The Witcher: Philippa's Grace

Blinded

Philippa Eilhart.

One of the most powerful sorceresses of an age. Advisor of kings. Shadow ruler of Redania for years. Leader of the Lodge of Sorceresses That's who she was.

Was.

She had everything planned out so well. Saskia, the charismatic young leader, on the surface, was the perfect face for the Lodge and their agenda. An independent state, one truly ruled by sorceresses and magic. One truly ruled by her. It would've all been so perfect. With Saskia under her spell as the head of state, Phillipa would've ruled better than any of those northern kings, and kept the Nilfgaardians at bay. She would've been the protector, and overseer, of the entire North, but that was not to be. Forces that she could not foresee. Cynthia. Her leashed sorceress. Her lover. The woman she thought was keeping her comfort as she planned the most important moment of her life, was none other than a spy for the Nilfgaardians. Philippa was always a slave to her own lust. A flaw that turned out to be catastrophic.

Then there was Triss. She was captured by the Nilfgaardians, in no small part to Cynthia, and had apparently told them everything she knew: The Lodge. Their involvement in the deaths of kings Vizimir and Demavend. Phillipa didn't blame her however. She knew the Nilfgaardians could be cruel, and knew they spared her no mercy getting the information out of her.

Then there was Radovid.

Her roles, her achievements, her title, all gone in an instant. Dashed and taken away from her. 380 years alive, decades of influence of kings and countries, all unraveled and undone in the span of one event. Loc Muinne. What an absolute disaster. Pure and simple. Radovid, a boy not of 18 years, had captured her. Imprisoned her and tortured her. A boy she's known his whole life. She didn't foresee the animosity he had for her. The hatred. In that sense, she was truly blind.

Her eyes.

In a fit of rage that would soon show to be his normality, the king of Redania gouged out her eyes. The pain was indescribable. The darkness was worse. For the first time ever, she felt truly, TRULY helpless. Left to rot in a crumbling cell, wounds festering in the dust and dirt.

That cell in that dead city would've likely been her grave, if it weren't for The Witcher who seemed to never been able to keep his white head out of other's affairs. Though she supposed she should've been thankful for it this time. Geralt led her out of the dungeons of Loc Muinne and saved her life. She knew it was not out of the sheer kindness of her heart; he NEEDED her alive to free Saskia, but the result was all the same. She was freed from her confines, and was able to make her escape from Loc Muinne and Radovid's purge. So many mages and sorceress, her peers died that day.
Her skill as a polymorph also saved her. She transformed into her owl form and flew as far and fast as she could. She likely flew for 5 hours before finally passing out. When she awoke, she was in a field somewhere. She didn't know where, or how long she was out, but for the moment she was seemingly safe, or at least not at the threat of the wrath of Radovid. It took several more hours before Philippa could will a spell that could simulate her eyesight. It was tricky magic, but possible. Phillipa had read about a magical cult that removed their eyes in ceremony, but still functioned as if all was normal . When she finally succeeded, she was able to get her bearings. She took note of her dire state. Her skin was pale, even paler than her usual complexion; blood loss and exhaustion. She needed to get somewhere safe and secure, quickly.

She summoned a portal using the last of her energy. She ran the risk of cutting herself in half if she didn't maintain the energy to keep the portal active. She shuffled through the portal, coming out the other end in a small house. Philippa was no fool. While she had not expected things to go wrong so quickly, she did always know that it was a possibility that her ambitions would lead to her safety being compromised. A safe house; a small house in southern Redania. She never thought she'd have to use it, but she was glad she had it. She felt a wave of relief wash over as the portal closed behind her; and then a wave of darkness as she collapsed on the cold stone floor, blacking out once again.
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