The village behind them faded into the darkness, its broken streets swallowed by the night. Kael trudged on, his muscles burning with exhaustion. The blade strapped to his back was a heavy reminder of his choice—his burden.
The sound of hoofbeats was faint at first, barely audible over the howling desert winds. But as the minutes passed, the cadence grew louder, sharper.
"Do you hear that?" Kael asked, his voice hushed.
Yennefer nodded, her expression tense. "The Wild Hunt."
Kael's grip on the hilt of his blade tightened instinctively. "How close are they?"
"Close enough," Yennefer said, her tone clipped. She raised her hand, conjuring a shimmering barrier around them. The magical dome flickered faintly, its edges crackling with energy.
"It won't hold forever," she continued. "But it'll buy us time."
Kael nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. The stars above were obscured by dark, swirling clouds, and the air grew colder with each passing moment.
"They're toying with us," Yennefer said, her voice laced with frustration. "The Hunt never approaches this slowly. They want us to feel hunted."
Kael frowned, his jaw tightening. "Then let's stop running."
---
The barrier held for another ten minutes before the first rider appeared. The figure emerged from the darkness, its skeletal steed snorting plumes of icy mist. The rider's armor gleamed with an otherworldly light, and its empty eyes burned with a cold fire.
Kael stepped forward, drawing the reforged blade. The green fire flared to life, casting a ghastly glow across the sand.
"Careful," Yennefer warned, positioning herself behind him. "These aren't the same specters you've fought before."
The rider didn't speak. It simply raised its sword and charged.
Kael met the attack head-on, their blades clashing with a deafening screech. Sparks flew as the spectral weapon clashed against the reforged blade, the impact sending vibrations up Kael's arm.
The rider was fast—unnaturally so. It struck with a precision and ferocity that left Kael struggling to keep up. But the reforged blade had a will of its own, guiding his movements, urging him to counter with equal force.
With a roar, Kael drove the blade into the rider's chest. The creature let out an unearthly wail as its form began to dissolve, the green fire consuming it from within.
"Behind you!" Yennefer shouted.
Kael spun just in time to deflect another rider's attack. This one was larger, its armor adorned with jagged spikes that seemed to pulse with dark energy.
The second rider's assault was relentless. Each strike pushed Kael closer to the edge, forcing him to draw deeper on the blade's power. The whispers in his mind grew louder, more insistent, as if the weapon itself was reveling in the conflict.
Yennefer's spells crackled in the air, bolts of fire and lightning striking the riders that approached. But for every one they defeated, two more seemed to take its place.
---
"We can't win this," Yennefer said, her voice strained. "Not like this."
Kael gritted his teeth, blocking another strike. "Then what's the plan?"
Yennefer didn't answer immediately. Instead, she raised her hands and began chanting in a language Kael didn't recognize. The air around them shimmered as a wave of energy rippled outward, sending the remaining riders scattering.
"For now, we run," she said, grabbing Kael's arm.
Kael hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to fight. But the exhaustion in his limbs and the sharp ache in his chest told him Yennefer was right.
Reluctantly, he sheathed the reforged blade and followed her.
---
They didn't stop until they reached the edge of a canyon, its sheer cliffs plunging into darkness. A narrow path wound its way down, barely wide enough for one person.
"This way," Yennefer said, leading the way down.
Kael followed, his boots slipping on the loose gravel. The canyon walls loomed high above them, the air growing colder and more oppressive with each step.
When they reached the bottom, Yennefer finally stopped. She turned to face Kael, her expression unreadable.
"We can't keep going like this," she said. "The Hunt will keep coming, and that blade will only make things worse."
Kael frowned. "You said the blade was our best chance against them."
"It is," Yennefer admitted. "But it's also a beacon. Every time you draw on its power, you're inviting them closer."
Kael glanced at the blade, its hilt glinting faintly in the dim light. "Then what do you suggest?"
"We need allies," Yennefer said. "People who can help us stand against the Hunt."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "And where do you plan to find these allies?"
"There's someone," Yennefer said, her voice hesitant. "An old... acquaintance of mine. If anyone can help us, it's him."
Kael didn't miss the hesitation in her voice. "And who is this acquaintance?"
Yennefer hesitated for a moment before answering. "Geralt of Rivia."
---
The name hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Kael had heard of Geralt, of course. The White Wolf. The Butcher of Blaviken. A legend among witchers.
"You think he'll help us?" Kael asked, his tone skeptical.
"He will," Yennefer said firmly. "He has to."
Kael studied her for a moment, noting the flicker of vulnerability in her expression. It was clear there was more to her connection with Geralt than she was letting on, but now wasn't the time to press.
"Fine," he said. "Where do we find him?"
Yennefer glanced at the canyon walls, her eyes narrowing. "If we're lucky, Kaer Morhen."
Kael's stomach sank at the name. The ancient stronghold of the witchers was a place of both legend and mystery. Reaching it would be no small feat, especially with the Wild Hunt hot on their heels.
But if there was one thing Kael had learned in his short time with Yennefer, it was that she rarely made idle suggestions.
"Let's move, then," Kael said.
Yennefer nodded, her expression hardening. "Let's."
---
As they began their journey toward Kaer Morhen, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that their fight was only just beginning. The whispers of the blade grew quieter, but they were still there, lurking at the edges of his consciousness.
In the distance, the faint sound of hoofbeats echoed once more.
The Wild Hunt wasn't done with them yet.
---
The path to Kaer Morhen was a grueling one. Snow-capped peaks loomed in the distance, their icy breath slicing through the canyon. Kael's boots crunched against the frost-coated ground as he followed Yennefer, the silence between them broken only by the occasional howl of the wind.
