Thick clouds piled up overhead. It was a lightless night.
The uninhabited cabin in the forest welcomed a group of visitors.
"So this is the residence of Jerome Moreau's mother in the Mayena Druid Circle—"
By the firelight of a Light spell, Vera looked around.
As a sorceress who had also given birth to a child—and whose child had likewise become a witcher because of an "accident"—Vera felt a deep, empathetic pity for the fate of Lydia, Jerome Moreau's mother.
If Lydia were still alive, that connection alone would have been enough for them to become close friends.
Unfortunately, she was dead. If not for Allen, she would have been completely forgotten, unknown to anyone—her very flesh and blood lost to obscurity.
"Did you try looking for her remains?" Vera asked with a trace of sympathy.
"We did, but there was no result," Allen shook his head. "Too much time has passed. The traces left in the house also show that she left Mayena of her own will, not under coercion. Divination and witcher tracking methods were like searching for a needle in the sea—completely useless."
"It should be that Lydia deliberately cleaned up the traces—"
Searching through relics was only a clumsy last resort. If possible, finding the body would, of course, be the best option.
Even without using necromancy, a body could still yield many clues.
Unfortunately, time was the best accomplice in destroying evidence. The cabin Lydia left behind was, mystically speaking, extremely clean.
Whether it was tracking, the Wild Speech, or various divination rituals, none could uncover any clues.
That was understandable, considering she had been hiding a great secret connected to an ancient god.
Even so—
Finding Lydia's body was still not an impossible task. After all, Tomas Moreau, the murderer himself, was still in the dungeons of Kaer Morhen.
Although his mind had partially collapsed and he had become somewhat witless after Ida Emean searched his memories last time, this was a magical world—there were plenty of ways to pry things out of a man's mind.
As for whether to use necromancy after finding the body—
Allen had thought about it and felt some hesitation.
It wasn't because he didn't know necromancy. That wouldn't be a problem—so long as Vera knew it. Nor was it because necromancy was a taboo in the Northern Continent punishable by burning at the stake; Allen clearly wasn't someone overly concerned with such taboos.
It was simply because that was, after all, Jerome Moreau's mother. Necromancy was ultimately an evil art and would disturb Lydia's soul's rest.
But this matter concerned Gwendolyn, the Maiden of Spring; it concerned the prophecy of the Child of Destiny, the White Frost, and the future of this world. If nothing could be found among Lydia's relics, then he would have no choice but to use necromancy to dig out the secret.
The glowing orb of the Light spell flew into the wooden cabin first, with Allen and Vera following closely behind.
"So these relics are what you want to transport back to Kaer Morhen?" Vera asked.
Allen nodded. "Besides here, there are three other rooms. Will it be convenient to take everything back?"
Vera didn't answer.
Snap.
With the snap of her fingers, a dark-red magical radiance suddenly flared into a massive magic circle within the room.
The furnishings in the living room remained unmoved. Parchments, etched illustrations, and stone tablets—all of Lydia's relics sank into the huge magic circle, just like when Old Speartip and the Drowner King's bodies had been teleported to the castle hall after the Trial of the Mountain.
Soon, all of Lydia's relics from the three rooms vanished.
With the serious business finished, Allen and Vera simultaneously turned their heads toward the mistress of the Mayena Druid Circle, who had remained silent and absent-minded ever since leaving the cabin beneath the oak tree.
"Lady Visenna, I'm afraid there's nowhere in the entire Mayena Druid Circle more secluded than this place," Vera said. "What is it you wanted to speak to us about?"
Suddenly hearing her name, Visenna shuddered. Her lips moved several times, but not a single word came out.
When she had rushed away from the Grand Master and gone straight to find Allen and Vera, her mind had been overheated, and she could disregard everything.
But after calming down along the way, she found it suddenly hard to speak.
How was she supposed to say it?
Ask Vera how to give birth to a non-deformed child?
But this was a major problem that even Aretuza could only deal with through crude measures like sterilization. How could Vera possibly know?
And in the end—
Did she really want to give birth to this child?
Could she truly give birth to this child?
Boundless fear hollowed Visenna out, and her mind wandered again. She subconsciously reached out to touch her belly—but the thing inside her belly was precisely the source of that fear.
In the end, she could only stand there blankly and stiffly, hands spread, unmoving, her thoughts scattered.
