By midsummer of Geralt's fifth year, mother and son had made their decision. Rather than wait for witcher recruiters to come to them, they would journey to Kaer Morhen themselves and present Vesemir with a proposal that could benefit everyone involved.
The preparations for such a journey were extensive. Kaer Morhen lay deep in the Blue Mountains, accessible only by treacherous mountain paths that would test even experienced travelers. Visenna spent weeks gathering supplies, preparing portable versions of her most important magical tools, and creating protective charms for the dangerous journey ahead.
Geralt, meanwhile, threw himself into physical training with the determination of someone who knew exactly what lay ahead. His body, while still that of a five-year-old, already showed signs of the exceptional development that would mark him as a suitable candidate for the trials. He was stronger, faster, and more coordinated than other children his age, with reflexes that seemed almost supernatural.
More importantly, he began demonstrating the early signs of magical ability. While he could not yet cast proper spells, he showed an intuitive understanding of magical theory that impressed even his sorceress mother. Small objects would move when he concentrated on them, candle flames would respond to his gestures, and he seemed able to sense magical energies with remarkable precision.
"You're going to be powerful," Visenna observed one evening after watching him successfully levitate a small stone for several minutes. "More powerful than most witchers ever become."
"In the dreams, I see myself using magic differently than other witchers," Geralt replied. "Not just the simple signs they learn, but real spells, complex magic. Like I'll have the best of both worlds—a witcher's physical abilities and a sorceress's magical knowledge."
As autumn approached and the time for their departure drew near, both mother and son understood that they were embarking on a path that had never been attempted before. They were going to challenge centuries of tradition and propose a fundamental change to how witchers were created and trained.
The journey to Kaer Morhen began on a crisp morning in early autumn, when the leaves on the mountainsides blazed with red and gold and the Buina ran crystal clear beneath skies of startling blue. Visenna had arranged for their cottage to be watched by neighbors, though she suspected they would not be returning to their riverside home for a very long time, if ever.
They traveled light but prepared, with supplies for a journey that would take them deep into some of the most dangerous and remote territory in the northern kingdoms. Visenna rode a sturdy mountain horse, with Geralt perched before her on the saddle, his small hands gripping the reins as she guided their mount along paths that grew increasingly treacherous as they climbed higher into the mountains.
The first days of travel took them through forests of pine and oak, following hunters' paths and old trade routes that wound their way toward the high peaks. They encountered few other travelers in this remote region—an occasional merchant heading south with furs and amber, a group of foresters returning from the deep woods, a hermit monk who blessed them and warned of wolves in the higher elevations.
Geralt proved to be an exceptional traveling companion despite his youth. His enhanced physicality meant he tired less easily than a normal child, and his supernatural awareness made him invaluable as a scout and lookout. More than once, his warnings about unstable ground or approaching wildlife saved them from danger.
"There's something watching us from the ridge above," he would whisper, pointing to a spot where Visenna could see nothing. Invariably, investigation would reveal wolf tracks or the signs of some other predator that had been considering them as potential prey.
As they climbed higher into the Blue Mountains, the landscape grew more dramatic and forbidding. Ancient peaks thrust toward the sky like spears, their faces carved by wind and ice into fantastic shapes. Deep valleys opened beneath them, filled with mist and shadow, while above them, eagles circled on thermals that carried the scent of snow and stone.
Following paths that had been old when the first witchers claimed Kaer Morhen as their stronghold, mother and son made their way deeper into the mountain fastness. These routes were marked not by signs or milestones, but by subtle symbols carved into stone—wolf heads and other markers that only those initiated into the mysteries of the School of the Wolf would recognize.
Geralt's knowledge proved invaluable in navigating these ancient ways. His memories from the games included detailed exploration of the paths leading to and from the witcher stronghold, and he was able to guide his mother along routes that avoided the most dangerous passages while still leading them toward their destination.
"The path splits ahead," he would say, pointing to forks in the trail that all looked identical to Visenna's eyes. "We want the left branch—it takes longer but avoids the ravine where the rockfall happens."
The higher they climbed, the more the landscape took on an otherworldly quality. Strange lichens clung to the rocks in patterns that seemed almost runic, while the very air hummed with magical energies that made Visenna's skin tingle. This was old magic, the kind that had soaked into the stone itself over centuries of use.
They encountered signs of the fortress's inhabitants before they saw the structure itself. Hidden caches of supplies marked strategic points along the approaches, while carved stone markers warned away casual travelers in multiple languages. More significantly, they began to find evidence of recent passage—hoofprints from horses bred for mountain travel, the remains of small campsites, and once, the distinctive track of a witcher's boots in a patch of soft earth.
"We're in their territory now," Visenna observed as they made camp one evening beside a small alpine lake. The water was so clear it seemed like liquid crystal, reflecting the stars above with perfect clarity.
Geralt nodded, his enhanced senses picking up signs his mother had missed. "They know we're here. I can feel them watching from the heights. But they're not hostile—just curious about why a woman and child would be traveling alone in their mountains."