I sat in the dining hall beside Callum while he ate like there was no tomorrow. Actually, no, that was too generous of a statement. He ate like it was his last meal, and wanted to eat for two lifetimes.
The wooden bowl in front of him was already half-empty, and he had barely been sitting for more than a few minutes. Thick stew stained the corner of his mouth. A torn piece of bread sat in one hand while the other grabbed for more meat before he had even swallowed the last bite.
I stared down at my own food. The very same stew with a side of cooked salted meat and bread laid in front of me.
All of it was very warm and hearty, and exactly what my body desperately needed after surviving the Trial of the Grasses and Dreams. The smell alone should have made my stomach claw at my ribs. And had me devouring it like Callum.
Instead, as I was watching Callum stuff his face like a starving wolf only made my appetite hesitate until it disappeared all together.
Eskel stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Callum with a mix of disbelief and resignation. "Slow down, kid," Eskel said. "I know you nearly died, but the food's not going anywhere."
Callum made a muffled noise that might have been agreement, disagreement, or simply the sound of the boy refusing to waste precious time on speech when there was still meat left.
Coën sat farther down the table, one arm resting beside his bowl, looking far too unsurprised. "The boy's always been like that," he said dryly. "A glutton in more ways than one."
Callum swallowed just enough to protest. " What? I'm hungry the trials left me hungry for a whole week. I need to make up lost time. Plus I'm a growing boy."
Lambert, leaning back on the bench with his boots stretched out beneath the table, snorted. "You're eating like you're trying to grow into a troll by supper."
Callum pointed at him with a piece of bread. "If I become troll-sized, I'll finally beat Cain every time."
I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You already beat me enough."
Callum grinned with stew on his face. "Exactly. Imagine if I was the size of a troll, I bee unstoppable."
Despite myself, the corner of my mouth twitched. It's good to see he hasn't changed at all. Unlike me who has changed completely.
While the dining hall felt painfully normal compared to what had just happened outside.
The long tables were the same scarred wood. The walls were the same old stone. The fires burned in the hearths as they always had, sending heat and smoke into the room. The scent of stew, bread, sweat, wet leather, filled the air in a way that belonged to Kaer Morhen completely.
And yet nothing felt normal to me. I was still reeling from what happened in the Trials. One moment I am experiencing agonizing pain for hours on end, and my body was dying and rebuilding itself at the same time.
Another moment I had been in the black void, and unlocking the Elder Blood sealed inside me. The next, I had seen two vast golden eyes staring down from the endless darkness. A feminine voice had said it did not foresee this. Then a white light had swallowed everything.
Nothing made sense to me and when I woke, everyone had been on guard.
Geralt, Vesemir, and Coën had their swords drawn. Aiag had her hand raised as if shielding herself and Callum been behind a translucent barrier. The snow and ritual ashes had been scattered in all directions. The air itself had felt different, like lightning had struck close by.
Before anyone could answer my question, the system had appeared.
System Notification: Rare Ranked Quest: Trial of Dreams — Complete
Rewards Received: 2 Rare-ranked items. +3 to all attributes
I had dismissed the window almost immediately, not because the reward did not matter, but because Aiag was already moving toward me.
The elven druid had looked at me like I was something from a story she wished had stayed buried. She had placed both hands on my shoulders, her amber eyes wide in the first open display of emotion I had ever seen from her.
"What are you?" she had asked.
I didn't have a answer, I knew for now I should keep the Elder Blood a secret for now, unless they already knew. I still remembered the way her fingers tightened slightly. Then she had said something that made the entire courtyard feel colder.
"Are you of her line? Lara Dorren?"
Vesemir had stiffened.
"Lara Dorren?" he had asked. "You don't mean…"
And then they had started speaking as though I wasn't even there. No one told me anything, they just took some of my blood and asked me how I felt.
That was when Callum had begun waking properly, his new emerald Witcher eyes more apparent beneath the dazed confusion on his face. Vesemir had quickly ordered the others to bring us inside and feed us while he and Aiag went to the library.
