The playful yet majestic voice in the void had barely fallen when the ritual circle of the Maiden, Mother, and Crone suddenly blazed with dazzling golden radiance.
In an instant, Old Speartip's Cavern was lit up.
Everywhere—every corner hidden by stalagmites and stone pillars—was unnaturally, completely purged of darkness.
At that moment, Old Speartip's Cavern became like a divine kingdom upon earth.
"Bzzzz~"
The wolf medallion quivered and hummed.
The piercing golden light made Allen instinctively shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw—upon the ritual circle that represented the Maiden—a young girl of serene beauty, smiling brightly without his knowing when she had appeared.
She wore a pure white silk dress, her head crowned with a wreath woven of green leaves and fresh branches. The bare arms and neck revealed from her garments were as smooth and fair as mutton-fat jade.
The refreshing fragrance of tulips, mixed with fresh grass and wheat stalks, swept over him, instantly relaxing his whole being.
"The goddess is stronger than the last time we met," Allen couldn't help but praise.
It wasn't mere flattery—it was a real and tangible impression.
Yet it wasn't something as direct as magical blessing or aura. It was an indescribable sense, as if the "Maiden" standing before him was somehow…
More vivid.
"My holy son's perception is quite sharp."
The girl's lips curved with playful pride as she stepped out from the ritual circle and came to his side.
In the void, a gentle breeze stirred, swirling around them.
The air was filled with the life-filled scent of spring blending into summer.
"Hm…?"
Just two steps away, the girl suddenly halted, twitching her delicate, freckle-dotted nose like a little puppy sniffing out hidden treats.
"You… are different." Her slender brows arched so high they nearly flew upward.
For the first time, Allen saw such clear surprise on the face of a god. Though, of course, he hadn't met many gods.
Among Melitele's three aspects—the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone—the Maiden always seemed lighthearted, playful, and lively. Yet beneath that appearance, her emotions were steady and unshaken.
But now, Melitele was truly startled—because of him.
"What's different?" Allen asked carefully.
"Everything is different."
That was a useless answer… Allen raised his eyes at the Maiden, who circled from his left, behind, and then to his right. Helplessly, he said: "Lady Melitele…"
"Hehehe~" The girl narrowed her eyes in a sly grin. "Not telling you. Consider it punishment for being so negligent all this time…"
Allen quietly gazed at the Maiden for a long while, and she let him look.
Recently, Allen was anything but lazy.
Every time he solved one matter, two more cropped up—he was busier than a spinning top.
Of course, he understood that Melitele wasn't speaking of his daily life or duties, but of the conjunction of the sphere they had agreed upon nearly half a year ago—whose progress had nearly come to a halt.
Allen pressed his lips together, quickly searching for words.
But before he could speak, the Maiden tilted her head, curiously surveying their surroundings, shifting the topic.
"And this place?"
"Kaer Morhen," Allen paused a moment, then drew a deep breath. "This was once a trial site for the Wolf School in the high mountains. We usually call it Old Speartip's Cavern."
"Old Speartip?"
"A one-eyed giant—this was his lair," Allen explained softly. "In the original mountain trial, after apprentices swam through the deadly lake filled with Drowners, they had to pass through this cavern, then cross a troll camp, and finally reach a place called the Ring of Elements. Only by activating the school's medallion there could they become true Witchers…"
The Maiden's gaze swept across the cavern, which under the golden light shone like a grand palace.
Her sight seemed to pierce the empty void, glimpsing its past. Pity stirred in her eyes.
Allen even felt he didn't need to explain so much. Perhaps, the moment she asked, she already knew this cavern—
What had happened here before, and what had happened after it was named for the one-eyed giant.
After all…
She was Melitele.
Still, Allen did his best to recount the events here in brief words.
He felt she wanted to hear them.
As he spoke, Allen blinked—suddenly, the Maiden had become the Mother, cradling her swollen belly.
His voice faltered, but by chance, his explanation had just about ended.
"You are doing the right thing, my child…"
The Mother stroked Allen's hair with tender affection.
Warm, rising steam seeped into Allen's scalp, bringing a soothing comfort. At the same time, the lively fragrance of tulips, grass, and wheat gently shifted into the mellow scent of autumn's harvest.
