(Hey everyone, sorry about Monday I was busy all day and couldn’t even get this chapter posted in time.
I will never understand why seers insist on setting up shop in such squalid places.
My heels were ruined, caked in mud, not to mention all these men who wouldn’t stop whistling as I passed… I opened the seer’s door without waiting for an invitation.
She was in the middle of a conversation with a beggar, who was no doubt asking her when he’d finally strike it rich.
I didn’t really have time for that, so I said calmly: “Excuse me, dear sister, but I’m in a hurry.” The beggar, furious at being interrupted mid-session especially since the seer had clearly been about to tell him he’d just crossed paths with a stunning woman turned around: “Listen, ma’am, I’m already…” But he froze the instant he saw me.
The seer smiled faintly.
“Looks like you got your revelation.
If you’d please leave us.” The beggar grumbled, but eventually left, head down.
I stepped aside to let him pass, then approached the seer.
“You sent me a message saying my destiny had changed.
I was curious after all, your so-called destiny told me, in no uncertain terms, that I’d end up with the White Wolf.
And unfortunately for you, we’re not together anymore.
So?” The seer gave a small laugh.
“True, you’re not together anymore.
But that doesn’t mean you’ll never see him again, does it?” I was about to snap back, but she cut me off: “Let me save you some time I’ll get straight to the point.
What I saw was far more important than that.” I sighed, crossing my arms, and said, sarcastic: “Of course.
I’m listening to the impenetrable voice of destiny, go ahead.” She closed her eyes; her pupils vanished, leaving only white.
In a flat, monotone voice, as if someone else were speaking through her, she said: “Yennefer of Vengerberg.
An extremely important choice, in your life, will decide the fate of this world.
Will you choose the path of the black sun’s banners, or the path of the Pen…” But she never finished the sentence.
She caught herself against the table, breaking into a sweat, before continuing, her voice exhausted: “That’s all I have.
But at least now you know.” I laughed, sarcastic: “Great.
So I’ve got a choice between Nilfgaard and a name you can’t even finish saying.
What a waste of time.” Without waiting for her answer, I left.
But I still heard her voice as I teleported away: “Yennefer of Vengerberg.
Fate isn’t necessarily bad.
But like you said yourself, it’s your choice and I hope you never come to regret it.” That crazy old woman, honestly.
Me, Yennefer of Vengerberg, worry about a fate she can’t even manage to fully put into words?
She’s dead wrong.
I teleported away.
— POV Triss I sighed at home, in Novigrad, turning the communication crystal over between my fingers the twin of the one I’d given Geralt.
And yet, that idiot had never once called me with it.
I heard a voice behind me that made me smile despite myself: “So, Triss?
Still waiting on your white-haired knight in shining armor?” I laughed lightly, got up to hug her, and said softly: “Good to see you, Yen.
I figured you’d still be busy scheming at the Aedirn court?” She shook her head, settled into a chair, and poured herself a glass of wine.
“No, you know how much all that plotting disgusts me and the king who won’t stop eyeing me like I’m a piece of meat.
Anyway.
And you, Triss, enjoying waiting on your knight in shining armor?” I sighed, sitting down across from her.
“Stop it.
You know exactly how Geralt is.” She laughed, more easily than before back when I used to talk about Geralt, her laugh always carried a note of sadness and bitterness, but it seemed like the breaking of that magical bond between them had finally freed her from it.
She went on: “Let me guess: hopeless with feelings, incapable of understanding that when a woman gives you a communication crystal, it’s so you’ll actually talk to her even from far away.
I’ll bet you the first time he calls, it’ll be to ask for help.” I laughed softly.
“Fine, bet’s on.
Ten crowns.” Yen shook her head, teasing: “That’s pretty cheap, Triss, for one of the most talented potion-makers on the continent.
Let’s say a hundred crowns.” I sighed.
“Fine, bet’s on.” The moment I finished that sentence, the communication crystal started ringing.
I jumped to my feet, heart racing, hearing Yen laugh behind me.
Flustered, I snapped: “Shut up, Yen.” I accepted the connection.
Geralt’s low voice came through, slightly out of breath, as if he were catching his breath, or gathering his strength: “Hey, Triss.
Sorry for calling out of nowhere.” Yen came to stand next to me, a teasing smile on her lips, rubbing her fingers together in the universal gesture for money.
