Chapter 232: End of a Curse
As night fell upon the land, the three witchers made their way to Old Vizima. The night was chilly, and the air was muddied with dust. Beyond the bridge stood the old city, lights flickering in the night. The palace was abandoned and destroyed. Ruins were strewn across the city. A dilapidated fence made out of decaying wood stood as the only line of defense. Within the great hall slept an uneven stone slab. A flight of stairs leading into darkness stood underneath it. Beyond the stairs was a tomb. There was a big coffin fit for two corpses sitting there. It was the one where Adda and her mother were buried.
However, the skeletal remains were nowhere to be found. Instead, a monster had turned this coffin into its home. Tents stood around the palace haphazardly, and mountains of refuse towered around them. Those were the homes of the homeless, but because of the monster's sudden appearance, the knights had chased the people here to the temple area.
There was nothing in this place now. Nothing but silence. The witchers went into a rickety wooden house beside the palace, calmly and meticulously making their preparations beside the dirty table in the house. According to the sorcerer, the striga would not leave its coffin until midnight. They still had time to prepare for the battle.
Roy placed the bag of alchemical supplies on the table and took a bunch of black bottles out. He took one of them, and his companions took two each. They unsheathed the blade strapped behind them and greased it with some kind of lotion. They kept smearing the blades until they were covered in the liquid, then they flicked their wrists. The house was filled with the blades' gleam right away.
Roy muttered an incantation under his breath and downed the potion he took out. His companions did the same as well.
The witchers covered themselves with their cloaks and sat on the floor. Their eyes were closed, and they did not even move a muscle. Their breathing was starting to change. It became faster, as if they were hyperventilating. Thanks to the decoction, their faces started to contort, and all color was drained from them. Their veins were dyed purplish-black, and their pupils filled their whole eyes. The witchers' gaze tore through the darkness, and their eyes gleamed.
***
A quiet little screech whispered in the hall. It was little more than a buzz, but the witchers heard it. That was the sound of something pushing the coffin's lid open. A few moments later, the stone slab blocking the entrance to the tomb was flung away as well, and out came a grotesque monster that fitted Foltest's description to a T.
A disproportionately large head was attached to a stubby neck. It was covered in red feathers, and its eyes shone red, just like a beast's would. Unlike her human form, Adda looked like a muscular humanoid beast in her striga form, though it still retained some of her human traits, such as her breasts that were protruding from her chest.
‘Striga
Age: Nineteen years old
Gender: Female
Staus: Princess, Cursed One (Ostrit's curse took effect the second time, turning the princess into the cruel and powerful striga)
HP: 300
Strength: 8 → 20
Dexterity: 9 → 20
Constitution: 8 → 20
Perception: 7
Will: 5 → 6
Charm: 7 → 3
Spirit: 5
Skills:
One-handed Mastery Level 3…
Dagger Mastery Level 2…
Bow Mastery Level 2…
Cursed Flesh (Passive): This curse is a blessing and great torture at the same time. Death shall not grant the accursed their sweet release that easily. HP +100. The cursed one's heart is no longer one of the vitals.
Speedy Regeneration (Passive): The cursed one has an incredible regenerative factor. They can heal any minor wounds quickly. They can also heal moderate wounds and replenish their HP if they consume their enemies' flesh. Constitution +10.'
***
Holy shit. She's even more powerful than Berengar. Roy was glad he called two companions over to help him out.
The striga suddenly let out a scream. It tore through the night like an invisible sound wave. The old palace's walls rumbled from the shout. The striga's shouts would turn into a whisper for a moment, and it would raise its voice to high heavens the next, as if it were trying to vent something out.
It turned its eyes to the witchers outside the palace. Their eyes met, and when it saw Roy, a hint of confusion appeared on its face. The creature seemed to have a sliver of its memory left, and it was trying to remember who this familiar man was. However, that sliver of humanity was crushed by the feral instinct within it. It charged at the witchers with its mouth open. Its maw was filled with sharp canine teeth, and it clamped it shut, as if trying to provoke the witchers.
