Heey. It's back. It has taken a long time, what with work and all the stuff around this corona-situation. But I'm still writing. This chapter, I want to warn you, it is clunky and it may not be too exciting. The predominant reason why my stories have no proper structure is that I write this to distract myself, for fun. I don't really plan this out too much. I'm happy though that others enjoy to read this.

Yeah, here you go.

"So…" Ciri started as she dismounted her mare. The Hunter had already pulled his bag from the saddle and found a sizeable rock to sit on.

"Novigrad then. Anyone in particular you're looking for?"

The man watched her get footing and take off her own luggage. He cocked his head to the side slightly, obviously pondering something before deciding to answer.

"The sorcerer in Rhinzweig, suggested visiting a colleague of his. Her name is-"

"Yennefer?" She asked, immediately biting her tongue. Yennefer was probably somewhat undercover in Novigrad. The last time they had been there, the church had been burning mages at the stakes.

He only raised a puzzled eyebrow. "The same, possibly. He said she might have some interest in employing me."

He had been nothing but courteous thus far, honest too, as far as she could judge. Could she tell him more about Yennefer? Not telling him, bore the risk of angering him when he found her somehow else. And he would find her, she was sure. It was obvious by now that his title as Hunter was not just for show, but indicated a capable tracker.

"Are you two acquainted?" He asked.

"Yes." She said, truthfully. She would keep an eye on him, surely and Yennefer was wary of new people anyway. "She is a close friend of mine. She was responsible for a lot of my upbringing."

"Ah." He smiled. "What a coincidence. Maybe the wizard Ludd knew you would seek her out." He had sat down and was now directing his attention at a strip of smoked pork. Ciri had never seen someone who had looked out of practice while eating with their hands. He seemed highly unsure where and how to bite and that he needed to chew the tough meat a few more times. He almost choked and she could only narrowly stifle a laugh.

"Careful." She said, grinning. "You need to chew it properly."

He coughed and nodded. "Not used to it."

"Smoke dried stuff?"

"Eating."

She stared at him. He did not joke. He was serious.

"What do you mean? Surely you ate where you are from."

He looked back at her and finally swallowed. "Very rarely. It wasn't necessary. I'm not even sure it is now, but since I arrived here, I get tired too, so I would guess."

"Wait, wait, wait." She held her hands up. "You want to tell me, that you haven't eaten in that city, fo so long no less that you forgot how to chew?"

"Well… it has taken some getting used to, but yes, it appears so."

"How long?"

"I don't rightly know." He said, pulling his mask up to his nose, his eyes cast at the ground. "Time was convoluted and I couldn't trust my senses most of the time. It could have been a single night, it could have been years. It might have all been in my head, though I doubt it now more than ever."

"Like a nightmare?" She sat down next to him, her own meal all but forgotten.

"It feels like it now. But I remember to have been dying sick before. As I recall, it was the only reason I ventured to that accursed place in the first place. For treatment."

"Well, if that has been no trick of your mind, it has worked, hasn't it?"

He chuckled darkly. "It was a trade, rather than a gift. But I have gained a whole life to live, yes."

She was silent for a while, thinking. If his existing memory and had indeed only been a nightmare, possibly induced by whatever remedy had been applied to him, as well as his lack of knowledge of his own identity, it would mean that he was only an ordinary man. She already knew he was not. He was at least capable of jumping planes, similar to some of her own power and he could tear into armour like wet paper. He seemed honest enough though and his story was not the first she'd heard and found hard to believe, only to be proven wrong in the end. So he would receive the benefit of the doubt.

"It was surely not only a city at war, if you not needed to sustain yourself."

"Hmm." He nodded. "It was not a war anymore, the fighting was over and humanity had lost. But it was wrong in uncountable ways more. The night was never-ending and you were never alone, only safe in a handful of spots."

He looked at her, only his eyes peeking out from below his tricorn. The shadow that cast over his face seemed to avoid them, as if the grey and white was shining of its own.

"I don't particularly miss it, Ciri."

She was at a loss for words for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "I am glad then, that this-" She gestured towards their environment. "-is an improvement."

He looked back down and nodded. For minutes, it was silent, only the sound of the wind rushing through the leaves. Where before, it had been comfortable, now it seemed awkward to Ciri. It was unknowable for her if she might've pried to hard and made him dig too deep. Then again, he was not too much of an entertainer. Practical might fit as description, as he did not dislike silence, but could speak when needed.

"Should I know anything when we get to Oxenfurt?" He asked after a few minutes. She thought he might be changing the subject, but even though she had a feeling that this Yharnam was an unpopular subject for him, there was no malicious tone in his voice.

"Well, the war is not over long. Oxenfurt is a border city and they have suffered a lot of shortages. They are recuperating fast, but there's still a lot of unsavoury types in the city."

He chuckled. "That won't be too much of a problem. I suppose there is still plenty of lawful folk."

"The overwhelming majority of course. But people tend to feel uncomfortable. Especially after dark, when only beggars, thieves and whores seem to be out."

"Well-" He stood up, apparently satisfied with his small meal. "I have nothing against beggars and courtesans. But I will keep a keen eye on my belongings then. I don't own anything else after all."

