Moonlit night.
Fireflies flitted through the silent darkness, their gentle glow revealing the outlines of black monsters crouched low against the high mountains.
A heavily guarded fortress.
Or, at least, it had once been heavily guarded.
Bricks, beams, and planks were stacked haphazardly, all coated with thick dust. The castle walls were blackened, scarred by fire.
The fireflies swayed with the wind. Rather than a fortress, it looked more like a ruin.
Yet this place wasn't entirely abandoned. The bridge over the moat had a broken section, revealing a sizable gap, but several irregularly shaped planks filled the holes.
The bricks, beams, and planks, though messy, did not block the path leading straight into the castle.
"Whoosh~"
A mountain wind suddenly stirred the dust, and the mottled shadows of trees swayed.
The night erupted with star-like light.
A horse appeared with a "thump" in that starlit glow, a girl mounted on its back, followed by a strange horned beast.
Starry Eyes, is this your home?
Ihuarraquax looked curiously at the massive, decrepit stone building nearby, gently pawing at the dirt with his forehooves.
Ciri stared at the familiar ruined gate, the rusted chains on the drawbridge, and the patchwork repairs on the broken sections that almost caused her to fall into the dry moat.
Geralt and Vesemir's craftsmanship had never been very good; Eskel and Lambert often teased them during winter returns.
Ciri drew a deep breath, inhaling the air she had long missed since leaving Tir ná Lia.
"Yes, Ihuarraquax."
"I'm home."
"Clop, clop, clop~"
She lightly patted Kelpie's neck. The black mare walked gracefully toward the dark ruins.
Ihuarraquax sensed her emotions and silently followed.
Quietly, they crossed the drawbridge, entered the outer bailey, passed through another iron gate with a large gap, and reached the inner bailey.
Inside the inner bailey lay a training ground overgrown with weeds.
A path wound directly to the main keep atop a three-story platform. Towering dark walls surrounded it, yet they inspired no fear nor surprise — no hint of the excitement Ciri had anticipated.
[…I will save the Wolf School…]
[…When you return to your world, the first face you see will be mine…]
"Allen, you really are a liar…"
Ciri looked up at the crescent moon high above, whispering in self-reproach.
Since Kaer Morhen hadn't changed, on that grassland, the Allen of seventy years ago — the Witcher of the Wolf School — had obviously failed.
He couldn't fulfill his promises, couldn't save the Wolf School, and didn't survive that disaster.
Thinking of this, tears involuntarily streamed down her cheeks.
The mountain wind rustled the weeds, bushes, and her purple tunic along the path.
Starry Eyes, what's wrong?
Ihuarraquax came from behind, noticing the tear stains on her face, tilting his head.
You're home now. Aren't you happy, Starry Eyes?
"I…"
Ciri wiped her tears, trying to hide something, then suddenly turned sharply toward the shadows beneath the scaffolding by the castle wall.
"Who's there?!!"
A figure emerged from the darkness.
The caution on her face instantly transformed into joy: "Vesemir!"
She quickly dismounted, took a few hurried steps, then leapt into the arms of the silver-haired old Witcher.
Her long legs swung joyfully behind her.
"Hehehe~" The old Witcher's face wrinkled with laughter as he spun her around several times. "You've lost weight, Ciri, you've lost weight…"
Already struggling to contain her emotions, hearing the hoarse voice of the old Witcher, countless images flashed before her eyes.
Burying her head deeply in his embrace, she cried out, "Waaah!"
"So many people died, Vesemir! So many people died because of me!"
"Giselher, Kayleigh, Asse, Reef, Iskra… and Mistle. He cut off their heads… one by one… right in front of me…"
"…Old Raven Vysogota could've lived a long time too, but he's dead…"
"And… and…"
-----------------------------------
At first, the girl's speech was somewhat coherent, but as she cried, her words became a jumble of names and sobs, her voice eventually hoarse from pure weeping and venting.
