Night fell upon the land, shimmering stars lining up in the skies, converging into a silver river.
The wilds were silent. Underneath a great boulder stood a Nilfgaardian warhorse clad in black. A gentle breeze brushed across the crackling flames, sparks and smoke billowing in the air. A girl was sitting beside the bonfire, clad in a silver cloak, shivering and sneezing. A tear glistened in her eyes.
"You have to eat, Your Highness," the raspy voice of a man said, and his shadow loomed over the girl. He extended his hand, a glistening, golden-brown rabbit's leg sleeping within his palm. The meat was not seasoned in the least bit, but the girl was at her growing age, and even an unseasoned rabbit's leg was a delicacy for her.
The desire to eat flashed in her eyes, and she licked her lips, but she snorted and turned her head away, curling up even more.
The man crouched before the girl. He had black hair, blue eyes, and a handsome face. He observed the princess carefully, the light of excitement glinting in his eyes. She was a perfectly beautiful specimen, and he wished to protect her. "You can't go on like this. Not eating or drinking anything is going to kill you before we get to our destination. You might not know how it feels to starve to death, but I can tell you. It's painful."
The man stared at Ciri and started depicting a gory scene. "Bile's going to burn through your belly and travel up your digestive tract and shoot straight into your throat."
The girl's eyelid twitched.
"And then it'll eat through your tongue, teeth, and lips. Then it'll ruin your pretty little face and burn your body."
Ciri shivered, and she turned a shade whiter, then her face turned green, but she clenched her teeth tight and refused to talk.
"You do not have to do this, Your Highness." The knight heaved a sigh and wrapped the rabbit leg in parchment paper. Then he whipped out a waterskin from the saddlebag and placed it on the fern beside her. "You're still young. You shouldn't be suffering out here. You can live as comfortably as you want, and in the name of knights, I promise that if you do as I say and don't try to run away, you'll be living in luxury once we get back to Nilfgaard. You'll still be as respected by the people, and you'll have the most powerful man backing you up. No one will ever harm you again."
Nilfgaard? The mention of that nightmarish place incited fury within Ciri, and she clenched her fists. She gnashed her teeth, and her cheeks puffed. "You villain! Nilfgaard invaded my home!" Ciri leapt from the boulder and stood as tall as she could, facing the gigantic Nilgaardian soldier that was clad in a muddy black cloak. She swung her fists at him. "You burned my home, killed my friends, murdered my family, and now you're taking me back to your kingdom to… to make me a puppet?"
Fury flared in the girl's eyes, but she posed no threat at all, no matter how menacing she tried to be. "I will not let you do as you please! I'd rather die of starvation if the alternative is to be taken back to Nilfgaard!"
The princess' roars did not faze the knight a bit. Instead, he tensed up, and the look on his face hardened. His black eyes flickered coldly, the light of the bonfire failing to warm up his face.
"That look again?" After her threats failed, Ciri took a step back and cowered, covering her face as she cried. "Grandfather, Grandmother, Geralt, Roy… Someone save me!" Her cries echoed into the night, traveling across the wilds.
Cassirer massaged his forehead, frustrated but also glad at the same time. He was an aristocrat and an elite of Nilfgaard's intel department, yet he was being plunged into a problem because of a child.
If the king had more trust in the spellcasters, they could've just opened a portal and brought Ciri back, but if that was the case, he would never have had the chance to approach the princess. She might be young, but there was great charisma coming from her, captivating the attention of those around her. Cassirer never regretted this trip.
"Be quiet, Your Highness." Cassirer tried his best to speak softly. "Don't push me. I do not wish to use force to make you quiet."
"This again? You're all liars, you bastards! Grandfather, Grandmother, save me!" In an act of rebellion, the princess cried even louder.
And then the woods behind Cassirer rustled. He tensed up and turned around, holding his scabbard with one hand and the hilt of his sword in the other, his eyes fixed on the bushes.
The princess too had noticed the tension in the air, and her cries came to an abrupt halt. She rubbed her puffy eyes and quieted her breathing, stealing glances at the bushes behind them, her eyes gleaming with cunning.
Cassirer crouched and slowly approached the bushes, then he froze.
There was the screech of metal dragging across the ground as a burly knight in armor came out of the bushes, his blade glinting under the flames of the bonfire. He wore a dark gold helmet with a pair of wings jutting out of its sides, and a Y-shaped gap adorned its visor, revealing his sharp gaze and pursed lips.
The helmet resembled the ones Nilfgaardian soldiers wore, and he had a greatsword behind his back. With every step the knight took, the sword would drag out a line behind him. "Knight of Nilfgaard, release the child right away. If you do, then in the name of a knight's honor, I shall let you live," said the knight righteously.
"And who might you be? Where do you come from?"
