15 Velen 1230
In a lush, green forest of the Continent stands a house—the Blood family home, formerly the Auditore family home. This house is the dwelling of two living beings: a half-elf, half-human man and a woman who is three-quarters human and one-quarter elf. Two beings in love with each other. A woman and a man, wife and husband. Saibus Di Vine (also known as Saibus Blood) lives here with his wife Yennefer Blood (formerly Yennefer of Vengerberg).
In this house that was once a simple cottage, there is a man who appears to be about thirty years old. This person is the master of the house: Saibus Di Vine, an Elder of the Order of Assassins, under the code name Demon. Saibus is currently seated in a rocking chair made of dark wood and cowhide leather. He rocks his chair back and forth, lounging before the embers of the fireplace that warm the ground floor. Gazing at the blazing hearth fed with logs, Saibus falls deeply into his own mind. He hears nothing, touches nothing, smells nothing, says nothing. His senses are closed off to the rest of the world—except sight, which watches the fire slowly consume itself. He loses all sense of time, or rather, he lost it long ago.
"Kyak!" A shrill cry bursts Saibus's right eardrum. A thin trickle of blood runs from his ear. The cry pulls him out of his contemplation. Saibus casts a glance to his right. On his shoulder is Regiis, his faithful companion, a royal eagle.
"Was that cry really necessary, Regiis? And by the way, when did you perch on my shoulder?" Saibus asks, casting a healing spell on his ear.
"Kykykyaaakk," screeches the eagle in reply. Saibus adopts a surprised expression. "Have I been zoning out for that long? Time flies when one is deep in thought and lost in it," Saibus remarks, lowering his hand from his now-healed ear. He levitates the blood that had dripped from his ear and lets it fall onto the fire, which crackles in response to this new substance.
At that moment, the front door opens. A tall woman clad in a long black coat with a fur hood steps inside, the hood protecting her head from the elements. From her coat, remnants of rainwater drip onto the wooden entryway floor. The woman delicately removes her hood, taking care not to dampen her long, silky hair with the moisture trapped in the fur. She unties the cords holding her coat closed and hangs it carefully on the coat rack. She then enters the living room where Saibus is.
(Yennefer with hood)
Saibus watches his wife come toward him and settle onto his lap. Yennefer rests her face on his shoulder and nestles her head against the crook of Saibus's neck. Saibus wraps his arms around Yennefer's waist, pulling her close and helping her get comfortable. Yennefer, seated sideways across his lap, gazes at the embers in the fireplace.
Her husband can tell that she is not as cheerful as usual. Although she always maintains a cold demeanor in public, when she is at home her proud and strong sorceress's expression softens into that of an ordinary woman happy to be home. Feeling her tense in his arms, Saibus raises his right hand to her ebony hair and gently massages her scalp. He keeps up the silence maintained by his beloved, continuing to massage her head. He has known her forever; this massage has always helped her relax and calm down when she's stressed or angry. Seeing her expression gradually soften under his care, he speaks in a tender voice to learn the cause of her troubles.
"What happened, Yen?" he asks softly.
Yennefer shakes her head. "Nothing important. It doesn't matter anymore, because I have you."
"Indeed, you have me. And you will have me until the end of our long lives—as an elf and a sorceress. However, I'd like to know who was so stupid as to lose my sweet lilac flower as a friend."
Yennefer huffs in annoyance upon hearing the word "friend." "He's no longer a friend. Gone from a friend to a stranger. He's worth nothing, neither now nor in the future. I don't know what got into me to ever befriend him," Yennefer declares, her voice full of irritation and anger toward the man in question.
Saibus continues to comfort Yennefer, gently rocking the chair. He tries to cradle Yennefer as an older brother might, soothing his little sister.
"Tell me what happened, and I'll tell you if you were wrong or right."
Yennefer lifts her head and looks Saibus in the eyes. "Sai, I know you well—too well. You won't necessarily like the situation or my decision, but try to respect it. I'm not making you promise to do so, because I know that would be almost impossible for you."
"Alright. I won't say anything about your decision, whether it's stupid or wise—whether you were right or wrong," Saibus responds seriously.
Yennefer gives him a small smile. "Thank you."
"To begin with, let's go back to my time at Aretuza," Yennefer starts. "When I was learning magic, I met a lot of people, including some I became friends with. The most notable is Triss, who became my best friend. One of the friends I made was a young sorcerer like me. He wasn't as talented as I was, but he had enough talent to obtain a mentor. We often studied in groups with other apprentices, which brought all of us rather close.
