Training had already been underway for a few days now.
Vesemir had taken charge of starting mine, as promised, while Geralt mostly focused on Ciri she needed to learn the basics first.
As for me, being the more advanced of the two, I went straight into more serious training.
The snow was still coming down hard; we were already at the midpoint of winter.
Vesemir snapped his fingers, jolting me out of my thoughts, and said calmly: “Knowledge isn’t learned by staring at the scenery, young man.” I snapped out of my daydream.
“Right, sorry, Vesemir.” He nodded, grabbed a particularly thick book, and continued calmly: “All right, let’s start the quiz.
What’s the difference between a katakan and an ekimma?” I thought for a moment.
“If I remember right, the main difference is intelligence?
The katakan’s more bestial than the ekimma, isn’t it?” Vesemir nodded, opening the bestiary in front of him, and went on with his explanation: “Correct.
But never forget any monster, whatever it is, can be deadly to any witcher, weak or not.
A katakan, for instance, is classified as a lesser vampire an ekimma, on the other hand, as a higher vampire.” Curious, I asked: “Why that kind of classification, exactly?
Is it based on how dangerous they are?” Vesemir nodded.
“Good question.
Knowledge is the best weapon against any enemy.” He settled comfortably into his chair we were in Kaer Morhen’s library and continued, calm: “Lesser vampires are closer to animals, in intelligence, in awareness, and in raw strength.
Careful, though, I’m not saying they’re weak far from it.
A seasoned katakan can easily wipe out a whole battalion of trained soldiers.” He went on: “As for higher vampires, it’s mostly a matter of intelligence.
There’s even a hierarchy among them: ekimmas, for instance, are sort of the ‘common folk’ class of higher vampires, if you want to think of it that way.
Beyond that, there are higher vampires fully capable of blending in among humans, starting a family, having children those children are called dhampirs.
Honestly, we know very little about higher vampires overall, other than that they arrived during the Conjunction of the Spheres.
But one thing’s certain, a hundred percent: there are vampires even more powerful than higher vampires.
Only a handful of witchers can stand against them and when I say a handful, I mean extremely few.” He looked at me.
“Take this with a grain of salt, though I got it from a witcher I crossed paths with in my youth, from the Manticore School.
He told me about the ancient vampires: the most powerful the world has ever known.
Thankfully, they mostly just keep the higher vampires in line.
But from what he told me, ancient vampires are scattered across the world not many of them, sure, but no witcher, and I mean none, could ever kill one.” I looked at him, surprised after all, in my eyes, what I’d seen of Geralt already outclassed every fighter I’d ever come across.
“That powerful?
Seriously?” He nodded, serious.
“Honestly, even I have my doubts I’ve never seen one myself, no book really talks about them.
But it’s the truth: no witcher could withstand one.
Actually, I’m not even sure anyone in this world could.” I stayed quiet for a moment.
I understood this world better and better and the more I learned, the more I realized just how far some monsters outclassed anything I could have imagined, whether in strength or intelligence.
Quietly, under the table, I clenched my fist.
I’m weak, damn it.
The hours passed like that, Vesemir continuing his lessons on monsters.
The weeks eventually stretched into two months.
The snow fell less heavily now, though it was still very much present.
That day, it was physical training with Geralt and Eskel.
I found Ciri sitting on some logs, covered in bruises, hair damp with sweat, and smiled as I approached.
“Rough?” She laughed.
“Geralt didn’t go easy on me at all.
But I like it I actually feel useful for once!” I smiled.
“You know you’re already useful, Ciri.
Don’t think like that.” She shrugged.
“Maybe, in your eyes, but…” She held my gaze.
“I promised I’d be by your side, and right now you’re way ahead of me.
I’m gonna catch up to you, Aidy and actually stand beside you for real.” I smiled slightly, ruffled her hair affectionately, and went off to join Geralt for my own training.
Arriving there, he pointed at a cart wheel.
“Warm-up for now: you’re carrying this wheel around the field until I say stop.” I nodded and got to work.
— POV Ciri Sipping my water, I’d been watching Aidy carry that cart wheel for several long minutes, Geralt standing beside him, arms crossed, silent as ever.
A hand came to ruffle my hair: Lambert, Eskel, and even Uncle Vesemir were approaching.
Even though we’d only been training here for a few months, I’d quickly grown fond of these old men Lambert and Eskel felt a bit like older brothers, always eager to teach us something new.