They resumed their trek shortly after, only occasionally chatting about the scenery or at one time, a bird that seemed to interest the Hunter intensely. It was a simple crow that he had found so intriguing, but he was quick to explain that he had never seen such a small crow before. Where he was from, similar birds were apparently twice the size and prone to playing tricks on anyone.

Another time, he had spent some effort on investigating a set of wolf tracks, mentioning how he had never seen such in the wild, before adding that he had met with a plethora of lycantropes, which apparently had not taken kindly to his presence at all. The fact that he was here today, said everything she needed to know about the wolfmen's fates.

When they reached the outskirts of Oxenfurt, it was dark again. Ciri slowed her horse to a trot to not alarm the gatekeepers, who only barely nodded towards them, noted their arrival in a large tome and left them to pass through.

The city was not large, not by his standards at least. Yharnam had seemed as if it stretched towards the horizon, even if it was not remotely that expansive, but the twisting walkways, the entwined buildings and the gigantic towers, spires and cathedrals made it look like a whole world on it's own.

Oxenfurt was surrounded by a humble city wall, with few sentries. The inside was dominated by one to three storied buildings, made from brick or timber framed. As they passed through a second street, the shops to their sides were just closing for the night. Ciri apparently knew her way through the place and did not object as the Hunter expressed his interest to browse through the inventory of one particular peddler, who had paused in his activity for the potential customers.

Apparently the man was a smith of some kind, producing interesting contraptions of metal and wood that helped with heavy activities. One item he called an "ascender", which could be stuffed under a heavy object and would raise said object upwards if one operated the lever. Another machine appeared to be a counting aid which numbered the amount of times one pressed a button. Ciri did not see much use in these articles, but understood the sellers reasoning that they were highly specialized tools and might not be of use to everyone.

Eventually, the Hunter picks up a piece of metal, a part of some larger machine. It looks like a jagged cog, with a steel finger that locked in between the teeth. He looks the vendor in the eye.

"This is precision work."

"It sure is and I proud myself on it." The peddler answers, his chest puffed out. His voice is strong and friendly, less cold than the Hunter's, but also less powerful. The Hunter put the part back down.

"Are you a traveller? Or are you stationery in Oxenfurt?"

"I'll be here for as long as the people buy my works or give contracts. Business is going quite well, so I'll guess I'll be here for a long time."

The Hunter snapped his fingers and looked down again at the wares. "Excellent. I will definitely return with a commission for you. I do hope to find you here then, but as of now, I don't know when this'll be."

"If destiny wills it, we will meet, so I can produce you some custom nails." The vendor laughed heartily and slapped the Hunter's shoulder. He looked a bit confused at the gentle attack, but smiled back. They both said their goodbyes after the Hunter had purchased a small cube, made of even smaller cubes, interlinked with one another to play with. He did not bother to get back onto the horse, as Ciri only gestured forward where a corner tavern was emitting it's dim light through the windows.

He learned the going rate for a middle class room here, as Ciri had a loud, but playful discussion with the owner over the price for a night's stay. He would need to be attentive, before every single person he tried to do business with, would rip him off. While standing with her and the owner, he was unable to miss the indecent looks that some of the male patrons threw Ciri's way, before they noticed the Hunter's gaze linger on them and swiftly returned their attention back to their friends, meals or cups. The ashen haired girl had a strange, kind of downtrodden look on her face as he turned towards her again.

"There is only one room left." She said, before adding. "Im tired."

He nodded, seeing no problem with sharing a room. Surely there was enough space for both of them. They couldn't be this small, otherwise the inn would surely have more than one open. The owner only laughed, muttering something about being either clueless or truly devious, but Ciri seemed relieved.

She explained that she had shared a spot with boars and snakes before and didn't mind sleeping in the same room as him. She only didn't want to go out anymore, looking for another place to stay.

He could sympathize with that. Surely the long trip had taken a toll on her. They had taken only few breaks and made very good time, but quick travel takes a toll. Had he noticed her fatigue, he would've offered to take the reigns, but even though he only knew her a few days, he had already learned that she was extraordinarily tough. More than he ever thought he could be and probably never would have, had he not assimilated with the ancient blood that now streamed through his veins. The bestial scourge in a human body, contained and leashed, never to awaken for as long as he lived.

He didn't talk as they made their way up. They didn't speak as they reached the room and readied themselves for the night. He was content with ridding himself of his gloves, greaves and coat, sitting down in a rocking chair by the closed curtains. Ciri would sleep in the bed. She had offered him the other side, but he insisted that he was alright. Still she was going to test him. She also didn't like the feeling of her travelling clothes on her skin, so she undressed, in a corner, sure, but still well in sight, all while watching him in the chair.

He did not look, did not move. In fact, hadn't she already seen him this motionless, she would have feared he had died there. He was facing a gap in the curtains, his hands on his knees and his hat pulled down into his face. She didn't know if she could sleep like that, though she hoped so as she slid under the covers. The bed was large, unfamiliar even, as three people could easily lie here and not touch each other.

Only a second after she had drawn the covers over her chest, he turned to look at her, reaching for the single candle that shone it's light into the room.

