Alina stared at her laptop, the familiar menu screen of The Witcher 3 staring back at her. It was surreal, as though no time had passed. Her coffee cup still sat on the desk, cold and untouched. Her hand trembled as she reached out to close the laptop, the sound of the game's haunting melody now unbearable.
She pushed back from the desk, pacing the room as her heart pounded in her chest. Had it all been a dream? A delusion? Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and she froze. Dirt clung to her hoodie, her jeans were scuffed and torn, and her boots—boots she didn't own before—were caked with dried mud. Her dagger, a curved blade with intricate engravings she didn't recognize, hung from her belt.
It wasn't a dream.
The weight of reality hit her like a punch to the gut. She had been there. She had fought, struggled, and survived in a world that wasn't hers. She had said goodbye to people who had come to mean everything to her. And now... she was back.
A sharp knock at the door shattered her thoughts. Alina jumped, her hand instinctively going to the dagger at her side before she realized how absurd that was. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room and opened the door.
Her neighbor, Mia, stood there holding a package. "Hey, Alina. This got dropped off at my place by mistake."
Alina blinked at her, struggling to find words. "Uh, thanks," she finally managed, taking the package. Her hands were still shaking.
"You okay?" Mia asked, her brow furrowing. "You look like you've been through... I don't even know, a war zone or something."
Alina forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to her own ears. "Yeah, just... rough day. Thanks for bringing this over."
Mia gave her a skeptical look but didn't press. "Alright. Take care of yourself, okay?"
As the door closed, Alina leaned against it, clutching the package to her chest. She felt like a stranger in her own apartment, in her own world. Everything felt so loud, so sharp, so overwhelming. She missed the quiet danger of the Continent, the clarity of purpose she'd found there. But most of all, she missed them.
Setting the package down, she slumped onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. How was she supposed to move on? How could she return to the monotony of everyday life after everything she'd been through?
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling her from her thoughts. She picked it up and saw a notification: an email from an unknown sender. The subject line read, "Do not forget."
Her pulse quickened as she opened the message. Inside was a single line of text: "The threads of fate are never truly severed." Attached to the email was an image—a sketch of her, standing beside Geralt and Yennefer in front of the Tower. It was impossibly detailed, as though someone had been there to capture the moment.
Her hand tightened around the phone. Someone—or something—knew what had happened to her. The question was: who? And why were they reaching out now?
Before she could think too deeply about it, her phone buzzed again. This time it was a text message. The number was unlisted, and the message was cryptic: "The rift is not closed. You have a role yet to play. Are you ready?"
Alina stared at the screen, her heart racing. Her instincts told her she should delete the message, pretend it didn't exist, and try to rebuild her life. But deep down, she knew she couldn't. She wasn't the same person who had walked through that rift.
Her hand hovered over the keyboard before she typed a single word in response: "Yes."
The reply came almost instantly: "Good. Be ready."
The room seemed to dim for a moment, the shadows deepening unnaturally. Alina's phone screen flickered, and for a split second, she thought she saw Geralt's face reflected in the glass. A faint smile tugged at her lips. If the rift wasn't closed, it meant there was a chance—a chance to see them again, to finish what had been started.
For the first time since returning, Alina felt a spark of purpose ignite within her. Whatever lay ahead, she wouldn't run from it. She had fought monsters, faced impossible odds, and survived the Continent. She could do it again.
Because fate wasn't done with her yet.