A/N:-
10k views guys!! 10K! Yayayayayayayay!!
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The shimmering portal crackled softly as Alaric and Tissaia stepped through, the faint hum of residual magic fading into silence. They emerged into a grand chamber, its wide glass windows revealing a large city sprawled beneath them, bathed in the golden glow of sunrise.
Tissaia stepped forward, her breath catching as her gaze swept across the familiar skyline—the spires of the keep, the bustling markets, the winding streets they once knew so intimately. "It's still beautiful," she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "And yet… smaller than I remember."
Alaric joined her by the window, his arms folding across his chest as he surveyed the view. "Time does that,"
...
"This city brings back memories," Alaric said, his amber eyes scanning the bustling streets ahead. "Even after all these years, it hasn't changed much."
"Ard Carraigh," she mused with a trace of fondness in her voice. "It's been a while….."
Tissaia's gaze lingered on the vendors setting up stalls outside the walls and then shifted to Alaric, "You look nostalgic Al."
"Maybe I am," he admitted.
They led their horses to a stable and entered an inn on foot.
"The Raven and Lantern," she murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Do you think they remember us?" Tissaia asked under her breath as they took a table near the hearth—the same one they used to claim.
"Hard to forget us, I'd think," Alaric replied with a grin. "We weren't exactly inconspicuous."
The heavy wooden doors of the Raven and Lantern creaked open, and Alaric stepped inside, the faint scent of woodsmoke and ale hitting him like an old memory. He glanced around, his sharp eyes sweeping the familiar interior before he cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "DERRIK, YOU OLD GOAT, WHERE ARE YOU!!?"
From the back room, there was a clatter of pans followed by another shout. "WHO'S SHOUTING AT THIS HOUR!!? THE OLD MAN'S BEEN DEAD FOR YEARS!"
A middle-aged man emerged, wiping his hands on a stained apron. His dark hair was streaked with gray, and his face bore the creases of a life well-lived. He froze mid-step as his gaze landed on Alaric and Tissaia, his mouth falling open.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he finally exclaimed, his expression breaking into one of delighted recognition. "Alaric? And Lady Tissaia? By the gods, it's you!"
Alaric grinned, striding forward to clap the man on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Caspar," he said warmly. "Though I'm sorry to hear about Old Derrik."
Caspar waved a hand, though his eyes betrayed fondness. "Ah, he lived long enough to yell at every drunkard in Ard Carraigh twice over. Honestly, it's a wonder he didn't keel over sooner." His laugh was tinged with affection.
Gesturing them toward a table near the hearth, Caspar asked, "What brings you two back to this dusty old city after all these years?"
Alaric stretched as he took a seat.
Caspar raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Well, you'll have to settle for what little we've got this early in the morning. Bread, cheese, and some fresh cider sound good?"
"Perfect," Tissaia replied, and Alaric nodded in agreement. Caspar bustled off toward the kitchen, muttering orders to someone unseen.
As the innkeeper disappeared, Tissaia turned to Alaric, her brow arching. "And who, exactly, are we visiting at Ban Ard?"
Alaric leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Igor de Sade," he said, his tone softening with nostalgia. "My best friend from the academy."
Alaric was a Source, but Dagobert Sulla discovered this too late—Alaric had already undergone the Witcher mutations, which stripped him of the ability to channel magic as mages do. Complex spells and rituals became impossible for him.
But Dagobert didn't give up. He worked with Alaric to enhance the basic Witcher signs, turning them into something entirely new—a unique form of spell-less magic. Once Alaric's training at Kaer Morhen was complete, Dagobert arranged for him to study at Ban Ard Academy to refine his skills further.
At Ban Ard, Alaric met Igor de Sade. Igor's obsession with magical innovation and his unconventional methods were instrumental in developing Alaric's combat style, fusing his Witcher techniques with his innate magical abilities.
...…
Tissaia studied Alaric as they trotted through the rugged mountains towards Ban Ard, the horses' hooves rhythmically clopping on the rocky trail. The wind whistled around them. "You speak highly of this Igor," she said, breaking the silence.
Alaric chuckled, "That's putting it lightly. He's... hard to describe. Imagine a mad scholar from Oxenfurt with a mage's abilities and the energy of a child discovering fire for the first time. He'd blow up half a library just to prove a theory about combustive resonance. Every spell, every rune, every crazy experiment is a masterpiece... if you survive it."
"Sounds reassuring," Tissaia quipped dryly, gripping the reins tighter.
"Don't worry too much, he's a genius," Alaric replied, a smile spreading across his face as memories surfaced. "Igor wasn't bound by convention. He saw my magic as something entirely new—a fusion of instinct and power. We spent days, months, experimenting. Developing magic that no Witcher—or mage—had ever used. He pushed me to think beyond what I'd been taught, to trust my instincts."
Tissaia smiled faintly. "He sounds like quite the character."
"He's the reason I fight the way I do—and why I'm still alive. You'll see for yourself soon enough," Alaric said, spurring his horse faster. The beasts surged forward, their breaths visible in the cold air, as they raced towards their destination.
...…
Initially, the trail was flanked by dense stands of conifers, their dark green needles a stark contrast against the white blanket of snow. The scent of pine was sharp and invigorating, mingling with the cool mountain air.
As they pressed forward, the terrain began to change. The biting cold gradually eased, and the hard ground underfoot gave way to softer, more fertile ground. The conifers thinned out, their place taken by the burgeoning signs of life. Tall oaks and birches stretched their limbs overhead, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze. The air here was warmer, rich with the earthy aroma of the forest.
