Cirella of Cintra dodged another blow of the massive claws that swiped over above her and crashed into the ornate railings of the great bridge, smashing apart stone and wrought iron as if they were paper mache. The massive creature howled, it's maw wide open and filled with rotten spikes for teeth. It's mangy fur dripped with putrid blood, making it cling to the spindly limbs and torso.

Another assault. It's one enormous paw swiped the ground in an attempt to catch the girl and end her, but Ciri blinked out of existence in a brilliant blue light, reappearing behind the terrible beast. She struck, drew blood and the thing screamed it's awful caricature of a wolve's howl.

The other, emaciated claw had been out of her focus and she tasted blood as it struck her with a backhand and flung her backwards towards the end of the bridge, crashing into an abandoned cart.

She blinked, confused, trying to make sense of her surroundings again, but too slow to stop the monster's charge at her.

Only a few paces left. It would slice her apart with it's chipped claws. It was almost upon her and then...

The sound of an explosion. The beast's head reeled back, damaged badly by an unseen force and then it bowed forward, nursing it's concussed skull.

Ciri blinked again and saw a dark figure between her and the beast. A man, striding towards the staggered monster, upright and with no particular urgency. When he stopped before it, she could see him, through the blood in her eyes, drawing back his arm and plunging his hand through the eye of the creature, before ripping it out and covering the ground in blood and clear brain fluid.

It vanished, vaporized into blueish dust that flew apart and high up into the air, before bundling up and streaming into the man, who accepted it as if it was the most mundane thing in the world.

He then turned towards her, his coat flapping in the wind. The bridge seemed to stretch out, longer and longer and each step that he took towards her seemed to carry him further away from her.

Then he stood before her, but she was unable to utter a word. Too much did his attire remind her of the damned Nilfgaardian knight. The one with the wings on his helmet and the black cloak, that had haunted her since the attack on Cintra and even sometimes now, long after her first clash with the Wild Hunt.

She did not let go of her sword, yet she did not raise it either. Surrounded by the smashed remains of the cart, she just continued to stare at the man.

"Milady." He said calmly, his voice deep and rough, not unlike Geralt's, but much more youthful.

"You need to wake up. This is not your dream."

/

Ciri's eyes opened to the sight of her burnt out campfire, still crackling in it's last hour of life. The dull embers cast too little light to help her much with her surroundings this early at dawn. She had often envied Geralt for his superior night vision, but she also valued not having been subjected to the infamous trial of grasses, which gave a witcher his inhuman abilities.

She turned around wearily and threw off the heavy woollen blanket that had become uncomfortably damp with the night's early dew. Slowly her eyes began to adjust to the twilight of the first few morning hours. She was already looking forward to the next night, when she would have reached Rhinzweig on the Pontar, where she would be able to rent herself an actual room in the inn that she knew for some time now and that belonged to a friend she had made in the past.

She might stay there for a few days and then move further west to Flotsam and down the Pontar towards Novigrad, where she hoped to meet with Priscilla, Dandelion and Zoltan at their cabaret. It had been some time since their last meeting. The whole ordeal with the Wild Hunt and the prophecy of the apocalypse had left her not much of freedom in where to go. Now, with a bit of peace to her mind, she realised just how much she had been missing the two bards and the rest of their people in the free city. She knew from Geralt that she would not meet Triss there, as the sorceress had crossed the sea to flee from the late King Radovid's genocide of sorcerers and deviants. She would find her at another time. Her powers of the elder blood made it possible for her to travel large distances in the blink of an eye, though she needed to admit that there was still a lot of practice needed, before she would be able to reliably hit specific coordinates. Until then, she preferred to travel per horse if possible. It minimized the danger of teleporting into dangerous situations.

She and her mare arrived at Rhinzweig in the late afternoon of the same day. The sun was just vanishing behind a swath of rainclouds that would soon release their waters. She was glad to have made it on time anand made haste to reach the inn in the center of the small town.