I still laughed thinking back to the day Lambert took Aidy “bomb fishing,” after Vesemir had asked him to teach him the basics of explosives Lambert had made a point of explaining that practice beat theory any day.
The result: Aidy came back with an impressive haul of fish for that night’s dinner, while Geralt and Eskel snickered and Lambert conveniently ignored Vesemir’s scolding about it being absolutely not the right method.
But judging by the smile on Aidy’s face, and how much closer he’d gotten to Lambert since then, I think it was actually a pretty good idea it’s rare to see him smile that much.
With Eskel, it was a similar kind of closeness, but centered around the Wolf School’s combat techniques.
The two of them hit it off fast it was actually pretty funny watching them both slip in the mud together, that one day.
— Flashback POV Ciri After my own training, I’d sat with Geralt on a stone parapet, watching Aidy train with Eskel.
Looking up at Geralt, whose beard was just starting to grow back in, I asked, curious: “Geralt, what exactly are the Wolf School’s fencing techniques?
I know it’s dodging and countering, but not much beyond that.” Geralt nodded, leaned against the parapet, arms crossed, eyes still fixed on the training.
“There are three main techniques.
Like you said, dodging’s the first but it’s not as simple as it looks.
Watch.” I watched the training: several times, I saw Aidy try to dodge, only to end up taking hits from the wooden sword.
I winced at every impact that was gonna leave some serious bruises but bit by bit, he started dodging most of the attacks better.
Geralt, beside me, asked: “So, you see it?” I shook my head, looking at him.
“Is it experience?” He shook his head too, pointing a finger toward my eyes.
“It’s the gaze.
Humans or pretty much any living creature, with a few exceptions tend to look with their eyes wherever they intend to strike.
Of course, if the creature has no eyes, or is blind, that’s different, but in most cases, it’s the eyes you need to read.
That said, you’re not wrong about experience either: even if Aiden’s probably picked up on this instinctively, without even realizing it, there’s still a gap in experience and raw physical power.
Even knowing how to dodge, if the body doesn’t follow, or doesn’t react fast enough, that’s still a problem.” I kept watching, this time seeing Aiden hit the ground more often under the wooden sword’s blows.
I saw him bleeding slightly, which made me bite my lip, but I said nothing, and asked instead: “And that, over there, what’s that?” Geralt smiled.
“Try to guess.
Countering, or something else?” I thought about it, watching the fight more closely.
Aiden kept falling into the snow; every time, Eskel would help him back up but each time, he switched combat styles.
I didn’t get it… it didn’t look adapted to anything… I fell silent for a moment, then looked at Geralt.
“Adaptation.” He smiled, visibly proud.
“Exactly.
That’s the third teaching of the Wolf School.
We’re known for dodging and parrying, sure, but the third pillar, far less known, almost secret that’s learning to adapt mid-combat.” He continued: “In life, you’ll often run into situations theory alone can never solve.
That’s why, from the youngest age, we train to adapt, to force our minds to keep evolving as a fight drags on the longer a fight lasts, against a person or a monster, the more you adjust to their patterns, their abilities.
Simply put: the longer the fight, the more you adapt.” I was genuinely surprised.
I watched Eskel start training Aidy on countering, then turned back to Geralt.
“Do the other schools have this too?” He shook his head.
“No.
I could be wrong, but their combat styles wouldn’t really lend themselves to it.
Ours works specifically because it’s built around countering and dodging that naturally makes us better at reading and adapting mid-fight.
The other schools just don’t have the right structure for that.” At the end of the two-hour training session, I hopped down from the stone parapet to join Aidy, whom Eskel was helping to his feet, Geralt following along behind me.
End of flashback — POV Ciri Smiling a little, curious it was rare to see them all gathered together like this I asked: “So why are you all here, anyway?” Vesemir sighed.
Eskel came to stand beside me, gently holding my arm, as if to keep me from moving.
I looked at them, confused, worry creeping in.
“Eskel?
Lambert?” Lambert, arms crossed, stared silently at Geralt only at Geralt with a heavy, complicated look on his face.
I stammered: “Lambert?” Then turned to Vesemir, my voice small: “Uncle Vesemir?” He shook his head.
“Ciri, we’re all here because Geralt needs to do something check on something and it concerns Aiden’s life.