Allen's whole body instantly relaxed, and he couldn't help but close his eyes.
Old Speartip's Cavern remained quiet for a long while.
"Is the White Frost stirring again?" Allen suddenly sighed, breaking the silence.
The soft, tender touch above his head paused for a moment.
"You are a clever child," the Mother spoke gently. "The White Frost has suddenly quickened its pace. Uninvited guests are in Kaedwen. Their presence and actions have roused the White Frost once more…"
"The Wild Hunt?" Allen's eyes snapped open. "They're in Kaedwen now—what are they doing?"
The last time he had heard news of the Wild Hunt was a month or two ago, when they had ambushed Aedirn's vanguard during its invasion of Kaedwen, shattering Aedirn's momentum to seize the entire realm in one swift strike.
According to Philippa Eilhart's intelligence, Kaedwen's current state was utter chaos and ruin.
The capital, Ard Carraigh, had fallen months ago. Kaedwen's new king, Lado, was still missing.
Aedirn, their advance halted by the Wild Hunt, could no longer suppress its own unstable politics through the illusion of constant victories. Internal rebellions broke out across the land, and in newly conquered Kaedwen, insurgencies never ceased for even a single day.
Of course, for so many internal and external troubles to erupt all at once—and at such a coincidental moment—nearby nations were surely adding fuel from the shadows.
In the short term, Aedirn could likely only hold the ground it had already taken, with no strength left to expand further.
Yet this was hardly good news for the people of Kaedwen.
If Aedirn had succeeded in conquering Kaedwen outright, at least basic order could have been maintained, broken only by the occasional rebellion.
But now…
Kaedwen's deserters, Aedirn's deserters, bandits, marauders, opportunistic local nobles looking to profit, and even ghoulish scavengers and other monsters emboldened by the abundance of corpses…
"Chaotic demons run wild" and "hell on earth" weren't enough to describe the suffering of ordinary Kaedweni folk.
It was sheer misery.
Down the mountain, Kaer Village was now overcrowded. In recent days, even Danthe and Vesemir had been forced to descend and act as guards of the village, simply to maintain order.
Of course, not everyone fared poorly.
At the very least, the Ban Ard and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization was said to be thriving. Their talk of establishing a "Sorcerer Kingdom" had already spread across the entire Northern Continent.
From Aedirn and Lyria in the east, all the way to the far western Dragon Mountains of Kovir and Poviss, even common taverns buzzed with the rumors.
"Ban Ard and the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization are testing the continent's reaction." That had been Tissaia de Vries' exact words.
Aretuza was growing anxious.
And yet, despite the swirl of conflicting reports, one thing was certain—
That Wild Hunt squad of a hundred riders, since their attack on Aedirn's army, had vanished without a trace.
Were they licking their wounds somewhere after suffering heavy losses at the hands of Aedirn's troops?
"No, impossible," Allen shook his head inwardly.
Aedirn's forces, wary of Ban Ard and Rissberg, surely had measures prepared against sorcerers.
But under a Wild Hunt captain—likely one of the next tier of power—Aedirn's army could never have been their match.
"No one knows what they're doing…" the Mother shook her head.
"Not even the gods?"
"Least of all the gods," the Mother suddenly shifted into the Crone, her voice hoarse, like the howling north wind of deep winter. "The Wild Hunt has special means. I can only judge, from the White Frost's heightened stirrings, that they are restlessly plotting something…"
Allen fell silent.
When children grew quiet, they were surely up to mischief.
And the scale of the Wild Hunt's mischief—just imagining it was terrifying.
Hopefully, Allen thought, they were only trying to break through Ban Ard's shell…
That would be reasonable. After all, the Wild Hunt had come for the fragments of Ard Gaeth's Gate and the guiding stone. Yet, even with that logic, a heavy unease pressed on Allen's heart.
Truth be told, their attack on Aedirn's vanguard had already been highly irregular.
Could they truly be so arrogant as to ignore friend and foe alike? Did they not realize that by crippling Aedirn, they only made Ban Ard stronger?
It was possible—but unlikely.
