POV Aiden I heard Geralt’s voice behind me as I kept doing laps around the field, cart wheel in tow.
“Aiden, that’s enough, grab a sword and come here.” Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I walked over to the rack of blunted swords.
Approaching Geralt, sword in hand, I noticed, confused, Ciri being held back by Eskel and Lambert, while Vesemir watched me, his face grim.
I didn’t have time to wonder why: Geralt attacked me right away.
On pure reflex, I blocked overhead but he used the opening to sweep my legs out from under me with a trip, sending me to the ground.
I heard him as I got back up: “That’s it?” I shook my head and straightened up.
He’d just caught me off guard.
I went back on the offensive, trying a few feints going for his flank to set up a kick to his ribs but every time, he countered, parried, or dodged, effortlessly.
What hurt worse, though, was watching his eyes fill, bit by bit as the fight dragged on, with disappointment.
Contempt, even?
I shook my head.
Contempt?
Geralt couldn’t possibly…
But I didn’t get to finish that thought: he grabbed my arm just as I was about to parry, headbutted me hard enough to draw blood from my nose, twisted my arm until I dropped my sword, and shoved me down with a kick that sent me back to the ground.
Getting up, I saw drops of blood staining the snow.
Watching him, disbelieving, I saw him approach, his face full of contempt.
“What’s the point of all our training, then?
Seriously, you can’t even land a proper counter.
Get up.” I gritted my teeth in frustration and went back into the fight.
— POV Ciri Every time I saw Aidy hit the ground, bleeding, I couldn’t understand what was happening.
I kept trying to get to Geralt, to tell him to stop this wasn’t him, something was wrong but Eskel kept holding me back, gripping my arm tight.
I pulled against it, trying to break free.
“Eskel, let go of me!” He shook his head without even looking at me.
It was Vesemir who answered, calm: “Ciri, calm down.” I glared at him, a dark anger rising in me.
“Calm down?
Look what’s happening!
Let me go!” Maybe drawn by the noise, Aidy turned his head toward me, despite his bloodied face, and started to say something but Geralt ripped the sword out of his hands, holding it in his free hand while sheathing his own, and struck Aidy full in the face, sending him crashing to the ground.
As if mocking him, the snow started falling harder, slowly blanketing his motionless body.
The sight froze me with horror.
I struggled with everything I had in Eskel’s arms, tears of frustration spilling out.
“Let go of me!
Aidy!” I threw a few elbows into Eskel’s stomach, uselessly.
Lambert, jaw clenched, finally snapped: “Old man, if you’ve got a plan, now’s the time to spit it out!
Either you tell her, or I will even I’m sick of this whole act!
Look at Geralt, even he wants to stop!” Vesemir stayed silent for a moment, then answered: “No, Lambert.
I can’t tell her, or the illusion won’t hold, and…” He lowered his head.
“After this, I’ll apologize to them both, directly, and take full responsibility.
So Lambert stay put.” Lambert stomped his foot in the snow.
“God damn it!” I still didn’t understand what was going on, but I could tell something was off.
For now, all I could think about was Aidy.
— POV Aiden I struggled back to my feet.
Damn it, he hadn’t held back at all.
And worse, I hated seeing him look at me like that, I… Geralt grabbed me by the collar, hauling me up, contempt or so I thought, I could barely hear anything past a dull ringing, my whole focus locked on his eyes, brimming with disappointment.
I gritted my teeth and swung at his face with my free hand he caught it with his own.
That stopped me cold for just long enough that, with my other hand, I managed to strike the weak point of his arm enough to make his fingers loosen and drop my sword.
I caught it mid-air and hurled it toward his throat, believing, for one brief second, that I’d finally beaten him.
But he let go of me, dodged effortlessly, and drove a kick into my ribs.
Teeth clenched against the pain, I grabbed his foot before slamming the metal pommel of my sword against his calf, making him wince.
He wrenched free with another kick and charged at me the last thing I saw before hitting the ground was his hand slamming into my face.
