Prologue (Part 1)

In a medieval fantasy world, there sat a small town so warm and peaceful it seemed to exist only in fairy tales. On a small hill near the town stood a wooden cabin, fronted by a well and a flower garden, with an herb patch in the back. It was there, amidst the herbs, that Kelpie tugged at the hem of a young boy's clothes.

The boy's name was Victor. He had just turned twelve, stood five feet tall—an average height—and possessed unremarkable blonde hair, blue eyes, and a plain face.

He was busy picking herbs to brew a healing salve when Kelpie caught his hem.

Victor tilted his head to look at Kelpie. She was a mare with a coat as black and glossy as oil, her build perfectly proportioned with solid muscle, graceful gait, and a mane that shimmered with a healthy sheen. She was built to run like the wind, a creature of beauty that surely only existed in a fantasy world. And this beautiful creature was gently tugging at his clothes, trying to lead him somewhere.

Brushing the lingering dirt from his hands, Victor stood up and followed Kelpie to the front of the cabin. There, he saw her: a young girl with silver-grey hair, a long sword strapped to her back, her clothes tattered and stained with blood, lying face down on his doorstep.

Waking from the nightmare of her capture, Ciri felt something brushing against her face, which caused her to open her eyes in a panic and begin to struggle. Then, she saw the plain-looking Victor, his sky-blue eyes clear and crystalline.

The homey decor of the room—the wooden wall clock, the stone fireplace, the small animal ornaments, and the clean, lace-free bedsheets—all told her that this was definitely not that place of nightmares.

He's just a child, she thought, I'm safe. The realization instantly made her entire body go limp, and her arm, suffering from a slight fracture due to a heavy blow, began to throb with dull pain.

His warm, dry little hand returned to her forehead to ensure she had no fever. Then, the boy picked up a water glass from the bedside and handed the half-full cup of warm water to the thirsty Ciri, watching as she gulped it down in a decidedly unladylike fashion.

She was very young, with thin, thick eyebrows and large, oval emerald eyes. On her pale skin, a prominent scar ran from beneath her left eye across the better part of her cheek.

Judging by her features, she was a tough and stubborn little girl. He said, "I'm Victor, a resident of Bell Town. What is your name?"

Looking into his innocent eyes, she replied, "...Fal... Falca. My name is Falca."

She lied, but in this strange environment, she dared not reveal her true identity.

Victor smiled. "And the horse?"

"Kelpie."

Victor nodded. "It seems like it's nothing serious. Finish your food and get some sleep to regain your strength. We'll talk more tomorrow."

He pulled a small, mobile dining cart to the bedside. On it were crispy fried bacon, fluffy whole-wheat bread, a bowl of vegetable soup—things she recognized—as well as two fried eggs with yolks so large they couldn't possibly be from a chicken, and a few fruits she couldn't identify.

Then he rose, left the room, and closed the door.

Pulling back the quilt, Ciri sat up and discovered her upper body was bare; her cleaned skin was wrapped in layers of sturdy bandages. Her lower body was slightly better off, though she wore nothing but cotton bloomers.

Don't worry about it, he's just a child, Ciri thought. As for other concerns, they had to give way to her hunger.

The next day, Ciri found that the salve he used to dress her wounds was incredibly effective; the pain in her arm had eased significantly. She dressed and walked out of the room, feeling refreshed, only to see the little sprout—at least nine inches shorter than her—standing on a low stool, using a long stirring rod to work a cauldron. The pot was nearly half his height, large enough that one could curl up inside it for a bath if they squeezed.

"Wait a moment, let me finish this potion. If you're hungry, you can start eating; there's no one else in the house anyway," he said.

She moved to the table set for two. The meal was sumptuous, but she was lost in her own thoughts.

Alchemy was a process she was familiar with; she considered herself quite adept at it. Although she couldn't drink potions herself, she had been a good student when it came to the many blade oil recipes taught by Vesemir.

Back at Kaer Morhen, her foster father, the White Wolf Geralt, would occasionally do the same, stirring a cauldron endlessly before bottling up various colorful potions and concoctions.

In a daze, Victor finished his work and sat down across from her. He gestured for her to start, smiling as he said, "Hi, Falca. I'm Victor, the alchemist of Bell Town. I'm twelve this year. You can also call me by my nickname, Vic."

"You... you live here all by yourself? No one else to look after you?" Originally thinking he was just a late bloomer, Ciri hadn't expected him to be a full four years younger than her. At this age, it was rare for someone to live alone.

"My grandmother used to live here with me." He kept his head down as he answered, sipping soup from his spoon, which made his voice sound a bit muffled.

Ciri froze. "I... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up. Please don't be sad."

Victor looked up, his blue eyes showing confusion before shifting into a smile. "Sorry, I didn't explain clearly and made you misunderstand. My grandmother is alive and very healthy—if anything, she's too healthy. The only reason she isn't here is that she went on an overseas trip with my second grandmother and my third aunt."

Ciri was embarrassed at first, then burst into hearty laughter, sharing a smile with Victor.

He cut a pancake and speared it with his fork, popping it into his mouth. "Don't worry about it. I chose not to go on the trip. I can take care of myself perfectly well. Keeping house lets me practice alchemy, and I can help the neighbors, too."

"Don't they worry about you?" Ciri asked with a smile, her defenses lowered. The charred, fragrant bacon was cooked to perfection.

"Actually, I'm usually the one taking care of them. Their cooking is not just something one wouldn't dare compliment, they're also experts at making a mess of the house.

Especially after I learned alchemy, they even handed over the daily work of making salves and selling nutritional supplements to me..."

Victor spoke with great enthusiasm, chattering on about the trivialities of village life because he liked this little girl—the purest kind of liking between people, not the kind with ulterior motives. He was still just a child; he had neither the capacity nor the inclination for such things.

Ciri found that she enjoyed listening to him. His words were far removed from blood and fire; there was no pressure, no conspiracy, and certainly no disgusting coercion.

Unintentionally, Victor had offered a measure of comfort to Ciri's wounded heart.

On the tidy bookshelves of the cabin, books were arranged in perfect order; the spacious dining room was filled with clean, gleaming tableware; and the morning sun shone through the windows onto the alchemy cauldron, casting an air of peaceful, quiet living.

Their laughter filled the room.

In the blink of an eye, half a year passed. Ciri found herself unwittingly indulging in the warmth of life in the small town. The peace and joy here were versions of life she had never experienced: no war, no disease, and people who lived without want, getting along in harmony.

After spinning a story about a stranded traveler—a tale she herself felt was absurd, wild, and full of holes—Victor had accepted her just like that, sharing his cabin and letting her heal. The other villagers of Bell Town had also easily taken her in, welcoming the new resident with enthusiastic beer and delicious cakes, completely ignoring the many suspicious aspects of her presence.

Even the sharp-witted steed Kelpie had been defeated by the "sugar-coated shells"—exquisite bean cakes and finely chopped hay—letting the local children pet her to their hearts' content. They absolutely loved the beautiful, magnificent Kelpie.

Unfortunately, fate would not allow her to remain in such comfort for much longer...