"What do you mean we can't get out, Ihuarraquax?"
Ciri, who had just been heroic for a few seconds, now looked a little flustered.
Starry Eyes, the Wild Hunt has sealed this place. They've gone mad—for the sake of trapping us, they've sealed off an entire world. I can't find any steps to leap into another world. Outside is nothing but empty void…
Ihuarraquax's mane drooped, the glow of his horn flickering violently.
After all, even though Ihuarraquax was a legendary unicorn, in truth he was still little more than a colt, not much bigger than Ciri herself.
Allen couldn't hear their telepathic exchange, but he could feel the turbulent spiritual ripples thrumming in the air.
"What does that mean?" he whispered by Ciri's ear.
Hearing Allen's voice, Ciri remembered that she was no longer alone like before. She forced herself to steady.
"It's nothing," she said, without looking back, gripping the reins tighter as she gazed toward the endless sea of grass ahead. Her tender voice trembled ever so slightly. "We're just surrounded, that's all. There seem to be Wild Hunt ahead too, but it's fine. Once I… once I recover, I can just…"
"Blink."
"Y-yes. With another Blink, we can break through."
You really think I'm that gullible?
With a reaction like that, it's more than just being surrounded.
Allen lowered his head speechlessly.
Ciri followed suit, lowering her head and guiltily avoiding Allen's gaze.
While her mind frantically searched for a way to escape this sealed world with Allen, she tried to keep talking—imitating the way Geralt and Yennefer's mother once spoke with her.
"Right, I didn't finish what I was saying earlier, Allen. I was telling you—the Wolf School, even though it seems to be thriving now, in truth…"
"It's on the brink, and will soon perish, right?"
Ciri snapped her head up. "How do you know that?"
"You just said it."
Allen felt like he was staring into the eyes of an idiot.
"But you're not surprised." Ciri stared into Allen's deep blue eyes.
She felt they were like the crystal-clear lake beside the castle of Tir ná Lia, reflecting her own image.
Leaving her completely exposed—as if she were laid bare, without a single secret.
Allen let out a soft sigh. "Since I know who you are, naturally I know everything tied to you. For example, that the Wolf School will decline within a hundred years, until only three or four witchers remain."
"The entire witcher order across the Northern Continent will be devastated, never again returning to its former glory."
"But why…"
"Why did the Wolf School still perish?"
Ciri nodded. The howling winds made her instinctively lean back, pressing against Allen's chest, hoping to catch his next words more clearly.
"Perhaps because I dreamed of the Alder Blood, I ended up here. And now I'm about to leave. Once I do, the Wolf School won't be destroyed in the mob attack."
Allen gazed earnestly into Ciri's emerald eyes.
Ciri heard about the mob's attack—this specific incident convinced her of what he said.
"Do you still feel that pull now?"
"I do, and it's getting clearer," Allen gripped the reins, urging Kelpie to keep up with Ihuarraquax, nodding hard. "It won't be long before I have to leave, so right now…"
Before he could finish—
Clop Clop Clop~
A strange, icy hoofbeat suddenly rang out. Every step sounded as if it shattered hard, frozen ice, cutting off Allen and Ciri's words.
The oppressive force grew heavier, nearly solid.
Both of them instinctively turned to look.
The skeletal horse's hooves disturbed the calm sea of grass.
Icy-blue ribbons of frost spread downward, freezing the waist-high green grass, shattering it into fragments that scattered wildly in the freezing gale.
Grass chaff howled into the sky.
And the Wild Hunt army was galloping across the blades of grass.
The sea of grass and shrubs became as solid as stone beneath them, letting the Hunt's speed increase without notice.
At some unknown moment, the King of the Wild Hunt appeared—charging at the very front.
A skull wearing a rusted helmet, its hollow sockets burning with pale-blue flames. A tattered cloak billowed in the wind.
When he saw the Child of the Alder Blood turn her head back, his skeletal steed surged forward, and he let out a wild, horrifying laugh.
Ah, Child of the Alder Blood!
You belong to us! You are ours! Join our ranks, join our Hunt!
We shall ride forth, to the world's end, to eternity, to the end of existence! Join us—revel in the ecstasy of the Hunt! You are ours.