They had been there ever since. Probably talking, reading ancient text and testing my blood. Trying to decide what I was. Or maybe trying to decide how to handle me if they discover I was of the Elder Blood line.
The thought made me my appetite disappear, I feel like I was about to be put under a microscope before they dissected me. I pushed my stew around with a spoon but did not eat.
Geralt sat beside me, chewing a piece of meat in slow bites. He had been quiet since we came in, but quiet from Geralt was not empty. It usually meant he was paying attention. After a while, he spoke without looking at me.
"No point wondering about what the druid said. Not right now at least."
He took another bite.
I stared at my bowl. "I know. But from what you told me, I displayed powerful magic while I was in the trance."
Geralt nodded once. "You did."
"That doesn't seem like something to ignore."
"No. Your right about that."
I waited. He swallowed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and finally looked at me.
"But we don't know what it is. Maybe you're descended from Lara Dorren. Maybe you're something else. Maybe you're just a Witcher with a stronger affinity for magic than anyone expected."
I gave him a hard look. " You really think after that I'm just a Witcher, with a high affinity for magic?"
Geralt's expression did not change. " Your right, you haven't finished your training so your not a fully trained Witcher yet. But after knowing you for three years, I wouldn't be surprised. Your rate of growth is faster than anything I've seen before, even if your swordsmanship could use a lot of work."
That made me pause. He continued, his voice even.
"Strange things happen in the world. Mutations in nature even Elder bloodlines. Curses. Blessings. Or just conjunction leftovers. Things no mage, alchemist or druid, elven or Witcher, can full understand but pretends to. You're not the first impossible thing to walk across the Continent."
" True, but I remember what you told me about mutations in nature," I said quietly. "They usually don't last long, and they're usually infertile or are killed off for being t different."
Geralt went still for half a second.
"Yeah," he said. "I did tell you all that." His tone had shifted slightly.
"Who knows. Maybe you're the exception. Hard to tell. You were already abnormal before the mutations. Now you're training to become a witcher and apparently throwing magic around during druid rituals. Only time will tell, not that having Witcher mutations will help."
I sighed and pushed the bowl away. My appetite was gone entirely now, I began to stand up to leave the hall. "I'm going to clean myself."
Geralt did not stop eating. "Good," he said. "You smell like shit."
I turned back just enough to smirk at him. " Oh I know I can smell myself. Thanks for cleaning up mine during the Trial."
Geralt froze. The meat stopped halfway to his mouth, and I watched the realization hit him. His expression didn't change much, but something in his eyes died a little. Then he lowered the food and muttered, "Fuck."
That was enough for Callum to look up. His mouth was still full as he reached toward my untouched portion first, pulled it over without shame, and then glanced at Geralt's plate.
"You gonna eat that?"
Geralt side-eyed him. Then he slid the plate toward Callum. "All yours."
Callum accepted it like a king receiving tribute, and just Lambert shook his head from farther down the table. "The brat's going to pick the castle clean."
Eskel rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Then we should start making him and Cain do the hunting, and pick up their weight."
Coën nodded. "That's a good idea, unless Callum is going to eat the meat raw on the way back like a beast."
Lambert chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past the brat if he was hungry enough. Cain would have to be there to make sure he doesnt."
Callum froze for half a second, then continued eating faster.
I left them behind and walked out of the dining hall.
The moment I entered the hallway, the sounds of the room stretched behind me in strange detail. Callum chewing. Lambert's faint laugh. Geralt's low grumble. The scrape of a bowl. The crackle of the hearth. Every sound was sharper now, and even though I had begun adjusting, the world still felt too detailed in a way that made my head ache if I focused on too much at once.
My senses were no longer human, and that was becoming clearer with every step I took.
