GGRRROUUMMM.
The thunder roared, so loud it seemed to shake the thick walls of Kaer Morhen. Each lightning strike illuminated the black mountains surrounding the fortress. The rain, cold and relentless, lashed against the windows, forming streaks on the glass that were almost hypnotic under the flickering light of a candle. It was the kind of view that made you want to stop and admire the landscape.
In a small room, lit barely by that flickering flame, Aiden sat on a wobbly stool. His shoulders were slumped, and his gaze was fixed on a small necklace he held between his fingers. The pendant, a fine silver medallion, gleamed softly in the light. It had been a gift from Ciri, given after the festival the previous day a memory of happiness that had long since faded with the fall of Cintra.
He ran his thumb over the jewelry, brushing the engravings almost automatically. Memories surfaced in that moment. Ciri's laughter, always cheerful no matter the circumstances, echoed in his mind. She had surprised him that day, appearing out of nowhere to fasten the necklace around his neck.
"Now we're even for the fish you caught for me at the festival," she had said with a smile. "And you'd better not lose it! Or I'll get mad."
He had laughed, embarrassed but touched by her seriousness. Yet that lighthearted moment now felt like it belonged to another life.
Reality hit him suddenly. The Ciri who had given him this necklace was gone. A dull ache filled his chest, mingling with anger he struggled to suppress. I should've gone with them. I could've done something, he thought, clenching the pendant in his hand.
Aiden stood up abruptly, the stool clattering noisily onto the stone floor. He grabbed his sword from the bedside table. The weapon, well-maintained but worn with time, looked as tired as he felt. He stopped by the door, taking one last glance at the room. Everything was steeped in shadow, except for the flickering candle. His chest tightened for a moment. Then he closed the door behind him, knowing he wouldn't be back for a long time.
Aiden walked slowly through the dark corridors of Kaer Morhen. The sound of thunder masked his footsteps. It was a small blessing, as the stone walls echoed almost ominously with every movement. He had learned to move quietly, an art all witchers mastered. But tonight, he didn't want to wake the others.
As he passed a corridor, Aiden stopped abruptly. A nearby room, its doors slightly ajar, caught his attention. It was the old training hall. He ran a hand over the worn wood of the door and found himself smiling. A memory surfaced.
"This isn't a dance, Aiden," Geralt growled. "Stop rushing and focus!"
He had been just fifteen then, still a boy eager to prove himself to show that no one should regret choosing him to become a witcher. Facing him, Geralt, with a stern expression, had handed him an old, blunt sword. Every mistake, every clumsy stance, had been corrected with patience.
"Why do you do all this, Geralt?" he had finally asked, breathless after hours of training.
Geralt had taken a deep breath, as if hesitating to answer. Then, in a calm but serious tone, he had replied:
"Because one day, Aiden, you'll have to protect someone. Like you promised me you'd protect Ciri. And if you're not ready, you'll fail. And if you fail, you'll never forgive yourself."
Those words, heavy with meaning, were clearer to Aiden now as he remembered how they had barely survived, thanks only to Geralt.
Reaching the great hall, he slowed down even more. His eyes scanned the room. Lambert and Eskel were sleeping soundly on benches, wrapped in blankets, while Geralt had collapsed near the extinguished hearth. Vesemir, as always, slept separately in the small chamber he had claimed for himself.
Aiden hesitated. His eyes lingered for a second on Geralt. Even in his sleep, his face looked troubled, as though he were trapped in a nightmare. Aiden clenched his jaw and looked away. He gently pushed open the front door. A gust of wind and rain blew into the room. He stepped back, surprised by the storm's strength, and pulled his hood over his head before stepping out into the night.
The wind was freezing. It howled around him, almost drowning out the sound of the pounding rain. Lightning streaked across the sky, momentarily illuminating the winding path he needed to take to reach the stable. Aiden pulled his coat tighter around himself and lowered his head, moving against the wind.
When he finally reached the stable, he found the horses restless, pawing at the stone floor and tossing their wet manes. The storm seemed to unsettle them as much as it did him. Aiden raised a hand and murmured a few words before tracing an Axii sign in the air. A soothing light spread softly through the space, calming the horses one by one. Except for Ganon.
The black horse, imposing and proud, fixed Aiden with intelligent eyes. No signs were needed between them. Ganon recognized his master. He stretched his muzzle toward him, seeking a caress. Aiden managed a faint smile and ran a hand over the animal's neck.
"Easy there, boy," he murmured.
After a brief moment of calm, he began preparing his companion for the journey. He saddled Ganon with quick, precise movements, accustomed to these routines. But as he was about to secure a bag to the saddle, he realized he had forgotten it.
"Damn it…" he muttered, frustrated.
He was about to head back to retrieve the bag when a voice broke the silence, making him jump.
"I think you forgot this."
Aiden turned sharply, his heart racing. A flash of lightning illuminated the silhouette of a man in the shadows of the stable. Geralt.
Geralt's face was tired, marked with dark circles and an expression of remorse Aiden knew all too well. For a moment, Aiden felt anger rising. But he lowered his eyes, unable to hold Geralt's gaze.
Geralt approached Ganon slowly, resting a calming hand on the horse's flank. He handed the bag to Aiden, then, without a word, placed a sword on his open palms and presented it to him.
The weapon was magnificent. Its blade, black as night, seemed to absorb the light of the lightning, while the hilt, a bright white, contrasted sharply with the rest. Geralt looked at it for a moment, as if hesitating.
"This sword," he finally said, "was forged long ago, at the beginning of our order. Vesemir gave it to me, just as his mentor gave it to him. It's not a blade meant to kill monsters it's meant to protect the ones you care about."
He extended the sword to Aiden, his gaze stern but sincere.
"It's my turn to pass it on to you. No matter what you think, or what anyone says, to me, you're like a son. And one day, this blade might save you or someone you love."
Aiden took it hesitantly. He drew the blade, staring at its dark surface, where the lightning's reflections danced.
"Black steel," Geralt continued. "It's rare. They say it was forged from the stone of a destroyed world. It's perfect for channeling runes and resistant to everything even time."
Aiden slowly sheathed the sword. He looked at Geralt, his gaze more conflicted than he wanted it to be.
"Why aren't you stopping me?" Aiden murmured.
Geralt sighed, crossing his arms.
"Because I know I'd do the same thing tomorrow morning," Geralt said calmly.
Aiden felt his anger rise, but he swallowed it down. He clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
"You think saying that will change anything?" he said, his voice trembling. "You think I'm going to forgive you?"
Geralt shook his head.
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness. Not yet. Not until we've found her. But I need you to know that Kaer Morhen will always be your home and don't blame Yennefer. She did everything she could to save her, despite the consequences."
Aiden looked away. He knew Geralt was right, but he refused to admit it. He mounted Ganon, adjusting the reins without a word. Before leaving, he cast one last glance at Geralt.
"I'm going to find her and fulfill my destiny, even if I couldn't explain it to you," he finally said. "But I need to know that if I fail… you'll be there."
Geralt nodded, a tired smile on his lips.
"Always, son."
Aiden quickly looked away. He nudged Ganon, who galloped off into the storm. Geralt stayed there for a while, watching his protégé's silhouette disappear into the night.