The path became more forgiving, winding gently through the forest. Rays of sunlight pierced through the foliage, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Birds chirped and flitted among the branches, their songs adding a melodic undertone to the journey.
As they crested a rise, the academy came into view, and even Tissaia felt a momentary hitch in her breath.
Ban Ard Academy stood like a defiant monument of the past, an ancient elven palace repurposed for human ambition. Its spires pierced the sky, carved with ornate runes that shimmered faintly as if still whispering forgotten songs of the Aen Seidhe. Towering walls embraced the complex, their jagged edges a stark reminder of the years they had endured. The northern tower loomed over all, fortified with thick stone reinforced by magic.
The gardens below sprawled in a riot of color and wildness.
"This place…" Tissaia murmured, her voice quiet, reverent. "It feels alive."
"It is," Alaric replied, his amber eyes scanning the distant gate. "Every stone, every tree… It breathes magic."
As they drew closer, a wave of presence swept over them—powerful, ancient, and probing. It was neither hostile nor kind, merely observant. Alaric's medallion trembled slightly and hand twitched toward his sword out of instinct, but he stopped himself, relieved, exhaling sharply.
"Good for him," Tissaia muttered, though her tone betrayed a measure of unease.
The gates of the academy groaned open with deliberate slowness, revealing a courtyard bustling with students clad in deep green and gray robes. Most barely spared a glance at the newcomers, their focus on carrying books, casting spells, or whispering in groups. One, however, a tall, thin youth with ink-streaked hands and a hesitant gait, approached.
"Welcome to Ban Ard Academy," he said, his voice tinged with nerves as his eyes flicked between Alaric's imposing stature and Tissaia's piercing stare. "May I assist you?"
"We're here to see Igor de Sade," Alaric replied, firm but not unkind. "Tell him Alaric is looking for him. If he doesn't drag himself out of that basement of his."
The student blinked, his face a mixture of alarm and confusion, but he nodded quickly. "Of course. Please wait here."
He disappeared into the depths of the academy, leaving Alaric and Tissaia to linger in the courtyard.
"You think he'll come willingly?"
"No," Alaric said with a grin. "But the poor boy will get him out, eventually...…after a few scoldings."
Tissaia surveyed the grounds, her gaze lingering on the carved archways and shimmering wards that flickered faintly at the edges of her vision.
"Its magnificent," she said.
Alaric smiled. "I always liked the place."
Minutes later, the student returned, looking flustered. "Master Igor said he's... indisposed, but you may meet him in his lab."
Alaric laughed; his expression almost gleeful. "Of course he did."
"Follow me, please," the student added, turning to lead them inside.
They navigated through the academy's winding halls, the faint hum of magic resonating through the stone walls. Each step deeper seemed to pull them further into the heart of the palace's ancient power, the air growing heavier, the silence more profound. Finally, they reached a staircase that spiraled into the earth.
"Here," the student said, stopping at the top. He hesitated, peering down at the basement below like it was the gaping maw of some monster.
Suddenly, a muffled explosion shook the staircase, followed by a loud curse and the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor.
The student cringed but said nothing. Alaric, however, broke into a grin and strode forward. "That's Igor, all right."
They hurried down the steps, the acrid tang of smoke growing stronger. When they reached the lab, they were greeted by chaos. Shelves lay toppled like fallen soldiers, their contents scattered across the floor—shattered glass, half-burned scrolls, and glittering powders that clung to the air like stars in a storm.
At the center of it all stood Igor de Sade, wild-haired and wide-eyed, holding a crackling wand over a pile of smoldering components. His robes were a mix of singed fabric and hastily patched holes, and his expression was one of manic concentration. He waved the glowing wand over a shattered piece of metal, muttering curses under his breath.
"Igor!" Alaric called, his voice cutting through the cacophony.
Igor froze, his head snapping up. His eyes, wide and glinting with a manic light, locked onto Alaric. A slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. "AL!" he bellowed, his voice a mixture of delight and exasperation. "By the gods, you're still alive!"
He bounded forward, nearly tripping over a stray book, and enveloped Alaric in a crushing hug. "And you brought a lady!" His gaze darted to Tissaia, his expression turning immediately analytical. "You must be the famous Tissaia. Al's been writing about you in his letters and—"
"Careful, Igor," Alaric cut him off, amusement tinged with warning.
Igor released Alaric and stepped back, his hands gesturing wildly as he began talking at breakneck speed. "You have to see what I've been working on! A miniaturized place of power—it's revolutionary! Well, almost—if I can stop it from destabilizing every time I artificially connect—ah, you'll see! And your magic, Al! You won't believe what I've theorized since the last time I saw you—"
"Charming!" Tissaia interjected, her sharp gaze sweeping over the destruction.
Igor blinked at her, then burst into laughter. "You've got a sharp one, Al. I like her already!"
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A/N:-
Hey everyone!
Got ideas for future arcs or plots? Maybe there's something you'd love to see our main character tackle sometime in the future? Comment down below!
While I have a general direction for the early plot, I'm actively brainstorming for the later arcs. Your input would be incredibly valuable. Even the simplest ideas or spontaneous musings can ignite a spark and help clear those creative blocks.
So, don't hesitate—share your thoughts!
As always, if you have any questions, feel free to comment. I will do my best to answer without spoiling too much.
Clear skies to all of you! ✨