Prologue (Part 2)

Late at night...

"Mom! What did they do to you?!" Ciri woke from a dream drenched in sweat, screaming. She had dreamed of Yennefer, the sorceress she regarded as her true mother, being tortured in a cold, damp dungeon, her hands covered in clotted, dried blood.

She knew it wasn't a dream, but a glimpse of reality. As a unique Source with Elder Blood, her bloodline had given her more than an immense, uncontrollable magic—it had also given her the ability to travel through time and space.

Her bloodline had made her the target of powerful, evil mages. And in their attempts to capture her and obtain her blood, the people who loved her, and whom she loved, had been hurt. The thought made her tremble uncontrollably.

She knew she had to leave. Her vacation was over. She had to go back... had to... face her fate, even if it meant enduring the most unbearable humiliation.

As everyone knew, there was no gene cloning in the Middle Ages. And without some special magic to extract someone's bloodline, there was only one way left.

The door opened, and Victor walked into the room. He sat on the bed and gently patted her back. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Her past had made her a woman who didn't trust easily, but after half a year together, she couldn't bring herself to turn Victor away. He was a young, simple, steady, and sensible boy.

She suddenly clung to Victor and began to confess through sobs: who she really was, the pain she had suffered in the past, and why she had to leave now.

I've grown weak in front of him, she thought. But I have to tell him, my dearest little brother. He deserves to know the truth before I leave him forever.

"So your name isn't Falca, but Ciri. You're not a traveler from beyond the mountains and seas, but someone who crossed here from another world; a princess of Cintra, with mysterious blood and the ability to wield powerful magic as a Source.

"A group of evil elves from another world, the Aen Elle, kidnapped you and imprisoned you in their world. They wanted you to bear a child for their king so they could obtain your bloodline.

"Fortunately, you found a chance to escape.

"After many twists and turns, you finally crossed into our world and collapsed outside my house.

"Half a year later, today, you learned in a dream that a powerful mage in your original world had kidnapped and tortured the woman you regard as your mother. So now you have to go back and save her." Victor, squeezed tight in her arms and forced to listen to the explanation, summarized, his features scrunched up as he struggled to catch his breath.

Although Ciri's account had left a lot unclear, Victor understood even the unspeakable—and even the rather inappropriate—parts perfectly well.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it? But everything I said is true. I'm sorry I started out by using a fake name. Please forgive me," Ciri murmured.

"No, I believe every word you've said. Truly."

Victor really believed her. Ciri could tell he wasn't lying, and the realization brought tears to her eyes.

Only Victor knew that the reason he'd liked the girl from the moment they first met half a year ago was that her appearance had stirred a distant memory. Long, long ago, before he crossed over to Bell Town, there had been a game called The Witcher 3. It happened to feature a woman named Ciri, with the same silver-gray hair, emerald-green almond-shaped eyes, and deep scar beneath her eye.

His fondness for the girl had started with his affection for a memory of Earth.

So when her story now matched his memories so closely, he couldn't find a reason not to believe her.

A few miles from town, by the roadside, Ciri stood with her horse, her gear packed. Victor had come to say goodbye.

"Will you forget me?" After a moment of sudden silence, they asked in unison.

Their strange bit of synchronicity made them look at each other and smile.

"I won't forget you, my dear little brother."

"Neither will I, Ciri."

"Why don't you call me big sister?"

"That's difficult, Ciri, especially since I've spent almost the whole past six months looking after you, you hopeless fool."

As he spoke, Victor pulled two blue potions from the herb pouch he always carried when he went out and tucked them into the girl's belt pouch. "Take these. They could save your life if you're injured. They're not some inferior concoctions I made—they're top quality, left to me by my grandmother."

"Thank you..."

Remembering the idyllic half-year that had felt like a beautiful dream, Ciri was overcome with sadness—until a sudden, biting chill jolted her back to her senses.

"Oh no, the Aen Elle elves are coming after me."

Ciri leaped onto her horse. At the same time, she saw countless ripples spreading through the air around them, the sign that portals were opening. She realized she couldn't leave Victor behind—not with these cruel elves.

"Get on!" With a sudden pull of her arm, she hauled Victor onto the horse. Ciri cried, "Hold on tight!"

She squeezed her legs against Kelpie's sides, and the mare galloped off at full speed.

As they bounced and jolted along, Victor looked back at the portals opening one after another. Knights in armor like the Lich King's poured out, roaring furiously, then began their pursuit without hesitation. Unable to help himself, he muttered, "This is the obligatory chase scene in every epic tale!"

Ciri ignored him and focused. A doorway suddenly opened in front of the horse, its interior a milky-white whirlpool shimmering with phosphorescent light.

Amid the dazzling effects and flickering light, Victor clung to Ciri, the little girl who wanted to be his big sister, on Kelpie's strong, warm back. He experienced his first "fully conscious" crossing—and felt a little dizzy, uncomfortable, miserable, and faint.

Kaer Morhen—meaning "Old Sea Keep" in the Elder Speech—was the castle where the Witchers of the Wolf School trained, and their home. Ciri had lived there for several years, and she was glad she had managed to find it. She was even happier to see the look of surprise on Uncle Vesemir's face as he repaired a wooden training post in the courtyard.

She lifted the unconscious Victor off the horse and gently laid him on a pile of hay in the courtyard.

"Ciri, how did you get here?" Vesemir recognized her easily, even though the way she had appeared was far too much like a sorceress's work. "Geralt and Yennefer have been looking everywhere for you."

Ciri stepped forward and hugged Vesemir. "I know. I know they're waiting for me. I have to go find them right now.

"Listen, Uncle Vesemir, I don't have time to explain everything. This boy... is my younger brother. He's very important to me, and I want to ask you to look after him, just as you looked after me back then. He saved my life. He's very... very important to me."

Seeing Ciri's serious expression, Vesemir, still unsure what was going on, could only nod. Then he watched her kiss Victor on the forehead, mount Kelpie, and thunder through the portal like the wind, vanishing from the courtyard of Kaer Morhen.

Her next crossing successfully brought her to the place she had seen in her nightmare: Stygga Castle, where the sorceress Yennefer was being held prisoner.

However, Ciri was still too young and too naive. She believed she had plenty of leverage in a negotiation. And after two successful crossings to places she hadn't visited in a long time, she felt she had a major advantage. She didn't even know her enemies could interfere with and block her ability to travel.

So, full of confidence, she walked openly into the castle and demanded to negotiate. Then they beat her black and blue, tied her to a specially designed restraint chair, and prepared to subject her to＊discipline.

Fortunately, just before the worst could happen, her adoptive father, the White Wolf, Geralt—whose fate was bound to hers—arrived in time with his little band of searchers. They stopped the tragedy and rescued Yennefer and Ciri.

In the end, Geralt and Yennefer joined forces against the evil mage, while Ciri faced the cruel mercenaries in a duel, beginning the fated confrontation.