"Leave it burning for a while longer." Ciri said and turned to her side, to better look at him. His shadow danced across the wooden wall, forming and deforming, shortening and elongating. Strangely, the rough cotton shirt he had received in replacement for the fine garment he had arrived in, seemed to fit him perfectly. Someone else would have looked like they were wearing a potato sack, but somehow he filled it out. His eyes were small, but never had she seen him show any exertion or tiredness. They simply seemed old, older than his body.

"Do you miss someone? Where you're from? If you don't miss the place itself, maybe…"

She trailed off. Where did that question come from?

"No." He answered after a short while, as if he was not sure of the answer himself. "I probably would if I remembered anyone from before, but I don't and I kept my distance to anyone I met during the hunt."

His face did not betray any change. No more emotions, no less. Surely he was in excellent physical condition, but his look was one of an ancient soldier, scarred and exhausted by years of battle, carrying the experience and guilt of a whole lifetime inside.

"That sounds lonely." She said. She needed to keep this conversation going for a while longer, needed it to conclude on a lighter note than this. "I find loneliness hard to endure. I can manage pain or stress well enough, but I don't want to feel lonely."

He nodded. "Most of the time, if I had time, I felt that too. Being alone is fine, shows our true colours, but loneliness is a destroyer. It kills."

The ever so slight crackle of the candle's wick was loud in this space. Ciri met the Hunter's eyes, but he was staring through her, nowhere, thinking or maybe just lamenting to himself.

"I am grateful for your company." He said, softly, no longer unfocused, but taking in the room, the light, shadow, the fire and the woman across from him. He averted his gaze quickly though, as the sheets had dropped slightly, exposing her shoulders and collarbone. She noticed, but didn't think much of it, it was reassuring however that he showed restraint, though she hadn't expected anything different. The chair did look uncomfortable though and the bed had enough space for both of them and a generous area in between. He still shook his head as she offered him to lie down too. He said he was fine with sitting, though he shifted a few times as they spoke until he extinguished the candle and both of them closed their eyes for the night.

Ciri awoke into a state of only half consciousness in the middle of the night. She cracked open one eye and tried to see in the darkness, but it was pitch black. She felt the opposite side of the mattress depress and knew that he had changed his mind. There was only the slightest rustle of cloth before there was perfect silence again. It seemed he did not notice her waking and after about fifteen minutes, she started to hear his breath. Slow and steady, almost frighteningly calm. She smiled. He did his best to hide his insecurities, but he was not a good enough actor for this to work. When she had paid for the room, he seemed uneasy. The way he followed her around and scanned everyone with suspicion, the way he held his weapon, rarely just on his belt, most of the time, the scabbard in his left hand, so the right could draw and strike at a moment's notice.

She doubted he had slept yesterday. He had kept watch, but did not wake her up to relieve him, instead he was awake when she opened her eyes in the morning. He must be tired, everyone would.

And now, he allowed himself to rest. He had decided himself that it was time and, and that made her smile, that he could lie down beside her and close his eyes.

It felt right to have brought him with her.

He walked with his eyes wide, not because of fear or shock, but to take in as much light as possible in the bleak dusk of this night. Every step, was accompanied with the wet sloshing of the blood that covered the ground up to his ankles. He did not try to walk silently, nor did he stick to the darker edges of the streets. He wanted them to know that he was coming. He wanted them to know his visage, the sound of the nails in his soles and he wanted them to come at him, try and take him down into the dark, end this night for him.

Yet he knew that he could not, he would not go gently into the horrid night. The dark tried it's claim on him without pause, but he was unable to surrender himself. His legs would not stop carrying his body, his arms would not tire of his blades, his mind would not finish to assess, reassess and classify. Threat after threat was recognized, analysed and dealt with accordingly.

He had decided that his remorse was wasted on them. Death was mercy compared to existence in the thrall of the blood, but he did feel the sting of sadness when he traversed the empty and ravaged homes. Those who were spared by the blood's call had locked themselves inside, but sooner or later something would get inside or drive them out. Food would run out, doors broken down, minds were tested. Faced with the chaos in their home, many people lost their will and more than once, he had wandered through a desolate living room where a couple still sat on their couch, their bodies left to decay in an eternal embrace, some with child some without.

He did not look at them for long. He had work to do and for as long as it was needed, he would move, ever deeper into this night, fighting it until it was dead.

When he awoke the following day, he was blinded by the sun from outside. The curtains had been pushed aside slightly and a beam of light pierced through the room, right into his face. He sat up, blinking his eyes, waiting for his pupils to shut further until they were nothing more than needleheads.

"Hey." He looked to his side, almost forgotten about the woman he shared the room with. Ciri's face was half buried in her pillow, her ashen hair askew, a pair of soft locks scattered over her nose.

"Good morning."

He hadn't noticed, but they were much closer on the bed as they were last night. He had not moved, but she must have wandered towards the middle in her sleep. Her foot was draped over his shin, absentmindedly rubbing up and down. He should turn and swing out of the covers, not mention it and not acknowledge her blunder. Instead, he was hesitating, savoring the innocent contact and exploring the sensation. He could not remember when he had felt a gentle touch. The closest might have been the plain doll and maybe, remotely, Maria's embrace, but only just before she'd plunge her Rakuyo through his chest.

