I am Lena Wolf, Lena's life as it happens Options

[Lena Wolf]

23 Hearthfire, 4E195 - The djinn

Geralt's search for Ciri in Novigrad once again led him nowhere. Yes, she had been there before but she was now gone, vanished without a trace. Geralt's only consolation was that his time wasn't wasted as he helped Triss escape the danger of being burned at the stake. Together with a group of similarly fated mages she sailed away, to Kovir or elsewhere, to a place relatively safe and free from witch hunts and persecution.

Having seen off Triss, Geralt focused on tracking Ciri once more. There were no further clues for him to examine in Novigrad, and so it was time to sail to the Skellige Isles where Yennefer was investigating the remnants of an unusual magical explosion that she believed had everything to do with Ciri.

"Finally," Geralt was thinking, watching the waves. "She was so tense last time we met... Let's hope she's in better spirits now."

It wasn't hard to find Yennefer on the Skellige Isles, she wasn't hiding and wasn't trying to avoid Geralt in any way, and he was relieved to see that she seemed calmer and more relaxed. Yet they had a job to do, and she was focused on it and not ready to talk about their private affairs. Again, Geralt had to wait.

Then, quite suddenly, Yennefer went right to the core of the matter.

"Our connection came to be because you asked the djinn to bind your life to mine," she said without a preamble. "It's been a turbulent twenty years. Is there still a topic left that we haven't quarreled about? I can't think of any."

"Does it mean we are done quarreling?" Geralt smiled.

"Probably not," Yennefer shook her locks, smiling in return. "But the more important question is this: do we have feelings towards each other that are our own? Or is it all just the curse of that djinn?"

"I love you," Geralt wasn't taking any chances. "But yes, I would also like to know where this feeling sits. You have a plan, I take it?" Yennefer would have never brought it up if she didn't have a plan.

"Yes," she nodded. "I am glad you also want to find out. I located that pot... the one that used to house the djinn... It is actually exactly where we left it, more or less - on one of these islands. The magic responded to my search spells when I was looking for Ciri," she added. "We have to go there anyway..."

"Let's go tomorrow," Geralt nodded.

"But just in case it will all vanish tomorrow..." Yennefer put her hands on Geralt's shoulders. "I still love you today."

...

The next morning they got up late, and it was morning no longer. Yet there were still enough hours of daylight left to take a boat and sail to the other island.

"Why did you stay away so long?" Yennefer was walking slowly, as if suddenly becoming reluctant to confront the djinn.

"I had amnesia..." Geralt stopped, looking at her. "Surely, you know. Letho told me you too had amnesia after the Wild Hunt."

"Of course," she nodded. "But as soon as we got to Vizima, the mages there made me a memory potion, and amnesia was cleared in minutes. Any mage can brew it, and you had Triss with you all that time... unless..." A sudden realisation cast a shadow on Yennefer's face. "But she is my dear friend!"

"She never offered me a memory potion and I didn't know it even existed," Geralt froze too. That was one detail he wasn't aware of. Triss had deliberately withheld her help. She knew what to do and didn't do it.

"So you had to wait for the amnesia to wear off on its own..." Yennefer's face softened, her mood had visibly improved. "Oh my gosh..."

"Come, let's get that djinn," Geralt said decisively after a suitably long kiss. "I want to get it over with."

...

The djinn wasn't playing nice. Once released from the pot, he was ready to blow up everything to smithereens, the pot included, and especially the pot. This was one djinn who didn't want to go back. But this time Yennefer came prepared. Her plan was to make the djinn lift the enchantment that bound her and Geralt together, then to send the djinn back into the pot with an old spell she found in a dusty tome. The snag was that the djinn wasn't cooperating.

"We have to weaken him so he could be trapped!" She shouted to Geralt over the deafening noise of explosions that the djinn was setting off all around them. "Use your silver sword!"

"I was just going to knock him out with a spoon, actually," Geralt scolded. "What do you think this is?!" He was swinging his silver sword wildly left and right but the djinn seemed to always be on the other side of him.

"He's teleporting!" Yennefer noticed.

"Moondust bomb!"

"NOOOOO!!" Yennefer screamed with such urgency that Geralt froze for a moment, then mentally slapped his forehead.

"Of course not," he pulled out a different bomb. "Sorry, dear... Forgot that it would disrupt your magic as well. Let's try Dragonbreath instead."

He tossed a bomb in the general direction of the djinn and prepared to cast a sign.

"Stand back!" He motioned Yennefer to get in cover. She raised an eyebrow but obeyed. Geralt threw a fireball. The whole room in front of them exploded into flames, and in the center of it stood the djinn, untouched in his shielding sphere. "Now!" Geralt readied another sign, motioning Yennefer to do her bit.

An ear-splitting bang of a shooting lightning was probably heard all the way to Novigrad, but the djinn's shielding sphere still held.

"Again!" Geralt pulled out another bomb ("NOT moondust," he reminded himself). Yennefer shot another bolt of lightning at the djinn and Geralt tossed the bomb at him a split second later. "And now - Yrden!"

A stiff figure of the djinn was floating inside a circle of purple bars raised by the magic trap. Yennefer's lightning had finally breached his shielding sphere, and Geralt's Samum bomb froze him solid before he could cast another. Then Yrden, the magical trap, confined him in place.

"Admavoy Ye Arctavoy Balangua!" Yennefer addressed the djinn in ancient Ayleidoon. "Hear and Know my Power!" The djinn was still quite stiff from the Samum bomb, but he turned to look at her. The words seemed to bind him stronger than any trap. "Admavoy Ye Epevoy!"

"Hear and Speak, of course," Geralt was watching the djinn, his sword at the ready.

"Abagaianye Ehlno," the djinn smirked, watching Geralt's sword out of the corner of his eye. "A na Nenagai."

"You may not fear us mortals due to your own immortality, but I bet you don't want to go back into that pot!" Geralt hissed mostly to himself, leaving Yennefer to converse with the djinn. The djinn seemed to have heard him though and frowned.

"You placed an enchantment linking our fates," Yennefer addressed the djinn in an official tone. "We wish you to unbind that enchantment."

"It wasn't your wish," the djinn answered flatly. "Only the one who made it, can ask for it to be undone."

"I wish it undone," Geralt said firmly and his heart skipped a beat. That was it.

"No." The djinn turned to him. "I won't do it."

"What?!" Yennefer was taken aback. Djinns were not supposed to refuse wishes.

"What do you want in return?" Geralt squinted - he thought he had an idea where it was going.

"I want to be free," the djinn looked at them in turn. "No more pots." He glared at the pot that served as his prison with unimaginable contempt. "I want that pot destroyed!" He exclaimed flying into a rage, then calming down just as suddenly. "You are a sorceress," he seemed to pierce Yennefer with his gaze. "Destroy that pot and I shall unbind you two."

Yennefer seemed to be hesitating, but Geralt knew just how treacherous djinns could be, and also how fickle... He dared not to interfere and hoped that Yennefer knew what she was doing... "Do not destroy the pot!" It was all he could do but to keep repeating it in his head.

"Well, may be," Yennefer said slowly. "But you have to unbind us first, and then I shall destroy the pot."

"No." The djinn folded his arms.

"Alright," Yennefer folded hers. "Then I am just going to make three easy wishes that you are bound to fulfil, and you'll be back in that pot before you know it. I wish..."

"Alright, alright!!" The djinn shouted over her words. "Moraga!" He uttered the word, snapped his fingers, there was a pop and a flash... "There, your bonds are broken," he smiled contentedly. "Now destroy that pot!"

"As you wish," Yennefer nodded, turned to the pot and cast a spell.

...

When the debris finally settled, Geralt looked around the room searching for the djinn, but couldn't see him anywhere. The pot however was still sitting in the corner, shaking slightly.

"You sent him back into the pot," he grinned. "Never trust a djinn."

"Or a sorceress and a witcher," Yennefer grinned back. "Let's sit down for a moment."

They hadn't realised just how long it took them to handle that djinn. They'd been at it all night, and the sun was just about to rise from the waters. They sat down on some crates looking out into the sea.

"Did he really lift the enchantment?" Geralt looked at Yennefer sideways. "I don't feel any different. How long until it kicks in?"

"I have no idea," Yennefer shrugged. "I feel the same too." She smiled and rested her head on Geralt's shoulder. "I never found any mention of such an enchantment in any book what-so-ever... strange..."

"Djinns have powerful magic of their own though," Geralt was stroking her hair. "It may not be in a book..."

"Time will tell, I guess..."

...

It was late afternoon when Geralt and Yennefer returned to the inn on the main island. They would resume their search for Ciri in the morning, shifting matters of the heart into the background. It had been a perfect day - a day without a single quarrel. Perhaps the djinn had done something after all.

"Mathmeldi! Jorane dena... Auran hame, El Djinn!" The djinn smirked to himself, lamenting his renewed incarceration. "Moraga... Foolish mortals... there is no spell to bind two fates together... but we're even now, as they do not know this..."

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Feb 1 2024, 11:49 AM

[Lena Wolf]

20 Frostfall, 4E195 - Brothers in arms

Geralt's search for Ciri took him back to Velen. The swamps held the answer, it seemed. Once again he trudged through the mud and fought hordes of drowners and ghouls feasting on the bodies of the fallen soldiers, now heavily decomposed. But with all the dirt and gore, he preferred it to the pyres of Novigrad.

He took a request from a notice board to clear out monsters from an ancestral home - an old estate deep in the woods. Arriving there, Geralt found no monsters, but traps, skillfully arranged around the perimeter. Someone did not wish to be disturbed. Geralt proceeded with caution.

It could have been anyone hiding there, a deserter, a bandit, but something about those traps seemed familiar... "Letho," Geralt smirked to himself, remembering those months that they spent together tracking the Wild Hunt. This time, Geralt recalled it all. He straightened up, careful not to set off the traps, but no longer weary to be shot in the back either.

"Finally! That took you long enough," Letho grinned when Geralt spotted him. "That amnesia left traces, you know."

"What are you doing here?" Geralt looked around. "Expecting company, I see?"

"Ever since Loc Muinne, ever since your name got cleared, I have been the wanted man, for I am the kingslayer," Letho smirked. "But you know how that feels, I guess. I've been on the run, found this manor in the woods, overrun with monsters... a perfect hiding spot. How did you find me?"

"I wasn't looking for you. I am here to deal with the monsters," Geralt held up the notice. "The old lady needs to have a roof over her head."

"Well, remember me when you collect the pay," Letho clicked his tongue at the promise of a reward in the notice. "But someone sold me out. I've had a visit from the bounty hunters already, and expect another one any minute now. Want to stay for the games?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Geralt nodded, looking out the window. "Here they come. You've got a plan?"

"I always do," Letho grinned, leaping out of the window. "Improvise!"

...

"This cannot be the main course," Geralt was turning over one of the corpses with his boot. "Lightly armed and lightly armoured, although this is professional gear. These are no bandits."

"A scouting party, probably," Letho nodded.  "I intend to take the dance to their boss. With a detour to the chap who sold me out. He should know where they are."

Geralt didn't wait for an invitation. Letho may not have needed backup against a lightly armed scouting party, but the main group would be a different matter altogether. These were professionals with a reputation to maintain.

...

Cutting down the bandits that took under their wing the person who sold out Letho's whereabouts, was a simple matter. The traitor was the last man standing, or rather crouching, trying to hold his abdomen together.

"But Letho, times are tough, there's a war on, don't you know? We fell on hard times... and the bounty hunters were paying good money for the information! It's nothing personal, I assure you!"

"Hmm... I see," Letho looked pensive. "That wound of yours needs bandages and a potion. I've got one in my saddlebags. Where are these bounty hunters?"

"In Lindvale," the traitor looked hopeful. "But it's a large group, be careful! And they are well armed!"

"And so I noticed, met a few of them already," Letho nodded. "Be seeing you." He turned and walked to his horse, mounted and waited for Geralt to follow.

"But my potion..?" The traitor cried after him.

"You crossed the wrong witcher!"

...