Rhinzweig had relatively recently developed into a small town. Originally it was just a place of a dozen humble huts and said inn, providing basic services and shelter for traveling merchant folk between Redania, Temeria, Aedirn and Kaedwen. It had soon become a trading post for it's advantageous location on the Pontar and when Nilfgaard had crossed the river east of the Mahakam mountains, it had miraculously been left alone from the looters and brigands that the battling armies left in their wake. Not without Geralt's and Ciri's help, had the town been able to flourish, as the two of them had taken it upon them to release the people there from the growing threat by the monster's that still roamed the lands. They had successfully hunted Leshens, drove the drowners from their nests and settled a reoccurring problem with a very old grave hag that had housed somewhere in a cave towards Kaedwen. Besides that, they had been hard at work from denying the numerous necrophanecrophages from getting a foothold in the wartorn area, where corpses had littered the landscape for a long time.

But now, Rhinzweig had become a stable outpost to Flotsam and had the strength to fend the dark off by itself. The townsguard was disciplined and competent, the people were friendly and open minded and trade was good.

Ciri arrived at the inn and greeted the young man at the stables, who happily took her mare and brought it inside to take off the saddle and get some fresh water for the loyal beast. She was not able to suppress a small smile as she saw that Jürgen, the innkeper and owner had expanded the building to accommodate more guests. Business seemed to be good.

"Ciri, my dear!" He greeted from behind the counter as she crossed the threshold to the warmly lit building.

"Come here, let me take a look at you! You have grown again! Don't you ever plan on stopping that?"

She smiled and approached him. Next to him stood his oldest daughter, Marie. A wild thing as Ciri remembered, who was only a year younger than her. She had and was apparently still, helping her father with the upkeep and management of the inn. The shapely brunette immediately walked around the corner to embrace Ciri, who had trouble keeping Marie's healthy mane out of her mouth. Both were quick to share a good laugh at that. Jürgen gave them the moment, though reminded Marie soon that there was still work to be done, to which the smiling girl nodded and vanished into the office, but not before getting Ciri's promise that they would be meeting soon to catch up.

"Where's Lea?" Ciri asked after she had given Jürgen a small token amount for her stay in one of his best rooms. He charged her a ridiculously low price, but he was of the opinion that taking nothing for his services was bad form as it placed debt on one of the parties involved.

"Oh, that one." Jürgen moaned. "Just as I though I had tamed her sister, this girl starts acting all the same." He pushed his spectacles further up his nose and exhaled through his nose.

"Lot's of new folk have come here recently and she is starting her own army of bachelors as it seems. Everyone is on the hunt now for her it seems, now that my Marie is betrothed to a good lad from Oxenfurt. But enough of us."

They had walked up the stairs into the new "wing" of the building, where the better rooms were situated.

"Have you come here looking for something, or are you just passing through?"

Ciri smiled. She enjoyed the genuine friendliness of the hard working man. A father she would have liked, had not Geralt filled this spot better than anyone else ever could.

"I am meeting a friend in Novigrad, though I am in no particular hurry. Has anything happen here that would interest me? What do you think?"

They reached her room and Jürgen gave her the key.

"You mean contracts?" She nodded.

"No, my dear. It has been peaceful here in the last few months. Lot's of good craftsmen though." He raised one hand suddenly, in excitement.

"Ouuh, yes. A new cobbler on the west end of town. He and his wife make masterful boots and shoes. Had them make a pair for me and haven't had one blister in 'em yet. Real good people. Hard working too." He almost radiated his excitement. It was why his business was going so well. Jürgen had soon become the center of all activity in Rhinzweig. He was also member of the council and lay judge at the local county's court.

"I'll be sure to pay them a visit. I could use a new sole on my boots. Is Pjet still here?"

"He's still here. Has a fancy new furnace and makes brilliant blades. I would guess though, that you wouldn't want a new sword."

"No." She answered. "But he liked Zireael. I guess he would understand that I don't need another one."

Jürgen nodded. He was aware of Ciri's and Geralt's skill with their swords. That the young woman had learned by one of the world's best swordsmen was readily apparent, even to someone who had only little knowledge of the art of the sword.