The old Witcher's nose pinched as well. He tilted his head back for a long moment, forcing his own tears back before gently patting the girl's frail back:"Alright, alright… you're back. Everyone's back. You're home now, Ciri…"
After comforting her for a while, Ciri finally poured out all the grievances she had endured on the journey through her tears.
Then she remembered she was no longer that little girl who constantly worried about escaping Vesemir's tedious lessons. Embarrassed, she climbed down from the old Witcher's arms.
Wiping her tears, her hoarse voice tried to change the subject: "Vesemir… why are you still at Kaer Morhen at this time? Shouldn't you have come down the mountain already?"
Vesemir didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on Ciri's face.
Ciri remembered something and awkwardly turned to the side, brushing her hair with her left hand to let her silver locks cover the scar on her left eye.
Of course, the old Witcher noticed her action, but he didn't comment. Taking a deep breath to calm the fury burning within him, he followed her line of thought: "It was Triss Merigold. A few months ago, she suddenly found me and told me you had been lost by Geralt on Thanedd Island."
"She told me to hurry back and wait for you at Kaer Morhen… I didn't expect to actually manage to wait for you."
"After finding the magical item Triss gave me, I still need to inform her, so she can notify Geralt…"
The old Witcher suddenly paused mid-sentence.
Once he calmed down, he noticed Ihuarraquax hiding behind the black Kelpie.
Ciri followed his gaze and turned her head: "Right, Vesemir, I forgot to introduce him."
"He's my friend Ihuarraquax. Escaping the Wild Hunt was only possible thanks to him."
"Ihuarraquax, this is Vesemir, the master Witcher of the Wolf School. I… I…"
Vesemir waved his hand and glanced at the crescent moon hanging high in the sky: "Let's talk more inside the castle. You must be hungry after the journey. We'll make a fire and get you something to eat…"
Just as he finished speaking: "Gurgle—"
"Gurgle—"
Two loud stomach growls echoed through the ruined castle of Kaer Morhen, causing even the sharp mountain wind to fall silent.
Vesemir paused, then chuckled softly, shaking his head: "Follow me."
"Wait!" Ciri called out suddenly, holding Kelpie's reins, stopping the old Witcher.
"What is it, Ciri?"
The girl hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke: "Vesemir… do you remember a Witcher of the Wolf School named Allen?"
-----------------------------------
"Beep beep~"
In the castle hall, lit by the campfire, Ciri sat alone at the ancient oak long table, greedily devouring the stew Vesemir had made.
Yes.
Vesemir wasn't in the hall.
Of course, only temporarily.
"Creak~"
At the entrance of the castle hall, the worn double doors were pushed open, rusty hinges groaning painfully.
Almost at the exact moment the grating sound reached her ears, Ciri immediately abandoned the steaming, delicious stew and practically leaped from her seat, hurrying to the door.
Vesemir entered, holding several small booklets.
"It's been ages since I organized the library," the old Witcher complained. "This winter, I should have Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert properly clean the entire Kaer Morhen…"
"So, did you find it, Vesemir?" Ciri asked, not even wiping the food crumbs off her face, stepping closer to take the dusty booklets from him.
"Whoosh whoosh~"
The pages flipped.
"You don't need to make such a fuss. Seventy years ago, though the Wolf School was at its peak, because the Three Trials were so difficult, even in winter Kaer Morhen wasn't very crowded."
"Not to mention the Witcher masters, even the ordinary Witchers of the Wolf School—I wouldn't forget a single one…"
"And those fourteen- or fifteen-year-old Witcher masters, little girl, you think hunting a large monster is easy?"
"I myself was the youngest Witcher master of the Wolf School back then, and I was almost fifty when I became a Witcher master…"
Vesemir watched Ciri flip through the pages hastily, shaking his head slightly as he rambled.
Until…
"Cough cough… found it!" Ciri coughed a few times from the dust, pointing with her slender, jade-like index finger at a line in the Wolf School's experiment records.
"Really?!!" Vesemir blinked in surprise and quickly leaned in.