The group in Lindvale counted a dozen or more well armed and well armoured bounty hunters led by a famous character with a reputation to maintain. This group would not suffer defeat already because it would mean the end of their business. Geralt checked his chainmail.

"No, you stay here and don't interfere, no matter what happens," Letho said firmly. "I intend to put an end to these pursuites once and for all. Don't ruin it for me."

He walked to the barn that the bounty hunters made into living quarters and knocked on the door. A dozen of them came out, words were exchanged, a short swordplay followed. Half of the bounty hunters lay dead, but Letho too took a heavy wound and slumped to the ground. A moment later he was dead.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," the leader smirked, looking down at Letho's corpse. "Let's cut off his head as proof."

"You don't need his head, all you need is his witcher medallion," Geralt approached them. "That's a lot easier to handle."

"And you are..?" The bounty hunter raised his Persian axe, eyeing Geralt. "Oh, I know - you are the previous kingslayer! But there's no bounty on your head any longer. Still, I won't mind chopping it off."

"Aha..." Geralt was still not drawing his sword. "Your dance with Letho lasted - what? - two minutes? If even that. And half of you are dead. How many of you will be left standing if you dance with me too?"

"Hmm... perhaps you're right. A medallion is easier to carry. The head will stink by the time we get to Vizima." The bounty hunter put away his axe and bent down for Letho's medallion. "There, he's all yours. We've got no use for his corpse."

...

"Thirty-six hours," Geralt checked the time when Letho finally opened his eyes. "That is a very dangerous poison, and you could still die. Got the antidote?"

"Saddlebags," Letho said with difficulty. He looked grey, like a corpse. His body started to bloat. "But now Letho the Kingslayer is dead, and I can stop walking on eggshells." He smiled, then thought of something. "I was half expecting you to interfere and spoil everything. How did you know?"

"Smelled it," Geralt smirked. "But I had to intervene after all. They wanted to cut off your head. Your plan wasn't fail-safe."

"Life is full of surprises," Letho smiled and lost conciousness.

...

The following morning Letho looked a lot better and was no longer in danger of dying.

"What are you going to do?" Geralt was getting ready to leave.

"Go South... or North... West perhaps... Lie low for a year or two. Then get back on the Path," Letho smiled. "I am still a witcher."

"Go to Kaer Morhen," Geralt said firmly.

"And be torn apart by your Wolf friends? I don't think so," Letho shook his head. The witcher schools of the Wolf and of the Viper were not on the best of terms.

"There are too few of us left to fight over it," Geralt insisted. "Tell them I sent you. They know we fought together. Lambert may complain, but Eskel and Vesemir will know better. They'll give you space. That fortress... well... it's big and empty."

"I know..." Letho mirrored Geralt's sadness. The School of the Viper was gone completely with only ruins left. At least Kaer Morhen still had walls. "Alright, you convinced me," he nodded. "See you around, Wolf."

...

A week or two later Geralt took another notice from a board. A dangerous beast appeared in the woods, and the village elders were looking for a witcher to take care of it. Interested, he went to see the elder.

The village was swimming in blood. There were corpses everywhere. Their wounds were deep, many were sliced in two. "No monster did this," Geralt looked grim. Then suddenly he heard a little voice from the bushes - a child. Trying not to frighten the child, he carefully approached the bush, and after some cajouling, a little girl crawled out. She told Geralt of the massacre that took place just the other day...

"The men attacked him," she was saying, still somewhat confused. "But why would they do that? He was a nice man, he came for his payment... But they attacked!"

"Are you sure?" Geralt was trying to calm her. "It must have been awful."

"Aye, that it was," she nodded. "But I am sure. They attacked. And then... so much blood..." She started crying and Geralt had to calm her again.

"And how did you survive?" He asked carefully when she stopped sobbing.

"I hid in the bushes... The man wasn't looking for me!" She exclaimed. "But mummy... and everyone else... they came out with knives and axes... they are all dead now..."

"That's bad business," Geralt had heard enough. "Do you have any other family? In another village perhaps? I'd take you there."

"My auntie! In Oreton."

It wasn't far, and a short time later Geralt was knocking on a door in Oreton. The folk had already heard of the disaster, and the girl's auntie looked at the child with pity.

"I'd take her in, but I got no money and too many mouths to feed as it is," she sighed. "So you might as well take her back."

"Back where?" Geralt couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Alright, how much?"

"Twenty crowns should do it," the woman smiled.

"Here."

He did not argue. He felt rage rising in him as well - the woman had no children, it was plain to see. For all that talk of "folk good and true", he saw none of that there. Still, the girl would be safe with her auntie, at least for a while.

Returning to the scene of the massacre, Geralt still wanted to find the witcher who did it, get to the bottom of what happened. He quickly spotted traces of blood, followed them and soon came to a clearing with a campfire burning. A witcher was waiting for him.

"Well, you found me," he said calmly. "What will it be?"

"What happened?"

"They promised me payment, I came to the elder in that barn, heard the door lock behind me, and there they were - came at me with pitchforks... They figured, they'd kill the witcher and keep the coin," he smirked. "It's always the same, but this was rather extreme. I snapped. The rest you know. Do what you will."

"Got any vodka left in that bottle?" Geralt sat down by the fire. "They call me the Butcher of Blaviken for a reason."

...

They talked about the life on the Path, the many ugly sides of people that they'd seen, the few kind and generous souls that they'd met. The other witchter told Geralt about his family, how he was given to the School of the Cat in thanks to the witcher who saved them from monsters. He was about Geralt's age - pushing hundred.

"My parents died years ago, when I was still young, but I had a sister... Used to come by whenever I was in the area," he said with a nostalgic smile. "She died some years back, an old woman... while I... well, you know how it is." He looked to be in his thirties. "I'm all alone now..."

"Such is a witcher's fate," Geralt nodded. "I've never had any family, was given to the school as an infant. But I have a sister now... it's strange... we were separated at birth..."

"And she still lives?" the other witcher looked up, surprised.

"She does... she... it's a curse, I think... a disease... something." Geralt was trying to recall what Lena explained about her form of vampirism. "Not sure I understand," he admitted. "She looks young... but she isn't."

"It doesn't matter," the other witcher shook his head.

"I guess not..." Geralt got up to leave. "Kaer Morhen. In case you change your mind. See you around, Cat."

...

The night was still and Geralt let Roach slow down, there was really no rush. He was on the road again, without a destination. He followed every lead in his search for Ciri, yet she seemed to have vanished into thin air. "Something that Ciri can very well do," he reflected. The whole enterprise of trying to find her seemed completely futile. Triss was right - she could be anywhere. On any world.

And yet there had to be something he overlooked... He had a feeling, he had dreams - Ciri used to appear in his dreams when she was in danger. That was years and years ago though, when she was just a child, his temporarily adopted daughter. Was she his daughter still? She had appeared in his dreams again, and he had to continue his search.

[macole]

The life of a Witcher can be hard and fraught with danger, at times.

[Lena Wolf]

The life of a Witcher can be hard and fraught with danger, at times.

That's an understatement of the century! When someone shouts "Monsters!!!", the witcher is the one running in the opposite direction of everyone else.

[Lena Wolf]

27 Frostfall, 4E195 - Uma

"Is this a monster?" A local baron in Velen pointed at a gnome that could pass for a severely malformed monkey, human or elf. "He is not violent and does not seem evil, he barely talks... But I can't help but feel there's a man inside that body."

"There's magic about him, no doubt..." Geralt squatted in front of the gnome. "It might be a curse... This does not seem to be his natural shape."

Upon hearing this, the gnome started jumping up and down, flailing his long arms and making joyful sounds... at least Geralt thought they were joyful, for it was really hard to tell.

"I think he agrees," the baron observed.

"What do you call him?"

"Uma."

"Uma?" Geralt looked up in surprise. "What kind of a name is that?"

"That's what he calls himself," the baron shrugged. "Or at least that's one of the few words that he managed to pronounce. I did try to ask his name when we just got him, see. That was his answer."

"Alright," Geralt turned to look at Uma again. "Uma it is."

Uma was the last lead that Geralt was following in his search for Ciri. A dead man on the Skellige Isles told him and Yennefer that a strangely malformed gnome was seen in the boat with Ciri just before Ciri vanished into thin air. A dead man told them... quite. They had found a witness, only to discover that he had been executed for cowardice, but he was the only man to have seen Ciri leave the island.

"A dead man can still be made to speak, as long as his brain and tongue are not too badly decomposed," Yennefer said in a low voice when everyone was out of earshot. Necromancy was a forbidden practice. "It won't sit well with your moral values though," she added with a sigh. "There will be a price to pay."

"Is there another way to find out what happened to Ciri? This is our last lead," Geralt frowned.

"He was the only witness," Yennefer shook her head. "And they executed him. I doubt he was such a coward either for letting her go. I don't think he had a choice or a say in the matter, but these folk will never believe that a young woman could simply snap her fingers and teleport to another world. But anyhow, he is dead, and there aren't many ways to interrogate a dead body."

"You are right, I don't like it already," Geralt frowned again, shaking his head. "But I also don't see another way... His spirit has departed - it would have been easier to talk to his wraith. But he must have been at peace... good for him, not good for us." He examined the corpse carefully, after they took it down from the branch it was hanging from. "Decomposition hasn't set in too deeply yet. What do you intend to do?"

"Reanimate his flesh," Yennefer was also examining the corpse. "The tongue looks to be in good condition, let's hope the brain is still fresh too... Oh, you are not going to like this at all."

"Let's get it over with," Geralt got up. "What do you need?"

"Bring me three gallbladder stones from virgin chickens, a toad that's been kissed by a prince and a young girl's used handkerchief... What do you think I need? I am no country witch," Yennefer smirked. "All I need is energy... lots of it... all of it, in fact..." She looked around at the trees of the ancient Freya's Garden where they were standing. "Such a pity... but perhaps these folk should not have turned their Freya's Garden into gallows to begin with. So be it... Hilyat Ehlno Ceynaril! Admavoy Ye Epevoy!"

A darkened sphere of energy gathered around Yennefer, a wind went through the trees. She drew it all in, then cast a bolt into the corpse. It jerked, and a hoarse distant voice replied: "I hear and obey..." Geralt shivered, his medallion was buzzing out of control. She was right, he didn't like it at all.

Yennefer asked the corpse several questions, trying to find out as quickly as possible what happened to Ciri. Matters were aggravated by the fact that the young man seemed to have fallen in love with Ciri, and all he wanted to talk about was how beautiful she was and how he wanted to make her happy... But time was short, and those were not the answers they were seeking. Yennefer had to renew her dark sphere of energy several times, the trees rustled again and again, the corpse's speech was getting more and more slurred... But in the end he did say what they needed to hear. Ciri had been on a boat with a strangely deformed gnome, that gnome seemed to cast a spell and Ciri vanished into thin air. The young man whose corpse was saying this, was later executed for cowardice because the villagers didn't believe him. They thought that Ciri had drowned and he hadn't jumped into the waters to her rescue.

"Autavoy Sepredia!" Yennefer closed the spell. The corpse slumped to the ground, she stumbled, but steadied herself. Her skin looked grey, her eyes turned white and her hair hung matted and lifeless around her shoulders. But she stood back, not letting Geralt touch her. "Not now! Stay away. This will pass. We have to leave." It was only then that Geralt had noticed dried brown leaves at their feet and dry, lifeless branches of the trees around them.

"What happened to the garden?" He asked with a gasp, a moment later realising that he already knew the answer.

"It died," Yennefer replied with a sigh. "Reanimation takes a lot of energy... I did say you woudn't approve."

"Let's go."

But before they could leave, the Keepers of the garden appeared, realising what happened to the trees. There was no end to their reproaches, but Yennefer was on her last legs and Geralt had had enough of it.

"None of it would have happened had you believed him in the first place and had you not turned your cherished garden into a garden of gallows!" He cut through the flood of reproaches from the Keepers. "What possessed you to hang people off the branches of your sacred trees? Or to worship a werewolf living in the cellar? It was you who was bringing villagers to him! Did you think I would not find out? You'll just have to plant a new garden and hope that Freya forgives you this time, although I don't see why she should!"