— POV Geralt Breathing steadily, I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
I knew Aiden was talented, a real prodigy but damn it, this had been anything but easy.
I’ve fought in countless battles, I’ve got the experience, and even holding back from seriously hurting him, I had to draw on everything I had just to keep pace.
His strikes carried a strength and weight far beyond normal.
I don’t know where he gets that kind of power, but if I hadn’t been a witcher, even I would’ve had to dodge instead of parry there’s no way I’d have held up otherwise.
I clenched my teeth.
I don’t want to do this… But I have to, to save you, Aiden.
I hope you can forgive me for what I’m about to say.
I walked toward him, snow falling harder now, and seeing his bloodied face, I instinctively clenched my fists in anger at myself.
I said, coldly: “That’s all you’ve got?
You’re right, you’re pathetically weak.
You say you want to protect Ciri, but I don’t see any improvement in you.
You’re weak, and you’ll stay weak forever.” I picked up his fallen sword.
“Tomorrow, you’re leaving this keep.
You’re useless here, and I don’t need dead weight like you around.” I turned my back on him, hoping with everything I had that this would work because if it didn’t, I genuinely had no idea what else could push him this far.
— POV Aiden I watched the snow fall onto my face, those soft little flakes such a strange contrast to the pain radiating through my whole body but I think Geralt’s words hurt worse than any of it.
Me?
Weak?
Yeah.
I already knew that.
Almost against my will, I turned my eyes toward Ciri, still struggling in Eskel’s arms, while Geralt walked toward them, his back to me.
I blinked and in that instant, I saw Cintra burning, Nilfgaardian soldiers standing where the witchers had been, holding Ciri back.
I watched her being taken away, fighting fiercely, and heard Calanthe’s furious voice ringing in my head: “You had one duty!
Protect Ciri!
I should have known you’d stay hidden at the bottom of that pit.” Then Mousesack’s, dripping with contempt: “I thought you were a good student.
I was wrong.
You’re worth nothing.
You’re not my student anymore.” And finally, Geralt’s words: “You’re useless.
You’re pathetically weak.
Leave this keep.” Leave this keep?
Ciri, alone?
Me, weak?
I screamed: “SHUT UP!” And I felt an immense wave of cold burst out of me.
I don’t remember anything after that except a voice, distant, murmuring: “Ceanndraig, not yet.
But we’ll meet again.” — General POV As Geralt walked back toward the others, his gaze dark, a wave of freezing cold erupted behind him.
He didn’t even have time to turn around: instinct took over and he dodged but not fast enough.
A massive volley of compact ice spikes tore through his left side.
He gritted his teeth against the pain.
Aiden surged forward with astonishing speed, gliding across sheets of ice like skates, cutting through the air.
Reaching Geralt, he lashed out with a kick that shifted mid-strike into a razor-sharp ice spike.
Geralt barely had time to cross both arms in front of him to absorb the blow, which sent him flying into the rocks, arms torn open and bleeding.
The rest of the group froze in horror for a moment.
Lambert charged at Aiden, Vesemir right behind him, trying to divert his attention but Aiden now fought like a machine, without a shred of hesitation.
The fight was brutal: spiked ice traps kept erupting from the ground without warning, and the air itself seemed to be freezing solid, harder and harder to breathe.
Eskel let go of Ciri and rushed to Geralt to hand him a Swallow potion.
Ciri stood frozen in place, eyes locked on Aiden and strangely, no attack, no injury ever seemed to reach her.
Everything around her stayed untouched, as if the ice itself had chosen to protect her.
— POV Geralt I grimaced, swallowing down the Swallow potion.
Eskel asked, worried: “So, White Wolf, taking a nap already?” I grimaced again.
“No.
But I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting this.” Ahead of me, I could see Lambert and Vesemir doing everything they could to hold their ground against Aiden, even though the outcome already looked grim both of them bleeding from multiple wounds.
I even heard Lambert shout: “Old man, if you’ve got an idea, now’s the time!