Ciri's eyes widened slightly as she noticed what her foot was doing. She quickly pulled it back and pulled her sheets up to her nose in embarrassment. Yesterday she might've been in a playful mood, but now she was still sleepy and not ready for such things. He smiled at nothing and swung his legs out to sit on the side of the bed. He was still wearing his shirt and pants, so he only pulled his boots to him and started to dress for the day.

She waited for him to finish and in a wordless agreement, he slipped into his coat and exited the room so she could dress herself.

Ciri herself could not repress a small grin when she was alone. What had gotten to her yesterday? Sleeping next to a stranger with only her knickers on, bare her skin, even though beneath the covers? What must he be thinking?

Though she suspected that he did not think much of it, she still felt the heat rise into her cheeks as she crossed her arms under her breasts to warm her torso up. She turned to the side again and noticed a slight scent of mint and ocean water that had accompanied him yesterday too. It was a strange mix, but she decided that she liked it. She would try to keep his friendship. She could already imagine him and Geralt sitting apart from each other in perpetual silence, only interrupted by a short phrase or word, followed by a snort or grumbling of acknowledgment as both of them tended to their weapons. They could be good buddies, she was certain.

Now to get rid of that stupid smile of hers.

Their way from Oxenfurt to Novigrad would only be a cat's jump compared to their ride from Rhinzweig. She was happy to be able to see Yennefer soon, though she was a bit anxious how she would react to the nameless hunter. Yennefer had a way to turn many people around and make them angry, her personality did not require for others to like her. Yet she had had part in raising Ciri and as such, she was the closest she had to a mother. Yen was also one of her closest friends, together with Triss and Dandelion of course. Geralt had a special place for her, not only as a friend, but as a mentor, saviour and father to her. She had long stopped idolizing him after she had recognized it as foolish and immature, but much of him had rubbed off on her and even more he had taught her. She did not wear the cat-school-medallion for show after all.

"So…" He said from behind her on the saddle. "You are a princess then."

She snorted. "Barely. I am Ciri now."

"Lucky, that you managed an escape from such a fate. I would guess being a puppet for an occupational force would not have been for you."

"How'd you get that idea?" She smiled grimly, forward, so he couldn't see it.

"And this Geralt, is your father, essentially."

"Not my biological father. He… essentially raised me."

"Which makes him your father I'd say." He insisted. Again, Ciri was acutely aware of his hands on her hip and it annoyed her. This was the first time she could remember being so uncertain about a man, about anything. She always kind of knew what she wanted. In her past, she had felt a certain natural attraction to certain people, people she wanted to be with, which was something she did not feel with the Hunter. She did not want him, she felt pretty sure about that, yet her subconscious reacted in a manner which was alien to her.

"And Yennefer von Vengerberg?"

"A close friend, though she also raised me for quite some time."

"Good to keep ties with such." He answered. "To keep a shoulder to lean on."

It was not entirely sexual. To be more precise, it was most probably not sexual, but confusingly similar, yet more innocent. She didn't want him, but having him close was good. The mistrust she had felt when she first heard part of his strange story and when she witnessed his potential for violence was simply gone, dust in the wind and instead she felt something like assurance. Possibly safety. Trust, which she could not really explain, not for the short time she knew him and not in this intensity. It was strange and it frightened her a little bit, as she remembered Vesemir's lessons and what she had read about being enthralled by a vampire or a succubus, or a sorceress or sorcerer for that matter.

Then again, she had learned how to resist such efforts and she would keep an eye open if something like this became apparent. She would not break her head over this, yet it allowed her another, more disconcerting train of thought.

"I am sorry that you had to go so long without a friendly face." She said, though she was unsure where that had come from.

"It is fine."

What if, and she tried to emphasize the 'if', what if the man she knew as Hunter, was not entirely a man, but something else?

He was impressed. Novigrad did not just call itself a city, but was truly one. He could only see a small part over the high walls that stretched wide to either side and through the narrow, but high gate that they were closing in on, but what he saw was a sight for itself. Several thousand people must live here, judging from the expansive outer walls, with strong battlements and towers, guards keeping an eye on the people below and the horizon. He saw a few spires, possibly church-, or living towers. He had seen such high built houses once, though he did not remember where and he recalled being amazed by how tall a stone structure could be built.

They reached the gate, where a pair of bored guardsmen were keeping an eye on the people entering and leaving. He noticed that within the settlement outside the walls, there were many more deviants that inside. Elves, dwarves and halflings went after their daily motions, with humans only rarely interspersed in the crowds. Yet, humans left and entered the city in droves. On foot, by cart or on horseback.

He leaned forward so that Ciri would hear him.

"There seem to be many more of other kin outside than inside. Is there a reason for such a segregation?"

She looked back at him. Her eyes betrayed a modest sadness.

"The previous… well administration, did not mean well for them. There has always been mistrust between the people, especially over race, but the last few years have had pogroms and witch-hunts, literally. A lot of good men and women burned on the stakes."