Stunned by this outburst, the Keepers did nothing to stop them, and Geralt and Yennefer left the now dead Freya's Garden, returning to the main island where they were staying. It took several days before Yennefer looked herself again - it wasn't just the garden that gave its life for those precious few words.

With a lead gained at such a high price, Geralt was not taking any chances. How many deformed gnomes could there be in the Northern Realms? Not that many, granted, but tracking one down was still no easy task. Finding Uma, however, was only the first step. He could not speak or write, and neither Yennefer nor anyone else could figure out how to communicate with him, although as soon as they tried, they realised that he had a lot to say. The curse was clearly meant to stop him from communicating.

"I order you to lift this curse!" The Emperor concluded, having examined Uma himself. "This man clearly holds the key to locating Ciri! Go to it."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Yennefer bowed. "As you command."

It was only when they left the Audience Chamber that she rolled her eyes at Geralt.

"He ordered us... Like this is going to make a difference," she smirked. "I don't know how to lift this curse yet. Do you?"

"No," Geralt was going over the various curses that he did know now to lift. "Nothing even comes close. What shall we do?"

"We'll take him to Kaer Morhen," Yennefer said suddenly.

"What? Why?"

"Kaer Morhen has a library... Yes, I know there isn't much left there, but I think it's worth a shot. With what I know already... I am certain we'll make it work," she said with a smile.

"You have a plan," Geralt squinted. "Something that I won't like, by the sound of things. What is it?"

"Well, it's not a full plan yet. It will depend on what is left at Kaer Morhen..." Yennefer was becoming evasive. She wouldn't say any more, and Geralt knew from experience that it was better to give up than to quarrel. For once, he gave up. He longed to return to Kaer Morhen anyway, so why not. Things would clear up eventually.

...

"I never wanted to be a witcher!" Lambert was his usual prickly self. He and Geralt had to get to the top of the mountain behind the Kaer Morhen main tower and get an amulet enchanted on the altar. That path went through several caves filled with monsters and trolls - you had to fight the monsters and talk to the trolls. Except the one troll that was too grumpy to talk to - you had to sneak past him. This was one of the final trials that young witchers had to take before graduating. But now that the school no longer had any pupils, Vesemir didn't mind for the grumpy troll to be killed if they couldn't sneak past it. "Remember Eric? The slim boy in my year..." Lambert sighed. "Of course you were already long out by then... that old Grumpy killed him!" Anger was rising in Lambert's voice and he readied his sword. "I want to give Grumpy what's coming to him! For Eric! For all the other boys that he'd killed!"

Geralt hesitated for a moment - the final trial, as well as all other trials, was there for a reason. A witcher who could not handle the "tame" monsters around Kaer Morhen, stood no chance in the wilds. But the relevance of it was now lost, and Lambert was breathing down his neck...

"All right, go for it!" Geralt readied his sword too. "You do it, I'll just watch your back."

...

"There. He will never kill another boy again," Lambert sheathed his sword with satisfaction. "You can negotiate with the other trolls if you like, I won't interfere."

Geralt nodded and said nothing. "He will never kill another boy again because we have no boys here to start with..." he thought with sadness. Then he realised that he never knew how Lambert was picked for the school and why he resented so much becoming a witcher. He was a very good witcher, too.

"What do you have against being a witcher?" Geralt asked. "You've always resented it, but why?"

"You don't know my story?" Lambert sounded surprised. "No, I guess you wouldn't, you were never teaching here. So I'll tell you. A witcher from this school saved my father from monsters, and in return he got took me for the school. That's a common enough practice and normally we don't complain. I was ten years old, I remember it well. But in my case, we were praying and hoping that my father would be killed... he used to beat my mother, he nearly killed her several times, he was always drunk and we never had any money. So one night he got drunk and walked right into a nest of nekkers... He would have been dead, were it not for that witcher! Of course the witcher could not have known, I do not blame him for that... But after I was taken to the school, my father killed my mother in a fit of drunken rage... and I wasn't there to save her."

"You were too young to save her anyway, Lambert," Geralt shook his shoulder. "Do not blame yourself for your mother's death. It is true that some are best left without aid, but we cannot know in advance, cannot choose... But you know all this, of course."

"I know! And I've done the same thing as that witcher countless times, no doubt!" Lambert exclaimed, his face contorted with pain. "It's the not being able to know who it is you are saving that gets to me! Which is the real monster - the necrophage or the human?"

"Now you see why folk think that witchers have no heart," Geralt said grimly.

"You must have done it too," Lambert was once again reliving his pain and his memories. "How do you deal with it?"

"You move on," Geralt answered softly. "You focus on the job, or else the next monster will kill you. You try not to slaughter the so-called innocents... if you can... you know I couldn't always stand back and watch."

"The Butcher of Blaviken," Lambert suddenly remembered. "I never made the connection... I knew, of course... but didn't realise... too focused on my own pain, I guess..."

"Don't worry about it," Geralt smiled at him. "We've all known each other for so long... There is no bad blood between us."

"There never was," Lambert agreed.

"So, what was it that Yennefer ordered?" Geralt changed the topic, resuming the walk towards their goal. "Enchant an amulet on the altar at the top? You got it still, I hope? We'll never survive her wrath if you lose it along the way!"

"Got it right here," Lambert grinned. "But isn't it the altar where we enchanted our witcher medallions? What is she planning, I wonder?"

They exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders, both agreeing that some things were best left unsaid until the very end.

[Lena Wolf]

27 Sun's Dusk, 4E195 - Cirilla

"Cirilla is not just another elf," Avallac'h looked at everyone in turn. "She is special."

"Ciri is not an elf," Geralt objected. He didn't care for Avallac'h's airs.

"She is not, and she is," Avallac'h inclined his head. "She is of Elder Blood, that predates humans and elves both. But elves predate humans, and thus..."

"Do not argue about technicalities," Yennefer put in. "We know that Ciri is special. Tell us something we don't know. Like where she is."

Avallac'h smiled at her impatience - or was it arrogance? - but answered the question.

"I sent her to the Isle of Mists," he smiled again at the blank stares he was getting. "It is a realm of its own, well hidden even from those versed in travelling among realms. The Wild Hunt won't find her there. At least, not so quickly."

"Was it the Wild Hunt that cursed you?" Geralt squinted, trying to piece things together. "When you were in Velen, in that ruin that Keira showed me?"

"Indeed."

"Why was Ciri looking for you?" Geralt distinctly didn't like Avallac'h.

"Cirilla is not just another elf," Avallac'h repeated. "Yes, it is important. She is a Source, meaning she has the power not only to travel between worlds, but to transform worlds, to destroy and to create. This power is far greater than any magic you can master here, as you well know." He looked at Yennefer saying this, and she nodded. There was no argument about that. "This power overwhelms Cirilla, she cannot handle it, as you have seen a few times when she was but a child." Avallac'h looked at Geralt this time, who knew exactly what he meant. Ciri had spent her childhood at Kaer Morhen with Vesemir training her, and at some point her powers started manifesting themselves. Some of the destruction in that fortress was Ciri's doing, not deliberate but accidental, when the power got out of control and overwhelmed her.

"We could not teach her how to control her power," Geralt sighed. "We tried to teach her to control her emotions instead, and that seemed to help."

"Indeed, it did," Avellac'h agreed. "It was the first step, but it wasn't enough. When Cirilla finally realised it, she came to me for help."

"Why you and how did she know where to go?" Geralt squinted again.

"Her grandmother left papers," Avallac'h shrugged. "Or perhaps it was an instinct, or both. Cirilla had been visiting our world since her powers manifested themselves. Our world is her home."

Geralt was about to object, but Yennefer touched his knee - don't. Or perhaps: not now. Geralt mentally settled on "later". The pressing issue of the moment was to find out how to get to the Isle of Mists.

"You cannot just go to the Isle of Mists unless I teleport you there," Avallac'h said, as if reading Geralt's mind. "I can see that you cannot wait but to find her, but have you considered what will happen then?" He frowned and looked at Geralt with reproach. "You will bring her here and the Wild Hunt will be upon you both, and she will die!" He raised his voice, underpinning the urgency of this statement. "She is not ready yet! She does not master her power! She will destroy herself, you and your whole world if the Wild Hunt confronts her!"

His voice was still ringing through the echos in the large central hall of Kaer Morhen. Everyone was stunned, not because this was something they hadn't thought of, but because it was the first time someone said it so directly. And everyone knew it was true.

"So what do you propose?" Geralt spoke much more calmly. "She cannot hide forever, already because the Wild Hunt will find her eventually, even on the Isle of Mists."

"The Wild Hunt will need to be confronted, indeed," Avallac'h nodded. "And Cirilla is the one who must defeat the King, even if she dies as well. There are many forces within the Wild Hunt, mages and warriors, and together they are invincible, even for Cirilla. But taken separately... ah, that is another story."

Avallac'h described in detail which forces comprised the Wild Hunt and how they could be defeated one by one. Each of those battles would be epic, each taking many lives and sacrifices.

"Cirilla must survive each of these battles in order to fight the last one, she must defeat the King, putting an end to the Wild Hunt once and for all," Avallac'h concluded. "She is your daughter, it is your responsibility to guide her and support her through all of this." He looked at Geralt, and Geralt sat up. "Whether she lives or dies, depends on you." He paused, letting his words sink in. "I tried to train her to control her power, but she cannot do it yet. I stand ready to continue whenever possible, she knows how to reach me. Yes, it will mean using her power and alerting the Wild Hunt, but have no illusions - the Wild Hunt is watching you already. The moment you bring Cirilla from the Isle of the Mists, they will descend upon you, again and again. Refraining from using her powers will not hide her any longer. The game is on."

The evening was closing in, and the people sitting around the table in the central hall of Kaer Morhen watched normal life slip away with the last rays of sunlight. Suddenly earthly affairs, the wars among kingdoms, the regicide and even the witch hunts looked like child's play in comparison. The battles against the Wild Hunt were not to be won by armies but by a small group of witchers and sorceresses hiding in their midst the Source that was Cirilla. And in the end it was up to her.

...

The month that followed was as Avallac'h had foretold. As soon as Geralt brought Ciri from the Isle of Mists, the Wild Hunt was upon them, with mighty battles fought and enemies defeated, yet everyone felt as if they were wading against a constant stalemate. The Emperor wanted to see his daughter too - for Cirilla was his daughter by blood. The Emperor felt it was time for her to ascend to the throne, as soon as the Wild Hunt was dealt with. The Emperor was no fool and knew exactly what was at stake and just who his daughter was. It was the reason he made Geralt adopt her when she was a little girl, long before her powers had manifested themselves. He took on the role of a disinterested and absent father, but in fact Kaer Morhen prepared Cirilla for what was in store for her far better than a childhood at the palace could ever hope to do.

It was a long and arduous month, and Geralt was doing his best being a good father. He did not know what to do, he never had a father or a mother of his own. He struggled to understand which of Ciri's outbursts were just teenage moods and which went deeper and needed real consolation. She was prickly and easily offended, she was insecure and stubborn all at once. Yennefer was around much of the time, trying to offer a woman's touch, and it seemed to work... But with growing confidence in her abilities, Ciri's arrogance grew as well, and Geralt felt being pushed away by the child he cared for so deeply. She was not his daughter by blood, but she grew up as his daughter in every other respect... and yet not once did she call him "father".

Geralt must have been doing it right, however, as even Avallac'h noticed Ciri's progress, her improved mastery of her powers and emotions alike. He would have liked to train her further however... but time had run out. The final battle had to be fought and could be delayed no longer.

Avallac'h, Ciri and Geralt stood on top of a tower in a strange world, a space between world perhaps. Avallac'h opened a portal.

"This is it," he said solemnly. "When you step through this portal, the world will close upon you and you will have to battle the King of the Wild Hunt until he dies," he looked at Ciri searching. "Are you ready?"

"I am," Ciri straightened up.

"Be strong," Geralt looked at her and his heart skipped a beat. "If you want help..."