I sighed and answered softly: “It’s fine, Geralt.
Are you calling about something specific?” He hesitated before answering: “Yeah.
I need help.” Yen burst out laughing beside me: “Ha, I knew it!” which made me blush with embarrassment.
Geralt, hearing that, asked, surprised: “Yen?” She snatched the crystal out of my hands.
“Thank you, gallant knight of my friend Triss thanks to you, I just won a hundred crowns.” I grabbed the crystal back, telling her to be quiet, still a little flustered: “What do you need?” His voice, uncertain, came through: “What I’m about to tell you could make the whole world your enemy.
I need to be sure before I say it I trust you both, but this could put your lives in danger.” I frowned, and so did Yen.
She answered, serious: “Are you being serious right now, Geralt?
You think we don’t already risk our lives every single day?
So hurry up and spit out your information, we’re not princesses that need protecting.” He sighed, then explained the whole situation with Aiden what had happened, the information they’d managed to gather, and the fact that we were the only two who could help.
But it was the end of his sentence that made us both go still: “And the princess of Cintra is here, at Kaer Morhen.” Yen burst out laughing: “Damn, Geralt.
You really outdid yourself this time.” I sighed softly: “Of course we’re coming to help.
We’re on our way.” Geralt sighed softly through the crystal: “Thank you, both of you.
Really.” The crystal went dark.
I looked at Yen, serious: “Any idea what’s going on?
Because from what Geralt just told us, all I can figure is that Aiden must be a mage whose powers woke up late and it just ended up exploding all at once, from never being channeled in time.” Yen shook her head and opened a portal toward Kaer Morhen.
“Doesn’t matter.
Let’s go see for ourselves.” I nodded and followed her through the portal.
— POV Geralt I waited for the two sorceresses in the courtyard.
Watching them appear, two very different memories hit me at once: with Yennefer, that moment she cried in my arms, cursing me for breaking the djinn’s bond, feeling like her feelings had been a lie this whole time and with Triss, memories more along the lines of bed, and that little beauty mark on her right cheek… Geralt.
Focus.
I barely had time to string together a coherent thought before Triss was already there, her hand brushing my face, taking in my battered body, worried: “Geralt… you’re hurt everywhere.
Was this Aiden?” I nodded, my face darkening.
“Yeah.
Didn’t take the time to heal, I’m way more worried about him right now, don’t worry about me.” She stroked my cheek gently, sighed.
“Okay.” Yen, behind her, was studying the courtyard with a serious look.
“Geralt, this could be far more dangerous than you think.” I looked at her, confused Triss too.
As she examined the area herself, she looked just as surprised, just as worried, and turned to Yen: “Yen, you don’t actually think that’s possible, do you?
No sorceress alive except maybe Francesca, and even she’s just a pale imitation.
That’s supposed to be impossible.” Yen shook her head, serious: “Let’s hurry.” I nodded.
Walking into Kaer Morhen’s great hall, a wave of intense cold hit us head-on.
Vesemir approached, his face grim.
“It’s uncontrollable.
Lambert and Eskel are barely holding on, using Igni just to push back the ice and Ciri’s the only one who seems completely untouched.” I nodded.
Yen and Triss made a few hand gestures, wrapping us in a protective barrier.
Walking forward, Triss said: “Good to see you again, Vesemir, circumstances aside.” He nodded.
“Likewise, Triss.
And good to see you too, Yen.” She gave a small laugh, nodding, her expression darkening further the deeper we went.
Arriving at Aiden’s room, the door wide open, we found the hallways already coated in ice from the cold wave.
The two sorceresses’ faces grew even grimmer.
Unable to hold back my curiosity any longer, I asked, serious: “What’s going on, that’s got you both looking so grim?” Yen sighed.
“Magic existed before the Conjunction of the Spheres.
But nobody today can use it in its original form anymore the Conjunction, according to most theories, degraded it significantly.” Triss continued, serious, conjuring a small fireball in her hand to push back the cold wave: “The magic we use today is really just a branch derived from the old magic.
What everyone uses now is, let’s say… a corrupted version of the original magic.
It’s still usable, of course, but far weaker, far less efficient.
Since nobody can use the old magic in its pure form anymore, it never really mattered in day-to-day life.” I asked, a little worried: “So?” Yen examined the ice, exchanged a look with Triss, then said, grave: “So we’re dealing with something that shouldn’t even be possible and terrifyingly stronger than any mage or sorceress alive today.