He scowled. "Disgraceful."

"It has become better. One ruler in particular has advocated strongly for this… slaughter, but he has been replaced. Luckily by someone more considerate and less... insane."

"But they still dwell outside, even though they would be allowed in?"

"Yes, sure." She gestured towards a collection of sturdy looking huts. "Their homes are here. They can't really carry it inside, can they?"

She giggled at her own little joke.

"I suppose so." He said, just as they passed through the gate and he was greeted by narrow streets and looming buildings. It was already afternoon and people were beginning to light wicks, torches and fire baskets to make up for the stark shadows in the streets.

He was surprised by the cleanliness of the place. Most city streets he remembered were dirt and filled with all kinds of junk, but not here. Storeowners made sure their storefront was clear, housekeepers sweeped the stairs of their buildings and nearly everyone appeared to be free of care or sorrow, simply following their daily lives.

Strange. How a city could exist and not be dark, or miserable. He supposed that Novigrad had it's seedier areas, but for now, it seemed like a place of peaceful coexistence. To think that the three young women in front of the tailors store would stand and cheer for a body burning on the pyre, or that the elderly gentleman sitting on his chair, watching the crowd pass by would betray someone to a hunting mob. The Hunter's stomach churned at these thoughts and thought the polite looking man in his chair had done nothing to earn his ire, he felt anger bubbling up within him.

He breathed. Slowly and deeply, banishing the fire and blood from his mind until he found back to his center. No amount of pain was worth his anger. He was a professional after all. He would not ever again let the dark tendrils of hate ensnare him again. Suddenly the elderly gentleman in his chair was just that again, an elderly gentleman in his chair.

"Are you feeling well?" He heard Ciri asking. He assured her that all was fine and that he had only slowly drifted off.

"We are almost there. But we need to walk from here. There is a stable here that I know. I will leave her here."

She pointed at a large wooden building, noises of hooves and the smell of horses coming from inside. They dismounted and he stayed outside to watch the saddle and their belongings, while Ciri lead her mare inside to speak with the owner she knew and pay for her horse to be accommodated. Outside the street was nearly bustling with people. It was not crowded, but still full. Yet he noticed how most people were keeping their distance, walking around rather than past him. Some threw a vary glance his way, but he tried to ignore it. His dark attire and his height made him stand out quite a bit, so he did not think bad of them for being cautious.

They passed the market just adjacent to the stables towards a tall, narrow building on the other side of the plaza. He had to try to keep away from the interesting stands, filled with curious wares, so they would not waste time until nightfall for a five minute walk, but he managed and shortly after he found himself over looking over Ciri's shoulder at an ancient woman, who had opened the door for them. She too eyed him with suspicion, but her gaze softened somewhat when he expressed his gratitude for letting him in. Ciri, apparently, was a known guest in the house.

The building was almost like a tower, with a rather tight staircase that led up towards and past the several floors. Small windows towards the plaza flooded sections of the path in light, while others were dark with shadow.

After a bit of climbing, they reached the top floor. The door up here seemed much sturdier and better fitted into the frame and wall than the ones below and there was a small stand next to it, upon which a slender nightlight rested, it's candle almost spent. Ciri knocked and they waited.

The woman who opened the door was tall and strikingly beautiful. She had long, flowing, raben hair that framed her youthful face and a figure for which many women would do unspeakable things. She wore pants, a fine blouse and a vest above it, all topped by a velvet cloak that kept her warm supposedly. All in black and white and the Hunter could not ignore the pleasant fragrance of lilac and gooseberry.

Ciri and the woman immediately embraced like close friends, just like Ciri had described. Though when the woman's eyes fell on him, who had kept a modest distance, she quickly regained the posture of a noble woman, with an elegance and authority that betrayed an age much greater than what her body would make one believe.

"Yennefer of Vengerberg." Ciri introduced with a smile and he bowed.

"It is particularly rude to withhold your name when being introduced as a guest." Yennefer said, looking at him with eyes that were almost as penetrating as his own.

"I do apologize, mylady-" he started, but was interrupted by Ciri.

"He doesn't know." She said. "We met in Rhinzweig during the storm. He just appeared after. I know, I know…"

He noticed the look that Yennefer gave her friend. It was really quite possible that Ciri had been in trouble for trying to help a stranger before.

"But he has done nothing but help since I met him. I believe he deserves my trust and yours."

"Trust is earned my dear." The woman answered, before her gaze rested on him again.

"But it would be rude to keep you both outside for this long. We will continue this conversation inside."

She closed the door behind them and walked past them towards a lounging arrangement on the left side of her room.

The Hunter removed his hat and coat and followed after Ciri, who sat down immediately next to Yennefer and allowed herself to take one of the glasses from a plate and pour water from a pitcher.

"Sit. You're making me nervous." Yennefer said and he complied, sitting down on the chair across from her, his hat on his one knee and his folded coat on the other.

"Now, amnesia is an inconvenient condition." She started, gazing into his eyes. Hers were a deep blue, to strong to be natural. Her entire body was this way.

"But let's try at least. Might you share where you come from, mister?"

