Days passed.
Ciri was enthralled by Su Ming's world, everything a novelty.
Big wheeled boxes with people inside—called cars.
A device like a far-seeing mirror, showing dancers and singers—called a television.
Su Ming had heaps of clothes delivered, settling her in an apartment near the swamp. She sprawled on the couch in a red sweater, stretching like a cat, basking in the heater's warmth.
The dorm's TV was only in the common room—school rules to keep students from staying up all night.
In this era, TVs were a luxury; many homes had only radios.
Kids' obsession with TV rivaled Su Ming's childhood gaming addiction.
Ciri was hooked, alone in the building, glued to the common room's Broadway musicals.
She barely understood the lyrics, language barrier and all, but got the dancing—body language was universal.
The sturdy building kept out the early spring chill. She lounged, munching popcorn, cheeks puffed like a squirrel, mastering the art of snacking while watching.
She'd forgotten her promise to return home nightly, too cozy to move.
Spicy strips, energy drinks, instant noodles—she'd become a couch potato, a musical-theater nerd.
Mid-song, Yennefer grabbed her ear.
"My daughter's playing princess again? Eating lying down now?" Yennefer teased.
"Ouch, Lady Yennefer, your hands are freezing!" Ciri yelped.
Yennefer and the sorceresses, fresh from Kamar-Taj, carried the outdoor chill. Ciri sat up, pulling Yennefer and Triss to the couch near the heater.
The other sorceresses smiled, dispersing to find rooms.
A group from another world needed introductions, so Su Ming took them to meet Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme tasked with cosmic threats.
Better to avoid misunderstandings.
Ancient One was unfazed. As her successor, Su Ming could bring friends, provided he handled any fallout.
She wasn't rigid—her outlook was open and inclusive.
She'd told Su Ming long ago: Marvel wasn't new to cross-world visitors. Some lived out their days here safely.
Su Ming briefed her on the sorceresses' world and its planar invasion.
Ancient One dismissed the Wild Hunt and had a magical fix for the White Frost: mimic Kamar-Taj's sanctum barriers, infusing them with cosmic fire to fend off the cold.
When the sorceresses, via Su Ming's translation, asked about a frost-blocked sun, Ancient One calmly said, "Then we make a new sun with magic."
The sorceresses nearly knelt. They'd never imagined magic on that scale.
Compared to the Sorcerer Supreme, their proud powers were apprentice-level.
Su Ming saw their despairing expressions, hearing their silent cries: "We can't do that!" and "Teach me, master!"
Ancient One sipped tea, smiling kindly. "Want to learn? I'll teach you."
Her power stemmed from Vishanti, but she knew other magics—witch doctor, shaman, warlock, mutant. Anything involving cosmic energy, she mastered.
Vishanti's white magic was just her strongest tool.
So, Ciri stayed at school to play with peers, while the sorceresses took up saving their world.
They'd self-study language, then train at Kamar-Taj with Ancient One. Who knew what they'd become?
"Slade, when does school start? Ciri can't laze around forever," Yennefer said, munching popcorn, refusing Ciri's charm offensive.
"I'll get someone to teach her the language. She'll choose what to study once she knows this world," Su Ming said, entering and brushing melted snow from his shoulders. The eaves were dripping.
"She'll turn into a plump noblewoman at this rate," Yennefer said, patting Ciri's stomach.
"Nah, she's had the leech serum. Her metabolism's through the roof. She can eat and sleep without worrying about her figure," Su Ming said, grabbing an energy drink from a cabinet.
"The serum's worth way more than 20,000 coins. No need for dragon hunts," Triss said, envying Ciri's carefree state.
Ciri, head on Yennefer's lap, eyes back on the TV.
"The serum's value is beyond that. I only have a few, used one pure dose on Ciri. The rest need reverse-engineering," Su Ming said, sipping the fizzy orange drink. "You saw the school's girls. I need enough for them."
The young girls were fearless in the cold, running wild during break, playing snowball fights, reveling in freedom.
But Su Ming couldn't let them loose until they learned basic life skills.
Older ones like Dottie needed less catching up. Natasha's group, too young, needed more.
His plan: inject the serum at 18 to lock their appearance.
Gin and Vodka were busy securing legal identities for them.
With intelligence agencies creeping into every corner of life, clean, airtight identities were critical—ancestors traceable to freedom's beacon.
Su Ming planned to scatter these across the U.S., including Alaska and Hawaii, for safety.
Immortal girls would need to pose as their own descendants, requiring fabricated genealogies.
Luckily, no national database existed yet, and dollars still worked wonders.
The sorceresses? No IDs needed. Ancient One was a black-book herself.
"I saw the girls. They seem happy. Our childhoods are a blur," Yennefer said wistfully, stroking Ciri's head like a cat.
Su Ming shook his head. The girls' fates, though not medieval, were far bleaker than the sorceresses'.
But that was over. History had changed.
"So, you're happy with the school? Should someone tell Geralt?" Su Ming asked.
He wasn't making a special trip unless the Wild Hunt returned. Next time, he'd tour south—Toussaint.
"He's a witcher, we're sorceresses. When it's serious, we're often apart," Triss said.
They figured Geralt was fine, enjoying his continent-wide hunts.
In truth, Geralt was scouring the world for them.
His bedmates and daughter gone, he was frantic.
He tried contacting familiar sorceresses, but none responded. He rode to Dol Blathanna to see the elven queen, Francesca, the "Daisy of the Valleys."
After a few days in her bed, he got answers.
Half the Lodge had left, Francesca holding order.
She didn't care where Yennefer's group went or if they followed an outsider, but suggested Ida in the Blue Mountains knew more.
Geralt galloped to the Blue Mountains, nearly killing Roach. He found Ida.
His fears were confirmed: Ciri and the sorceresses followed Slade to another world, with no word back.
Desperate, he begged Ida to send him there.
Ida hesitated. Her elven magic was strong, but matching a group's portal was tough.
She warned it was risky. If the portal opened, he'd have to jump instantly—she could hold it mere seconds.
And the destination? No guarantee.
Geralt didn't care. He needed to see Ciri. Getting back? He'd figure it out.
Ida, swayed by his charm, opened the portal. Geralt dove in.
...
Another world.
The exit was high, on a mansion's second floor. Geralt leapt from the balcony, the portal snapping shut.
He rolled on landing, suddenly mastering the art, unharmed.
He scanned his surroundings.
Inside a ship, it seemed, draped with five colored banners, each with intricate designs.
Tables groaned with food—roast meat thicker than his leg, unfamiliar fruits and vegetables.
Beyond, a vast sea and an absurdly huge tree. Strange creatures flew in an impossibly blue sky.
Burly figures eyed him warily, hands on oversized weapons, eerily like Slade's.
Geralt felt he'd landed right.
A furry, bipedal creature passed, glancing up with big, cute eyes.
"Meow?"