren't exactly reputable. I dug around a bit and found something worse."
Veylan leaned forward, his expression darkening. "Worse?"
Kael nodded grimly. "Word's spreading in certain circles, your head's carrying a hefty price. Whoever placed the bounty doesn't care if the Bruxa dies, so long as you go down with her. They're baiting anyone desperate enough to take the job."
Veylan's jaw tightened. "And you? Why bring this to me?"
Kael shrugged. "I don't kill Witchers. Not unless they give me a damn good reason. And from what I've heard, you're not exactly the villain of the story here. So, I'm here to figure out what's really going on, and who's behind it."
Erynn joined them at the table, her fox-like ears twitching. "This isn't just about you, Veylan. Whoever placed that bounty must know about Ravienne. She's trying to live peacefully, but if the wrong people catch wind of her..."
Veylan nodded, his mind already racing. "It's not a coincidence. Someone wants me distracted or dead. And they're using the criminal underworld to do it."
Kael leaned back, crossing his arms. "Any enemies come to mind? Someone with the resources to pull this off?"
Veylan's lips thinned. "Plenty. But this doesn't feel like Nilfgaard or Radania, they'd come at me directly, not through mercenaries. This feels... personal."
Erynn's gaze flicked toward Kael. "Do you know who hired you? Even a name?"
"Elsward Borsedi." The Witcher said with a shrug, "Apparently he was pretty pissed when he learned you struck a deal with his brother."
Kael's expression hardened as he leaned forward, his voice low but steady. "One name keeps coming up in whispers, Elsward Borsodi."
Veylan's amber eyes narrowed at the mention. "Borsodi... I remember his brother. I negotiated with him months ago at the auction house. Erynn and I were there to retrieve a house-shaped box, but without the documents inside. His brother agreed to a compromise, he kept the papers, and I took the box. A clean solution."
Erynn nodded, her fox-like ears twitching. "I remember that. His brother seemed reasonable, even relieved. But... Elsward?"
Kael gestured sharply. "Elsward isn't like his brother. He's ambitious and ruthless, with a long reach in the criminal underworld. From what I've heard, your actions derailed one of his schemes, a heist to take those documents for himself. Your deal with his brother put an end to it before it even began. He's been seething about it ever since."
Veylan exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. "So, this bounty is about revenge. He's using the underworld to come after me because I stopped him from profiting off his brother's auction."
Kael nodded grimly. "That's my guess. He's well-connected, and he doesn't mind throwing gold around to get what he wants. If Elsward is behind this, he won't stop with just a bounty on you and Ravienne. He'll keep escalating."
Erynn's green eyes glowed faintly as she leaned forward. "We can't let this fester. If he's already set the underworld on you, it's only a matter of time before they find something—or someone, to exploit."
Veylan's mind was already working. "Then we don't wait for him to strike again. We take the fight to him. But we'll need information, his movements, his connections, and where he's hiding."
Kael smirked faintly. "Lucky for you, I'm pretty good at finding people who don't want to be found. Novigrad's underworld isn't as impenetrable as it likes to think."
Erynn glanced between them. "And what about Ravienne? If Elsward's after her too, we need to make sure she's safe."
Veylan's gaze softened as he looked toward the door leading to Ravienne's quarters. "I'll talk to her. She deserves to know what's happening. But for now, she's safest here. The Nilfgaardians trust me, and they'll keep an eye on things. Elsward's mistake is underestimating the allies I've made."
Kael chuckled. "Allies and enemies in equal measure. Sounds about right for a Witcher."
Veylan stood, his claws retracting as he flexed his hands. "Let's not waste any time. Kael, if you've got contacts in Novigrad, use them. Erynn and I will check in with the Nilfgaardian commander—we might need their resources to track Elsward's movements. And if he thinks he can hide behind his gold, he's in for a rude awakening."