He straightened his back and looked back at her. "I am a Hunter. As to where I come from,-" He paused. "It might be hard to believe."

It was almost dark when he finished. He had spoken about everything he felt comfortable and what he deemed necessary to explain. The plague, the city, the fighting. He did withhold his struggle with the cosmic forces and his battle through the dreams, instead painting a picture of a land at war, disease ridden and a failed state. At first she had interjected here and there, asking questions and lamenting, but as he went on, Yennefer fell silent, her strong posture fading and being replaced by a more guarded demeanour. When he retold the events of the last few days, she quickly lost interest, but he did expect this. She would naturally be more interested of his arrival here, than in the mundane happenings of her own realm.

"Yes, yes." She nodded as he had finished. "It is not entirely unheard. In fact, you must know of the conjunction of the spheres, yes?"

He nodded.

"There are many theories as to how such an event happened and how large the chances are of it happening again. Mathematically, it is possible, realistically, almost out of the question."

Again he nodded. He had been briefly told about the conjunction when he stayed in Rhinzweig and it made some sense. Meanwhile she had risen from her chair and was pacing slowly in front of him.

"But since we still do not really understand the laws of such an event, what causes it and how it comes to be, everything we know, is simply speculative. But it has happened."

"I concur." He answered. "Though I must confess that leaving that accursed city behind is a blessing for me."

"So you plan to just… accept it?" She asked, apparently surprised.

"I didn't at first." He answered, leaning back a bit to look up at her. "But I enjoyed peace in the last few days. Something I feared was lost for me forever."

She stared. Critically, for a long time, before speaking up again.

"This can be discussed later." She decided, sitting back down in her chair.

"Your disposition here is not something we will solve this evening. What we can work on, is your mental impairment."

"How generous of you, mylady."

She smiled. "I won't pretend to do this from the goodness of my heart. I am a scientist after all."

Just now, Yennefer noticed his narrowed eyes, though he seemed relaxed otherwise.

"Even with magic, I can not see in your mind." She added. She would not attempt it, even if she could. She had a feeling she would not like what she would find. "But there are a few exercises we can attempt, as well as a few herbal remedies that can be tried."

"I see." He leaned back slightly and looked around the room for a while. "I haven't considered drugs yet, but I have heard that certain psychostimulants can have a supporting effect."

"Hmm." She nodded. "Though the mind has to restore your memories from itself. We can only hope to accelerate and bolster the process."

"And what are you gaining from this?"

She paused for a moment, contemplating. Finally she said:"Experience. Knowledge. Therapies have to be tested, also I am interested in what you have been through. Ludd, as much as he is an annoyance, was certainly right to send you here. And as I have currently some time on my hands… but then again, he probably only sent you to me to irritate me."

"Joke's on him then I guess." He said.

"We will see. For now, we can start tonight. I should have some essences ready. You may experience some rather… uncomfortable dreams though." She leaned in, looking deeper into his eyes.

"I'm used to it." He answered.

He had not expected to consume the supporting ingredients like a common addict. He sat on the edge of a guest bed, spoon in one hand, held over the flame of a candle and a syringe on the nightstand to his right. Yennefer and Ciri stood at the door, watching him.

"You seem to know what you're doing." Yennefer had teased, to which she and Ciri had at least expected some annoyance from the man. But he didn't seem to mind the jab. He had been quick to accept the proposal of using narcotics for their attempted recovery, so it must seem like he had been an addict at least formerly. He was not too adverse to the effects of such chemicals though, even if just in controlled doses. He had used much more unsavoury substances back then, so a bit of flora sent through a mortar wouldn't be so bad. Though he could make out some mineral in the mixture as well, it would liquify, soak the herbs on the spoon around it and then, filtered, be administered directly into the bloodstream.

He waited for the concoction to mix sufficiently before pouring it through a sieve into the glass body of the syringe. Tightening the belt around his biceps he set the needle to his arm and pressed the plunger.

It burned in his arm, even with the belt restricting his blood flow. When he released it and the mixture shot into his body, he shuddered. It was truly uncomfortable, but the sensation quickly vanished, leaving him with a strange, weightlessness that made him slightly nauseous.

"How are you feeling?" Yennefer asked from far away.

He did not speak, but raised a thumb. His vision was unsteady and blurry, his lips and tongue numb. He did not feel to confident in his ability to sleep.

"I don't like this." Ciri could be heard like speaking through a woollen blanket.

"He should be fine. Most others would have fallen asleep already. He is surprisingly steadfast."

"Not… for long." He pressed through sticky teeth. His eyelids were becoming heavy and a warm sensation enveloped his body.

"And lucid. Either he has indeed done fisstech before, or his body is especially resilient."

"Fiss...tech?" He slurred.

"Yennefer!" Ciri seemed angry, but he couldn't be sure.

The sorceress said something, but he didn't understand it. He decided that his struggle was pointless and hindering.

So he surrendered. And drifted away.

He was awake.

He was on top of a flat roof, the sharp spires of Yharnam sticking up into the red sky around him.

"Good Hunter." Someone said, but he ignored it. The piercing rifle was perched against the wrought iron railing of the roof, his finger resting just above the trigger.