"No, Geralt," Ciri turned to the portal. "What do you know of saving worlds? You are but a witcher."

She gave them both a final look and stepped through the portal.

[Lena Wolf]

I just wanted to add that Ciri's behaviour and in particular her words in the end are exactly as they appeared in The Witcher 3. That left quite an impression. It was one of those moments that shaped my attitude not only to the characters but to the game itself.

[Lena Wolf]

15 Morning Star, 4E196 and on - White Orchard in winter - Years after the end of the Wild Hunt

It's been weeks since anyone had heard from Ciri. After she stepped through the portal for the final battle with the King of the Wild Hunt, Avallac'h had teleported Geralt back to Velen, then left for his own world. Ciri would return when the King was defeated... or the Wild Hunt would return if she failed. But time passed differently in different realms, and what could be just minutes for Ciri, could easily translate into weeks and weeks on the mortal plane.

Patience wasn't Geralt's strong suite, and neither was it Yennefer's, and having to sit and wait did them no favours. Quarrels resumed, but both felt that the root of it was the wait for Ciri, and that the best thing to do was to split up and wait it out. Thus Geralt returned to the Path, and Yennefer went back to the Skellige Isles to resume her study of unusual magical phenomena just to take her mind off Ciri.

With each passing week the Nilfgaardian army was gaining momentum and the war in the Northern Realms was raging on and on, but no one reported any sightings of the Wild Hunt which meant that either Ciri was still fighting or that she had already won.

"Damn the time dilation," Geralt cursed thinking about it. "There's really no way to tell!"

The wind was cold and the ground was frozen, and normally Geralt would not be out on the Path in winter, but this year was different. He built a fire and sat so close, that the flames were nearly licking his knees. Suddenly a raven appeared, circled above his campsite, then landed onto his shoulder. A note was tied to its leg.

"Ciri has returned," it read. "Come to White Orchard. Y."

...

The reunion was joyful - Ciri had won. It didn't take six weeks in her timeline, but no one was talking about the wait any more. The Wild Hunt had been defeated. That village had never seen so many strange folk together all at once, and the inn was making good coin off them all. Finally, Ciri herself appeared and festivities shifted into a higher gear.

In the morning Ciri wanted to go rabbit trapping with Geralt. "Like in the old days when I was little!" She said, and how could Geralt refuse. She was in good spirits, she was dancing around him, playing chase and not paying attention to rabbits at all.

"I see a load is off your mind," Geralt smiled, watching her. "Did you get hurt in that fight?"

"I did, but not as much as he!" She laughed out loud. "I beat him, Geralt! I beat the King of the Wild Hunt!" She was jubilant, and rightly so... yet something was weighing on Geralt's heart, but he didn't want to bring it up. Ciri had not had a happy childhood, none of that care-free time that most kids get. Her life had been far from easy. What awaited her next? Geralt thought he knew, which meant he also knew why Ciri wasn't talking about it.

When they returned from the forest, they found a detachment of Nilfgaardian Elite troops waiting for them in the village.

"Whenever you are ready, Your Highness," the commander addressed Ciri. "But do not delay too long, as your Father is waiting."

This was Ciri's escort, there to accompany her to the Emperor's palace. He was ready to abdicate in her favour, it was her fate and her duty, she had been born into this.

...

The following morning the witchers and sorceresses that had gathered to greet Ciri, were still there, in the same inn in White Orchard. It was time for them to look into their own future, something none of them dared to do for months.

"It is the middle of winter and I should be at Kaer Morhen," Vesemir shrugged when someone asked him what he was planning. "Plasterwork needs retouching and we have more rubble now than we've ever had, what after the recent battles. I'll set off as soon as we're done here."

Eskel was coming with him, too. Letho hesitated, but it wasn't hard to convince him to join them as well. Lambert however refused point blank.

"If he's coming, I'm NOT coming," he glared at Letho. "He's a Viper!"

"He's a witcher, the same as you," Vesemir chastised him. "You fought together, for goodness' sake! What's gotten into you, Lambert? Spit it out!"

"He's not coming because he's otherwise engaged," Keira said with a giggle. "What?" She turned to Geralt who nearly spit out his ale in surprise. "You're not the only witcher around, don't you know! And Lambert is younger!"

A round of hilarity followed, with several people retelling the story of how Geralt fell onto Keira from a roof, and how that wasn't the same as to fall for someone.

Triss was very quiet all that time. She had joined them for the battles, having teleported to Kaer Morhen from Kovir where she was taking refuge. She came to see off Ciri of course, always making sure to sit at the opposite end of the table from Yennefer who generally behaved as if Triss wasn't there. Perhaps it was better than the alternative, and everyone knew what went on anyway.

"What about you, Geralt?" Eskel asked, trying to change the subject. "Coming with us to Kaer Morhen for the rest of the winter?"

"May be," he was evasive. "Got to tie up a few loose ends first..."

Vesemir gave him a long look, Yennefer shivered, and the conversation shifted to others.

...

When most visitors finally left the White Orchard, Geralt and Yennefer were still lingering behind.

"What's next, Geralt?" Yennefer looked pensive. "You seem to have plans."

"Plans - no," he shook his head. "But... do you think that djinn did what he was told? Broke the enchantment?"

"Who knows," Yennefer shrugged. "With all the events in between, it's hard to tell. There was no time for it anyway."

"My thoughts exactly," Geralt nodded. "So we still don't know whether our feelings are real or not."

"You want to put it to the test," Yennefer guessed.

"I want to be sure."

"What about Ciri?"

"What about her? She will become the Empress of Nilfgaard in a not too distant future," Geralt shrugged.

"You could join her, you know."

"As who? Her bodyguard? No thanks." He gave Yennefer one of those looks. "You know how much I hate palaces."

Yennefer thought there was more, but didn't say it. Geralt never told anyone what Ciri said to him before her final battle, but those who knew him, could see that he'd changed.

"Back on the Path then," Yennefer summarised. "I see. Well, don't be a stranger, I won't be hiding."

"Where are you going?"

"Skellige Isles," she shrugged. "A few more loose ends to tie up, as you say... Then I don't know."

They talked a bit longer, then went their separate ways.

...

"You should return home," Geralt went to see Lena in Velen. "Back to Tamriel."

"I... why?" She was taken aback. She did miss home, it was true, but was unprepared to hear it.

"Because you miss home," he shrugged. "Why did you think? There's nothing for you here. This land is scarred from the war, there are witch hunts still in full swing, and even if kings call it off, people got the taste of it now. It's not safe."

"They turn against witchers too," Lena pointed out. "Yet you are not looking to leave."

"I might, you know..." He was musing. "How long does it take? The trip, I mean? A few months?"

"To Tamriel? Yes, if you are lucky... There's no telling, really." Lena froze. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "No plans, honest. I just need... to get my head in order."

It took the rest of the night talking in circles until Geralt finally told Lena about Ciri's words in that tower between worlds.

"Why would she say it? I just don't get it," he looked like he had been trying to solve that puzzle for months. "Was that a teenage mood, you think?"

"No, it wasn't," Lena's eyes grew cold. "I think you saw the real Ciri there." She bit her tongue so as not to curse.

"You don't like her."

"I do not."

"Explain."

"During the battle at Kaer Morhen... That was the first time I met her. She behaved like a spoiled child. I had to hold her back so she wouldn't run out and get you all killed."

"She had to stay inside, yes," Geralt nodded. "Vesemir told her. Surely, she would have obeyed."

"She did at first, but not when the battle got heated."

"What did you do?" Geralt squinted. He wondered how Ciri had managed to stay inside and not come out, he thought she was too impatient and reckless for that.

"Nicked her skin with a poisoned dagger," Lena shrugged. "Not to kill her, of course, and not to make her sleep, in case we needed her powers. But it made her too tired to run."

"Just like an assassin," Geralt grinned. "She didn't mention that."

"Of course not. She was ashamed of it later, realised I was right." Lena paused, then continued. "We talked quite a bit. And, well, we didn't get on. I think the feeling is mutual."

They sat in silence for a while.

"She's been through a lot," Geralt said quietly. "She never had a good childhood. She traveled to all those worlds, running away from the Wild Hunt, living in hiding, yet still managed to help me and Yennefer twice... You can't discount that."

"I don't discount that, but it is not an excuse," Lena shook her head. "She traveled to other worlds... It may seem exotic to you, but not to me. There's nothing to it, believe me, people are the same everywhere. She's been through a lot... true. But so have you and I, and Triss and Yennefer and everyone else. You may forgive her, but I don't. Not that she needs my forgiveness, of course." Lena smiled, then thought it was time to close that topic. "You'll need to work it out for yourself. She is your daughter."

"She was my daughter," Geralt looked up sharply. "But some tears don't mend."

...

During the following few years Geralt spent a lot of time on the Path. There were still plenty of monsters around, he focused on that, allowing his soul to heal. He met up with Yennefer regularly, and every time they found their feelings unchanged, and yet he was not satisfied. The turmoil started by Ciri's words left a deep scar on his soul. Lena eventually sailed back to Tamriel, and life seemed to have returned back to normal on all accounts. Meeting Yennefer in late autumn, Geralt mentioned his intent to spend the winter at Kaer Morhen, asking her to join him there. She agreed. Without Lambert to quarrel with, it was a peaceful winter for all, and even Letho had to admit that Yennefer wasn't always such an insufferable know-it-all.

Then suddenly Geralt's visits stopped, and after some months without a word from him, Yennefer started to worry.

"He is still not sure about that djinn!" Yennefer was lamenting the situation. "Surely, it's been long enough now! Sometimes I just..."

"Get angry with him?" Dandelion smirked, refilling her wine goblet. "Yeah, I know. He'll be back though, don't you worry."

"He could be dead, for all I know!" Yennefer exclaimed. "It isn't like him at all. Test or no, he should have been in touch."

"Can you search for him?" Sometimes Dandelion could be helpful. "Put a magic trace or something? Send a raven?"

"In order to send a raven, I need to know where he is!" Yennefer exclaimed with exasperation. "I did search for him. That's just it. I can't find him."

"Hmm... May be the other witchers will know? In case he is dead, that is?" Dandelion suggested, hoping with all his heart it wasn't the case.

"They might..." Yennefer agreed. "Thanks, Dandelion..." She got up and left, she suddenly seemed to be in a hurry.

"Why is everyone so surprised when I say something sensible?" Dandelion wondered aloud, then laughed to himself.

After a few months not hearing from Geralt, Yennefer poured herself into the search for him, not unlike she did for Ciri before. Her heart was insisting he was alive but she feared him dead, and with each fruitless attempt she grew more and more sombre and sad. Like with the search for Ciri, a change of tactic was needed, and Dandelion's suggestion to ask the other witchers gave her an idea. She would travel to Kaer Morhen and start looking in a whole new direction. It would take months to get everything ready, and the witchers would have to help, but unless they were sure that Geralt was dead, they would be glad to assist, Yennefer felt certain. They too would want to find their missing brother.

[Lena Wolf]

Frostfall, 4E200 - Preparations

Yennefer arrived at Kaer Morhen in late Frostfall when the winter was just descending onto the valleys, but the mountains were already covered in snow. This was the time of year when the witchers would start retreating to their fortress to spend the winter, and she had a surprise for them. She needed their help to set up a very special search for Geralt, a search that would not limit her to the mortal plane.

"Yennefer! That's a surprise," Vesemir greeted her at the gates. "Here for the winter? Is Geralt coming too?"

"Geralt is why I am here," Yennefer replied and Vesemir instantly felt the sadness in her voice. "I cannot find him."

"Hmm... That's not like him at all," Vesemir shook his head. "And you think we can help? That's why you are here, yes. Of course we shall help. Come. I'll get the fire going in the guest room."

...

"What do you intend to do?" Vesemir was ladling stew and passing it around the table. Eskel and Letho had already arrived. "You brought enough equipment to open a university."

"That's my megascope with a few sets of lenses," Yennefer nodded. "The main tool for the search. It's just a tool... The essense is in how to use it. It takes the mage's energy and projects it... to wherever you specify. And so far anything I tried returned one and the same result: Geralt wasn't there."

