The following days felt strange, even by Yennefer's standards, which were already accustomed to strangeness. Their relationship had changed. The cold war between them had thawed into a sort of warm and dangerous ceasefire. Their arguments were still sharp, but now they often ended with a meaningful smile or a touch that lingered just a little longer than it should have.
Tom, for his part, seemed to be enjoying this new phase. He became more creative in "helping" Yennefer. One day, when Yennefer complained about the cold night in the mountains, Tom teleported them to a private beach on a tropical archipelago that wasn't on any map, just for dinner. He would serve the finest wine from a Nilfgaardian emperor's cellar and exotic fruits from Zerrikania, all "acquired" in the blink of an eye.
For Yennefer, this was the life she had always dreamed of: limitless power, boundless luxury. But it all came with one condition: the constant presence of the anomaly sitting across the table, watching her with an amused gaze as if she were his favorite magic show. She had been given the most beautiful golden cage in the world.
Their strange tranquility was shattered one morning in a bustling port city. A messenger kestrel landed on their inn window, carrying a letter sealed with the emblem of a wolf.
Yennefer opened the letter, and as she read its contents, her usually composed expression became complicated.
Tom, who was busy trying to build a tower of Gwent cards using his Telekinesis, noticed the change. "Bad news? Or just a bill from the tailor whose dress you borrowed?"
"It's from Geralt," Yennefer said softly, as if speaking the name stirred a series of conflicting emotions.
"Geralt?" Tom tilted his head. "Boring name. Who is he? One of your heartbroken ex-lovers?"
"He's... a Witcher," Yennefer replied, folding the letter carefully. "And he needs my help. It's about Ciri."
The name "Ciri" made the atmosphere more serious. Tom knew from the thoughts he occasionally "peeked" at when Yennefer's guard was down that Ciri was something incredibly important to the sorceress before him. Perhaps the only thing that truly mattered.
"The girl with hair white and the power to destroy worlds, right?" Tom said casually. "What's the problem this time? The Wild Hunt?"
Yennefer shot him a sharp look. "Don't say their name. And yes, it's about them. Geralt is tracking one of their generals and he needs my magic to close a portal."
She seemed hesitant. She had to go. Ciri was her priority. But... Tom. How could she explain Tom to Geralt? And vice versa? Bringing a possessive, insane god to meet the turbulent love of her life sounded like a recipe for disaster.
"You look worried," Tom said, his card tower collapsing as his concentration lapsed. He didn't sound jealous, just curious. "What's the deal with this Witcher? Is he special?"
"Our relationship is complicated," Yennefer answered curtly.
"Aha! So he is your lover!" Tom exclaimed with glee. "This is getting more and more interesting! I have to meet him! I want to know what kind of man could tie a sorceress like you in knots."
"No," Yennefer said quickly. "You can't. This is our business."
"Oh, come on," Tom coaxed, now standing in front of Yennefer. "Aren't we partners? I'll help you help your lover help your adoptive daughter. It sounds like a fun family adventure! I promise I'll be on my best behavior."
The grin on his face said otherwise. Yennefer could vividly imagine what Tom's version of "best behavior" meant: moving Geralt's sword to a mountaintop just as he was about to slay a monster, or perhaps teleporting Geralt into the middle of a griffin's nest just to see how he'd get out.
She had no choice. Leaving Tom alone was a recipe for even greater chaos. Trying to forbid him would only make him more determined to come along.
With a deep, resigned sigh, Yennefer relented. "Fine. You can come. But you promise me one thing, Tom."
"Anything for you, darling."
"Do. Not. Make. A. Mess," she said, emphasizing each word.
Tom placed a hand on his chest with a look of false sincerity. "You have my word."
Yennefer knew that Tom Jacker's word was worth absolutely nothing. She had just agreed to bring a typhoon into a thunderstorm, and she could only hope they wouldn't destroy the entire world in the process. Their journey to meet Geralt of Rivia had begun.
They met Geralt at a ruined old fortress in the mountains of Kaer Morhen, the place that was supposed to be a home for Witchers. A cold wind howled through the cracked stones, carrying the scent of pine and snow. Geralt of Rivia was waiting in the fortress courtyard, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed. His cat-like eyes narrowed as he saw a single figure, Yennefer, approaching from a distance.