You are one of us! We are your true kin!
"No!" she shouted. "Get away! I am human, and I will never stand with monsters like you!"
The King of the Wild Hunt roared with laughter, his decayed teeth clattering against the rusted gorget, his empty sockets flashing with pale-blue fire.
You cannot escape, Child of the Alder Blood! You cannot escape!
Our future is your future! Our destiny is your destiny!
At once, every skeletal rider lowered their bodies over their saddles.
The sense of oppression instantly doubled.
All this time Allen, as though ignored, almost nonexistent atop Kelpie, now shouted against the freezing gale driven by the Hunt's approach: "I'll deal with the Wolf School's problem—now tell me, what's happening?!"
But Ciri seemed deaf to his voice. Sweat formed on her brow, only to be dried instantly by the wind.
She knew—this time, she would likely be dragged back to Tir ná Lia again, as nothing more than breeding stock…
Damn it!
Breeding stock was supposed to mean stallions! What a wretched metaphor!
But to those cruel Aen Elle demons, what difference was there between a womb and seed? To them she was only a tool.
She wouldn't die—but the thought of life in Tir ná Lia, that daily torment like living flayed alive, made her wish she had perished back in Jealousy Village together with Leo Bonhart!
No!
I can't be taken!
She recalled what she had seen in that spiraling tower filled with endless doors—
A dripping, damp dungeon.
Yennefer chained and shackled to the wall.
A reeking puddle on the floor, rats crawling everywhere. Cold stone walls.
Her hands were torn and bloody.
Yennefer's cracked lips moved soundlessly, blood still flowing.
Her face was haggard, yet her violet eyes burned with fury. Messy black hair clung to her dirt-streaked cheeks.
And then came the howling of winter—snow and gales. Geralt rode his horse through the all-encompassing blizzard. Behind him, half-hidden in the storm, were other riders. He was searching for her, never giving up.
But in such a situation, what could I possibly do?
Even Ihuarraquax couldn't find a way out!
Fortunately, Allen could still sense that strange pull. Otherwise, I really would have doomed another person…
"Ciri!" came the hoarse shout from above, unrelenting, stubborn.
"What's the point of telling you?" Ciri tilted her head back, eyes brimming with tears. "You just need to accept that pull and leave. As for me, I won't die—I'll survive, and one day I'll return to see the change you promised me…"
Her voice faltered.
A pair of warm, rough hands brushed her cheek, gently wiping away her tears.
"Then why not tell me?" Allen said softly. "If I've foreseen everything about you, how can you be so certain I have no way to change your current situation?"
If you really knew everything, how could you not even know what I'm going through now… Ciri wanted to retort.
But when she looked into the sapphire-blue pupils of the boy, where her reflection shone, her lips moved as if compelled by an Axii Sign.
"Ihuarraquax told me—the Wild Hunt behind us has sealed this world. We can't get out."
Allen fell silent.
Seeing this, Ciri's eyes welled with tears, but she suddenly let out a laugh. "See? I told you it's useless to say anything."
"You should use this time to think about how to save the Wolf School. Once I find another chance to escape back, I'll be able to—"
"Who said it's useless?!" Allen cut her off.
"Then why did you—"
"I was calculating… the time I have left before I leave."
The girl froze, her emerald eyes fixed on Allen, trying to see whether he was serious or just comforting her.
But in those blue, cat-like eyes, not even a trace of pretense could be found…
Starry Eyes, he's telling the truth! He's telling the truth! He really can break the Alder's seal!
Ihuarraquax's childlike voice cheered in her mind.
"And not only can I leave safely," Allen said, tilting his head toward the unicorn in admiration, "I'll be leaving very soon. Ihuarraquax, tell your Starry Eyes—is this a lie?"
A unicorn's face rarely showed expression, yet now astonishment and awe were plain, almost spilling from those pure, gentle eyes.
Starry Eyes, he's telling the truth. He really can leave—and very soon.
Ciri stood frozen. If Allen really was about to leave, then what did all her reckless efforts mean, the way she had slowed their flight just to protect him?
Nothing but a self-deluded clown?!!
"Why didn't you say that earlier?!" She glared at Ihuarraquax, her eyes burning with shame and anger.
