"Aiden, I want a smooth dance, not a drunkard's shuffle."
"Your steps are too close together. Start again."
"Yes! That's better."
After I woke up, I finally understood where I was. Two sorceresses had explained it to me. Well, "explained" is a big word—they were so intimidating that I barely retained half of what they said. All I really knew was that I recognized them immediately: Yennefer and Triss. They were even more impressive in person.
And yeah… I have to admit, I reacted like an idiot. The moment I locked eyes with Yennefer, my face burned. I couldn't help it. She had this aura, this almost otherworldly beauty. My whole life, I'd been surrounded by sterile hospital walls, far removed from people like her. So, standing in front of her, I felt completely disarmed.
Of course, Yennefer didn't miss a beat. She started teasing me whenever she could, a playful glint in her violet eyes. Triss, on the other hand, was much gentler.
Both of them had come to Kaer Morhen to train us—me and Ciri. Triss took me under her wing since my abilities were more offensive, while Ciri worked with Yennefer. Between the two sorceresses, the air was… tense. I didn't fully understand it, but it was clear there was history between them. Yennefer often teased Ciri, but whenever I asked Ciri why, she'd dodge the question. Maybe it was just an adolescent phase?
As for me, after I woke up, I jumped right back into training. Geralt had warned me that the Trial of the Grasses was approaching. I needed to be ready. About eleven months, he said. Eleven months to transform my body and mind into something that could survive the unimaginable.
"That's enough for today," Geralt said, watching me with his usual critical gaze.
Catching my breath, I started stretching. My muscles screamed in protest—not from exhaustion, but from the constant burn of pushing my limits. The sword-dance of the School of the Wolf was nothing like a real dance. It was a blend of fluid movements and sharp reflexes. Each motion had to become instinctive, second nature.
"You're improving," Geralt admitted. "But your steps are still too stiff. Your body will adapt with time."
I nodded silently, wiping the sweat from my face. But my mind was already somewhere else. The Trial of the Grasses. Just thinking about it made my stomach twist. I'd read about what it entailed, about those who didn't survive. Could I make it through? I didn't know—but I needed this strength if I was going to protect Ciri.
"Go. Triss is waiting for you."
Outside, I found Triss standing in the middle of a vast plain. The grass stretched endlessly beneath a bright, open sky. She was waiting for me, her gentle smile lighting up her face.
"So, how are you feeling?" she asked.
"Mmh… I'm fine," I said, shrugging slightly, though my voice wavered.
"Are you sure? If Geralt's pushing you too hard, tell me. I'll handle it."
Her voice was calm but sincere. For reasons I didn't fully understand, her words hit me like a wave. A lump formed in my throat. I didn't know why it affected me so much. Maybe it was because no one had spoken to me like that in such a long time… not since my mother.
I'd thought I didn't need this kind of care, this kind of warmth. But at that moment, I realized how much I'd missed it.
I turned my head, trying to hide my face. A single tear slid down my cheek before I even noticed it.
"Aiden… you're crying. What's wrong?" Triss asked softly, stepping closer.
I raised a hand to my face, startled. I quickly rubbed my eyes, trying to hide my weakness.
"It's nothing," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I'm just… happy, I guess."
Triss studied me for a moment, her eyes searching mine as though trying to read what I wasn't saying. Then she gave me a small nod.
"Come on. We've got work to do."
She turned and began walking across the plain. I followed her in silence, finding some comfort in the lightness of her steps. After a few minutes, she stopped near a tree stump that looked almost too perfectly placed, as if it had been waiting for us.
"Sit down," she instructed simply.
I sat on the stump, feeling a little uneasy. Triss remained standing, the breeze playing with her red hair. Her face, which had been so warm moments ago, now held a more serious expression.
"Aiden, what do you know about magic?" she asked.
I hesitated, thinking about how to answer.
"I guess… it's everywhere, right? Anyone can use it if they know how?"
A faint smile flickered across her lips.
"Not quite. You're partly right—magic is everywhere. It's in the air, the earth, every living thing. But not everyone can tap into it. Some are sensitive to it; others aren't. And even those who can use it face limits."
She lifted her hand, and a small flame flickered to life in her palm.
"Take witchers, for example. They use signs, a simplified form of magic. But if their fingers are broken or they're too drained, they can't draw the necessary symbols. Magic always comes at a cost."
I watched the flame, mesmerized, as she closed her hand and snuffed it out.
"Magic can be a blessing or a curse, depending on the person wielding it," she continued. "Today, I'm going to help you sense your magic. To control it."
I nodded, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside me.
"Close your eyes," she instructed. "Take a deep breath. Clear your mind."
I obeyed, inhaling slowly and trying to quiet my thoughts. The sounds around me—the rustling grass, the distant birdsong—faded into the background, becoming a faint murmur.
"Good. Now, I'm going to place my hand on your back to provoke a reaction. You might feel a slight tingle."
Her hand rested lightly against my back. But what I felt wasn't a tingle. A wave of pressure surged through me, as though an invisible weight was crushing my body. My breathing grew heavier, and a freezing cold began to spread in my chest.
"Imagine your magic," Triss murmured. "What do you think it looks like?"
I wasn't sure how to answer. Magic could look like so many things. Then, an image came to me, clear and undeniable.
"Water," I whispered.
"Good. Imagine a river flowing through you."
I focused, letting the image form in my mind. I pictured a clear, steady river replacing my veins, its gentle current flowing through me. Following that current, I saw something strange: a cave where the water pooled into a frozen lake. Beside the icy surface, a bright green patch of grass cradled a small bush. Perched on it was a swallow.
The bird turned its head toward me, its gaze sharp and intense. Then it took off, flying straight at me. Before I could react, everything vanished.
I gasped as I came back to myself, drenched in sweat. Triss stood in front of me, a shield of flames flickering around her.
"Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her voice.
"Yeah… I think so. What happened?" I stammered.
I looked around. Everything nearby was frozen—grass, rocks, even the air seemed to shimmer with frost.
"You went into a deep meditation, something usually reserved for experienced sorcerers," Triss explained. "But you started emitting such intense cold that I had to conjure flames to stop everything from freezing. What did you see?"
I described everything—the river, the frozen lake, the swallow. Triss listened in silence, her expression thoughtful.
"What you saw was your mana core," she said finally. "Every mage perceives it differently, depending on their nature. But… a frozen lake and a swallow? That's a first."
I lowered my head, frustrated. I wanted to understand. First Ciri's strange powers, and now this icy magic of mine. I needed answers.
Triss must have sensed my disappointment because she sat beside me and gently guided my head onto her lap. Her fingers ran softly through my hair, soothing me.
"Don't overthink it, Aiden. The answers will come in time. The truth always reveals itself to those who are patient enough to wait."
Her gentle smile chased away some of my doubt. Almost without thinking, I asked her a question.
"Triss… How did you meet Geralt?"
She chuckled lightly.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes! Tell me!"
"All right… It all started when…"
As she began her story, a figure leaned silently against a nearby tree, watching us. His white hair shimmered in the light. Smiling to himself, Geralt turned and walked back toward the keep. Another child awaited his training.