The days after the ritual were a haze for Alina. The revelation of the hooded figure haunted her every thought. Who were they? Why had they brought her here? And what did they want? These questions gnawed at her, but there were no immediate answers.
Geralt and Yennefer spent hours discussing their next steps. Though Alina felt like an outsider, she forced herself to listen, to absorb the reality of her predicament. Every piece of knowledge about this world could make the difference between survival and failure.
"We'll need to consult someone with deeper ties to prophecy." Yennefer said one evening. "There's a figure near Velen who deals in such mysteries. They're eccentric, but their knowledge is vast."
"Who?" Geralt asked.
"The Seer of the Marshes." Yennefer replied, her tone wary. "They're reclusive and unpredictable. But they may know something about the figure in Alina's vision."
Alina shivered. She didn't like the sound of "The Marshes." but at this point, she had no room to argue. If it meant getting closer to answers—and maybe a way back home—she was willing to face whatever horrors lay ahead.
The journey to Velen was long and arduous. The Continent's wilds were unrelenting, the terrain shifting from dense forests to sprawling, foggy marshes. The air grew thick and damp, carrying with it the stench of decay. Alina did her best to keep up, but the oppressive atmosphere weighed on her.
They passed through villages where despair hung like a shroud. Alina saw gaunt faces, children with hollow eyes, and farmers who muttered prayers to the Eternal Fire. The war had scarred these lands deeply, and the people bore the weight of its aftermath.
One night, as they camped near a cluster of withered trees, Geralt handed Alina a small crossbow. She stared at it, puzzled.
"I know you're not a fighter." he said. "But out here, you need to be able to defend yourself."
Alina hesitated, then took the weapon. It felt heavy in her hands, a reminder of how far she was from the safety of her old life. Geralt spent the evening teaching her how to aim and fire. She wasn't a natural, but she was determined, and by the end of the night, she managed to hit a crude target he'd set up.
"Not bad." Geralt said with a faint smirk. "But don't let it go to your head."
Alina rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. For the first time in weeks, she felt a sliver of confidence.
As they ventured deeper into the marshes, the landscape became more treacherous. The ground was slick with mud, and strange, gnarled trees loomed overhead, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers. The air buzzed with the sound of insects, and every now and then, Alina thought she saw shadows flitting through the fog.
"We're being watched." Geralt said quietly, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Alina's grip tightened on the crossbow. "By what?"
"Could be Drowners. Maybe worse." he replied. "Stay close."
They pressed on, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Suddenly, a guttural growl echoed through the marsh. Geralt's movements were immediate and precise, his steel sword drawn as a hulking figure lunged from the shadows.
It was a Water Hag, its grotesque form dripping with sludge. Alina froze, her heart pounding as Geralt engaged the creature. His movements were a blur of steel and precision, each strike calculated. But then, another figure emerged from the murk—a Drowner, its slimy skin glistening in the dim light.
"Alina!" Geralt shouted. "Behind you!"
She spun, fumbling with the crossbow. Her hands shook as she tried to aim, the Drowner lurching closer with horrifying speed. Summoning every ounce of courage, she pulled the trigger. The bolt shot forward, striking the creature in the shoulder. It staggered but didn't fall.
"Reload!" Geralt barked, his voice sharp.
Alina scrambled to do as he said, her heart hammering in her chest. Just as the Drowner lunged again, Geralt appeared at her side, his sword cleaving through the creature in one fluid motion. The beast crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The fight was over as quickly as it had begun. Geralt surveyed the area, his eyes scanning for any additional threats. When he was satisfied, he turned to Alina.
"You did well." he said, his tone grudgingly approving.
Alina's legs felt like jelly, but she managed a shaky nod. "I was terrified." she admitted.
"Good." Geralt said. "Fear keeps you alive. Just don't let it paralyze you."
After what felt like an eternity, they reached the Seer's dwelling—a crumbling stone hut nestled deep within the marsh. The air was thick with an otherworldly energy, and Alina's skin prickled as they approached.
The Seer was unlike anyone Alina had ever met. They were an elderly figure with piercing, milky-white eyes that seemed to see through flesh and bone. Their voice was raspy, like the whisper of wind through dead leaves.
"You've come far." the Seer said, their gaze fixed on Alina. "And the burden you carry is heavy."
Alina swallowed. "Do you know why I'm here? Who brought me to this world?"
The Seer tilted their head, a faint smile playing on their lips. "Your arrival was no accident, child. You are a thread in a tapestry far larger than you can imagine. The one who brought you here... they have plans for you. Plans that will shape the fate of this world."
"What plans?" Alina pressed. "What do they want from me?"
The Seer's smile faded. "That is for you to discover. But beware—destiny is a blade that cuts both ways. The choices you make will ripple across the Continent, for better or worse."
The cryptic words left Alina more unsettled than ever. As they left the Seer's hut, her mind raced with questions. She didn't ask to be part of this world, let alone play a role in its fate. But if the Seer was right, she had no choice.
"Fate doesn't care what we want." Geralt said as they walked. "It only cares that we play our part."
Alina glanced at him, his words settling heavy in her chest. She wasn't sure if she believed in fate, but one thing was clear: whatever lay ahead, she couldn't face it alone. And for now, she had Geralt by her side—a constant in a world of chaos and uncertainty.