Author's notes: This story is set in the Witcher universe but will not focus solely on Geralt. Instead, I will introduce an original character of my creation. The timeline for this story will differ somewhat, as this new character is roughly the same age as Geralt. I will begin this chapter with him as a baby and then show his development into adulthood. During this time, Geralt will also be a child, and we will explore the choices made by both characters.
Let's begin.
The moon hung low in the sky, veiled by thick, brooding clouds that obscured its light, leaving the forest bathed in a dim silver glow. The wind whispered through the trees, the rustling leaves blending with the soft, rapid footsteps of a woman in flight. Cloaked in shadow, every movement she made was driven by urgency. Her body trembled from exhaustion yet was fueled by a fierce, unyielding need to protect the child in her arms. Wrapped in a simple blanket, the infant lay blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding them. He stirred, and his tiny cries broke the tense silence.
"Shhh, little one," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. She held the bundle closer, the soft fabric absorbing the warmth of the baby's fragile body. "Not now... please, not now," she murmured, her tone urgent yet pleading.
Her grip tightened around the child as her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes darted through the trees, searching for any sign of pursuit. The faint sound of hooves echoed in the distance, growing louder with every passing moment, cutting through the stillness like a blade. She froze, pressing her back against the trunk of a towering oak, willing her breath to steady and her movements to vanish into the shadows.
The forest felt alive with the sounds of the hunt. The crack of branches under heavy boots, the faint flicker of torchlight weaving through the trees, it all seemed to close in around her. Her pulse raced, her fear mounting with each second.
"Please," she whispered, the word a prayer carried on trembling breath. Her eyes shut tightly for a moment as she tried to gather her thoughts, to focus on what needed to be done. "I can't let them find us. I can't let them find you," she thought as she tried to calm herself. But then a sudden snap of a twig nearby jolted her, and the sound of hooves grew nearer. Her hand shook as she adjusted the blanket, brushing her fingers against its embroidered edge the last gift from the baby's father, a fragile symbol of hope.
"You have his strength," she whispered fiercely to the child, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. "You'll survive this. You must."
She pushed off the tree without hesitation, forcing her legs to move despite the burning ache in her muscles. Her boots pounded against the damp earth, the forest swallowing the sound as though conspiring to keep her safe. Her breaths came in shallow, laboured gasps, her lungs burning with every step. Yet she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Not now.
Ahead, the trees began to thin, revealing the faint outlines of a village nestled at the foot of the Blue Mountains. For the briefest moment, a flicker of hope ignited in her chest—fragile and fleeting. But she knew better than to cling to it. She understood what had to be done the sacrifice she had to make.
Her only hope of protecting him, of ensuring his safety, was to leave him behind and draw their pursuit away from him. Her heart shattered at the thought, but she knew there was no other choice.
The woman reached the edge of the village, her eyes scanning the darkened streets until she found what she sought: a large, simple orphanage with sturdy stone walls and a weathered wooden door. She approached quickly, her breath hitching as tears blurred her vision. With trembling hands, she placed the bundle on the doorstep, tucking the blanket securely around the baby.
"You'll be safe here," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You have to be."
She lingered for only a moment, her fingers brushing the child's cheek. Then she turned, vanishing into the night without looking back, her footsteps fading into the shadows.
The baby waited on the doorstep for a little while, then the large door opened, revealing a kind, old-looking woman. She picked up the baby with sad-looking eyes and said one simple sentence: "I am so sorry."
As she spoke, the old woman closed the door and took the child inside.