"I am but a wandering knight from Toussaint, here on a journey to explore the north. My name bears no weight. You seem to be a knight from Nilfgaard. Pray tell, why did you abandon the virtues taught to us to kidnap a child?" the knight questioned sharply.
Cassirer frowned. He was wondering why a knight from Toussaint would show up in the wilds out of nowhere, but that wasn't the point. This knight was a veteran, and he had incredible control over his body and strength. This was not an opponent he could trifle with.
"I am here on orders of Nilfgaard's royal steward. Do not obstruct my duty, knight of Toussaint." Toussaint was Nilfgaard's vassal state. This knight shouldn't be stopping him. "Or you shall be punished for obstruction of military work, and that crime is punishable by death."
"Toussaint will not lend a hand to evil. Very well, if you refuse to be apprehended, then we shall duel." The knight with the golden helmet swung his broadsword. "Have at thee!"
Cassirer cursed, but the knight didn't care. He swung his broadsword down at the Nilfgaardian's head. The air roared, and a wave of power rained down on Cassirer, trying to slice him in two. The Nilfgaardian's eyes went wide, and suffocation was setting in fast.
His cloak billowed in the air, and Cassirer quickly rolled away from the first swing. The other knight's sword hit the ground, stirring up a small storm, leaving a mark on the ground. Once again, he set his eyes on Cassirer.
Sweat drenched the Nilfgaardian's hair and back. "What a madman. By Eternal Fire's name, is this where I die?"
A horse's shrill neigh pierced the air, and the knights' duel came to a stop. To their surprise, the girl had climbed up the horse's back, leaning on the saddle as she tugged on the reins. The girl then looked at them. She was ghostly white, but her eyes were filled with excitement and smug delight. Ciri had seen a lot of those winged helmets before. They were Nilfgaardian helmets, so these men were both villains. Well, she didn't mind that they were fighting each other, though.
"Farewell, fools!" A surge of magic flowed into the saddle, and the horse calmed down. It was now following Ciri's orders, ignoring its master's shrill whistles.
The beast charged into the bushes with the princess on its back, and it galloped into the distance, leaving the knights behind, confused.
"Curse you, ye mongrel! I shall bring this to Raymund and demand that he behead you!"
"Raymund has relieved me of all duties. In the name of knight's honor, if you do not tell me the whole story of how you came to possess the child and confess your sins, I will make you pay."
***
The horse's gallop echoed in the night as the beast zipped through the wilds. Ciri leaned as close to the horse's back as possible, holding its mane and clasping her legs around its back as tightly as she could. The ride was a bumpy one, and the horse did not slow down. Gusts of wind cut across her face, draining even more blood from the already pale princess.
The violent bumps were threatening to throw her off the horse's back, but Ciri gritted her teeth. You can do this, Ciri. Farther. Even farther! Even her breath was turned into mist, fogging her vision. Her arms and legs were getting sore at a blistering rate, but the horse kept galloping, taking the princess to a destination yet unknown.
And then, the girl's strength failed her, sapping her of her consciousness until everything turned black.
***
A groan permeated the air.
"You're awake, child."
"Who are you? A-And where am I?" Ciri woke up in a trundling cart, and the first thing she saw was an old, wrinkly woman with thin, blond hair. She tried to push herself up, but a stab of pain seared up her arms, and she flinched. Her arms quickly swelled.
Her legs were screaming out in agony as well. Moving them even an inch felt like hell. Her legs felt like lead.
"Do not move, child. You fell from a horse's back and bruised yourself hard. Frankly, it's a miracle you got out of it alive and without broken bones." The lady smiled at her, revealing an almost toothless mouth. "Call me Suha. We're a group of refugees trying to make it to Sodden."
Suha looked ahead. They were in a long line of refugees made up of people who lost their homes to the war. People of Cintra. Most were women and children. The women were holding their children and saddled with a lot of packs on their backs. They looked exhausted and vacant.
Less than one in five refugees were men. Most men had died in the war.
"What about Cintra? What happened to it?" Ciri quickly asked. The Nilfgaardian soldier told her nothing while she was his captive, nor did she hear anything about her grandparents.
Suha heaved a sigh, the look on her face filled with sorrow, and her hair swayed. "The great Cintra has fallen. Nilfgaard broke through the gates, burned our city down, and killed many of our brethren."
"What about the queen? And the king?"
"Dead. All Cintran nobles committed suicide by poison. None bowed to the southern bastards. The king and queen died in battle, valiantly preserving what was left of Cintran pride."
My grandparents are dead? Ciri became whiter than a ghost, and her eyes went wide, sobs of fear rushing out of her mouth. But Grandmother was still in the castle, alive and well before I was taken away. N-Now she's dead? Impossible. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"You must be a Cintran too, child. Did you get separated from your family?" Suha lovingly patted Ciri's unkempt hair. "I used to have a granddaughter, but… Oh, don't cry, don't cry. I'm here. I promise I'll take you to Sodden and find your family."
