The cracks across Treeheart's body all opened at once, and a suppressed voice came surging forth. No longer promises or threats, but pure malice stripped of its disguise.
"You'll regret this, mortal. You think the old crones will honor the contract? They will betray you, just as they betrayed me!! Ridiculous! A foolish decision! Your estate will burn to ashes!! No one will remember you!!"
Ron brought his final sword strike down upon Treeheart's very center. The humming faded, leaving behind only a few scattered hisses.
Geralt sheathed his sword and cast one last glance into the depths of the cave. "Let's go."
By the time they returned to the entrance of Lower Velen, evening was drawing near. The setting sun had stained the entire clearing a dark orange.
The Bloody Baron had arrived with twenty veteran soldiers and stood at the very front, arms folded across his chest. The beard on his chin was longer than before, but his eyes were clearer than they had ever been.
On the other side, Tamara and the witch hunters had arrived as well. Her steps faltered when she saw the Baron standing in the clearing, and he saw her too.
"Tamara, my dear daughter, won't you give your old man a hug?"
"Stay away from me. I came for my mother. Unlike you, I won't just watch her die in the swamp."
"What do you think I came here for? To bring her home, of course. I know I wasn't a good husband or a good father, but I've turned over a new leaf." The Baron spoke hurriedly, as though trying his utmost to salvage something.
Tamara ignored the Baron's explanation, withdrew her gaze, and headed toward her own group.
As she passed Gladden, the witch hunter captain stood with his arms