The two parted for the day. Jürgen, returned to his duties for the evening. He and his family would go to rest for the night and leave the building in their nightmanager's care.

Ciri decided that she would take a few days to rest and resupply. Her horse was happy to be able to just relax for the time, only having to endure a new fitting of horseshoes and otherwise sitting on the meadow behind the end, feeding on the green grass.

She herself had almost gone through all the businesses in Rhinzweig when the fourth day came around. She had visited Pjet in his smithy to renew the silver plating on her blade and had purchased a sturdy pocket knife. From the cobbler, whose name was Jancke from Leme further south, she bought a new pair of boots after he had told her that her old ones were unable to be salvaged and would soon cause her pain on extended walks. She agreed, though she held back that her current footwear was already doing that. Of course, every morning and every evening, her way lead past the posting board in front of Jürgen's inn and tavern, but the postings were not very interesting for Ciri, except for an announcement for a small tournament of Gwent, from which she fell out very soon, but had a lot of goodhearted fun.

She was just talking with a saleswoman from Toussant, a middle aged lady who travelled with a pair of Nilfgaardian mercenaries, when the weather completely turned around. While it had been windy throughout the day, it had been clear and bright until nightfall. It was expected to become an equally clear night and until almost midnight, that had been the case, but exactly in the moment, that Ciri lowered her cup, lightning ripped the night sky apart.

All guests of Jürgen's inn, flinched and looked to the windows. Not a minute before, the sky had been free, stars glinting in their nightly dance. Now the sky was black. Dark clouds came racing from everywhere and seemed to crash together above a certain spot in the woods north of Rhinzweig. Then it started to pour, as if the gods wanted to flood the world.

The stablehand was quickly sent to see to the horses and Jürgen went to gather everyone he could in the event of the Pontar flooding, since the river was high from the melting snow during the spring.

Another thunderclap tore through the constant rushing of water, as soil turned to mud and the small rivulets turned to soft streams over the streets and into the lawns of the buildings. Several people had ventured out to warn the locals to seal their doors and be ready to counter the possible flooding of cellars and ground floors.

But during all that, Ciri could only stare at the swirl of black stormclouds that flew in and out of another as if they were about to form a tornado. But nothing came. Instead, she felt a knot forming in her stomach as she sensed a foreign power sending shock after shock of... wrong energy through the surrounding area. Another lightning bolt shot into the forest and everyone thanked the divine that the rain was so strong, so that a forest fire was unlikely, but Ciri flinched harder than the rest. That last flash had been brighter, stronger and no doubt, not normal. Lightning did not take on colour, as it was just electricity building up in the clouds and being released all at once. It had no colour on it's own, since what the eye could see, was simple light. Yet the last bolt had been of a faint red colour that had burned itself into Ciri's mind.

Never had she seen such a phenomenon and while that alone was not enough to scare her, she was convinced that it was a good time now, to get her blade and don her armour.

A dwarf from the game gave her a scared look when she came back down, her jacket of chainmail over her chest, sturdy leather gauntlets on her hands and the longsword on her back.

"There a danger 'pon us, miss witcher?" He said, obviously noticing the odd position of her scabbard, commonly associated with the craft.

"I'm unsure yet." She answered. "But that storm is not natural. It's better to be prepared, don't you think?"

"Aye." The dwarf confirmed, then he stormed off to his compatriots and soon they were on their way to gather their own axes and armour.

"The captain has alerted his whole guard." Jürgen said from the side as he entered the building from behind. He was properly soaked.

"They are securing a perimeter around the northern borders of the town. They think that beasts and monsters might flee towards us."

"Smart." Ciri acknowledged, her eyes still fixed on the sky above the forest.

"You're not planning on going out there?" He asked, worry in his voice. His younger daughter Lea cowered behind her father's broad back.

"Not far, if at all." She answered curtly. "Though I have a bad feeling about all of this. I think this downpour is magic of some kind, but I can not place it at all."

"You are no sorceress." Jürgen commented and she nodded.