"Though many disagreements happened later... but that's not the point. After graduating, I left the academy and we only exchanged a few letters, seeing each other only on a few occasions during academy reunions. I hadn't seen him for a very long time—a decade, if I'm not mistaken. I just saw him again at a gathering held by Mistress Tissaia. During that assembly, he was acting strangely. He didn't have his usual serious and inquisitive demeanor that he normally has as an archaeologist.
"He was behaving more like a Don Juan. If that were all, I'd have thought he'd simply changed—become a crude, unscrupulous lowlife. But no! He didn't stop there. He dared to flirt with me! And when I told him I was married and showed him my beautiful ring, he had the gall to remark that he would be a much better man than my husband."
Yennefer grows more furious as she recounts her former friend's behavior, though her tone softens when she mentions her ring, which she caresses lovingly.
Saibus's eyebrows are now furrowed and his gaze severe. He knows that his wife is stunning and draws many gazes, but he doesn't mind that. He knows full well that she is as faithful to him as he is to her, and that their love is unbreakable. However, he dislikes the fact that the person who wants to be with her is one of her former friends.
"Seeing him becoming insistent, I lost my temper—I snapped at him in public," Yennefer continues. "Which isn't a bad thing, because it's the only reason he's still alive. Once voices were raised, we both lost our composure and he tried to attack me. After the vulgarities, insults, and slurs, he attempted to hit me. But I retaliated just as quickly with a fireball. His face was burned, along with part of his body. It will take him weeks, maybe even months, to get back on his feet. I left after that, and Triss followed me. On the way out, I saw some mages casting spells to stabilize his critical condition. Triss wanted to talk to me, but I wasn't in the mood, so she went off to snuggle with Geralt while I came to embrace the only man in my life."
Saibus says nothing, continuing to gently rock the chair, holding Yennefer's violet gaze. "Are you angry? Are you sad? Can you please say something?" Yennefer asks.
"Am I angry? Yes. Not at you—at him, extremely. Sad? No, just a little disappointed that he's not dead. But I don't understand what you've asked of me. What decision do I need to respect?"
"His life. I could have killed him, but I decided, out of respect for our years of friendship, to let him live. Though he's surely paralyzed in some way that isn't reversible even with magic."
"Alright. I don't understand your clemency, but I can respect it."
"Thank you." Yennefer rests her head back on Saibus's shoulder and snuggles into the embrace of her lover, her husband, and—she hopes—the future father of her children. Saibus, for his part, stares off into space, focusing on something only he could know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night is a realm that both fascinates and terrifies. It harbors mystery, the unknown. It personifies evil in its purest form.
But sometimes that evil is a necessary evil—an evil for the few but a good for the many. An evil that conceals the most dangerous creatures this world has ever known. An evil that one person will endure for another's happiness. An evil committed at the very heart of knowledge. A magical evil for an eternal happiness.
It's a day of celebration at the Academy of Magic in Aretuza. An assembly has gathered the most prestigious, powerful, and renowned sorcerers and sorceresses who were trained within its walls. The hostess is Tissaia de Vries, the director of the establishment. Many guests of honor have made an appearance: Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold, Keira Metz, Marguerite Laux-Antille, and Istridd of Aedd Gynvael.
Unfortunately for the guests, this magnificent evening turned into a fiasco when an argument broke out between Yennefer and Istridd. The dispute ended with a fireball that caused severe injuries to Istridd. Luckily for him, several mages quickly arrived to stabilize his condition. However, this incident put a damper on the spirits of everyone attending the soiree. The guests decided to cut the celebration short, no longer in the mood to converse with their colleagues. Some left in groups to continue the evening in pleasant company, while others simply went home.
Tissaia asked for Istridd to be taken to a chamber so he could be treated and begin his convalescence. Under the effect of a pain-relief potion, Istridd lies unconscious, awaiting what he believes to be his final hour.
(Image Aretuza Academy)
In the veil of night, a being travels across the rooftops of Loxia, the lower compound of Thanedd Island where the Academy of Aretuza is located. Swift and furtive, the being becomes one with the shadows. It plays with the darkness. Sprinting over the complex's orange-tiled roofs, the being is a friend to silence.
Under Lilvani's light, the being uses the Gift of Morrigan to dance with the nocturnal wind. The being—or rather the shadow—swiftly reaches its destination: in front of a large window leading into the academy. Entering this place of knowledge and esotericism, the shadow does not bother to look around or admire the magnificence of the halls. It wastes not an instant, dancing with the darkness and the faint light of Lilvani filtering through the windows. Moving through the castle, the darkness finally comes to a stop in a room.
The room is a beautiful guest chamber, with a sumptuous bed and a large light-wood wardrobe with a matching desk. But the highlight of the room is a balcony offering a view of the sea's crystalline waters. A man lies asleep peacefully, though one can see that his face is burned. The shadow watches the sleeping man, and a Machiavellian smile spreads across its lips. Its white teeth gleam against the darkness that conceals the rest of its body.
