After addressing the group, Flora turned and began walking deeper into the forest. The group hurriedly assembled itself to follow behind her. Flora moved through the forest as if she were one with it. After what seemed like an hour of trekking through the forest, they emerged at the base of the Bloodied Hand. The villagers stopped to behold the sight of it—for some, this was their first time seeing the mountain in full.
"We must hasten our steps," Flora spoke as she climbed up the steps that were built into the side of the mountain.
The villagers began to climb the steps one by one. The two men who were pulling the contraption released the boy from his bonds, but not before daring him with their eyes to try to run. The boy looked like he was contemplating it, but ultimately decided against it—he wouldn't make it far before being hunted down and probably killed. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. His arms and legs were numb from being bound for hours, and his body ached—not only from his father's beating but from the beatings he had received before his bondage.
The two men brought him down from the contraption, tied his hands and legs, then hoisted him up onto one of their shoulders. They climbed. Step after step. The rain hadn't let up. By the time they reached the top, Leon couldn't feel his legs. Couldn't feel his fingers. Couldn't feel anything.
At the top of the mountain, a man who seemed to be in his late forties was kneeling with clasped hands as he prayed. As he prayed, the group arrived at the mountain's peak. The moment they arrived, some collapsed onto the ground, breathing tired breaths. The men who carried the boy tossed him aside the moment they arrived. They had been walking for almost a day to get to the mountain base. What little strength they had was drained as they climbed the steps of the mountain through the heavy beating of the rain.
Flora went to stand a step behind Lord Collins with a bowed head.
"Your Grace," Flora called out to Lord Collins in a reverent tone.
Lord Collins opened his eyes at the sound of Flora's voice. As he moved to rise, Flora stepped forward to assist him, but was stopped by a gesture of his hand. He stood in full view of the villagers. His clothes fluttered fiercely through the wind, untouched by the drops of rain. He walked toward the collapsed villagers.
As he drew close, he spoke a single word:
"Dome."
Before the word had fully registered in the villagers' ears, the rain stopped. The villagers looked around in confusion—they could still hear the sound of rain falling but could no longer feel its touch.
"Look!" one of them shouted, drawing the attention of the others as he pointed upward. Following the direction he had indicated, they could see a dome above them. It prevented the rain from reaching them. They stared at it in fascination—even the boy was no exception. This wasn't their first time seeing magic, but they were used to simple spells and tricks: lighting a fireplace, warming water for cooking or bathing, a cleaning spell... nothing like this.
Lord Collins, unmoved by their fascination, continued toward them. He came to a stop in front of one of them. He looked at the person.
"Are you the boy's father?" he asked.
"Y-Yes, my Lord." Geralt's voice trembled in fear. He felt the piercing gaze of Lord Collins.
"Umm." was the sound Lord Collins made before he began to move—this time toward the boy.
He arrived in front of Leon, who was kneeling after being tossed aside. He gestured simply with his hand, and the boy began to float up to his eye level.
"What is your name, boy?" Collins asked.
"L-Leon, sir." Leon struggled to speak under the immense pressure emitted by Collins.
"Do you know why you're here, Leon?" Collins asked, staring into the boy's eyes.
"No, sir. I woke up yesterday to being dragged to a cell in the town. When I fully came to, I was told that I was going to be sacrificed at the mountain. My Lord, what crimes have I done to deserve this?" He fought back the tears threatening to spill out again as he spoke in a voice thick with pain and sadness.
Collins looked at Leon without expression, his dark brown eyes holding no pity for the boy.
"Your only crime was being born as the spawn of the devil, boy," Collins stated to the boy, his voice holding no trace of emotion.
Leon couldn't believe what he heard. Am I the child of the devil? He thought. It was not new to him, being called this. His father and the townspeople had subjected him to that title for as long as he could remember. But he had always smiled it off, telling himself that when he became an Inquisitor, they would stop referring to him that way.
But now, hearing it from someone who bore the symbol of what he had dreamt of becoming, he felt his whole world collapse.
Again, with that damn title, he thought. Why did a mere name determine whether he lived or died? Every single time something bad happened to him—or happened at all—they always said it was because he was the spawn of the devil. Because he was brought into this world by the devil.
Unknowingly to Leon, who was still seething with anger about being defined by that word, a strange and dark presence began to emit from his body. It twisted and folded the space around it.
Only Collins and Flora noticed it. But just as quickly as it came, it left leaving no trace. And for the first time since arriving on the mountain, Collins' eyes shone with light.
'Interesting.' Collins thought, a calculating glint flashed in his eyes