"Yet I know how proper magic feels in the surroundings. I have been present when it was in use a lot of times."

She paused.

"This feels... violent, even here. I shouldn't even be able to sense it this far off." She said. Ciri was no stranger to powerful magic. Not too long ago, she had stood in tthe epicentre of one of the mightiest magic explosions in recorded history. To say it had disturbed her was taking it lightly. Now, she felt a similar sensation. The feeling of wild and unleashed magic that pulsed and cracked, sending tremors through earth and bones.

"No." She decided. She was brave, for sure, but she was neither a fool, nor suicidal. "No one should go further than the towns borders. I will see if the guards need support, but as soon as anything changes, everyone has to be rearto flee."

Jürgen nodded and turned to his stablehand and his remaining staff, a grim but determined look on his face.

Soon, every able man and woman was either tending to their own families, or helping others gather supplies, prepare horses and carts, or just spreading the word. The town was on alert and as soon as it was too dangerous to stay, everyone would go as fast as possible over the Pontar and towards the Nilfgaardian garrison in the south. In a way, it was heartwarming to see so many strangers from different origins, professions and races work together without a word of objection.

As the guard's captain predicted, a few hours later, the first monsters were driven out of the treeline. Ciri had left the inn a few minutes earlier and arrived just in time to see four of the captain's men dispatch the last nekkers from a swarm. The little pests were small and relatively harmless on their own, but large groups brought down the mightiest of prey. The town's guard had proven itself though and so, the empty field between the forest and the town's borders were already filled with the bodies of the annoying ogroids. One man was nursing a nasty gash on his cheek, but otherwise the men seemed unharmed, Shields, swords and spears in hand.

The captain spotted her. He was a tall man and a preven veteran from Temeria. Thick locks of black hair peeked from below his helmet and the thick leather and chainmail of his armour did little to hide his impressive physique. He eyed Ciri's sword on her back.

"Yar'a witcher, lass?" He asked, with a slight smile tugging at his lips. They hadn't met before, so he probably wouldn't know of her connection to the school of the wolf in Kaer Morhen.

She didn't get to answer, because the underbrush ahead was rustling suspiciously and shortly after, a pair of Alghouls broke through the bushes.

Ciri drew Zireael and fastened her grip, while the captain raised his shield and readied his axe. In a flash of blue light, she was gone and reappeared in front of one of the beasts, having pierced the monster through it's maw. The other one had simply kept it's momentum and rushed past her, towards the others.

I smashed into the captain's shield, it's charge rendered futile and he smashed his axe down onto it's head, splitting it down the middle.

The men faced the treeline again and waited for another assault, but nothing came. Minutes passed as Ciri eyed the darkness behind the forest's edge, trying her hardest to spot any movement among the thrashing branches.

It was silent.

Just now she noticed that the thunderstorm had dissipated. Only the heavy rain continued to whip against her skin. Slowly, stars returned to the horizon the moon's light finally battled it's way through the dark clouds. Apart from the pouring rain, it was awfully silent. No one dared to move.

"Y'think it's over?" The captain grunted over to Ciri who still held her stance, scanning the surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. The magic was leaving, returning to the core of the trees and the soil.

"I don't know." She answered. "It seems like it."

"Well, time to get back and dry up." The captain said, hanging his axe to his belt.

"I'll let the men patrol the area, just in case."

Ciri nodded, eager herself to get back into Jürgen's inn and towel herself up.

On the way back, the captain explained his orders to his men. Five of them would stay outside and keep watch, while the others dried up and had something to eat. Then they would rotate until dawn. When dawn came, it would probably be safe again.

It was a testament to the quality of his men that no one complained or even rolled an eye on the prospect of having to keep guard duty during the middle of the night, in heavy rain. The men just nodded and then the first shift was off to duty.

Ciri was quick to clean herself up when she reached her room again. She changed into a dry set of garments, dried out her armour and returned downstairs. Jürgen had been trying to get her back again, so she could get a good night's sleep. Just like the generous host he was, he would never make his guests work for the town. Ciri declined though, arguing that sleep would elude her anyway and that she would rather stay ready, in case something happened. Jürgen's youngest, Lea, helped her set up a makeshift cot in the inn's ground floor, close to the door, so in the event of an emergency, she would be able to react quickly.