The monster kept charging ahead, but its footsteps were so quiet it might as well have been a gust of wind. The witchers calmly cast Yrden at it, and circles of purple lights showed on the ground, creating a space of confinement. The light was a prison. The moment the monster charged into it, the light slowed it down considerably, as if it just moved from land to swamp. It was moving as slowly as a tortoise, and its attack missed.
The witchers took the chance to leap away from the spell and walked around it clockwise. Their blades were pointed at it at all times. It was as if three panthers were trying to take down a powerful bull.
The monster growled and shook its head, staring at the witchers nervously for a moment. In the end, it locked on to Roy, and beads of drool fell off its fangs. The monster thought Roy was the weakest among its enemies, and it wanted to prey on that.
Roy was not panicking at all. He kept moving around it, but the young witcher changed his tempo ever so often. He disrupted the monster, stopping it from finding the perfect opening to leap. When the monster finally could not hold it in any longer, Serrit and Auckes stabbed it from behind. They struck its calves and retreated. Their blades were dyed red.
The witchers' silver weapons and oil could cause extra physical and burning damage to the striga. Beset by pain, the striga forgot all about its prey and turned around to roar at its attackers. The monster was too stupid to realize that this was what the witchers wanted, and it showed another opening to the young witcher behind it.
Roy swung Aerondight across the air, and the crimson blade sliced three gashes into the monster's back. Roy did not want to kill it, so he held back, but Vivienne's weapon was sharp enough to draw blood.
The monster bristled and howled. It growled in anger, trying to search for an opening to attack or escape. It was for naught, however. No matter where it faced, there would always be two witchers attacking it from other directions.
The witchers would recast Yrden the moment it was gone, and the stunlock kept the monster slow and easy to handle. It was all the monster could do to struggle, but in the end, the witchers covered its body with wounds. They did not hit its vitals, nor did they go too hard, but there were a lot of wounds, and blood trickled out of them to form a pool of crimson around the striga.
The pool gleamed black under the silvery moonlight. It would have been hauntingly beautiful if they were not fighting a monster right now.
The striga slowed even more because of its blood loss, and its strength wavered. The look in its eyes turned from anger to fear. It realized that the witchers could kill it, and its instinct told it to find an opening.
It tried to leap through the cracks between the witcher, but the monster was pushed back by Aard. A loud bang rang across the palace, and the invisible shockwave shoved the monster back into the circle of Yrden. The monster finally let out a whimper and staggered backward. It plopped down on the ground and whimpered at the witchers, as if asking for mercy.
Auckes paused for a moment. "Hey, guys! It's asking for mercy! I think we've gone too far. She is still the princess, and we're technically ganging up on a girl—"
"Oh, shut up." Serrit sheathed his blade and whipped out a long, heavy silver chain with a weight dragging behind it. "Lift her curse if you really want to help her."
The other witchers took out a similar silver chain as well. The moment the striga got up, they tossed the chains at it, wrapping themselves around the monster's shoulders and neck. The striga froze for a moment, and it started struggling. The witchers ran around it, wrapping it up in layer after layer of the silver chain. Eventually, it became a silver cocoon and fell down on the ground. Only its head was visible. It could not even lift a finger. All it could do was howl, but it came out as nothing but a squeak.
"Now, be quiet." Roy tied the chains up and went to the striga to pat its head. Its fur stung a little, though.
The young witcher tried his best, and finally, he pulled the striga's tongue out to see if there was anything underneath. "Grayba…" As expected, the striga had the same thing engraved on its tongue as well.
"What's wrong, Roy?" Serrit and Auckes came to him.
"Remember the fleders? They had the same brand on their tongues as well. This is a spell cultists of the Omen God use to control monsters," Roy said coldly.
"Abigail!" Serrit suddenly said. "She must be behind this whole thing!"