The stone beneath my boots sounded different from one section of hallway to the next. Some stones had faint cracks under them. Others were newer, repaired at some point after the keep had been damaged. I could smell blood, chemicals, herbs, and smoke buried deep in the walls, ancient traces from centuries ago.
I passed the library on the way to wash.
Then I stopped once I heard Voices. It was Vesemir. and Aiag. They were speaking inside, and the door was not fully shut. I knew I should keep walking, but this was about me. And if there was one thing I had learned in this world, it was that ignorance killed faster than arrogance.
So I stepped closer and stopped near the wall where I could listen without being seen. Inside, I heard pages being rustled. A glass clicked softly.
Then Vesemir spoke. "It's without a doubt the Elder Blood. To think a random half elf boy Geralt found was carrying it in him."
My breath stilled.
"After testing the blood and matching the signs in the texts… it is." Aiag's voice followed, low and cold.
"This is not the Hen Ichaer I am familiar with. It is different in small ways. More primal somehow. Less refined or perhaps broader is the better word. But I cannot explain it."
There was a pause.
"But that does not change what must be done. This must remain secret."
Vesemir answered without hesitation.
"I know."
Aiag's voice sharpened. "Do you? Truly? I know you Witcher's are a dying breed. I know you want to revive your numbers."
Then another page shifted.
"If any sorcerers or sorceresses find out about him, that boy will die a horrible, agonizing death if he is lucky. If he is unlucky, they will keep him alive for decades. Alchemists will cut him, bleed him, prod and dose him, trying to map the power in his veins. If they realize he survived the Witcher mutations and share your sterility. They may try to remove that obstacle too, so they can turn him into a breeding stud."
My stomach tightened.
Vesemir's voice went darker. "Turn him into breeding stud would only be the begin of his hell."
Aiag did not deny it.
"If nobles or magic users get their hands on him, his blood and seed could be used to make humans more powerful and destructive. Kings and Queen would kill for such a line. Sorceresses would scheme for it. Elven factions would fight over whether to protect him, use him, worship him, or end him before humans could claim him."
I stood perfectly still as the hallway suddenly felt too narrow. I had already suspected some of that. But hearing it spoken so bluntly made it heavier. This world would not simply fear what I was. It would use me. Anyway it could.
Aiag continued.
"I will keep this to myself for now. But I know a small coven of druids and elves who must be informed. They can prepare in case the boy needs protection or help mastering his abilities that has awakened."
Vesemir's answer came after a long breath. "Very well. We are in this together at this point. I'll teach him what I can here. The basics. Discipline. Control. And I'll tell him why he must keep this secret."
Aiag's voice lowered further. "There is one more thing."
The silence after that made my skin prickle.
"There is a group of elves who left this world long ago. They are called the Aen Elle."
I felt something cold settle down my spine. She means the Wild Hunt.
"They are a distinct, powerful species of elves that seek Lara Dorren's blood," Aiag said. " And hhose connected to it. Those who can open paths between. They have their reasons, but the boy will not survive if they get him. Especially after receiving the Witcher mutations."
Vesemir's voice was grave. "I've heard tales of the Wild Hunt."
"They are not only tales, they are very real."
"In my line of work, I'm not even surprised after everything I've seen."
"They are elves from another world," Aiag said. " They are very cruel when they wish to be. They seek to traverse worlds more freely, to preserve themselves, to restore or save what is dying of their world and their power to traverse the different worlds. I do not know all of their designs, but I know enough."
"And they will come for the boy?"
"If he uses his power carelessly, and his power is not controlled and he has more outburst like those. Yes. His blood calls strongly enough across worlds. So eventually it is bound to happen."
Vesemir said nothing for several moments. Then, quietly, "Can the Witchers stop them?"
Aiag's answer came without mercy. "No."
That one word hit harder than I expected.
"No?" Vesemir asked.