"Before I came, I already shared my divine power and authority with the priestesses," the Crone suddenly shifted the subject, breaking Allen's train of thought. "Since yesterday, the temple has also entered a state of readiness, beginning to train its priests in battlefield skills."
"The next time you visit the temple, you'll find it greatly changed."
Allen froze for a moment, then his expression gradually grew more solemn.
"The problem… is already that severe?"
The Crone was silent for a long while before sighing.
"Allen, I do not wish to pressure you. I know why you hesitate…"
"Don't argue. You are a kind child—that is good. I am not blaming you," the Crone raised a hand, cutting off Allen's words before they left his lips. "When growing, one always needs some virtue as support, to avoid straying from the path."
"But…"
She paused, lifting her gaze toward the cavern's jagged ceiling. Her expression grew sterner.
"But no matter the reason, the White Frost draws nearer each day—faster than the day before. We must be faster still, if we are to survive."
"This world has no time left. It cannot wait for you to slowly grow, slowly accept reality, slowly learn to choose and to sacrifice…"
"The cruel truth is this—among all your choices, not every one will be as clean and righteous as slaying that one-eyed giant, free from any reproach, even within your own heart."
"That is impossible."
"Innocent people will inevitably die because of your decisions. They have parents, wives, children. They may have lived honest lives as farmers—or suffered tragic fates much like your own…"
"But if you continue to waver like this, the number of innocents who perish will only grow. The entire world will collapse, frozen and destroyed, because of your hesitation."
Her harsh, rasping voice was like a blade of ice, cutting away every last shred of hopeful delusion.
"…That way… so many will die. So many humans…" Allen said with difficulty.
The Crone gently shook her head.
"I am a goddess worshiped by humans, but in the end, I am still a god, Allen."
"Gods born of nature have no emotions."
"We love humanity, but not individuals."
"We do not pity the innocent who die in the torrents of an age, just as we do not intervene in any human war."
"To nurture humanity's growth and survival—that is the entirety of our existence."
Allen fell silent for a long time.
Indeed, Melitele was a natural goddess of "heaven and earth without benevolence." The maiden's playfulness, the mother's tenderness, the Crone's sternness—all of it was only a façade.
How could She ever truly share the feelings of humankind?
"How much time is left now?" he suddenly asked.
"Seven hundred and sixty-three years…"
Allen's heart sank.
He remembered that the last time he asked, the arrival of the White Frost had been more than eight hundred years away. In just half a year, the countdown had shortened by at least forty years.
And Melitele had also said—the White Frost's arrival was accelerating because of the Wild Hunt's petty schemes…
"I understand…" Allen took a deep breath. "I will… before the end of this month, I will act."
The Crone nodded, and in an instant She became once more the gentle mother, reaching out to softly stroke his hair.
"You are doing the right thing, my child…"
Allen gave a dry, brittle smile, but in his mind's eye he saw rivers of blood and fields of corpses.
The mother sighed, shook her head lightly, and said no more. Gracefully, She walked toward Melitele's concealment ritual.
At that moment—
Allen suddenly remembered something. Before the mother stepped into the ritual, he quickly called out: "Goddess Melitele, do you know of the Maiden of Spring, Gwendolyn?"
The mother paused in her steps.
"Gwendolyn, Maiden of Spring, was the chief deity of the Aen Seidhe, but She has long since perished."
"You know… do you know how She fell?" Allen asked cautiously, testing his words.
"Gwendolyn's high priest died upon the battlefield," the mother answered fluently, without hesitation.
"After the Aen Seidhe's City of Spring was captured, Kreve's Templar Knights destroyed Gwendolyn's sacred statue and slaughtered all her priests."
Different… Allen thought. As expected, Melitele's account was not the same as Ida Emean's.
"Why do you ask me this?" For the first time in front of Allen, the mother unconsciously furrowed her brow. Her golden eyes seemed faintly lost.
Fearing that Melitele's memories might, as he and Ida Emean had suspected, awaken the "awareness" of the White Frost, Allen hurriedly changed the subject: "I… accidentally obtained the resurrected divine spirit of Gwendolyn, Maiden of Spring…"
He paused, carefully choosing his words.
"What do you think… I should do with Her?"
......
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