She stopped, not sure how much more she needed to explain, but no one was saying anything, yet everyone was listening, and so she continued.

"He is not in the Northern Realms, not in the South and not in Kovir and beyond, I checked," she sighed. "And this is as far as the scope can look. I need to search elsewhere. I want to look beyond the mortal plane."

"That's... dangerous," Letho said quietly. "It's like the Wild Hunt all over again."

"No-no, not like the Wild Hunt," Yennefer shook her head vigorously. After all, she had been captured, she knew what it was like, even if she didn't remember it, her heart and soul still knew. "The Wild Hunt was mortal. Those wraiths - they weren't wraiths, it was just armour. They were people - elves from another realm. They had some powerful magic, but that was all. No, I have something else in mind."

"Necromancy," Eskel looked up from his stew. "You intend to look beyond death."

"Yes."

"You are crazy."

"You have a better idea?"

Everyone focused on their stew for a while.

"No, I do not." Eskel admitted, looking at them all in turn. "But we haven't heard of him getting killed... We normally hear such things."

"So there's still hope," Yennefer looked up and smiled.

"Then why look among the dead?" Eskel was getting confused.

"She is not going to search among the dead, not primarily," Letho seemed to have figured it out. "She wants to enter the realm between worlds and try to trace him from there, she can look further that way than just following the mortal plane."

"How do you know all this?" Eskel was seeing a whole new side of Letho.

"Our school - the Viper. They tried to look beyond the mortal plane," he smiled. "The poison... it takes you there. But those books have been lost," he looked at Yennefer with a sad smile. "You know it, of course. The Viper, the Cat, the Griffin - all our schools lie in ruins. And even the Wolf does not have all the notes for the Trial of the Grasses... So what is your plan?"

"To find the books," Yennefer said firmly. "That I can trace. And that is why I shall need your help. Retrieving them will often require a witcher."

"And who is to drink the potion? You?" Vesemir looked at her with a mix of admiration and amazement. "The risk of death is..."

"I know!" Yennefer cried out. "And Ciri won't help me now. It is a risk I am willing to take! And I shall prepare... the Trial of the Grasses is done in stages, is it not? To give it a greater chance of success... I'll do the same. And the goal will not be to become a witcher but to transcend into the Middle Realm... the Fade... the Void... the Rift... you know what I mean."

They knew what she meant and how dangerous and hard it would be to get it all together. But could they refuse her? Not a chance.

"We need a Cat," Letho said. "A stable one if we are lucky... one can never be sure with a Cat..."

"We need to have our heads checked," Eskel smirked. "All of us. This is crazy." He stared at his stew for a moment, then looked up and grinned. "But I am with you of course. Where do we begin?"

...

"First explain how you knew the recipe for the Wolf Trial of the Grasses that you used to transform Uma into Avallac'h," Vesemir wanted a clean slate. "We thought all the records had been lost."

"Most but not all," Yennefer nodded. "You have a library in the basement... You know that, of course. And yes, it's been badly damaged. But I found some scraps, and putting them together with rituals I found in other old tomes, I came up with something that resembled the Trial of the Grasses. It wasn't the same thing." She looked at Vesemir apologetically. "I didn't want to say anything then because we had no time for debates."

"Then why did you need a newly enchanted witcher medallion if it wasn't the Trial of the Grasses?" Eskel squinted. "It took Geralt and Lambert the better part of the day to get it."

"The medallion wasn't strictly necessary," Yennefer admitted. "But I needed them out of the way... while I sneaked into the library..."

To her relief, a round of laughter followed rather than a round of reproaches. Everyone was just glad to have the Wild Hunt out of their hair, whatever the price. Even if it meant accomodating Yennefer.

"You could have said," Vesemir winked. "I'd have sent them fight the manticore on the other side of the mountain..."

"Speaking of the manticore..." Yennefer looked up. "We shall need a manticore egg."

"What?!" Letho and Eskel exclaimed almost in unison. A manticore egg was highly poisonous, assuming you survived the ordeal of getting it, which was extremely unlikely.

"Not straight away," Yennefer backed down. "But we will need it eventually. There is really no substitute for a fresh manticore egg..."

"You talk like you're about to make an omelette," Vesemir smirked. "You'll want Lambert here, and you two don't exactly get on... unless Keira already worked her magic on him... so you'll want Keira as well," he nodded to his own thoughts.

"We need a Cat," Letho repeated what he said earlier. "They have a technique... I've seen them do it... No one can sneak up to a monster quite like a Cat."

"There's one living in Novigrad," Eskel scratched his chin. "He became a merchant, he's got a family... if you believe such a transformation," he smirked. "But Geralt thought it was real."

"People change," Letho shrugged. "But we don't want a merchant. We need a witcher."

"There's one in Velen somewhere," Vesemir recalled something. "Remember Geralt telling about him? Invited him to come here, too... Looks like he needs to be found."

...

They were talking late into the night, adding more names to the list of people that would need to join them in order to make it work, then realising that those people were dead, fallen in battle or burned at the stake... Each time it made them fall silent and take a step back - they were lucky to be alive.

The list of items needed to brew the potions for the slow stages of the Trial of the Grasses was growing quickly, as Yennefer took every precaution to make it as gentle as possible, hoping to survive it. Some recipes were still missing - they would need to locate books and notes to fill in the gaps. That work was likely to take months and months, but there didn't seem to be any other options. Besides, the witchers were eager to locate and preserve what notes they could, even though the chances of ever training more witchers stood firmly at nil.

...

Finally, the first batch of potions could be brewed.

"We need a healer to watch you," Keira was taking Yennefer's pulse. "Like Triss."

"No." Yennefer jerked her wrist.

"Well... Hmm... Philipa?" Keira was trying to think of a sorceress that hadn't been burned at the stake.

"Philipa won't come," Yennefer shook her head. "She doesn't meddle in other people's affairs unless she's interested, and she isn't interested, I spoke to her."

"Well, I suppose if I live to be six hundred years, I won't be interested either," Keira mused. "Alright, who else have we got?"

"Sile de Tansarville," Yennefer suggested tentatively. "Although she does not approve of Necromancy..."

"She won't need to do any Necromancy," Keira objected. "Besides, she owes you and Geralt her life. It was some feat of yours, to compress her into a figurine in order to smuggle her out of that prison... She would have been dead there for sure."

"It was a great risk, she was nearly dead already," Yennefer nodded. "But Geralt wouldn't kill her, even though she begged... I had to try."

"And then nurse her back to health... Don't think I don't know what it takes," Keira gave her a look. "In the middle of everything else that was going on, too. She won't refuse you, I am certain."

The halls of Kaer Morhen were getting filled with people, rubble was getting cleared to open up more rooms, the kitchens were stoking more fires, and everyone seemed to be in better spirits already because of that. Yet Geralt's absence was felt acutely by all, and the deadly nature of Yennefer's experiment was never forgotten.

At last the day came when Yennefer was ready to begin with the potions. She could die from the first one already, there was really no telling what would occur... Vesemir had seen so many boys die in agony when undertaking the Trial of the Grasses... but there was no other way. They prepared all possible antidotes and restoratives for Sile to administer at will, but in the end it was up to Yennefer to survive.

They were taking it slow, allowing Yennefer to fully recover after each stage. In the end they were successful, in that she still lived. Whether or not she could transcend the mortal plane and walk in the Void, remained to be seen.

[macole]

Step into the void, my friend. Just be careful not to get lost. It's been said that walking the myst for the first time is like climbing an Escher staircase, it goes here, there and nowhere.

[Lena Wolf]

Frost Fall, 4E201 - Through the mist

Yennefer stepped out of a portal and into a world veiled in a grey mist. The ground under her feet was grey; the air was grey; the horizon... there wasn't any, all she could see is more grey ahead. Which way was ahead? It didn't matter, every direction looked the same - grey. The portal had vanished the moment she stepped through it, and having turned around a few times, she couldn't tell where it had been.

"Well," she thought, trying to keep her mind organised. "This must be the Fade. I see where it got the name from." Any of the other names would have been just as befitting - the Void, the Rift, the Space between Realms... She stopped pondering the name of the place and tried to decide where to go. "That way," she pointed ahead of her, as if explaining it to someone else. "Let's try that way."

...

"You again, girl?" An unpleasant male voice said sharply into her ear. She spun around, but didn't see anyone. "I told you to get lost!" The voice was getting irritated. Instinctively, Yennefer hastened her step. That wasn't just any voice...

"But he is dead!" Yennefer forced herself to slow down again. "This is an illusion."

"Call me an illusion, how dare you, girl!" The voice cried out and a shape of a man stepped out of the mist. "Does your mother know about this?" He said menacingly, walking towards her. Yennefer stopped, then took a few steps back.

"No! You are dead," she said to the man, but he still kept coming. There was a shadow of a doubt in her voice. He was dead, indeed, but he could also still be real - it could be his ghost.

"Why, I think I'll need to teach you a lesson, girl!" The man now stood right in front of her. "Let's see if you remember!" His face contorted with anger, he slapped her across the face, then caught her in his grip and thrust his hand down her blouse. "Still nothing!" He exclaimed angrily. "No shape to you at all, except for that hump! Bend over!" He caught her around the waist and pushed down on the back of her neck, making her bend forward. It was quite clear what he was about to do.

"No! Not any more!" Yennefer made herself exclaim, even though she was frozen with a long forgotten fear. "You are dead! And you will torment me no longer, father!" She straightened up, and the man loosened his grip around her waist.

"So, you've got the nerve to shout at the ghost of your father," the man smirked. "For all the good that it did you. Your hump is still there, and you are nothing but an ugly little wench." He spit and stood there, glaring at her.

Yennefer turned around and ran.

...

"That was not at all what I expected," she forced herself to slow down again. "Although I should have known... any demon or spirit out here can see straight into my soul."

"That we can, girl," a female voice answered and Yennefer shivered. "Have you finally come to pay your respects? You, an ungrateful little wench?!" The voice became shrill with anger. "Why we're feeding you, I have no idea!"

"You are not a ghost," Yennefer looked around, not seeing the woman who spoke. "My mother's ghost had long departed."

"And how would you know that, girl?" The woman's voice was mocking. "Think you're such a clever sorceress now, all grown up? But that hump is still weighing you down like always before!"

"I have no hump," Yennefer couldn't stop herself saying it, even though she knew that arguing with demons was the wrong thing to do.

"Ha! Then look at yourself!" The voice laughed, and a large mirror appeared in front of Yennefer. In it she saw a teenage girl with raven black hair hanging flat and lifeless around her shoulders. Her face was asymmetric and distorted with one eye larger than the other, her head was cocked at an odd angle because her back and shoulders were deformed by a large and unsightly hump... "See there, girl! You haven't changed at all!"

Childhood memories flooded Yennefer's mind, an acute pain pierced her heart... She screamed and ran.

...

"No, stop," she told herself after a while. "I should have expected this... Those memories were never gone, but only suppressed..." She sighed, straightening up. "You have to fight back, Yen!" She told herself, feeling the tingling of a gathering current run down her arm and sparks fill her hand. "That's right, just like then."

She looked around - there was a human shape in the distance. She thought it must have been her mother or father, but it was too vague to tell. It didn't matter, she gathered the sparks and shot a bolt of lightening at it. "Begone, spirit!"

"That is no way to treat your dear friend," a female voice said languidly, accompanied by a lightning bolt in return. "I cared for him while you stayed away," the voice smirked. "Your pride wouldn't let you come."

"Triss!" Yennefer froze. "What are you doing here? You are not dead!"

"No thanks to you!" Triss stepped out of the mist. "I wondered why you didn't just kill me back at Kaer Morhen, then blame the Wild Hunt for it! I guess you're not as mighty as you make people believe!"

"What..?" Yennefer took a step back. "Who are you? What kind of a demon..?"

"You are an old woman now, Yen!" Triss continued, stepping towards her. "You're over a hundred. An old witch, long past her prime! Who will want you now?" She smirked, shooting another bolt of lightning at Yennefer. It went right through, hurting her soul. "Just look at yourself!"