But his keen Witcher senses told him something was wrong. He could hear Yennefer's familiar footsteps, sense the faint aroma of lilac and gooseberries on the air. But there was a second presence walking beside her. This presence was strange. There was no heartbeat, no rhythm of breath, no discernible scent. It was as if emptiness itself had taken human form and decided to go for a stroll. It immediately put him on high alert.
Yennefer arrived before him, her expression hard to read. Beside her stood a man who looked utterly out of place. The man wore fine clothes more suited for a nobleman's party than the wild mountains, and the smile on his face was too relaxed, too confident.
"Yen," Geralt greeted, his voice deep and raspy. His eyes then shifted to Tom. "You're not alone."
"Geralt," Yennefer replied, her tone controlled. "This is Tom. He's... an associate. He's going to help us."
Tom stepped forward enthusiastically, extending his hand. "Geralt of Rivia! The White Wolf! A living legend! It's a pleasure to meet you!"
Geralt stared at the outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it reluctantly. Tom's handshake was surprisingly strong, and there was a strange spark of energy that startled Geralt slightly.
"Do people call you 'Gerry' often?" Tom asked with feigned curiosity.
"Never," Geralt answered curtly, pulling his hand back. He did not like this man. Not at all.
"A shame," Tom said cheerfully. "Alright, so where's this broken portal? I'm ready for a little action!"
Yennefer sighed. "As I said in the letter, Geralt. One of Eredin's generals opened a portal on the lower levels of this fortress to move troops. I managed to seal it temporarily, but the seal won't hold for long. We need to close it permanently."
Geralt nodded, his eyes still fixed on Tom with suspicion. "This job requires precision and power. What can your 'associate' do?"
Before Yennefer could answer, Tom answered for her. "Oh, I can do lots of things! For instance..." Tom snapped his fingers. The wolf medallion around Geralt's neck suddenly began to vibrate violently and levitate a few inches in front of his chest.
Geralt instinctively grabbed his medallion, his eyes widening in shock. He glared at Tom with a murderous look.
"See? Useful, right?" Tom said with a laugh. He lowered the medallion back down. "Don't worry, I won't break it. Probably."
Yennefer massaged her temples. "Tom, stop it." She turned to Geralt. "Trust me, Geralt. He's... useful."
"We need to get through the ruins in the main hall to reach the lower levels," Geralt said, deciding to ignore Tom for the moment to focus on the mission. "There's a collapsed corridor. It would take hours to clear it by hand."
"Hours?" Tom repeated with a bored tone. "Why didn't you say so?"
He walked ahead of them towards the main hall whose ceiling had caved in, creating a pile of rocks and wooden beams weighing tens of tons that blocked the path. Geralt and Yennefer followed, wondering what this strange man was about to do.
Tom just stood before the pile of rubble, looked at it for a moment, then sighed as if facing a terribly annoying chore. He waved his hand casually.
The sight that followed left Geralt, the Witcher who had seen everything, speechless.
The entire pile of rubble, tens of tons of stone and wood, lifted into the air as if it were completely weightless. The stones floated beneath the hall's still-intact ceiling, then with a controlled movement, Tom moved them to a corner of the room and stacked them neatly, creating a clean, wide path. It all happened in total silence, save for the sound of a few small pebbles falling.
Tom dusted off his hands, which weren't actually dirty at all. "There, all done. Anything else?"
Geralt stared at the now-open path, then at Tom, then at Yennefer. Yennefer just gave him a look that seemed to say, 'I told you so.'
Geralt's suspicion hadn't vanished; on the contrary, it had grown immensely. This man was not just a powerful mage. He was something else. Something that shouldn't exist. And now, he had to enter the enemy's den with this invincible anomaly.
"Let's go," Geralt said finally, his voice raspier than usual. "Our work isn't done."
He walked through the newly cleared path, feeling Tom's amused gaze on his back. The strangest and most unstable team in the world had just been formed, and they were about to face one of their greatest threats.