Starry Eyes, I told you! I said it four times, but not only did you not believe me, you yelled at me to shut up!
Ihuarraquax's horn flickered with grievance.
Ciri froze mid-sentence, her deathly pale face instantly flushing red, so hot it seemed like blood might drip from it.
"You're very kind," Allen said gently, patting the girl's shoulder. "A little reckless, maybe—but that's a good quality. I've always liked that about you."
In the Witcher series, whether in novels or games, Ciri was without doubt one of the most well-loved characters.
Sometimes she even ranked first, especially with the beautiful model from The Witcher 3.
But it wasn't just because she looked good. In many games, attractive characters often ended up despised.
Ciri, however…
The core of both the books and games was to find Ciri and rescue her from the Wild Hunt.
Ordinarily, such a "burdensome" character would easily earn the audience's hatred. Yet she was loved, widely admired. The reason lay in her charm—daring to love and hate, resilient, understanding, and kind.
While Allen's mind drifted to these memories of his past life, the girl, after freezing for a moment, turned her head away in defiance, pouting.
I'm clearly older than you, so why are you lecturing me like some Alder?! And we've barely even known each other for half a day, yet you say you've always… always liked…
"Get ready, Ciri. Wait for my signal—what's wrong with you?"
"N–nothing." Immersed in her own thoughts, the girl suddenly raised her voice when interrupted.
Allen gave her a strange look, then said firmly, "This time, don't be stubborn. As soon as I give the signal, you leave this world with Ihuarraquax. Immediately."
"O–okay, I understand."
Allen no longer paid attention to the girl, who kept her head bowed. Instead, he turned to glance at the Wild Hunt army, steadily approaching yet never closing the distance.
He had noticed it earlier—ever since they landed on the sea of grass, their speed had increased. They should have been much closer by now.
It was obvious.
They were deliberately holding back, like hunters circling their prey, keeping the chase alive to exhaust it fully—threatening, taunting, terrifying—until the beast inside the ring collapsed.
It was easy to understand.
The Wild Hunt's goal was to capture the living bearer of Alder Blood, to seize her lineage.
A dead Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon would be useless to them—worse, she would destroy their last chance at Alder Blood.
So they had to be careful, not only avoiding damage from spells but also preventing Ihuarraquax—or even Ciri herself—from harming her.
If Allen were the one orchestrating a world-wide seal, he would have done the same.
And fortunately, they had.
Because under this suffocating pressure, if they caught up to him directly, Allen wasn't sure he would have time to unleash any countermeasures before being captured.
A pity, though…
[Ding! Would you like to activate Conjunction of the Sphere—Alghoul (Cooldown: 30 days)?]
"Ciri, get ready!" Allen turned back and reminded her. "No matter what happens, don't be surprised. When you hear my signal, leave immediately with Ihuarraquax."
"I understand." Ciri nodded seriously, then paused. Looking up into his stern eyes, she couldn't help but ask, "What are you planning to do?"
"You'll know in a moment." Allen closed his eyes, sensing the ever-stronger pull that felt as if it wanted to seize his very soul.
Ciri secretly pursed her lips, guessing at his method, and wondered again why the School of the Wolf had such a strange witcher…
The gale howled. On the boy's brow, four faint lines were etched—marks left by the habit of furrowing his brow too often.
He was only fourteen, born during the peak of the Wolf School, already a witcher master at such a young age.
What troubles could he possibly carry?
Was it because of the future he had seen—the destined destruction of the Wolf School—that weighed on him?
A witcher, so young, who could see prophecies…
The girl's gaze was unconsciously drawn to the boy before her, to every mysterious detail, deeply captivating her.
Until that moment.
The boy suddenly opened his eyes wide and shouted: "Hold the reins tight!"
Instinctively, the girl grabbed the Kelpie's reins he passed to her. As she came back to her senses, her eyes darted around quickly.
"Where is it?"
And then—
The howling wind ceased abruptly, the crushing pressure of the Wild Hunt vanished.
Time itself seemed to halt, frozen solid.
And in the very next second—
"Wha—?!!"
The girl's eyes widened in shock.
Her Alder Blood was suddenly stirred, surging through her veins, singing loudly within her body—resonating!
...
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