Yennefer turned around, wanting to run but instead she was facing another large mirror. An old woman with long grey hair was looking at her, and in the background Geralt was making love to Triss...

She turned around and ran.

...

"Life can be really rough sometimes, can't it," a vaguelly familiar voice sounded from a distance away. "Did you really think that a woman sixty years your junior and in love with your man, could ever be your friend?" The voice was commiserating. "That was a foolish thought."

"Who is this?" Yennefer stopped, looking around. "Ghost or demon?"

"Neither," the voice was approaching - a woman. "It's time you came in from the cold."

...

Yennefer was thrashing around and it took several people to hold her down so that she wouldn't fall off the bed and hurt her head on the hard stone floor.

"She is having nightmares," Sile was trying to wake her up.

"That is to be expected," Keira nodded, holding Yennefer across the shoulders. "She is trying to sit up, I think!"

"We'll give her a few more minutes, but if it doesn't stop, I'll have to go in and bring her out," Sile shook her head.

"Then you will be in the same predicament!" Keira almost let go of Yennefer in surprise. "What if you start having nightmares too? Who will pull you out?!"

"No, I won't go in fully," Sile was measuring out some honey-coloured liquid. "Just enough to get through to her..."

She drank it in one swallow, grimacing to the bitter taste, then falling into a trance. Her eyes moved under her closed eyelids and she was making little sounds like people do when they are dreaming. Then, a few minutes later, both Sile and Yennefer woke up.

"You gave us a fright!" Keira let go of Yennefer. "We were trying to keep you from falling off the bed..."

"So it was you holding me down?" Yennefer breathed a sigh of relief. "Then... oh... never mind." She smiled, closed her eyes and fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted.

"She will sleep now without any nightmares," Sile walked over to look at her. "She's just tired after her ordeal."

...

"Tell me what you've seen," Sile was facing Yennefer the next morning, having made everyone to leave the room. "Were those childhood memories?"

"Yes... how did you know?" Yennefer looked up, confused.

"I do not approve of Necromancy because I know Necromancy," Sile looked stern. "Childhood memories, especially unpleasant ones, are the first things that spirits latch on. And I know your history..." She stopped, then seeing Yennefer's quizzical look, decided to explain. "I am older than you... by quite a bit," she smiled. "I have seen you when the Academy just took you from your parents... and why they did it. Such strong magic in such a young girl!" She smiled again. "But the reason for it was also clear..."

"Yeah... don't..." Yennefer paled, she never talked about those events since the sorceresses at the Academy repaired the flaws in her appearance, as they did for all girls in their care.

"You suppressed it, and that's why it hurt so much to have it brought back," Sile nodded. "Not that I blame you at all... my own past..." she sighed, then cut herself off. "But it doesn't matter. You should be prepared for this treatment to occur every time you enter the Fade, but it should be easier next time, since you know what to expect. Remember why you go there."

"That... I had completely forgotten about that..." Yennefer looked at Sile with worry. "I got so absorbed..."

"And that's what the demons are counting on," Sile nodded. "That's why I pulled you out. But next time I'll let you stay longer, so be ready."

...

Yennefer was taking regular plunges into the Fade, but every time the ghosts of her past managed to derail her and make her forget why she went there in the first place. She was getting upset and angry with herself for failing such a simple task, but Sile insisted that there was nothing simple about that. Keira suspected what Yennefer was going through, having gone through the same Academy herself. Her own history was different and she didn't know Yennefer's details, but she didn't need to. Everyone had memories they'd rather not recall, the ones that revealed the origins of a child's magical powers. No one knew what Keira saw when she looked into the mirror...

It's been months and months since the first time Yennefer went into the Fade. Sile was no longer in a rush to bring her back, and Keira no longer needed to hold her down. Yennefer learned to resist the demons, to survive and return on her own. The only thing she still could not master, was to remember why she was there. Then, one day, she succeeded - she remembered. From that point on her search for Geralt from beyond the Veil could finally commence.

The first thing she did was contact the sorceresses enquiring about Geralt. She got mildly surprised reactions for the most part ("But you asked me that already? He isn't here, Yen!"), with Philipa being the only one to recognise the difference.

"You don't give up, do you?" She smiled, raising an eyebrow over her burned out eyes. "I don't need mortal eyes to see you in the Fade, in fact I see you better without them!" She shrugged at Yennefer's question. "King Radovid may have burned out my eyes, but he's just a fool, we know that. Well, Geralt isn't with me, but I suspect that's not why you're calling," she grinned. "Your experiment worked! Now start looking in earnest, good luck to you... Oh to be young..."

When Yennefer returned from that particular visit, Sile could tell that she had finally truly transcended the mortal plane.

[Renee]

This. -- Intense. Urging Garrus to drink blood holy moley. From a fountain (not a body) but still. This is nice. You wrote up some Oblivion Gates.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=339306

[Lena Wolf]

This. -- Intense. Urging Garrus to drink blood holy moley. From a fountain (not a body) but still. This is nice. You wrote up some Oblivion Gates.

I remember when I was playing it for the first time - I was really unsure about those blood fountains. Was I supposed to drink from them? I mean, Lena was a vampire, but still she didn't want to drink that! I don't know how it's worse... but it was worse somehow. However, there was no other way to stay alive... she ran out of all her potions and stuff... so...

I figured Garrus would have the same dilemma. He didn't realise that the Oblivion Crisis wasn't all glory... there were these other sides to it as well.

[Lena Wolf]

28 First Seed, 4E202 - Encounters in the Fade

Once Yennefer became comfortable enough going into the Fade and returning at will, she started searching for Geralt from there. The first step was simple: contact the other sorceresses, a technicality more than anything. Next she had to start in earnest.

"So, let's begin," she told herself stepping through the portal again. "Which way?" She looked around. Everything was grey around her. No, this wasn't how the Fade worked. She had to abandon any idea of order, and she was very uncomfortable with that. "Ugh..."

Yennefer started walking. It didn't matter which way she went.

A castle appeared in the distance. She approached - it looked familiar. Kaer Morhen? May be... but not quite. It was just like in dreams, where you entered a familiar house only to find it unfamiliar inside, or perhaps somehow twisted. Yennefer explored the castle, going from tower to tower, from encampment to encampment, yet it was completely deserted. "Why am I seeing this?" She wondered. "Geralt isn't here."

Finally she went into the large central tower. A beautiful ancient library greeted her with its leather-covered guilded tomes... So many books... So much exquisite old knowledge... She would just read a few... just this... and that... another book... Oh look - a fire in the centre, a lovely leather sofa, deep, welcoming... Sit down and read a book...

...

Yennefer didn't know how long it had been since she found the old library. It could have been hours or days. She could only measure it in the number of books she read. Every time she'd look up from a page, her gaze would be drawn to yet another tome a little further away, golden lettering reflecting the candlelight. She'd always wanted to read that book... now it was within reach... she'd just read that one and then...

"What then?" She said aloud and jumped up. "Why am I here?"

She looked around - the rows of bookshelves stretched into infinity. The stack of books by the sofa seemed to glow and swell. Her magicka seemed to dwindle.

"This place is sapping away my magicka!" She realised with a start. "It's a trap!"

She wanted to run out, she remembered it was a tower, surely, she had entered a tower, there must be a staircase going down and out... She ran along the rows of bookshelves, but the space had twisted and morphed while she was reading on that leather sofa, and the stairs were no longer there. The library had no bounds.

Yennefer closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on her inner thoughts. Why was she there? Where was she exactly? Where was she supposed to be?

...

She didn't know how long she stood there, trying to focus her mind, but her feet were throbbing with pain. Must have been a long time. Pain... broken fingers... broken arms... broken ribs... all those bones that had been broken in her body suddenly started to ache... Death was looming over her...

Wait... death? The proverbial figure - a cape-wearing skeleton with a scye...

"She does not care for you," Death said. "We might as well kill you."

"Then we'll have nothing," another Death approached. "We need to keep her for now... it's a stalemate."

Two Deaths..?

Yennefer almost jumped. The Wild Hunt. Those were no wraiths or deaths or anything... it was just armour. Those were elves, torturing her, trying to get to Ciri. Until Geralt took her place...

Yes! Geralt. Who was now missing. For whom she'd been searching in the Fade. The Fade. The Void. The realm between worlds...

"This is not a library," Yennefer said aloud. "Geralt is not here."

The bookshelves dissolved in a grey mist. All features vanished.

"Phew," she sighed with relief, rubbing her tired ankles. "Nearly fell for that one." She shook her head, straightened her back and started walking again.

...

Yennefer came to a clearing on the edge of a forest by a lake. Several fishermen sat by the fire, it was early evening, they were roasting fish and drinking mead. They pitched up tents, one was larger than the rest. Geralt was not among them. Yennefer was about to turn around and try a different direction when she noticed a young woman approach the clearing. Something about her was familiar, so Yennefer stayed back and watched and listened.

The woman talked to the fishermen, they invited her to join them, said it could take all night... But what? She was looking at something... or someone... She was staring at a bench by the fire as if someone was sitting there... Yennefer watched from behind a tree. The young woman said something to the empty bench, paled, then blushed... strong emotions were playing on her face... But then she sighed and sat down by the fire, accepting mead from one of the fishermen. They talked some more, then she went into the big tent, sat down on the cushions, opened a book...

"Oh no!" Yennefer suddenly realised who the young woman was. "It's Lena Wolf, Geralt's sister... but what is she doing here? She is no sorceress! How did she manage to enter the Fade? And more importantly, why is she here?"

One of the fishermen noticed Yennefer behind the trees, jestured her to join them - they had fish and mead, there was still room in the tent, she must be tired, why not rest for a while...

"Oh no! No-no-no! It's another trap!" Now Yennefer was certain of it. She peeked into the big tent where Lena was reading, and saw that Lena now curled up on the cushions and fell asleep. "I've got to get her out of there! Whatever she's here for, it's not for this!"

Zap! She got Lena with a lightning bolt, but Lena only shivered and put a pillow over her head.

Zap! A stronger bolt, and another pillow.

Zap! Zap! Zap!

"What?!" Lena stood up, her own lightning gathering in her hand. "Who are you? What do you want?!" She looked around but didn't see Yennefer, even though she was looking right at her. The sparks in her hand died down, she shrugged and went back into the tent.

"The demon already clouded her brain,"  Yennefer realised. "Well, there's nothing else for it..."

Zap!! A much stronger bolt practically shot Lena out of bed. She jumped up, now coming out of the tent.

"Wake up!!!" Yennefer yelled in between further lightning bolts. "Wake up and walk!!" She shot a bolt a distance away, and Lena walked in that direction. "Good. Now again!"

They walked this way until the clearing was completely behind them and they were surrounded by nothing but grey mist.

"Alright, I'm awake, stop zapping me," Lena said, turning to Yennefer but still not seeing her. "Thank you."

"What are you doing here?"

"I... am not sure..." Lena seemed shocked. "But there was a reason... there must have been..."

"It's that demon, he wiped your memory," Yennefer sighed. "Well, you need to try and remember. You probably forgot plenty other things too. You must remember."

"Yes," Lena nodded. "I'll be alright now. I still can't see you... so I'll say goodbye. Whoever you are."

She turned around and walked with determination. Yennefer could not help her any further. Everyone was alone in the Fade.

...

As Yennefer walked, various scenes from her past appeared before her, but she dismissed them all, recognising them for what they were - traps designed to keep her there. How would she find Geralt in a land of memories? She was searching in the wrong place... she didn't want to find him in the past, she wanted to find him in present.

"And that means finding a room big enough to set up my megascope and start doing things scientifically," she told herself. "Come on, Yen, focus: we want to find a room! A tower, a castle or an old fort would do the trick." She had a hunch that a fort would appear if she were to imagine it.

...

It didn't take long and Yennefer noticed lights in the distance. As she approached, an outline of an old fort appeared from the mist with torches burning by the entrance. She entered. The fort had a circular tower with a large empty room on the top floor.