Roy nodded. "We'll hunt that bitch down eventually, but not now. And don't tell anyone about this."
***
There were about three hours until dawn, and Foltest's royal consultants finally came. They were shocked to see the towering monster standing before them, wrapped in layers of silver chains.
"I guess there's a reason for your reputation, witchers from the south." Triss looked at the witchers for a while, and she confirmed that they were not hurt. At most, they were just sweating.
Keira was looking at Auckes and Serrit in a new light. She had no idea the stupid witchers were even better in combat than they were in bed. "Look at it. They managed to turn this big, ugly monster into some docile creature." Her palms were starting to sweat, and for some reason, she was coming up with an image in her head. It was a dark night, and two men were tying up a woman on an empty field. That woman was her, of course. Hm, I wonder how it'd feel if he was the one in chains? Or if I was the one they were chaining up? She clamped her legs shut at the thought of that.
Fercart stopped her train of thought. "Thank you, witchers. We'll handle the rest."
The sorcerers started casting a spell at the weakened striga. They used the blood on the ground as paint and drew runes on the striga's head. The incantations filled its face, and even the chains were covered in Elder Speech. There was also Ellylon and some other languages on it as well.
About half an hour later, the sorcerers summoned the elements and infused them into the runes. As the magic started taking place, the striga started calming down, and its breathing was no longer ragged. A moment later, its chest started heaving, and it fell asleep. The sorcerers heaved a sigh of relief. They too were sweating.
"You'll have to take her back to the tomb now, witchers."
The witchers obliged.
The tomb under the palace was about the size of a palace's bedroom, but there was nothing aside from the uncovered coffin in the middle. Even the candelabras and sconces were gone. The sorcerers created some sconces with magic and illuminated the whole tomb. The witchers then stuffed the bound Adda into the coffin. To their surprise, there was enough space to stuff her and the chains.
Roy went inside and lay beside it as well. The monster was incredibly tall, so all Roy could see was its chest. I'd rather face its chest than its head. Someone then closed the lid, and darkness engulfed Roy. There was only a small crack enough for some air to come in.
"Hey, Roy!" Auckes said. "That's Temeria's princess right beside you! Don't do anything stupid! I don't wanna see you executed!"
"Fuck off! Why don't you come in here then? I'd like to see you do anything stupid."
"Ahem." Fercart interrupted the conversation. He handed an oil lamp and an hourglass into the coffin. "Sorry for having you do this, Master Roy. Stay with the strig… I mean the princess until the third dawn, and the curse will be forever lifted. Don't worry. My spell will keep her asleep until she returns to her human form. There will be someone standing guard outside as well.”
Triss said, "Roy, His Majesty said you can leave if you're in danger. He won't get mad at you. Take care of yourself."
"Got it." Roy held the hourglass up. The coffin was too dark, and even he could only see its silhouette, but that was more than enough.
Roy had hidden Gryphon somewhere in the wilds. He could teleport away if he was in any danger. Three days, huh? Well, guess I'll meditate then. Roy looked at the striga again. He felt its breath, and eventually, he closed his eyes to meditate.
***
All the sand in the hourglass had fallen into the lower part when he woke up from his fourth meditation. The third dawn had arrived. Roy was not in a hurry to move. He closed his eyes and listened closely. What he heard was the sound of breathing. It was calm and quiet. When he turned around, the monster was no longer a monster. Instead, a fully naked woman was lying beside him.
Her dark-red hair covered most of her face, and her lips were white and dry. The chains covered most of her body. All Roy could see was the top side of her breasts.
Adda felt the witcher stir, and she said, "Roy?"
"It's me." Roy lit the light up with a mini Igni. He saw Adda mumbling and rubbing her eyes.
"I just woke up. What is this place? Where am I?"
"Did you forget, princess?" Roy took off his armor with difficulty and handed it to her. "Your curse grasped you once more, but it is over now. You are no longer bound to it. Let's go," he said softly. "Time to go home."
***
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