Sure enough, on the yellowed, thin pages, he saw the name Allen.
"Swish swish swish~"
Ciri's eyes lit up as she hurriedly turned the pages.
"Here it is!" She stopped at a page, focusing intently.
[Apprentice: Allen]
[Path: Law of Surprise]
[Date: December 21, 1166 (probably under one year old)]
[Guiding Witcher: Sol Henrietta]
-----------------------------------
"Sol Henrietta…" Vesemir exclaimed in surprise.
Ciri, curious, asked, "What about Sol Henrietta?"
"Sol was the Grandmaster of the Wolf School at that time. He also left the Witcher Order to found the Wolf School…"
"What's so strange about that?"
Vesemir furrowed his thick brows. "If I remember correctly, in 1166, Grandmaster Sol was already fully devoted to the affairs of the school and rarely descended the mountain to take contracts."
"Rarely taking contracts means he would rarely encounter apprentices, especially ones coming through Law of Surprise…"
Seeing Ciri's puzzled expression, Vesemir briefly explained, "Most apprentices who arrive via the Law of Surprise come from poor families that can't afford to pay."
"Grandmaster Sol was an upright man. It's not that he wouldn't accept such contracts, but by custom, Witcher masters were entitled to waive that portion of the reward."
Ciri pressed her lips together. "But wasn't I also an accident, like Geralt?"
"That's different," Vesemir interrupted. "Cases like yours were extremely rare, and each time, because of the apprentice's identity, it was widely known. At least no Witcher of the Wolf School would be unaware…"
"At the long table in the castle hall, Witchers speak freely about everything, but I've never heard of this Allen, it's as if…"
"As if someone…" Ciri pointed at the name in the Guiding Witcher column, "…was deliberately hiding it?"
Vesemir looked at Sol Henrietta's name and shook his head gently. "Keep looking further…"
[December 21, 1170 – Undertook the "Choice" Trial, trial adaptation satisfactory, no magical talent detected…]
[June 21, 1171 – Began using modification potions and conducting physical training…]
[June 21, 1172 – Began swordsmanship training…]
[1173…]
-----------------------------------
After all, it was the full process of an apprentice growing from a child to undergoing Witcher trials, so the record was not short.
Ciri and Vesemir flipped page after page, and under the old Witcher's explanation, by any measure, this apprentice named Allen seemed completely ordinary.
To put it more precisely, he was mediocre—mediocre in every way—not at all like someone who could become a Witcher Grandmaster at fourteen or fifteen.
Then, as expected…
When Ciri turned a certain page, her hand suddenly froze, and her emerald eyes contracted sharply.
"This… this is impossible!"
Vesemir glanced at Ciri, frowning.
[December 21, 1179 – Undertook the "Grass Trial," deceased.]
The old Witcher, unsurprised, sighed softly.
In the Wolf School… no, in any Witcher school, the death of an apprentice was nothing unusual.
This was also why, after years of effort with Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert following the decline of the school, he had decided to abandon the effort to continue the school.
Of course, he didn't think Ciri had fabricated a Wolf School Grandmaster named Allen.
It was just that perhaps she, possessing the legendary gift of the Elder Blood, had reached a place beyond ordinary reach, and the Allen in question might have been merely a spirit, endlessly dreaming of becoming a Witcher Grandmaster…
Sighing, the old Witcher organized his words in his mind and gently patted Ciri's shoulder, about to offer some comforting words.
Suddenly…
Ciri seemed to sense something, and she lifted her head sharply, looking toward the castle hall and the beams covered in cobwebs and dust.
Something she had once given to a Witcher suddenly streaked like a meteor, responding to the power of the Elder Blood.
Blinding for an instant, then gone.
She vaguely thought of a possibility.
-----------------------------------
At the same time, someone else seemed to sense changes hidden in the shadows of the world.
But that person was not in the ruins of Kaer Morhen, but in a far grander castle—
Tir ná Lia.
......
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