Once more, Roy cast Fear, but this time, something was different. The young witcher had splashed the pure white snow with crimson liquid. Multiple tentacles came forth from the ground, wrapping the book and holding it up into the air.
The tentacles swayed, their suckers expanding and contracting. Blood and sulfur flowed from them, corroding the book. Smoke billowed from it, and Roy was shocked. Fear used to be an attack that purely targeted souls and minds. Touching their target was out of the question, and yet the tentacles could attack physically now.
So this is what it means by 'altering reality.' Not an exact alteration like a certain powerful stone, but I get the picture.
Keldar and Coen were staring at the wriggling tentacles, their eyes burning crimson. They might not be the primary target, but still they witnessed the tentacles, and suffice to say, these things did not look righteous or kind at all. On the contrary, they looked evil and threatening.
Keldar shot Roy a look of suspicion, but it was too late for regrets.
A shout akin to the cry of an infant tore through the air. Magic ripples spread across the air around the book trapped within the cage of tentacles. Invisible shockwaves hurtled across the snowy land, stirring up a wave of snow and revealing the holes underneath. Stones and twigs were blown away, and the witchers got out of the attack's way.
Three seconds later, the book was free of its prison. As it fell back down into the circle, a black light shone from the book. Into a silhouette it became, and twin swords were strapped to its back. It raised its head, but there was no face to speak of. And yet the bloodlust coming from it was unmistakable.
It was directed at Roy. The silhouette made a Sign with both hands, and a bright crimson rune shone. A surge of terrifying heat descended upon them, covering Roy.
The young witcher's face fell. "Again?" I don't have another Full Recovery to help me out this time.
But before the attack could hit, something else roared, and Roy thought he saw a huge, impregnable mountain erecting itself over him.
Keldar crossed his arms and made a Heliotrop sign at a blinding speed, and a black triangle shone. The grandmaster raised his right hand, not unlike someone opening an umbrella to keep themselves out of the sun.
A gleaming black dome shielded the witchers, and not a moment too soon. The pillar of flames had rained down upon them, but before Heliotrop, the attack faded away into nothing.
Keldar pulled his hands back and dispelled his Sign. The veins on his face wriggled, and he coldly swung his arms.
A charge of Aard flew toward the silhouette. The Sign threw it off balance, and it fell back down like a clumsy tortoise.
Roy suddenly had a feeling that the silhouette took the hit on purpose. Is it trying to resist the book? Does it have a mind of its own?
Keldar then cast Yrden at the silhouette. Right when the silhouette got back up, invisible chains tied it up. Its arms were clasped closely to its ribs, while its legs closed tightly. Like a silly, unarmed creature, it tried to struggle free from its chains, and yet it couldn't even make any Sign to attack.
***
Reassured, Roy turned his attention to the tome. Fear seemed to have taken a toll on the book. There were obvious tentacle marks on the cover. A faceless head within the book was crying out in fear, but Roy spared it no mercy. He sneered.
One minute remained until he could cast Fear once more. But the battle was far from over. The book summoned more of its minions, and this time, it was three at once.
The silhouettes leapt out at Roy. One of them unsheathed its blade, while the others started casting their Signs.
Roy and Coen shoved a couple of Aards into the silhouettes, cutting their signcasting short. Keldar shot another Yrden at the silhouette that was unsheathing its blade, locking it in place.
Coen was fully in charge of defense, Roy played support, while Keldar kept on the offensive with Yrden. Their teamwork was running well, and the book's power had considerably weakened thanks to the sunlight.
Twenty seconds later, the roaring waves of battle came to a halt, and four silhouettes stood in the yard, restricted by invisible chains.
***
Fear's cooldown was finished, and Roy sent his tentacles after the book once more. Once again, it was lifted into the air. An ear-piercing, evil scream ripped through the air, and the black tendrils of smoke that surrounded the book turned into vapor.
A white crack the size of an index-finger unfurled across the cover. Roy had a feeling he was one Fear away from destroying the crux of the phylactery. The book knew that much as well, and it launched an all-out retaliation in the face of imminent doom.
For the third time, the book summoned its minions, and this time, it released everything it had.
Ten silhouettes appeared on the snowy ground. When they raised their eyes, the witchers thought they saw the silhouettes opening their eyes, even though the monsters had no eyes to speak of.
Shocked, Roy quickly cast Quen and Heliotrop over himself, while Coen stood in front of him, his arms crossed as he took a defensive stance. Once again, Keldar cast another Heliotrop, enclosing them in a dome.
Terrifying roars shook the very air of the fortress, reverberating across the cliffs and mountains. The roars tore through the heavens, and magical light gleamed like twinkling stars. Roars of chaos energy hurtled across the battlefield, waves of flames and gales soaring across the air, engulfing Keldar's shield.
