The Witcher The Swallow and The Monster

The Path Taken

He turned and saw Yennefer, sobbing. She was shouting spell after spell over Geralt's body. She was using magic, he had never heard off. Languages that had been forgotten. Forbbiden spells. Then she stopped. (F/N) didn't know what to expect. Geralt to stand back up. Yennefer to break down sobbing. The mob to attack. But he didn't expect a steady stream of crimson to fall from sorceress' nose as she muttered one final spell. Then she fell over. Her heart had stopped. They had both died by each other's sides. There was a silence. Three minutes and twenty-five seconds. That's how long it had taken. The mob dispersed as the hail slowly came to a stop. All was quiet. (F/N) felt a hand on his back as he knelled on the ground. Yennefer and Geralt's bodies laid there, utterly motionless. They had died by each others side. 

The witcher turned, he saw Ciri clutching her gut, she was gripping his shoulder tightly. Her eyes wide with tears. The pair embraced before Ciri began sobbing while (F/N) just watched, unable to express how he truly felt.

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(F/N) hissed and tried to sink his claws into the elven mage's chest. Geralt stopped him, but just barely, "Let me kill the fucker!"

"No! He knows where Ciri is!"

Lambert and Eskel restrained the young witcher. Vesemir looked at the two, "You both know him?"

Geralt nodded grimly, "Yes. An elf, Aen Elle. A Sage."

Avallac'h laid on Sad Albert, he was breathing weakly, he muttered a spell, and his robes appeared. He looked like he was knocking on deaths doors. (F/N) wanted to open them, "I'm going to kill him!"

Yennefer silenced him with a glare before she looked at the mage, "Where is Ciri?"

The elf kept his eyes closed as he softly spoke, every word looked as though it was causing him pain, "Hidden...the Isles of Mists...But...it's not...she's not safe...The Hunt."

(F/N) broke away from the two witchers, and assured them he was fine. Geralt stood over Avallac'h, "The Hunt - what's it want from Ciri?"

"Her blood...Elder Blood...to open the gate. We cannot...we cannot allow this."

(F/N) shook his head, that really didn't sound good. Whatever the Hunt wanted that was on the other side of said gate, spelled trouble for them. But he didn't care, he wanted to find Ciri, now, nothing else mattered, "Where's the Isle of Mists?"

The mage took a deep breath, "Everywhere...and nowhere."

Lambert jabbed a finger in his face, "Listen, Sage. We didn't lift that curse to play riddles with you."

The elf weakly muttered a spell, suddenly a small bright ball of light appeared. It hovered right in front of (F/N), before he quickly grabbed a jar from off a table and trapped the ball in it, he knew exactly what to do with it. The Sage kept speaking, "In Skellige...Follow it...into the mists. Hurry...Hurry!"

The elf looked at (F/N) and spoke even softly, "I tried to protect her...but the curse...The Hunt has not found the Isle...As yet...'Tis a matter of time. But if she leaves...They will detect her...At once..."

Geralt was about to ask him more questions, but Yennefer interrupted, "Enough. He's not yet free of death's grip."

(F/N) spat on the elf, "Well, I hope he doesn't make it."

The sorceress hissed, "(F/N)!"

The White Wolf stopped them both, "I'm going to get Ciri."

(F/N) stood tall, "I'm coming to."