This ice is one hundred percent magically pure.
In plain terms: it was produced by the old magic, the kind everyone assumed had vanished centuries ago.” She looked at me.
“Geralt, I don’t know what mess you’ve dragged us into, but now, on top of everyone already after the princess, you’re adding this boy into the mix.
If mages ever learn he exists, every single one of them, without exception, will want to get their hands on him whether to study him, dissect him, or claim that magic for themselves.” Walking into the room, I saw Ciri, still, holding Aiden’s hand his face asleep, but everything around him coated in ice.
Lambert and Eskel kept alternating Quen and Igni without rest; Triss instantly relieved their exhaustion by warming the room with a wave of magic.
As she approached the bed, Ciri sprang up like a cat ready to defend its territory: “Who are you?” Triss smiled softly.
“We’re here to help.
We’re sorceresses I’m Triss Merigold, and this is Yennefer of Vengerberg.” Yen said nothing, simply studying the princess closely, as if making sure it really was her, before shooting me a look that said “you really do love attracting trouble, don’t you.” She took her place on Aiden’s left side, while Triss settled on the right, next to Ciri.
I clenched my fists, still crusted with dried blood, hoping with everything I had that they’d succeed.
Ciri grabbed Triss’s arm, her voice anxious: “Please, save him.” Triss smiled softly.
“We’ll do our best.” Yen nodded.
“Now, little one, go join the bearded one.” Ciri hesitated, then got up and came to stand beside me.
I rested a hand on her hair and said softly: “They’ll pull him through.
They’re the best sorceresses I know.” She nodded, still worried my words were as much to reassure her as they were to reassure myself.
Yen examined Aiden’s body first and said to Triss: “His body’s practically wrecked, Triss.
I don’t even know how he’s still holding on but it feels like his magic’s starting to mix directly into his blood.
We need to stop that, his heart isn’t built to handle it at all.” Triss nodded, and the two sorceresses began their incantation.
All at once, as if they were bracing against a storm with bare hands, an immense wave of cold surged to overwhelm them.
Aiden started thrashing, clearly in pain.
Ciri tried to rush toward him, but I held her back, wrapping her in my Quen even the four of us witchers could barely stay standing inside our own protective bubble, the magic radiating off him was that intense.
Yen laid her hands on Aiden’s body, lifting his shirt: his entire chest was covered in ice, as if his very skin had transformed.
She unleashed her magic, and two titanic forces clashed for countless minutes, then hours.
Eventually, Triss and Yen switched positions: Triss took over the magical fight while Yen rested briefly, still maintaining a shield around Aiden’s heart.
The hours dragged on like that.
The cold wave slowly weakened.
I’d stepped out to heal myself after Ciri fell asleep in my arms I’d laid her down in my own bed, with Lambert, Vesemir, and Eskel watching over her while they worked on clearing the ice from the hallways.
Once healed, I still stayed close to the two sorceresses, arms crossed, still bandaged in places, my eyes fixed on Aiden.
I… I blamed myself terribly.
I’d sworn to protect them, and here I was, the very first time I actually tried, having nearly killed him with my own hands.
My face darkened.
But after hours of relentless effort, Aiden’s skin finally returned to normal the ice vanished, along with the cold wave.
Both sorceresses let out exhausted sighs.
Yen looked at me, serious: “You’re going to have to talk, witcher.
I want to know everything about him, because this isn’t normal even granting that he carries the old magic, Triss and I are two sorceresses with considerable power and reserves, and it still took us hours of trading off just to contain his magic and his apparently bottomless reserve.” I nodded.
“I’ll tell you everything.
Actually, I need to tell you about Ciri too…” Triss frowned, worried: “Ciri too?” I nodded.
“Yes.
I think they both need sorceresses like you two to protect them really protect them.
Even though I want to keep watching over them myself, I understand now that I’ll never be strong enough on my own.
So I’m going to tell you everything.” Yen wiped the sweat from her forehead and said, flatly: “Fine.
For now, be a gentleman and go get us something to eat and something to drink, while you’re at it.” I nodded and left.
Even with Yen’s usual condescending tone, I knew she was just as worried as the rest of us.
And Triss I knew she’d help us, without a moment’s hesitation.
Sighing, I made my way to the dining hall to put together some plates.