No, I don't think you can ever find them again. The tearful princess looked around, but all she saw was a broken land and unfamiliar faces. The air was heavy with despair, and loneliness and fear filled her heart. What should I do? Where should I go?
"What is your name, child?"
"C… Falka. I'm Falka."
***
Visenna had moved her tent back to a clearing in the woods, and Ciri was standing before Suha, who was lying on a rug made of hay. She was wearing clothes made out of cheap fabric, and there were holes in her pants. Her shirt was heavily patched, while her shoes were so worn out her toes were peeking through. She looked like a boy.
Her face was filthy, and gone was her usual look of delight, replaced by bruises and wounds. Her eyes weren't as clear as before, riddled with stories she kept a secret.
"Fighting with the boys again, Falka? Never back off. Anyone tries to harm you, you fight back. Bite them, scratch them, use any weapon you have, but never give in. I'm sorry I can't go on with you any longer." Suha coughed. "I should've listened to you and went to Novigrad instead of Sodden. We're in a right mess now. Didn't find your family, and I got you into another mess." Suha was having difficulty speaking, and her chest heaved. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, and her hair had lost its luster.
She was cadaverous, the air around her smelling like decay and death. The old lady held Ciri's hand, and she weakly said, "I… I wanted to give you… a home, but…" She coughed. "Who'd… have thought that… Sodden would… fall as well… Damn the southerners!" Another cough escaped her throat. "Falka… You have… you have to… take care of yourself now…"
"No, Suha! Don't leave me alone here, please!" Ciri held her hand, her eyes glistening with tears
"I… am sorry… Zayna… will take care … of you now…" And those were her last words. Her eyes and mouth remained open, as if she wanted to see Ciri as long as she could, and she drew her last breath.
Ciri held the woman's rough, dry hand against her face and sobbed. Why? Why does everyone leave me? What did I do to deserve this?
Zayna was sitting on the other side of the rug. She was in blue attire, and there was a mysterious air about her. She closed Suha's eyes and looked at Ciri quietly. "Falka, you're still young, and you're a good child. You deserve a second chance at life."
"Lady, please take me and her to Novigrad, please. I know Geralt and Roy can save her." The girl stared at the druid with tearful eyes.
"I'm afraid not even gods can bring back the dead. There are too many casualties here in Sodden, and so many need my help. I cannot take you all the way to Novigrad." Zayna shook her head and turned to the east of the village. "I can only—"
A commotion broke out outside the tent, interrupting the doctor. She and Ciri took a peek and saw a man in a black cloak checking out all the tents, apparently searching for something.
The dim light coming from the skies above shone on that mean, revealing a pair of black eyes, sharp nose, and thin, ugly lips. Ciri stopped breathing for a moment and curled up in the corner, fidgeting. She knew this man. The last time they met, he didn't have a scar, but this time, he did, and the scar extended from his forehead to his chin.
Yet Ciri would never forget that face. He was no Cassirer, but he too was a villain. Back in Cintra, he was the one who cast the spell that stopped Geralt from taking her away. Obviously, he had plans for her.
"You know this man, Falka?"
Ciri nodded and clasped her hands before her belly, her face riddled with fear and nervousness.
"Is he your enemy? Fear not, child." Zayna held down on the girl's shoulder and motioned for her to sit in front of the rug. She had an assuring gaze, and the druid said confidently, "As long as I am here, he will never lay a finger on you, not even if he is a sorcerer. Well, he's also blind now."
Zayna waved her hand, and a layer of green light enveloped Ciri, calming her heart down. The girl held her breath lest any sound gave her away.
The man with the scar eventually came to their tent and looked inside. He observed the corpse on the rug, and his gaze went right across Ciri, as if he hadn't seen her. Then the man went away, his footsteps eventually disappearing into the distance.
"Falka, you are a special person, and so is the energy residing within you. Still, you are not to be a part of nature or the woods. I cannot take you back to the circle or teach you anything." The druid shook her head regrettably. "However, I will take you to a well-off family on the border between Sodden and Rivia. The lady of the house is one named Goldencheeks. She is a beautiful, gentle, and sympathetic soul. Her husband is a righteous man, though he is always out and about making trades. They also have a pair of healthy sons, though they'd always wanted a daughter. You can be their adopted child, Falka. There, you will find a new lease on life. There, you will face your destiny. Once you're more capable, you can travel to Novigrad, but not before the war draws to a close."
Ciri was silent for a long time, and she looked at her deceased Suha. The girl quickly wiped her tears with her sleeve, and she nodded.
***
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