We’re here just in case, to support him, and also to keep you from putting yourself in danger.” — POV Geralt Arms crossed, I watched Aiden push through his warm-up.
This was hard… I kept replaying the conversation we’d had the night before, with Vesemir, and I understood now, far better, just how precious Ciri and Aiden were but more than that, just how close Aiden was to dying.
I needed to check it for myself.
Even though I wanted to trust Vesemir’s word, I… I needed to be sure of what he’d told me.
— Flashback POV Geralt Walking down the stairs toward Vesemir’s potion lab, where he’d summoned me, I couldn’t help but smile, replaying the scene where Ciri had thrown food at Lambert to throw him off during his arm-wrestling match against Aiden a match he’d ended up losing, before chasing Ciri clear across the dining hall.
Shaking my head, I finally reached the lab.
I found Vesemir examining some strange flowers and walked over.
“You called for me?” Then, looking closer at the flowers: “I don’t recognize any of these.
New species?” One of the planters held some rather unusual flowers: petals of an incredible whiteness, a stem of a green that seemed frozen in time.
My medallion vibrated just from looking at them.
But it was the other wooden planter that caught my attention most: its petals looked made of snow and ice, as if frost had frozen right onto them, the stem shifting between the two colors.
I couldn’t sense any magic coming off them but my medallion buzzed violently the moment I touched one.
An intense cold shot through me, like my hands were about to freeze solid in seconds.
Vesemir said, from behind me: “Yeah.
It’s urgent.
And it’s serious.” I set the flower down, crossed my arms, and looked at him.
He continued, grave: “The white flower’s a species we thought extinct.
It’s called the flower of time it normally only blooms under extremely specific conditions, conditions that are basically impossible to meet.
And it bloomed right where Ciri trains, right where she bleeds.” I looked at him, confused: “Flower of time?” He gave a bitter smile: “You probably know it better as a cynoglossum the flower that only grows where…” I cut him off: “Where the Elder Blood flows…” He looked surprised: “How do you know that?” I looked at him, the words coming hard: “I thought I was wrong.
But ever since Ciri was born, I’ve started having visions and in one of them, I heard that name.” Vesemir sighed: “I won’t ask why you never mentioned it everyone’s got their secrets.
But you understand what this means, right?” I nodded, not wanting to dwell on it any further, and pointed at the other planter.
“And this one?” Vesemir’s face went hard.
“This one’s worse.
It bloomed exactly where Aiden trains with you and Eskel where he bleeds, too.
It’s a species I’ve never seen anywhere.
But I can state quite a bit, even if some of it’s still guesswork.” He lifted a petal between his fingers.
“I’ve run several tests.
I’m certain both Ciri and Aiden carry Elder Blood in them but not the same way, not through the same bloodline.
I know it’s hard to explain, and I’m no mage, but let’s just say my tests show the intensity and the flow aren’t the same at all between the two of them.” I shook my head.
“Break it down for me simply.
I’m starting to feel like I’m listening to a certain black-haired sorceress telling me I don’t get it.” He sighed.
“If you want a picture: imagine two glasses of water.
Ciri’s the glass filling up calmly, slowly and the glass itself is perfectly suited to hold that water.
All we have to do is let time do its work.” Then, more gravely: “Aiden, on the other hand, is the exact opposite.
Like I told you, I used several magical instruments to study this and every time the flower got near one of them, it was like an invasive kind of magic: it latched onto the device, swallowed up all its magic, reducing it to nothing but a dead trinket.
That’s why this is serious.” He set the petal back down on the table, which frosted over almost instantly in a small patch around it.
“The human body isn’t built to hold that much magical power, not at that age.
Aiden’s literally the opposite of Ciri: the glass overflows, and on top of that, the glass itself isn’t remotely suited to hold it in the first place.
And…” He looked at me, his voice suddenly harder to get out: “Even a witcher couldn’t absorb it I tried it myself, impossible, whether as a potion or swallowed straight.
Our bodies, even ours, aren’t capable of containing this flower.” He didn’t notice that I’d frozen in place the only thing I still heard, right before sinking into something close to despair, were his final words: “Aiden’s going to die if we don’t do something.
There are only two options: either we call on mages far more skilled than me on this, or we try a temporary fix draining that magic out of him.
To do that, he’ll need to be pushed through intense emotions.
Otherwise… I don’t think he’ll survive the winter.”