Vera had never been a particularly patient sorceress. If it were anyone else ignoring her in such a distracted manner, she would at the very least have turned and left. But Visenna was Allen's lifesaver, and what was more—
"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Vera sighed softly. Yet her almost whisper-like words made Visenna snap her head up, her mind reeling.
"Y-you—how did you know?" she cried out, then turned to look at Allen.
There was no surprise on the witcher's face either.
Of course Allen wasn't surprised. Along the way, Visenna had practically had the words "I have something big going on" written all over her face, and she kept unconsciously touching her belly.
What major matter could the mistress of the Mayena Druid Circle have, that she wouldn't go to the druids themselves but instead came to the two of them, "outsiders"?
If it were someone else, they might not have thought in this direction out of habit.
But Allen wasn't someone else.
Almost the moment Visenna entered the room, Allen had already formed this guess—he just hadn't said it out loud.
So Geralt had finally been born?
Allen looked at Visenna's still-flat abdomen, his emotions complicated.
The future protagonist of witchers and sorceresses had ultimately not been erased by a single flap of the wings of this butterfly from another world.
But that wasn't particularly surprising.
Although Allen's activities in the first half of the year had also included Temeria, all his time had been spent in Ellander, which was nearly half a Temeria away from the Mayena Druid Circle.
Moreover, when Allen had encountered Visenna and Korin, the two of them had already appeared very close, inseparable.
The mountain roads of Amell were not easy to traverse.
By that calculation—
The time when Visenna and Korin met, came to know each other, fell in love, and ultimately conceived Geralt probably all happened one or two months before they met Allen.
But speaking of Korin—
Allen subconsciously looked behind Visenna. Naturally, he saw no figure.
He also didn't ask tactlessly about Korin's whereabouts.
Although it had been a week since he last saw Visenna and Korin, and he didn't know how their relationship stood now.
A week ago, because of Visenna's status within the Mayena Druid Circle, Korin had been subjected to considerable difficulty. By now, he had most likely already left the Circle.
Korin was, after all, a wandering knight.
But Allen not asking didn't mean no one would.
"I'm a sorceress too, and also a mother. Of course I know what a pregnant sorceress looks like," Vera glanced at Allen, then sighed again and asked, "Where is the child's father?"
Visenna didn't answer, instead looking at Vera in surprise.
Allen was equally surprised that Vera would speak of their relationship to a stranger.
"Y-you—you know?" Visenna asked cautiously.
Vera glanced at Allen and nodded. "When Allen was completely unconscious, your emotional fluctuations were far too obvious."
Completely unconscious—?
The witcher was momentarily confused.
[Allen, can you call me—Mom—one more time?]
The trembling voice that Vera had sent into his mind before Allen lost consciousness instantly resurfaced in his memory. Visenna's face flushed red in an instant.
How utterly awkward!
She immediately began apologizing incoherently. "S-sorry, Lady Vera, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just forgot at the time—that suddenly withdrawing might be sensed—no, no, I didn't deliberately mean to hide it. Later I also thought about—"
"Enough," Vera waved her hand. "I know you didn't do it on purpose."
Visenna then remembered the precious formulas Allen had spoken during the transmission. Although she hadn't memorized all of them, knowledge itself had value—and these were worth more than gold.
"And those formulas—I can use a few that I know to—"
"Don't think about those formulas," Vera interrupted gently. "You saved Allen's life. That debt of saving his life hasn't even been repaid yet."
"But that was a druid's—"
"That's enough," Vera rebuked softly, and Visenna immediately fell silent. "None of that matters. And don't avoid the issue. Tell me—where is the child's father?"
Visenna's gaze flickered as she fell silent for a while.
"Korin—Korin left the Mayena Druid Circle the day before yesterday," Visenna lowered her head, avoiding the gazes of Allen and Vera, her face expressionless. "By now, he should already have reached Vizima—"
"Life in the Druid Circle was never really suitable for a free knight after all—"
So they'd broken up—Allen had just been hit with a massive piece of gossip, and felt the urge to scratch his head.
In his previous life, it was death that separated Visenna and Korin. Not long after they left the Amell Mountains, Korin was killed by bandits under the command of the renegade druid Fregenal.