Pointless, he thought. He could clean the entire city and not be a step further. As soon as he would go into the Hunter's Dream, everything would come back. Nothing stayed dead in this hell.

"Good Hunter."

It was a woman and he knew her voice, but she shouldn't call him that. She knew him didn't she? Why didn't she say his name?

He turned around, blinking at the sudden sunlight. The cherry trees to either side were barren and naked. It was cold. His coat didn't warm him here.

"Father." He said. To no one in particular, but a figure rose from a chair in front of him. The man was old, but his features were still strong. Ice blue eyes stared back at him.

"Where is your brother, boy?" He asked and the Hunter felt an inexplicable dread to answer. He swallowed hard, scrambling for words.

"Boy!" The voice boomed at him.

"In France, father. He won't return."

Silence. Deafening and oppressive.

"Father, I am so sorry."

Silence.

"I was not there. I should have been…"

"Don't." The voice answered. It was faint now, weak, old.

"Father…"

"Don't." The frail voice repeated. "My son has died in france. I have no son."

Blood spilled through his fingers as he fastened his grip on the bayonet. He yelled as he pushed the frenchman away, off of his blade, his victim's eyes wide in horror.

Maybe… maybe Yharnam has not changed him at all. Maybe he had been like this all along.

"Johannes." The voice was of a woman, one he knew very well.

"Father is chasing me out, mother." He said, fear in his heart. Fear that he did not understand. He was past fear for his own sake. He had faced horrors from beyond his world and had left them gutted in his wake. He was a killer of man and beast alike.

It was not his fear, but the fear of the man he had been. Johannes from a good house, adopted and forsaken after his brother had been taken by war. This was not him, not anymore. But a name was better than nothing.

In the adjacent room, Yennefer and Ciri sat comfortably, enjoying a good Beauclair white. They had checked on the Hunter once before and when Yennefer was convinced that it was safe to leave him, they had decided to spend some time talking before bed.

"Well, you have always been an adventurous type." Yennefer said. She had repressed her urge to lecture Ciri about the dangers of trusting strangers. She was an adult now and she was a fierce adversary if the situation called for it. She would look after herself.

"Maybe. But he has also not given me a reason to be suspicious. Cautious maybe, but I still think it was right to bring him here."

"Quite." Yennefer answered. "Though if he needed work, I don't know how far I can help. My endeavours are quite technical in nature. He could find work at the harbour surely."

"He wouldn't mind, I'm sure. But he doesn't seem dull. Maybe you will have use for him. He would be grateful for a place to start, I'm sure."

Yennefer nodded, thinking. Maybe Triss had more immediate use for a field-agent. Ciri already explained his strength in combat and his abilities as a tracker. There was always a need for ingredients that were rare or dangerous to obtain. If he truly was a Hunter, he could be valuable.

"We will see. I might speak to Triss later over the megascope. You're welcome to join and say hello."

"Uh, yes, I'd like that." The younger woman said happily. It had been a long time since she heard of her friend Triss Merigold. The mage had ventured back over the sea after they had faced the wild hunt and banished the immediate threat.

Yennefer smiled, warmly. An uncommon sight with her, but not unheard of when she was in the presence of Ciri or Geralt, the few exceptions in her life.

Both kept on bantering for a while, which included more than one suggestive comments from the sorceress, which deepened the blush on Ciri's face more than it was by the alcohol. It was friendly, just what Ciri had anticipated and needed after being on the road, alone for such a long time. She valued the sorceress for everything she had done for her, as well as the ability to confide in her. And even though she had tested Yennefer's trust in her judgement by bringing the Hunter here, something that the dark haired woman did not miss to point out, her response was warm and understanding. That the sorceress had her own ideas in how to make use of her predicament, was fairly obvious, but Ciri was sure that even if she would utilize the Hunter, she would be respectful towards her and her friendship with the man.

Also, both did not want to explore the depths of the man's vengeance.

They bid each other goodnight and retreated into their respective quarters for the night. Tomorrow had the potential to become at least mildly interesting.

He cringed at the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. His hand closed tighter around the handle of his pistol, the leather protesting over his knuckles, his finger on the trigger. A noise from the next room made him stop, bring up the weapon at the ready and focus on the doorway in front of him.

It was a strange weapon, this pistol. A new invention that he found in the house of one late Dr. Weston, a man who most certainly dabbled mostly in the inception of new and innovative arms. This firearm was especially easy to modify, as it appeared to be fashioned from stamped rather than milled metal. It lacked most of the wooden parts, safe for the grip and, most importantly, featured an internal magazine that held twenty rounds instead of only a single one.

It clicked as he cocked the hammer, ready to dispense quicksilver death. He peered over the sights of his gun as he rounded the corner. As more and more of the dark room revealed itself to him, his anticipation grew, the tip of his finger became lighter, his senses burned. The pitch black of the room lightened before his eyes as his pupils widened, taking in the image of a desolate space. Rubble and debris littered the cavern.

He switched the gun to his off hand and unhooked the massive saw from his hip. A flick of his wrist actuated the mechanism and the saw cleaver flung open, sparks dancing shortly through the dark.