For a moment, Roy thought he was witnessing the endless seas crashing down on Keldar's indomitable mountain.
And the mountain lost.
Keldar managed to let out a grunt before an invisible hand clutched him and tossed him far, far away.
The grandmaster fell with a sickening thud, blood spewing from his mouth. And yet he was determined to get back up, and charged straight at the silhouettes.
The gales blew Coen off his feet, and he tumbled backward into the snow. Roy, who was well-protected, suffered the least. All he felt was himself swaying.
But the assault wasn't over. Five of the silhouettes unsheathed their blades and came at Roy from all directions, while the rest kept casting Signs. Lights filled the air, heralding the coming of another wave of magic.
***
Roy decided he would not wait anymore. He sent one of the silhouettes flying away with Aard and produced Gabriel with his right hand. A flying bolt crushed the ankle of one of the silhouettes, while Coen made his appearance from behind. He pushed both hands forward, enclosing him and Roy with the golden shield of Quen.
The blades failed to land, and the attackers were deflected. A hint of agony flashed on Coen's face. Blood trickled down his lips, and yet the resolve in his eyes never wavered. Once again, he started casting another Sign.
At the same time, the silhouettes that were casting Signs came face to face with Keldar. They assailed the grandmaster with waves of flames and winds, while Keldar defended himself with the black shield of Heliotrop.
For a moment there, Heliotrop was holding its own against the wave of magical attacks, but then the side effects of Roar overuse surfaced. Blood poured forth from Keldar's face, but still he did not waver. Before his erstwhile comrades he stood, with courage in his heart.
Two battles were raging in the courtyard. On one hand, Roy and Coen were dealing with the sword-wielding silhouettes. Magic was severely weakened on the edges of the circle. Back to back they stood, their swords swiftly arcing across the air, and bolts would fly from time to time.
Silhouettes circled them like a black tornado, trying to cut the witchers down. Their blades gleamed like a thousand shooting stars, but fortunately, the sun weakened their battle prowess.
And Aerondight's Suppression was starting to take effect. Once again, crimson tentacles appeared from the void, appearing in the material world thanks to Roy's iron will. They attacked alongside Aerondight, ignoring the silhouettes' defenses.
Every time they attacked, the silhouettes would be stunned for a split second, taking away some heat from Roy and Coen.
Still, their impeccable teamwork was no match for the group of veteran witchers, even if those witchers were nothing but spiritual entities. In just one minute, the snow around them was drenched in red, and so were the young witchers' bodies.
A deep gash tore a strip of flesh on Roy's shoulder and chest, while Coen's sides were cut, revealing a bloody gash.
Those were the bigger injuries. They had sustained multiple minor injuries as well. And yet the young witchers had it better.
Keldar's hair and beard were charred, his face was bruised, and his arms and neck were covered in burns, bruises, and gashes. If it weren't for Full Moon and Ekhidna's decoction, he would have fallen in battle a while ago.
***
Keldar gnashed his teeth, huffing and puffing like a bull. His eyes were as wide as saucepans, and he was trying to discern who the silhouettes were supposed to be.
One of the monsters stopped casting its Sign. It unsheathed its blade and pounced at Keldar, swinging its weapon down at the grandmaster's shoulder.
With a trembling hand, Keldar sent it flying back with Quen, but another silhouette shoved an Aard at the grandmaster.
He tried to cast another sign, but he had lost his speed. The air itself exploded around him, and he fell forward, his head dizzy. Before he fell to the ground, Keldar felt something whizzing over his head, and he rolled away.
Alas, it was too late.
When he realized what was happening, he found his neck coming face to face with the edge of a black blade. It grazed him, drawing blood, and yet the blade did not advance.
All of a sudden, the blade began trembling. Despite the lack of a face, the silhouette managed to convey the feeling of agony. And it wasn't the only monster feeling that way. Its companions had stopped their attacks. They were all spasming like humans having an episode of fits.
The black smoke that surrounded them melted away like snow under the sun. It rose into the air, turning into vapor. Arcs of electricity danced across their bodies, and Keldar looked around.
He saw at least fifty silhouettes dotting the mountains, and standing before them was his student. Coen was holding himself up with a sword, while Roy held the Book of Shadows high in the air. No longer did the book possess the light of magic, and the young witchers smiled.
'Your efforts have borne fruit. You have devoured the core of the Book of Shadows. EXP +600.'
"See? We did it!"
***
"You're fine, Keldar!" A long sigh of relief escaped Coen's lips. He clutched his sides with one hand and dragged himself over to Keldar with his sword as a crutch. "You're still alive!"