Unexpectedly, in this life, although Korin had avoided that life-and-death crisis thanks to Allen's butterfly effect, the two of them still ended up parting ways.
In the end, Visenna had no intention of giving up her status within the Mayena Druid Circle, and Korin had no desire to wrong himself by staying there indefinitely. Their separation was only a matter of time.
Of course, in the witcher world, this was hardly unusual.
In the original novels and the games, Geralt and Yennefer broke up and got back together so many times that it became several major plotlines.
Outside the main storyline, Geralt not only had affairs with Triss Merigold, Keira Metz, Fringilla Vigo, and nearly half of the sorceresses of the Sorceresses' Lodge, but also had relationships with women from a whole range of professions—doctors, bards, princesses, bandits, assassins, and more.
Yennefer likewise had no shortage of lovers. Istredd, the sorcerer of Kovir and Poviss serving King Edder of Kovir, was one of her long-term partners.
There was also the lord of Skellige, the head of Clan an Craite, known as Crach an Craite—the Wild Boar of the Sea.
In short, for long-lived beings like witchers and sorceresses, tangled relationships were perfectly normal.
By contrast, a couple like Vera and Sol, who remained devoted to each other, were the exception rather than the rule.
Of course, it was also possible that Vera and Sol had their own little pink stories—Allen just didn't know about them.
Vera, at this very moment, had no idea that her child was internally speculating about her emotional history with Sol.
Hearing the faint, choked tremor in Visenna's voice, Vera's lips moved slightly. She probably wanted to say something like "no man is a good thing," but after her peripheral vision caught Allen, she didn't say it out loud.
Vera sighed again and gently wiped away the tears at the corner of Visenna's eyes.
"So what is it you came to me for?" she asked softly. "Do you want to give birth to him?"
"I—I—I don't know," Visenna looked at Vera in confusion. "Lady Vera, should I give birth to him? Can I give birth to him?"
'Of course you can—that's the White Wolf', Allen thought.
Though, to be honest, he didn't have particularly high expectations for Geralt. It was hard to, really.
Yennefer still counted as having a promising future, and little Hen had already begun to help out a bit with alchemy.
But Geralt hadn't even been born yet. Even with extraordinary talent, it would still be more than a decade before he could become real fighting power.
The Wild Hunt would arrive in at most two years. Barring accidents, it definitely wouldn't wait that long.
And in truth, Allen had no intention of arranging Geralt's life. He didn't plan to interfere, nor to deliberately push Geralt onto the path of a witcher. In the original story, Geralt's life was simply too bitter.
Of course, he wouldn't deliberately prevent it either. After all, with the current Wolf School, the mortality rate of the Trials was almost zero, and it was a pretty decent career path.
Still, even without intending to interfere at all, the thought of witnessing Geralt's birth with his own eyes filled Allen with a strange feeling he couldn't quite put into words.
It was a bit like being about to unlock an extremely rare achievement in a game, or like nearing a famous scenic spot with a long history—
"I really want to tell you to give birth to him, but—" Vera looked earnestly into Visenna's vacant eyes and shook her head. "I have to dispel your wishful thinking, Visenna."
Hm? Dispel your wishful thinking—Allen grew increasingly confused as he listened. Something didn't seem quite right.
"Although I don't agree with Tissaia's harsh measures, her thinking isn't wrong," Vera continued. "Back when we were still on Thanedd Island, studying under our mentors, those foolish girls at Aretuza—newly remade with magic—simply couldn't withstand the temptations of the outside world."
"They spread their legs, and the remote ravines of Thanedd Island were filled with deformed stillborn infants."
"The erosion of Chaos meant that among all the pregnant apprentices, not a single fetus developed normally."
"Quite a few apprentices with outstanding talent ignored their mentors' advice and carried their pregnancies to term. When they finally saw their monster-like malformed children, they were driven mad on the spot."
"As for Allen—Allen was just an exception."
"So—"
Vera looked sincerely into Visenna's bewildered eyes and said, "If you ask for my opinion right now, I would advise you not to give birth to him. And to do it now—while you've just learned of this—erase him. Don't let time wear down your resolve."
"If you can't bring yourself to do it—"
"I can help you."
As she spoke, the sorceress snapped her fingers, summoning a staff.
A crimson, killing magical radiance gathered and swirled at the tip of the staff.
....
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