I don’t wanna end up a damn popsicle!” Vesemir rolled across the ground to dodge a massive ice spike and cast Quen: “Shut it, Lambert!
Watch your footing better!” A spike still punched through his magical shield, sending him tumbling a short distance away.
The air kept growing harder to breathe.
Getting back up, teeth gritted, I turned to Eskel.
“Come on, we need to help them.” He nodded, and we ran together to join the other two.
— POV Ciri My eyes stayed locked on Aidy.
No that wasn’t Aidy, not really.
That was cold.
He’d lost that warmth that always defined him.
His skin kept cracking, gradually covered over in ice.
Despite their combined efforts, Geralt, Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert weren’t getting anywhere: every time one of them tried to close the distance, a massive ice spike would erupt to force them back.
The air had become unbearable for them I could see them struggling to breathe.
That’s exactly why Lambert didn’t manage to dodge a spike that pierced his shoulder; he barely had time to cast Quen before an ice club sent him slamming into the stone.
They weren’t going to hold.
I could feel it, deep down and somehow, without knowing why, I was certain I could help him.
Me.
I started walking toward him.
I heard Geralt shout: “Ciri, get back!” But he had to dodge another wave of attacks himself.
I kept walking anyway, certain of what I was doing and nothing touched me.
No attack, nothing at all.
Reaching Aidy, he stopped dead, staring straight into my eyes, no emotion visible at all.
His left eye glowed icy blue, the other pure white, like snow.
His hair had turned completely, snowy white.
But I wasn’t scared.
I wrapped my arms around him, despite the intense cold radiating off him, and murmured softly: “Aidy, I know this isn’t you.
Come back to us.
There’s no danger, not to me, not to you so come back, okay?
Dinner needs to be served.” Maybe it was my voice I’ll probably never really know why but the air went back to normal all at once.
The witchers could finally breathe freely again, and the ice shattered around him.
His eyes returned to their normal color.
I heard, right against my ear: “Forgive me, Ciri.
I must have scared you.” I shook my head.
“No.
I could never be scared of you, Aidy.
We promised each other, didn’t we?
We’ll always stand side by side!” He smiled softly but even as his eyes settled back to normal, they’d changed color for good, and his hair stayed snow white.
Before I could say anything else, I heard him murmur: “Sorry… I wish I could’ve kept our promise, Ciri.” I looked at him, confused, when I heard a sharp crack: his skin was turning into ice, spreading over his flesh.
I stammered: “Aidy?” He gave one last soft smile, closed his eyes, and collapsed against my shoulder, unconscious.
I could barely hold him up, screaming in panic: “Lambert!
Eskel!
Vesemir!
Geralt!” Lambert rushed over despite his wound, scooped Aidy up into his arms, and took off running toward the castle with Eskel, heading for the infirmary.
Before joining them, I turned to Geralt and Vesemir, both injured, and fixed my eyes on Geralt in particular, biting my lip to hold back tears of frustration.
“Do something, Geralt.
I… I will never forgive you if something happens to him.” Then I ran to catch up with Eskel and Lambert.
— POV Geralt Watching Ciri run off, her last words still echoing in me, it felt like my heart was tearing apart.
All I could do was stay silent.
I knew all of this had been to save his life… but I never imagined it would get this bad.
I never wanted to say those words, or put either of them in danger least of all them.
Vesemir pulled me out of my thoughts.
“We got it wrong.
If Aiden hadn’t had to hold that power inside him all these years if someone had helped him channel it, day by day this might never have happened.
But instead, it’s like we just uncorked a well about to overflow.
This is on me, Geralt, I…” I shook my head.
“No.
Don’t apologize.” I wiped my hair, soaked with sweat and blood.
I ached everywhere, my shirt in tatters, soaked through with blood.
My arms still bore the marks from Aiden’s ice spikes but honestly, none of that mattered to me.
My eyes stayed fixed on the direction they’d carried him.
Vesemir asked: “Any ideas?” I nodded, looking at him.
“Yeah.
Just one.
The other option: I need to call a sorceress.
I’m calling Triss.”