"It's time to play, my dear Istridd," the shadow whispers.
The whisper awakens the man. Istridd looks around. He sees nothing except shadows dancing around him.
"What?! What's happening? Who are you?!" Istridd exclaims, terrified to have been awakened in darkness with shadows swirling around him.
The Shadows dance and chant around him. "You will die. You played. You lost. Death is your punishment. Death is your salvation. Death will be your decision," the Shadows intone as they cavort throughout the room.
"By the Devil, what abomination are you?!" Istridd attempts to cast a spell to drive the shadows away, but finds that his magic does not answer him—it refuses to obey. The energy of Chaos has abandoned him.
"What?! No! What have you done?! My magic!" Istridd panics upon realizing that he is incapable of using magic. He tries to rise from the bed, but he cannot. He suddenly sees long, thin arms pinning down his hands and legs: four shadows are holding him in place.
"No! Let me go, demon spawn!" Istridd yells, struggling with all his might.
"Yes... we are the Demon's spawn, and you will become one of us," the shadows say in unison. "One of us. One of us. A Shadow for the Father. A new Shadow for the Legion. A new spawn for the Demon."
One shadow approaches Istridd's face with its dark hands.
"No! Don't come near me! Get back! NOOO!" Istridd struggles all the harder.
The shadow places its hands over Istridd's eyes. "You lost. You saw. As punishment, we will take your eyes." The shadow plunges its hands into Istridd's eyes, and he screams in agony. It tears out his eyeballs.
"AAAAAAHHHH!! PLEASE! I'll never do it again, I swear! I'm begging you—have mercy and let me go!" Istridd shrieks, pleading through the pain.
"You tried to touch. You lost. As punishment: your hands." The shadow slices off Istridd's arms, triggering another horrific scream. He moans and begs again, but the shadows pay no heed.
"You smelled Mother's scent. You will lose your nose." An electric shock courses through Istridd's body—so powerful and focused that he is left stupefied and robbed of his sense of smell. Istridd can no longer form proper sentences or think clearly. He breaks down in sobs.
"Pl...ease... Fa...ther... he...lp... me... pr...ay..." he whimpers incoherently.
Unfortunately for him, his lamentations do nothing. The shadows have been sent by the Demon to carry out a task, and they intend to see it through.
"You dared to listen to Mother's words without satisfying her. You did not heed Mother. You will be punished," the shadow hisses. It brings its mouth—or maw—close to Istridd's ear and begins to scream: "For Father! For Mother! We are their Children!"
Istridd's right eardrum explodes in a splash of blood that trickles from his ear. His left ear meets the same fate. Istridd is in a pitiful state. He has no ears, no arms, no eyes. Yet he is still somehow able to see and hear the Shadows.
"You cannot escape. We are everywhere. We are in your head. We will punish you to please Father. For raising your voice against Mother, we will take your throat."
The shadow extends five long claws from its hand and slices Istridd's throat open. Istridd gurgles and chokes on his own blood. The shadow smiles at the now-useless magician. "Do you want to live?" it asks.
Istridd, drowning in his own blood, nods weakly.
"Good," the shadow purrs.
The shadows restraining him release their grip and encircle Istridd. "Go through the door and you will live." One shadow steps aside in front of a doorway, leaving the path wide open. Istridd, alive but dying, moves as fast as he can toward the door. Afraid that it might disappear, he even leaps through it.
Believing he has found salvation and a chance to survive, Istridd has never felt so relieved. He turns back toward the Shadows. Knowing they exist only in his mind, Istridd unleashes a stream of insults, death threats, and curses at them. But the smiles on the shadows' faces only grow wider.
In an instant, Istridd feels himself plummeting. He is in free fall. He feels the wind slamming against his face and body. He feels the cold sea air chilling his blood. He sees a blue expanse below, shimmering with reflected white lights.
He finds himself hurtling toward the sea near Aretuza's cliffs. He cannot even call upon his magic. The shadows have tricked him. He has leaped to his death, not to his salvation.
He hopes to survive by plunging into the water, but the sea below changes to jagged rock. He did not jump into open water at all, but onto the reef. He has no time to react as his body crashes against the rocks. His bones break and shatter on impact. His head bursts apart along with the rest of his limbs.
Istridd's broken corpse tumbles off the rocks and is finally claimed by the sea. No trace remains of Istridd the magician. No trace—except for a trail of blood on the reef that is slowly washed away by the spray of the waves. The waters even take on a dark red hue for a few seconds, as if the blood of Istridd the Magician and useless Archaeologist did not deserve the honor of the Sea.