There was a whimper, a sob. Someone was crying in the dark. A girl.

He repressed the urge to call out and instead walked forward, towards. Something passed him on his left and he raised his gun, but did not fire, regretful to not have brought a shotgun in such confined spaces. Something on his right and he brought the cleaver up to a guard against a strike that never came. Whatever it was that dwelled in here it either did not wish to attack him or it toyed with him. He would just have to ask.

His voice echoed in the dark cave, his heightened senses estimating the space's size automatically by the reverberations alone. Slowly, his eyesight grew more accustomed to the lack of light and he saw.

Piles. He stopped in his tread to take another look, but he had seen right. Even in the twilight of the moonless cavern, it was unmistakable.

He had not expected so many bodies.

In front of him, maybe twenty paces ahead, someone kneeled on the floor. A small silhouette, bent over, shivering with each sobbing cry. Again, he wanted to speak up, but decided against it. He needed to be closer in order to be able to retaliate if this turned out to be a trap.

Then again, this was a narcotics induced dream, right? How foolish of him to fear the contents of his own mind.

It took him five steps to realize the changes. The kneeling body in front of him was growing. Ashen hair fell over a slender neck and the figure took on exceedingly feminine forms. Ten steps. He noticed that the gown that the woman wore, grew with her body. He stopped five steps before reaching her. If need be, he could connect a strike and fall back within the blink of an eye.

The woman was now standing, long, flowing hair tied up in a neat ponytail behind her head, hands clasped at her front, out of sight, covered in a white, silken robe that seemed expensive to Johannes.

"Well."

His eyes widened as he recognized the voice. The accent was unmistakable.

"Has your curiosity gotten the better of you, Good Hunter?"

"Lady Maria?" He croaked, his voice strained suddenly again, as it had been for the longest time during his odyssey through Yharnam.

She turned around, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were pleading, seeking forgiveness for what she'd done, what cast her into the Hunter's Nightmare. Still, she looked warmly down upon the Hunter as she exceeded his height by a few inches still. Seeing her out of her hunter's garb, wearing a robe out of all things was strange to say the least. The fabric was loose and heavy, falling cleanly around her form and making her skin look like marble even more.

She still bore the scars. A scratch on her cheek, a cut on her chin, a line on her forehead towards her ear, but they did nothing to diminish her beauty.

How he'd loathed that he couldn't save her, Johannes thought. But then again, he had never really saved anyone, had he? Only prolonged the inevitable.

"You poor soul." She said. "A creature such as you, with so much gentleness, pushed to such lengths as to become a slaughtering beast himself."

He only looked, his jaw set and his eyes never leaving hers.

"It reminds me of myself a bit. I was never fond of the blood. But then, I am just as human as you. I might be wrong. Your mind, it is an interesting place. What you did in Europe, even before you joined into the madness of the Hunt, I was shocked."

"It was war." He said.

"It was. You see how futile human ambitions are by now, do you?"

"Yes. So is the attempt to change their nature. Violence will always be the common point of all mankind. Be it here, or anywhere else." He was acutely aware of the stacked corpses that littered the room behind him in piles. Victims of another beast. Remnants of the past.

"It does sadden me." She answered. "It is why you are still a man of arms, even though all what you have witnessed?"

He stared down at his hands, where he still gripped the gun and cleaver, knuckles white.

"I have cut down beings far outside our scale of comprehension. I can not rightly explain it."

"To whom? To me, hence yourself? That you will not bow? To prove a point?"

She raised her hands and put the on his shoulders.

"You are a truly frightening thing, Johannes. I should have seen it in the nightmare, but I guess I wasn't in my right mind at the time."

Only now he noticed that the barrel of his pistol had wandered upwards, pointing at her chest. He wanted no part in it, but it was him who put his finger on the trigger.

"I just couldn't stomach it." She said.

He pulled the trigger.

And woke up.

Ciri almost jumped when the Hunter's upper body jolted up from the bed like the arm of a catapult, almost throwing the sheets across half the room. His face was glistening from sweat in the morning sunlight and his chest was heaving from heavy breath. Yennefer was quickly beside him and put a hand to his shoulder, speaking to him in a calming voice, reassuring him that he was safe and that no harm could get to him now.

He just blankly stared forward.

Ciri sat down next to him. Her brow was furrowed in concern and she reached for one of his hands. It twitched, but he did not pull back. Instead his eyes locked onto hers, burrowing deep into her, like he had done before. It took her some effort to not avoid him and look away.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked. Ciri scolded herself. She should have never let Yennefer go on with her reckless experiment.

"I am fine." He coughed. It seemed as if he had been choking on his own spit there for a moment.

"I am fine."

"Hunter. Do you remember anything?" Yennefer turned to Ciri. "It is important to ask directly after awakening, so the dreams don't slip away."

"My name." He mumbled. His teeth felt sticky and his jaw hurt. He must have been grinding his teeth again.

"Can you repeat that?" Yennefer asked. Apparently fisstech was one hell of a drug. He had taken narcotics before, he was after all a soldier and a hunter, but only few had left him so affected.

"My name." He pressed through his teeth.

"My name is Johannes."