Hiding the truth had never been enough for Ciri. She knew the mystery behind the killings went beyond simple monster hunts. Something greater—something cold and intelligent—was moving in the shadows, using innocent lives as part of a deeper design. Walking behind the scenes wasn't enough anymore. She needed answers, no matter what it cost.
An hour passed as she waited, motionless, behind the stable. The low whistling of the wind took over the silence, carrying with it the scent of steel. A corrupted sword lay half-buried in the dirt, but even that wasn't the end of the puzzle. Too many footprints overlapped, circling the area like ghosts. She hesitated only a moment before peering out from her hiding place.
That was when she heard it—steel slicing the air.
A long blade came crashing down beside her, close enough to rip through the edge of her cloak. Instinct dropped her to her knees. She rolled aside across the courtyard stones, dodging the deadly arc by a heartbeat. As she rose, she caught sight of the attacker's weapon.
Fresh blood dripped from the sword.
But it wasn't only blood—
the liquid shimmered with something darker, something venomous.