"No," she repeated. "Not if they come in force. Your order is too few and divided. Your keep is too weakened and not protected by wards of any kind. Your strength lies in killing most monsters. In fighting and blades, sign magic, and cold discipline. The Aen Elle carry magic, numbers, cavalry, knowledge of other worlds, and a very long memory of war and conquest. Your Witcher order cannot handle them as you are."
She's not wrong, I thought of the games. Of how the Wild Hunt attacked Kaer Morhen. And the cost of that battle even with powerful allies involved.
She was right.
Even with Geralt, Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel, Coën, Callum, and me, we were no where close to ready. Kaer Morhen was a fortress in name, but wounded in reality. The School of the Wolf was a shadow of what it once was.
Too few fighters. Too little money and too few allies. There was too much decay and stagnation. I stepped away from the door before they could sense me.
For a moment I stood in the hall, looking at my reflection in a dull piece of polished metal mounted near a torch bracket.
My face looked back at me. Nine years old. Light brown skin. Snow-white hair, and my golden irises split by Witcher pupils.
I was no longer just a half-elf, but I wasn't a full Witcher just yet. Now I have the Elder Blood.
All of Space and time and Omniverse, was within my grasp. Maybe one day if I live long enough I could travel across it all. Maybe I could even go home. That thought struck me so hard that for a second I forgot to breathe.
Home. My old world. My old body was probably gone. My old life might be dead. But if the system description was even partly true, if all space and time was open to me once I took my first step, then going back might not be impossible.
But I can't go back with all these issues to deal with. Learning to control my powers, Dealing with the Wild Hunt and the White Frost. Surviving the magical and political landscape of this world.
I will have enemies waiting all around in the dark in this world, and possible between other worlds. I would need power so great no sorceress, king, elf, monster, or god could chain me down with. In that moment, standing alone in a cold hallway inside Kaer Morhen, I finally understood what I needed to do.
I need to strengthen the Witcher order.
The thought came clear and cold.
Not just train here. Not just survive the Trials and walk the Path like any other Witcher. That would not be enough. The Wolf School had to grow stronger. The keep needed repairs. The Witcher's needed money, allies, information, and something better than a slow death by neglect.
They needed another way to live beyond killing monsters until age or steel took them. I needed to show them that, and beyond the Witcher's, I needed alliances.
Trustworthy sorcerers and sorceresses, if such a thing could be found. Druids. Elves who would not sell me for a blood dream. Dwarves. Humans with enough honor or self-interest to be useful. Powerful people positioned before the major events of the books began to unfold.
Cintra. Ciri and Calanthe. Pavetta. Emhyr. The Brotherhood. The Lodge that would one day form. Nilfgaard. The Northern Kingdoms. Gaunter O'Dimm. The Wild Hunt.
Monsters were not the only things that had to be fought in this world. Sometimes monsters wore crowns and wore silk. Some of them smiled and called it destiny.
I closed my eyes for a second, breathing slowly. I need money, power and influence. Among every intelligent race that might matter when the world started moving toward war. And most importantly, I needed to know what the system's plan was for me.
Because it had guided me here so far. It had pushed me through quests, and had threatened death when it wanted compliance. Then It rewarded survival with, growth, friendship, and transformation.
It gave me the unlocked Elder Blood at exactly the moment when I was inside the Trial of Dreams. Coincidence had died somewhere along the road to Kaer Morhen. This was all part of it's plan, but the question is why?
I opened my eyes and looked at my reflection again. My Golden Witcher eyes stared back. "I'm going to grow stronger," I whispered under my breath. "So strong that no one gets to control me."
Not the Brotherhood or Lodge. Not the Wild Hunt. No kings queens and nobles. No mages. Not even the system or the God themselves.
I would start with myself, and Callum. Then the Witcher's and the order as a whole. Then the world.
I summoned the system interface, and went straight to my inventory. I wanted to check my two rare-ranked items I received from the Trial of Dreams quest.
Two new item descriptions waited there. The first made my brows rise, and the second made my eyes widen. Then a slow smile spread across my face.
"Oh," I whispered. "These are good."