"Clear your mind, Aiden."
"Yes, Vesemir."
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my thoughts. Vesemir's voice guided me, clear and calm.
"The path of a witcher is very dangerous. We're often seen as misunderstood, dangerous, almost monstrous," he said, his words resonating with a quiet authority. "But even with these insults, we must keep our calm, our anger, and our hatred behind us, and only focus on our mission."
His words slipped into my mind like a reminder that being a witcher was more than just rage or violence. He placed a firm but caring hand on my shoulder. "Remember… We are like a tiger. We can't walk too close to its tail without showing our teeth."
I closed my eyes for a moment, absorbing his words. What he said made sense, but a part of me still resisted. One question rose in my mind: why hide behind this coldness?
"Why are you training me like this?" I asked, a little reluctantly.
He looked at me with the wisdom of experience, then simply answered, "Witchers must keep a cool head in all circumstances. Every hunt, every battle must be thought through. That's what it means to be a witcher."
He didn't add anything else, but his words sank deep, forcing me to reflect. Before I could say more, he turned and began heading toward the training yard. "Let's go, Geralt is waiting."
When we arrived at the yard, we saw Geralt in the middle of a conversation with another witcher. A clean scar ran across his right cheek: Eskel. I immediately recognized the one Vesemir had often spoken of, Geralt's calm and loyal friend.
"Eskel, good to see you," Vesemir said with a nod.
"Vesemir, always a pleasure," Eskel replied, his smile turning toward me. "So, you're Aiden? The young apprentice everyone's been talking about. Seems you've piqued Vesemir's interest, that's no small feat." He observed me with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
I smiled, a little intimidated. "Thanks for the compliment," I replied, trying to hide my nervousness.
Geralt then grabbed a wooden sword and tossed it to me. "Alright, attack me with everything you've got. But know that I'm not holding back either."
I didn't have time to respond as Geralt attacked immediately. I barely parried the first blow, but each strike was harder than the last. His movements were calculated, almost slow, but always precise. He knew exactly where to strike. "Is that all?" he asked. "Where's the warrior ready to protect Ciri?"
The remark irritated me. I redoubled my efforts, but Geralt easily dodged every strike. "You're letting your emotions get the best of you," he said. "A witcher can't afford that. How are you going to protect anyone if you lose your cool?"
I could feel the frustration growing within me, each of Geralt's strikes reflecting the image of a weak Aiden, unable to control his emotions. That's when the anger overwhelmed me, and I struck with all the force of my rage. A blast of ice shot from my blade, cutting through the air with uncontrollable power. Geralt looked surprised, stepping back slightly as a thin layer of ice covered his hand.
Vesemir stepped forward, concerned. "Geralt, let us help. The boy is no longer in control of his actions!"
"I know," Geralt replied, raising a hand to stop Vesemir. "Let me handle this."
Geralt slowly approached me, without hesitation. His eyes were sharp, but there was something gentler in his voice this time. "Aiden, you're not alone. We're your family, Ciri, Vesemir, Eskel, and I." He paused. "Let us share this burden, it's not weakness."
His words gradually calmed the storm within me. My fists loosened, and the ice surrounding me slowly dissipated. Ciri appeared, running toward me. She threw herself into my arms, tears in her eyes.
"You promised you'd stay," she said, her voice breaking. "Don't break your promise."
As Geralt, Vesemir, and Ciri supported me, a soft laugh was heard behind us. I turned to see Eskel, arms crossed, watching the scene with a discreet smile.
"You see, Aiden, Geralt isn't trying to break you. He's pushing you to see more, to rise above your anger. He wants you to be more than just an angry witcher," Eskel said, his gaze full of understanding.
I didn't have a response, but a weight seemed to lift from me. Geralt was right, it wasn't my anger that was going to make me stronger. I couldn't face the challenges alone, but with those ready to fight by my side.
Eskel stepped closer, as if reading my thoughts, and added, "It's tough, but it's necessary. There's no place for weakness here, but there's room to learn. We're all here to help you."
I nodded slowly, a sense of calm washing over me as I realized that strength didn't just lie in the fight, but in mastering oneself and the support of others.
Then I fainted from exhaustion.
-------
Should I really trust these fortune tellers?
What do I have to lose, anyway?
I approached a woman dressed like a fortune teller. Her attire was soulless, without any flair—just another overused cliché. I had no interest in what she represented. But I had to face this moment, even though it annoyed me. A soft sigh escaped me as I took a seat across from her.
I crossed my legs, an air of defiance on my face. Her eyes were already on me, but I had no intention of offering her any part of myself, or even giving her a chance to understand me.
"You know what I'm waiting for?" My voice was calm, but the challenge was evident in every syllable.
"Indeed," she replied, her tone neither surprised nor particularly interested. "Always so impatient."
"Of course. Now, tell me, will I always be with him?"
The question was simpler than it seemed. But I wanted her words; I wanted to hear if she would dare manipulate my future, like so many others had before.
She stared at me for a moment, her lips tightening slightly before responding, with the certainty of someone who thinks they know it all: "No. After all, isn't that what you've done? You've broken the spell that bound you."
I felt a slight tension creep in, but I didn't let it show. How dare she claim to know that? The chains of the past, invisible but ever-present. But I wasn't going to let her have the last word. Not today.
"Oh really? Then why, for the past few days, have I seen someone with white hair by my side, and this strange warmth taking over the cold?" I wondered if she would catch the irony in my words. But it wasn't my question that interested me; it was her answer.
"Unfortunately, the future is uncertain," she said, without a single tremor in her voice.
I shook my head, irritation hitting me full force. "Just as I thought. You're as useless as the others." I stood up abruptly, ready to leave, but one last word stopped me.
"Despite everything, you are destined for great things with him," she murmured in the silence that had settled between us.
I turned, a flash of rage and disdain in my eyes. "As if I haven't already dealt with a man with white hair, who manipulated our feelings. No. I've stopped letting myself be led by these illusions. I'd rather handle my own affairs."
The silence of the room enveloped me.
A murmur, almost imperceptible, came from behind me, but I ignored it, heading toward the exit. However, one sentence reached me, a chill running through me.
"Your destiny will always catch up with you, no one can escape their fate."
I stopped at the threshold, not turning back. That word, "fate," haunted me. Everyone seemed to speak of it as if it were a prison to be accepted. But me, Yennefer of Vengerberg, I had always refused to be imprisoned, even by fate. I knew I had defied it many times before, and I had survived.
I sighed. "Isn't it Yennefer of Vengerberg?" she murmured, as if trying to capture me in the shadow of my past.
A flare of anger surged within me, but I let nothing show. That name, the one of the young sorceress who had almost lost everything she was, had no hold on me anymore. She only knew what I had let her see. The past stayed where it belonged—behind me.
I turned on my heels and left, the fresh air hitting my face. The silence fell over the place, following me while leaving me alone with my thoughts. No. No one will dictate my future. Not even magic or words spoken by a stranger.