A toothy grin curled his lips, and tears welled in his eyes. He looked like a child who just won in a race. It was the best outcome he could hope for. The Griffins were freed from their prison, and his mentor survived.
But before he could reach Keldar, things started to change. The black tendrils of smoke that haunted the silhouettes were no more. In their place were blue, translucent souls. Eventually, those souls became entities that possessed faces.
They stood before the fortress, standing under the sun like knights. The souls were burly, their eyes wild, and twin swords were strapped to their backs. With delight, they looked at themselves. Some even started touching their cheeks. And then laughter ensued. Loud, hearty laughter that flowed across the seas and mountains.
All the souls went past Coen, huddling beside Keldar. There was approval and gratitude in their eyes. With delight in their voices, they spoke.
"You saved us, old sport."
"Nicely done."
"Grindstone. You're the smartest out of us. I knew you could do it."
"Finally. I thought I was going to be imprisoned forever."
"You did it, Keldar!"
"I love the taste of fresh air, brothers!"
Despite how bruised Keldar was, he managed to crack a smile. He was shivering in delight, and he shook their hands, hugging them. Laughter filled the ruins of Kaer Seren as long-lost brothers were reunited.
Roy stood beside Coen, the Book of Shadows in his hand. He watched the scene unfurl, keeping his silence.
"It has been a hundred years. Things have changed, brothers. They changed a lot. I'll show you around." Keldar led them to the dilapidated houses among the ruins.
"Ah, we might be imprisoned in the book, but we know what happened."
"You kept the place running for a hundred years, and you got yourself a student."
The spirits gave Coen looks of encouragement, and Coen held his head high like a soldier getting evaluated by his superiors.
The spirits walked from one house to another, their laughter filling the air. Keldar thought he was transported back a hundred years, when witchers were at their peak.
Every winter, the Griffins would gather around a bonfire in the great hall, sharing their adventures and triumphs. They would spar, sing, and drink the nights away. For a moment, Keldar thought he saw the fortress in all its glory, and he felt like he could fly.
"Come in. Sit. I'll make stew for you."
***
"Sorry, old sport. But we don't have time for that." One burly man with an exquisite mustache patted Keldar's shoulder. With a smile, he said, "We're departing soon."
The group of spirits held one another's shoulders, forming a chain of spirits. All of them stared at the fog-covered mountains, and one by one, they started to fade away.
Keldar saw his old friends off, and sobs escaped his lips.
Someone began to sing a song. A song about their school. The Griffins began to chime in. Their singing rang in the air, the crashing waves providing some background sound. Their song filled the air of the fortress, fluttering ever so slowly to the skies that lingered above, flowing down into the ocean that crashed beneath them.
They sang and sang, until eventually, their spirits popped like bubbles. Shards remained, but eventually, those shards were gone with the wind as well.
Keldar sat before the ruined walls. He patted his knees, still humming the song under his breath. Eventually, he stopped.
"Come, Coen." He waved at Coen. The young Griffin approached his mentor, but what he saw made him cry. Keldar's flesh was starting to rot, his face bulging and wasting away. "Do not cry, lad. Hold it well."
Roy approached Keldar as well, and he gave the grandmaster the book. Keldar held Coen's hand as tightly as he could. When blood was starting to trickle from his skin, he handed the book to his student.
Tears of blood trickled down what remained of Keldar's cheeks. There was reluctance and worry in his eyes. And there was also the look of sweet relief hiding in them.
"Find yourself a student and teach him the values of our school. Be smart. Don't just say yes to anything. Understand? Answer me!"
"Yes, sir!" Coen shouted as hard as he could, his hands holding onto the bones of his mentor.
Keldar only had his right eye left, and he looked at the courtyard one last time. For a moment, he saw through time itself, where a witcher with a Mohican hairstyle and a tattoo of an eagle hanging on his neck holding the hand of a gaunt boy with greyish-brown hair. They were venturing on a long, dark, and narrow path.
The journey was difficult, and yet they traveled. The man noticed Keldar's stare, and he looked back. Their eyes met, and the man smiled. He nodded at Keldar.
***
The sunset was gorgeous, but it failed to wash away the sorrow in the ruins. It shone down on the skeletal remains of Keldar. The dying grandmaster looked up in the sky and extended his hand to the man he saw. "Erland…"
Try as he might, he couldn't cross through time. And then his hand froze, the ghost of his last smile hanging on for one single moment.
His rotting body started to crumble like a corroded statue. First his fingertips, then his arm, and then… nothing remained. Ashes flew into the air, and Coen tried to hold him in his hands, but he failed.
All he held was a handful of ash.
"Keldar!"
A scream tore through the air, and a quiet sigh followed.
***
***