"Perfect," Yennefer smiled to herself with satisfaction and started setting up her megascope which, too, appeared from thin air. "Now let's see if it works."

She cast a spell and an image appeared in the middle of the room.

"Well, you don't give up, do you?" A woman with a bandage over her eyes shook her head. "Still in the Fade?"

"And nice to see you too, Philipa," Yennefer grinned. "But this is different from before. This megascope is not actually..."

"I see," Philipa nodded, peering at it, then taking a look around the room. "You are making progress. Well done."

"Progress..?" Yennefer was taken aback. "Oh, you mean my magic... yes, but I still can't find Geralt anywhere!"

"Then swallow your pride and ask Triss."

"I have! He isn't with her."

"Well, then perhaps you need to look somewhere else entirely..." Philipa looked around the room again. "Why don't you ask her?" She pointed at something behind Yennefer and broke the connection.

Yennefer spun around. Lena was climbing the stairs.

"Who are you?" Lena asked. "Who was that woman? I feel I should know you both..."

"But you cannot remember, right?" Yennefer shook her head. "That Sloth demon!" She clenched her fists. "Follow me!"

The room on the lower floor was set up as a laboratory and Yennefer ordered Lena to sit and wait while she brewed her a memory potion. Then she handed it to Lena.

"Here, drink this. It will knock you out - getting your memories coming back in a flood is quite an experience... believe me, I know," she grimaced. "But it won't kill you and when you wake up, you'll remember what you've forgotten." Lena drank it and passed out. "So it worked," Yennefer concluded with satisfaction and sat down to wait for Lena to wake up.

...

"You are Yennefer," Lena sat up after a while. "Thank you."

"Ah, you are back!" Yennefer smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I am looking for a friend," Lena said firmly. "He died... I repaired his heart, but he didn't wake up. I am here to find his spirit and ask it to come back."

"And not to fall prey to demons," Yennefer smiled. "Be careful."

Lena nodded. "Oh, I've learned my lesson!" She looked around, noticing all the equipment. "What are you doing here, Yen? Are you dead?"

"Not dead, and the same as you I am looking for someone..." she hesitated. "Geralt is missing. I am looking for him."

"Geralt isn't here!" Lena exclaimed and Yennefer's face fell - it was another failure. "No, I mean he isn't dead! He is in Skyrim, Yen! He misses you awfully, you know how he is, stubborn, it's just a test, he took a ship..."

But before she could finish, Yennefer opened a portal and pushed Lena into it. "Remember why you are here! Find your friend!" She shouted after her. Then she took one last look around the tower, opened another portal and returned to Kaer Morhen. It would not be easy, but a trip across the ocean, even to the other side of the Great Maelstrom would be a walk in the park compared to travels through the Fade.

[Lena Wolf]

17 Hearthfire, 4E203 - Everyone knows the White Wolf

Yennefer's ship finally docked. They'd been at sea for many months, but it felt like years.

"Next time I'm building a portal." Yennefer stepped out of her cabin, somewhat weak and unstable, infinitely preferring a brief pull of magic teleportation to months of sea sickness.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Mistress," the captain addressed her as she stepped onto the main deck. "We'll deliver your belongings to your final destination. Where will you be staying?"

"I have no idea," Yennefer looked at him with a blank face. The many brochures and leaflets about Skyrim that she read and re-read cover to cover during their long trip, could not tell her where to find Geralt. Although she was confident she was in the right country, it was still a very large country to cover.

"We'll leave them with the port warehouse then," the captain decided. "Here's your receipt. Three trunks and... one unicorn?" He looked up, only now realising what the huge crate in the hold had been.

"A stuffed unicorn, yes," Yennefer smiled. "A memento of sorts..."

"If you say so," the captain shrugged his shoulders. Sorceresses were known for their eccentricities. "Just contact the port authorities when you know where you'll be staying."

Windhelm greeted Yennefer with an icy wind and light snow, with the white disk of the sun barely visible through the clouds. She stepped onto the quay. Solid soil at last! She looked at the carvings decorating the houses, at the longboats in the dock, noticed a galleon at another jetty and an elven galley at sea... "Elves," she shivered. "Let's hope they are nothing like those of the Wild Hunt." The port workers were rushing back and forth past her, unloading the new arrival from the Northern Realms. Crates, barrels, trunks and chests were being carried from the ship to the warehouse, loaded onto carts, or carefully stashed away into side alleys. "People are the same everywhere," Yennefer smiled. Her trunks were too large to disappear in a side alley, she made sure of that. "Well, the first thing to do is to find an inn," she said aloud, not talking to anyone in particular.

"You'll be wanting the Candlehearth Hall," a dock worker heavily dropped the barrel he was carrying. "A fine lady like yourself will not want the Cloudfog Inn," he shook his head, looking her over. "Unless the lady would like some entertainment, that is..." He licked his lips, but then quickly straightened up and picked up his barrel under Yennefer's cold stare. "Right, of course not," he coughed. "Just follow the quay that way, then up the stairs, to the plaza on the top, and there it is, right by the gallows. We've just had a hanging yesterday, so the corpse doesn't stink yet."

Slightly bewildered, Yennefer followed the directions. She liked the city. It was a busy port, and she'd seen more strange faces in half an hour than in her whole life before that. The majority were humans, tall and broad shouldered - the Nords, she gathered. It was, of course, their native land. But she also saw humans of other races, as well as elves and "beastfolk" - she'd read about them in the brochures. "No dwarves though," she noted. "Oh right, their dwarves had vanished," she remembered a footnote from somewhere. There was certainly no lack of new material to study. She wouldn't get bored here, once she found Geralt and settled down in some house some place... Geralt... where would she even begin looking? Skyrim was a very large country, where would she find one man among everyone else?

...

"If it's a mercenary you want, the strongest one is right here," a Nord in heavy armour addressed Yennefer at the inn when she sat down at the neighbouring table. "I am Stenvar. Will you be traveling somewhere, lady? You will want an escort then. Against wild beasts and bandits alike," he added with a nod.

"I might do..." Yennefer sized him up, wondering whether a mercenary like himself would have heard about Geralt. "I am looking for someone... He is new in this land... Arrived a year or two ago..."

"We get folks arriving every day," Stenvar wrinkled his forehead. "Is he famous? What does he do?"

"He is a witcher," Yennefer answered automatically, then recalled that witchers were not common in Tamriel. "He hunts monsters," she clarified. "White hair, two swords, tall but not heavily built, with a scar across his left eye..."

"...and cat-like orange eyes, fights like a demon," Stenvar finished her sentence. "Everyone knows the White Wolf."

...

It didn't take long, and the whole inn was rushing to tell stories of the White Wolf. Yennefer listened, smiling to herself - while some stories seemed mostly true, others were exaggerated to the point of being bizarre.

"He does not have two dicks!" One storyteller interrupted another. "He's a man, a Nord, your Khajiit is lying!"

"I have it on good authority!" The first storyteller puffed up his cheeks. "Heard it from that pussy in Snowhawk - she had to charge him double!"

"Well, it's nice that he's been having fun!" Yennefer laughed out loud to that. "But no, that... Khajiit, you said? She is mistaken. Although a double charge was probably in order."

"Oh yes? And who would you be..?" The first storyteller squinted at Yennefer. "I don't remember seeing you before, Imperial. And I have an eye for Imperials." He squinted again, his grin shifting into a menace.

"Imperial?" Yennefer was taken aback. She did wonder what race people would ascribe her to. Imperial was probably as good as any. At least it was human. "Well, I happen to know some of his anatomy," she smiled. "But I have nothing to prove to you, Nord." She squinted back. She was getting into the swing of things.

"If there's going to be a brawl, go outside!" The innkeeper shouted over the voices. "Out! I'm still paying for the last refurbishment!"

Several people got up and started to cheer - everyone wanted to see a brawl between a chunky Nord and a slim black-haired Imperial. Wagers were placed - the onlookers thought she didn't stand a chance.

"Alright then, stand ready!" The Nord put up his fists menacingly, facing Yennefer on the plaza outside. "Show us what you're made of, Imperial!"

"You've got to be joking!" Yennefer laughed.

Zap! The Nord went down with his arm still moving in a punch.

"Unfair!" Someone shouted. "She's using magic!"

"Fair!" Someone else contradicted. "No one said magic was forbidden!"

"Unfair!" "Fair!" "Fair!!" "Unfair!!!" The real brawl finally began.

When the dust settled and everyone had a black eye or a split lip, the bookie announced that the original fight was fair because no one had stipulated that magic was forbidden, and the lady being Imperial and a newcomer to Windhelm, could not have known such rules in advance.

"Well, there's your fee all paid up," Stenvar grinned, collecting a hefty purse from the bookie. "Ready to escort you wherever you please."

"You bet on me?" Yennefer looked at him with amusement. "How did you know I was a sorceress?"

"I didn't," Stenvar shrugged. "But I made the same mistake as they did the first time I saw the White Wolf. And his sister. And her... The point being," he cut himself off, "that they are made of tough stuff, and you must be too, if you are who I think you are," he winked. "Black and white, and that scent - lilac I recognise, but what's the other? Seems sweet, like berries."

"Gooseberries," Yennefer smiled. "Quite common, where I'm from."

"If you say so," he nodded. "I heard he's got a house in Morthal. That's a town West from here, perhaps a day's ride. Longer if we run into trouble. It will be my pleasure to accompany you there. I didn't lie about wild beasts and bandits - the forests are teaming with them."

With the business thus concluded, they decided to leave in the morning.

...

The trip to Morthal was largely uneventful, barring some wild beasts and bandits, as Stenvar had predicted. It took them two days all in all, mostly because Yennefer was still a bit unsteady after her long sailing and didn't want to rush. They spent the night at the Nightgate Inn about half way, and arrived in Morthal when the sun was setting on the following day.

"Geralt isn't around," the innkeeper shook her head with regret when Yennefer asked about him. "Haven't seen him in weeks... He must be on a trip somewhere. But yes, he's got a house - the Windstad Manor, right on the shore. But since he isn't in town himself, I don't see how..."

"Isn't there someone here who can tell the lady more?" Stenvar interrupted. "Someone looking after his house while he's away?" If looks could kill, the innkeeper would have already been incinerated.

"Felion," the innkeeper shrugged. "They seem quite close for some reason." She pouted her lips. "Don't see what he sees in that elf myself..."

"Thanks," Stenvar nodded and turned to leave, gesturing Yennefer to follow. "Felion is a mage here," he explained when they were outside. "Helps folk with... well... curses and such. Some say he's a Necromancer, but I don't believe it myself. I'll stick around until you're settled. Find me at the inn."

He took his leave and Yennefer knocked on Felion's door.

"Ye-es? Can I help you with something?" Felion answered the door, looking at Yennefer with curiosity. Then suddenly he took a step back, opening the door wide and inviting her in. "Oh! You've finally arrived! But please, come in! He isn't around, but I've been expecting you!"

...

"...and so you see, he's quite settled down here with us," Felion finished his recount of Geralt's adventures on the moors of Morthal. "Here's the key to the house - your house. He asked me to says so when you arrived."

"But where is he?" Yennefer was starting to worry. Geralt was there, yet he wasn't there! Felion knew more than he was saying.

"He's on a trip," Felion answered evasively. "You need to understand a few things first..." he coughed. "About his condition."

"Condition?" Yennefer was becoming irritated. "I've been told he's got two dicks. Did he catch something that I should know of?"

"Oh, nothing of the sort," Felion laughed. "What do you know about lycanthropy?"

"Geralt is not a werewolf," Yennefer said firmly. "And cannot become one, either. That I know."

"Geralt is not a common werewolf, no," Felion confirmed. "And it isn't exactly a curse... nothing that can be cured, anyway." Felion paused, searching for words. Geralt had warned him about Yennefer's volatile temper, and Felion was trying to avoid provoking it. "Do you know that his sister is Dragonborn?"

"She what..?" Yennefer sat up. "No."

"Ah. Well, it's another condition." Felion got up and pulled a few books off the shelf. "I believe you will find copies of these books in the library in your house, but if not, please take these. Your husband will return when the Great Hunt is over..."