…
Veylan found Ravienne sitting by the window in her modest quarters, her raven hair catching the glow of the fireplace. She looked up as he entered, her pale face calm but her eyes betraying a flicker of unease.
"You heard, didn't you?" Veylan asked gently.
Ravienne nodded, her voice quiet. "About the bounty? Yes. I know you're doing everything to protect me, but... it's unsettling."
Veylan crossed the room and sat across from her. "You don't need to worry. I've already spoken to the Nilfgaardian commander. They're assigning guards to keep watch over you. They know what's at stake and that you're no threat to anyone. If you need anything, the guards will be here to see to it."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You've done so much already. Why risk yourself for me?"
Veylan's amber eyes softened. "Because everyone deserves a chance to live in peace, Ravienne. You've done nothing wrong, and you're trying to coexist. That's worth protecting."
Before Ravienne could respond, Svanrige appeared at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "And I'll be here too," he said confidently. "An extra layer of safety, just in case."
Ravienne blinked, her pale cheeks flushing faintly. "You'd... stay by my side?"
Svanrige shrugged, his smile easy. "Of course. Can't have you worrying while Veylan's out saving the world. Besides, I think it's only fair I step up."
Ravienne glanced away, her lips curling into a shy smile. "Thank you."
Veylan stood, turning to Erynn, who had been watching the exchange from the hall. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close for a kiss. "I'll be back soon," he murmured. "Sigismund Dijkstra may not be the most trustworthy, but he's resourceful. He'll help us track down who's behind this."
Erynn nodded, her hands resting on his chest. "Be careful. And give Sigismund my regards, as strange as that feels to say."
Veylan chuckled and gave her one last kiss before leaving.
Sigismund Dijkstra sat in his plush leather chair, poring over a map of Novigrad with a glass of wine in hand. His office, an elegant space lined with bookshelves and gilded decorations, was different to the ruthless pragmatism he was known for. A sharp knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
His assistant, a wiry man with a clipboard perpetually in hand, poked his head in. "Master Dijkstra, you have visitors. A Witcher named Veylan and another from the School of the Cat. They're investigating that bounty."
Dijkstra's brow arched in curiosity. "The bounty? Interesting. Did they come empty-handed?"
The assistant smirked. "Not quite. They brought a banker who claims to know where your stolen treasure is. Says he has paperwork to back it up."
Dijkstra's interest was immediately piqued. He stood, smoothing his tunic. "Well, don't keep them waiting. Send them in."
The assistant stepped aside, and Veylan entered, followed by Kael, the Cat School Witcher, and a stout banker clutching a leather-bound ledger.
"Master Dijkstra," Veylan began, his tone polite but direct. "Thank you for seeing us."
Dijkstra gave a small smile, his eyes darting to the banker. "It's not every day someone brings me a lead on my missing gold. And you even brought the paperwork, I hear."
The banker stepped forward, handing over a neatly folded set of documents. "These are the details of the vault. The key you recovered, Master Dijkstra, matches the description perfectly. Your treasure is waiting for you."
Dijkstra scanned the papers, his smile growing wider. "You certainly know how to make an entrance, Witcher. But let me guess—you didn't come all this way just to help me find my fortune."
Veylan nodded, his expression serious. "We need your help. Someone's put a bounty on my head and on Ravienne's. The name Elsward Borsodi keeps coming up."
Dijkstra's smile vanished, replaced with a sharp glint in his eye. "Elsward Borsodi. Now there's a name that stirs up trouble. He's as ambitious as he is reckless. You're right to suspect him."
Kael leaned against the desk, his arms crossed. "You've got ears everywhere, Dijkstra. We need to know what he's planning and who he's working with."
Dijkstra tapped the papers against his palm, his mind already working. "You've certainly brought me an incentive to help. Fine. Give me a day, and I'll have something for you. But remember, Witcher, everything comes at a price."
Veylan met his gaze evenly. "And we've paid it. Find out what you can, and let's settle this."Bottom of Form