Kael had heard tales of Kaer Morhen—stories told in hushed tones around campfires. The last bastion of the witchers. A fortress of forgotten rituals and unyielding stone. Now, as they approached, he couldn't help but feel the weight of its legacy pressing down on him.
"How much further?" Kael asked, his breath visible in the cold air.
Yennefer didn't look back. "We'll reach the valley by nightfall. If Geralt is there, we'll know soon enough."
Kael frowned, gripping the hilt of his blade. The reforged sword pulsed faintly, as if it could sense their destination.
"Do you really think he'll help us?" Kael asked.
Yennefer hesitated, her steps faltering for the briefest moment. "He'll help. If not for me, then for the world."
Kael didn't press further. He knew enough about Yennefer to recognize when she was hiding something.
---
By the time they reached the valley, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the snow. The jagged outline of Kaer Morhen emerged from the mist, its crumbling towers standing defiant against the encroaching darkness.
Yennefer stopped at the edge of the valley, her gaze fixed on the fortress. "Stay close," she said.
Kael followed her as she began the ascent, the narrow trail winding its way up the mountainside. The cold bit at his fingers, but the anticipation of what lay ahead kept him moving.
As they neared the gates, a low growl echoed from the shadows. Kael froze, his hand instinctively moving to his blade.
"Easy," Yennefer said, raising a hand.
From the darkness, a hulking figure emerged. A wolf—its eyes glowing with an unnatural light—stalked toward them, its breath visible in the frigid air.
"Lambert," Yennefer called out, her voice firm. "Call him off."
A moment later, a figure stepped into view, his silhouette framed by the faint glow of torchlight. Lambert, one of the witchers of the Wolf School, rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Yennefer," he said, his tone dripping with suspicion. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"I'm not here for you," Yennefer replied coolly. "Where's Geralt?"
Lambert's eyes flicked to Kael, his expression hardening. "Who's this?"
"Kael," Yennefer said. "He's with me."
Lambert didn't look convinced. His hand tightened around his sword, but he made no move to draw it. "Geralt's inside. But I'll warn you—he's not in the mood for company."
"When is he ever?" Yennefer muttered, brushing past Lambert.
Kael followed her, his unease growing with every step. The fortress was colder than he'd expected, the air heavy with an unspoken tension.
---
They found Geralt in the main hall, sitting by a roaring fire. His silver hair glinted in the firelight, and his amber eyes were sharp, even in the dim glow. A tankard sat on the table in front of him, untouched.
"Yennefer," he said, his voice low and even. "What brings you here?"
Yennefer crossed the room, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Geralt."
Geralt's gaze shifted to Kael. "And who's this?"
"Kael," Yennefer said. "He's... complicated."
Kael bristled at the description but said nothing.
Geralt leaned back in his chair, studying Kael with a critical eye. "You're carrying something dangerous."
Kael frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The blade on your back," Geralt said. "It's cursed."
Kael instinctively reached for the sword, but Yennefer placed a hand on his arm. "He's right," she said. "The blade is tied to the Wild Hunt. That's why we're here."
Geralt's expression darkened. "The Wild Hunt doesn't stop. If they're after him, they won't rest until they have what they want."
"Which is why we need your help," Yennefer said. "We can't fight them alone."
Geralt was silent for a long moment, his gaze flicking between Yennefer and Kael. Finally, he stood, his movements slow and deliberate.
"If we're going to do this," he said, "we need a plan."
---
The night was spent in tense deliberation. Geralt, Yennefer, and Kael pored over maps, their voices low and urgent. The Wild Hunt's movements were unpredictable, but their intent was clear—they wanted the blade, and they wouldn't stop until they had it.
"What if we use it as bait?" Lambert suggested, his tone laced with sarcasm.
Kael shot him a glare. "Not an option."
"It might be our only option," Yennefer said, her voice measured.
Kael shook his head. "This sword is the only thing keeping me alive. I'm not giving it up."
Geralt leaned forward, his amber eyes locked on Kael. "Then you need to learn how to control it."
Kael hesitated. "What do you mean?"
"The blade has a will of its own," Geralt said. "It's tied to you, but that doesn't mean you control it. If you don't master it, it'll consume you."
Kael swallowed hard, the weight of Geralt's words sinking in.
"How do I do that?" he asked.
Geralt's expression was grim. "You'll need to face the blade's origins—the magic that created it. And that means going to the place where it was forged."
Yennefer's eyes widened. "You can't be serious."
Geralt nodded. "The only way to break the Wild Hunt's connection to the blade is to sever its link to their realm. And the only place we can do that is the Ruined Spire."
Kael glanced between them, his unease growing. "What's the Ruined Spire?"
Yennefer sighed. "It's a gateway. A place where the veil between worlds is thin."
"And it's dangerous," Geralt added. "More dangerous than anything you've faced so far."
Kael clenched his fists, the weight of their plan settling heavily on his shoulders. "If it's the only way, then I'll do it."
---
As dawn broke over Kaer Morhen, the group prepared to set out. The path to the Ruined Spire would be treacherous, fraught with danger at every turn. But Kael knew there was no turning back.
The reforged blade hummed softly as he strapped it to his back, its whispers a constant presence in his mind.
Geralt approached him, his silver hair catching the morning light. "You've got a lot to prove, kid. Don't make me regret this."
Kael met his gaze, determination burning in his eyes. "I won't."
Together, they set off, the shadows of Kaer Morhen fading into the distance as the storm gathered on the horizon.
---