"My WHAT?!"

"Is he not?" Felion kept his cool, smiling at Yennefer, his deep sanguine eyes looking straight into her soul. "What is he to you, then? Why are you here?"

"I... thank you for the books," Yennefer said after a pause. "I have a lot of reading to do, it seems."

"Come if you need anything, or when you have questions," Felion smiled. "As I'm sure you will. My door is always open."

...

The Windstad Manor came into view all of a sudden, as Yennefer followed a path around a large rock. The house was looking out to sea, and the turret on the front was getting light from every direction. "Perfect for a megascope," Yennefer smiled. She entered, finding dust and cobwebs here and there, but also blankets and furs, firewood, candles and books laid out waiting for her arrival. Geralt wasn't there, yet at the same time he was...

It didn't take long to get the fire going, and Yennefer started relaxing, suddenly realising just how tired she was. Her whole body was aching with all that traveling. She went into the bedroom and dropped onto the bed made up with furs as was Skyrim's tradition. Her hand touched something out of place... a piece of paper... a note. She opened it. "I love you. No more tests."

She breathed in the scent of cured leather and dried monster blood, noticed an old chainmail in the corner and a few silver swords on the rack, vials on the table, jars on the shelf, and herbs, nightshade and wolfsbane, mandrake root and... "I'll wait for you, witcher... no more tests..."

[Renee]

I remember when I was playing it for the first time - I was really unsure about those blood fountains. Was I supposed to drink from them? I mean, Lena was a vampire, but still she didn't want to drink that! I don't know how it's worse... but it was worse somehow. However, there was no other way to stay alive... she ran out of all her potions and stuff... so...

YES, good point! Even though she's a vamp, it's not really expected, drinking blood from a fountain. Over time she's gotten used to the idea of going for warm bodies.

Anyway, she's in an Oblivion gate,,, in Skyrim. Do you (or did you) enjoy closing closing gates? I dreaded them at first, years ago when I did the main quest on PS3. But over time I began looking forward to them; the guaranteed adventure they posed. When my Champion finally finished the MQ I actually began missing the gates.

Whoa... Ice Worms! What adds those into the gameworld??

Yikes, werewolves. "Lena Wolf is unconscious". Really awesome you were adding so much into Skyrim Improved, while gaming[/i], annd while writing this story.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=339440

[Lena Wolf]

Anyway, she's in an Oblivion gate,,, in Skyrim. Do you (or did you) enjoy closing closing gates? I dreaded them at first, years ago when I did the main quest on PS3. But over time I began looking forward to them; the guaranteed adventure they posed. When my Champion finally finished the MQ I actually began missing the gates.

I don't particularly like or dislike them... they are a part of the world, like any other dungeon.

Whoa... Ice Worms! What adds those into the gameworld??

Yikes, werewolves. "Lena Wolf is unconscious". Really awesome you were adding so much into Skyrim Improved, while gaming, annd while writing this story.

This is all from TWMP Skyrim Improved. I wasn't adding anything to it yet, when that part of the story was written, I just went exploring. But admittedly, I very quickly wanted to add things to that wondrous world of Skyrim...

[Lena Wolf]

Sorry, this is not a new episode... This is a note to those wondering what's the hold-up. Well, in order to tell you about Geralt's trip to Solstheim, I have to actually get him to Solstheim first, wherein lies the problem. To do so, I am using several new and untested mods, and the witcher is currently very busy testing and debugging them for me. Monster bug hunting, you know. He's very good at this. "You don't need a hero, you need a professional." Quite.

The story will continue as soon as Geralt is done with this particular monster bug contract.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Feb 26 2024, 12:17 PM

[Renee]

Very intense and visual, the scene when she follows Geralt's advice: drinks a potion so she can "die", then confronts the afterlife (if that's indeed where she is).

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=339700

This post has been edited by Renee: Apr 5 2024, 03:48 PM

[Lena Wolf]

11 Last Seed, 4E203 - Solstheim

"I've just returned from Solstheim, I am not about to sail there any time soon," the captain of a barge in Windhelm shook his head at Geralt. "I've had enough of plagued bears and naked Nords, thanks," he spit into the water, emphasizing his sentiment. "I plan to enjoy naked Nords back here for a while, preferably in my bed. See ya, witcher!" He grinned and disappeared into the Cloudfog Inn.

Geralt looked up and down the quay in Windhelm, not seeing any ships or barges that looked like they could be bound for Solstheim.

"Hey, white one," someone spoke softly behind him. "I can take you to Solstheim, if you've got the coin..."

...

"I said Solstheim, I didn't say Fort Frostmoth," the owner of a small cog gave Geralt a big smile approaching the Northern shore of Solstheim. "I've got folks living furhter up, but I'll let you get off here," he said encouragingly. "There's no one around, you'll be safe. Fort Frostmoth is not too far away, it ain't that big of an island. I have no clue why you had to bring your horse as well," he shook his head watching Roach gingerly getting off his boat. "Horses hate snow." Roach seemed to understand that and gave an approving snort.

"See you," Geralt cut short the conversation as the seaman raised the sail and vanished from view.

Everything around them was white. If Skyrim was wintry, Solstheim was icy. Geralt raised his collar and smiled - it felt like home. Winters at Kaer Morhen could get pretty cold too.

"Come on, Roach, let's get going before we get snowed under," he patted his horse, mounted and steered South East.



...

Fort Frostmoth towered on the Southern shore of Solstheim, its grey walls stood out against the icy blue water. At least this part of the island wasn't all frozen, and Roach was soon engrossed in sampling local vegetation. Geralt walked into the courtyard and found himself waist high in thick grass.

"Doesn't anyone cut the grass here?" He wondered aloud, trying to figure out which of the heavy wooden doors led to an inn. "Surely, there must be a public area in this fort," he mused. "It's the only building for miles around, and with two ships moored by the shore, where are those people supposed to sleep?" Then it dawned on him: "Perhaps I should go ask them." Travellers were bound to know the way to an inn.

...

"Would you like to go back?" An Argonian hissed through his clattering teeth. "I would gladly take you back to Vvardenfell right away! It's so cold here!"

"I just got here, so I don't want to go back..." Geralt looked him over but couldn't spare any of his own clothes for the poor fellow.

"Well, if you insist on staying, then go see Captain Falx Carius at th-the f-fort," the Argonian looked in serious danger of frostbite. "I wish there was an inn, but no..."

Geralt was going to ask why he would need to see the commander of the local regiment if all he wanted was just a mug of ale, but thought he'd probably find out later anyway. Perhaps they had a job for a witcher.

"Would you like to come with me?" An attractive Dunmer woman was all smiles as she touched Geralt's arm.

"Well, I..."

"I can take you to a place of splendour and wonder!" She continued cheerfully. "Just step on board of this ship and we'll be off!" She took a step towards the ship moored behind her.

"Erm... I'd love to, Miss..." Geralt gave her a broad grin but stood his ground. "But I just arrived here, and I would like to see what's going on first... and find an inn..."

"Are you our escort?" Someone came up behind him interrupting the conversation. "We are waiting for our escort! We've been promised escort!"

"Do I look like escort to you?" Geralt spun around to face three nervous strangers.

"You do! You've got two swords!" They answered almost in unison. "Carnius Magius promised us escort!"

"Sorry, fellows," Geralt shook his head. "I'm just looking for an inn."

Everyone looked at him as if he was crazy.

"There are no inns on Solstheim, outlander," a Dunmer woman looked him over with a sigh. "This isn't Vvardenfell, you know. Civilisation is over there. Here there are just Nords and plague bears." She wrinkled her nose and walked off.

Geralt looked around him, shook his head and went to the fort.

...

"Can I help you, citizen?" An Imperial soldier enquired politely but not cordially. "This is Fort Frostmoth."

"I figured as much," Geralt nodded. "I was actually looking for an inn..."

"There are no inns on Solstheim," the soldier sighed with regret. "The nearest public house is Thirsk Meadhall on the other side of the island. That's too far to walk on an empty stomach," he added firmly. "Your best bet is to talk to the priest at the Imperial Cult shrine in the other building and hope that he can spare you some shein and a kwama egg and let you curl up behind the crates for the night." The soldier smiled and Geralt got a distinct impression that his speech had been prepared and rehearsed.

"Lay off him, Zeno," a familiar voice sounded from a side corridor with surefooted steps of Legion boots following. "He's not your average smuggler," an Imperial officer in full regalia entered the hall. "He's with me."

"Of course, Optio," the soldier named Zeno straightened up and took two steps back in the same movement, almost colliding with a table laden with helmets, gauntlets and broad daggers.

Geralt turned around, noticing a highly polished beastplate and supple pteruges of a high grade suit of armour, well worn but also well cared for. Presentation went a long way in the Legion.

"Hauk!" Geralt grinned. "I've heard you were in Morrowind... but this is unexpected!"

"May be, and may be not," Hauk grinned back and winked. "Come, we have lodgings upstairs."

As strange as it appeared, Geralt decided not to argue. Zeno didn't need to hear any more than what he'd heard already, and a good bed was infinitely preferable to curling up behind some crates with an insect egg in your belly.

...

"What is going on?" Geralt finally asked after a good meal in the guest room upstairs. "This is one of the strangest places I've been to. It feels like everyone is mistaking me for someone else!"

"Nah, they're not," Hauk smirked, finishing his own plate of mutton and moving untouched kwama eggs to the top of a chest of drawers. "This place doesn't exist yet. Well, the Legion fort obviously exists, but it isn't a regular Legion outpost - it's a penal colony. These soldiers are not regular Legion material," he shook his head. "Which doesn't matter normally because there's nothing here apart from wolves and bears. Not yet, anyway." He stood up to refill his mug with mead and Geralt noticed again the gleam of his polished steel and the rich sheen of the leather of his pteruges. This was more than just dressing his rank - Hauk was on a mission. "The East Empire Company decided to open an ebony mine nearby," he returned to the table. "Under the protection of the Legion. THIS Legion." He emphasized the word and paused to let it sink in. "As of now this is no longer a penal colony but a regular Legion outpost."

"Did they tell the soldiers?" Geralt looked bewildered.

"Better ask whether they told the East Empire Company what sort of an outpost this is," Hauk smirked. "But Carnius Magius has connections, and Falx Carius does not deserve to be stripped of his rank because some stupid bureaucrate in the Imperial City could not be bothered to check the designation of this fort. Falx is a good commander, the Legion values people like him. And I am here to see that nothing goes wrong. Which of course it will." He took another swig of his mead. "Plus, you are here."

"How did you know I'd be here?" Geralt looked up.

"The Blood Moon is rising."

For a few minutes they sat staring at each other.

"What do you know of it?" Geralt finally asked.

"The same what everyone knows," Hauk shrrugged. "Hircine calls a Great Hunt once or twice every era, there are signs long in advance and there are plenty of witches around to read them. The Great Hunt has been called once again, and this time it's here on Solstheim. And that's why you've come, is it not? You heard the call of Hircine."

"Yes," Geralt nodded. "I read the books too. I hear his call, and so I am here. But what now? I suppose events will unfold and we'll see."

"Something will occur..." Hauk mused. "The witches of the Glenmoril Wyrd have already arrived as well. They will know more, I expect, sense more. You could go to them, or you could hang around here, get involved with the goings on and watch and wait... The choice is yours."

"I'll stay here," Geralt answered without hesitation. "I need to get a feel for this land. The Dunmer, the Nords, the plague bears... the Nords, in particular. They are different from the Nords of Skyrim. We got ambushed by a pair of them in the wilderness, Roach and me, but before I could even dismount, there was a bear, two wolves, three wargs and gods know what else joining the fight! And the weirdest thing was that the Nords were totally naked, apart from a bear helm..."

"Naked Nords, eh?" Hauk laughed heartily. "Welcome to Morowind, my friend! They've got a thing with naked Nords here... can't see why, myself..." He laughed and winked, kicking off his boots and unbuckling his armour. Masser the colour of blood was rising. It was 3 a.m. and high time to finally go to bed.