Ciri had just managed to drift into a light slumber, more a nap than proper sleep, when all of a sudden, a commotion outside raised her back to consciousness. She remembered that the third shift had just left when she drifted off, when one of the men pushed open the main door, out of breath and feverishly searching for anyone of authority.

The captain got up.

"What is it, man?"

The guard caught his breath before speaking.

"Sir! A man just appeared on the center well, sir. Just outta nowhere. There's no way we'd have overlooked 'im before. He's just lying there, not a muscle movin'."

"Is he still there?" The captain bellowed as he jumped to his feet and grabbed his helmet.

"Yessir. Djuri is keeping his eye on 'im. He's a strange lookin' one, sir. Pale as a corpse, but alive as far's we can tell."

By now Ciri had stood up as well, fiddling with the pommel of her sheathed sword that she had kept at her side.

"Yer comin' witcher-girl?" The captain grunted and Ciri nodded her head with a grim smile.

"Show us where." She said to the guard, who quickly stood straighter than before and properly hefted the halberd that he had on him.

"This way." They followed him.

The main well in the center of Rhinzweig was larger than average, with a set of five steps leadin up to it. Sometime during the storm, the little roof had been blown off, the wooden shingles scattered about.

At the top of the stairs, there was the form of a man, sunken in himself as he leaned on the stone circle, breathing evenly as if he was sleeping.

"Strange one, for sure." The captain said and Ciri could not disagree. To say that the man's clothing was outlandish would be an overstatement. After all, there were plenty of people wearing black garments and long coats. However, his attire seemed to fit a noble more than a common man. The seams of his clothes were fine, like sewn with a machine and the stitchings were exquisite, surely done by a master tailor. A grey trenchcoat crumpled up below his body. His lower body was covered in black pants, tucked away into dark brown boots which had bronze shinguards fastened to them. His torso was covered in a light shirt with a stiff collar and thin looking, black vest, from which silvery floral patterns shone through, gently reflecting the morning sun. A trio of belts was slung around his chest, for no apparent reason and Ciri noticed a fourth one around the man's right thigh.

"White as death, that one is." The captain grumbled as he knelt before the sleeping one, using the shaft of his axe to tip the man's tricornered hat up to reveal more of his face. His visage was still covered by the black mask that wrapped around his neck and lower face, covering everything up to his nose. The captain only uncovered matted dark brown hair that stuck to his forehead from either rain or sweat.

"What now?" She asked, unsure what to do. It was obvious that he was alive, with his chest rising and falling with his breath, yet they couldn't just leave him here in the dirt.

"I say we get a bucket and wash him off. That'll wake him surely." One of the captain's men said proudly, propping his hands against the chainmail on his hip. A few of the others present muttered approvingly and Ciri felt a smile tugging at her lip at the thought. Yet something in her felt uneasy around this strange new person. She felt as if she had seen him before, yet she was unable to surely place him.

Just as the baker's boy returned with a large wooden tub, she grew worried. So much even that she stopped him as he was about to empty the water he'd brought over the unsuspecting sleeper.

"One thing." She announced and held up a hand. She then dug into one of her pouches and produced a small vial filled with fine dust.

"What's that?" The captain asked as he peered over her shoulder.

"Silver, with a magic reagent." She answered while pouring some of it into the palm of her hand.

"You might know that a lot of the post conjunction creatures react quite badly to silver."

"Yeah, I do. Hence the witcher's blades be plated silver. I know." He answered.

Ciri took the man's arm and left the silver to fall onto the back of his hand. Nothing happened. She sighed, her smile returning.

"Good thing?" The captain asked curiously.

"Yes." She stood up. "With most post conjunction creatures, this powder would have reacted on contact with skin. At least we can mostly rule out that he's a monster for now." Ciri tucked the vial away again, dusting off her hands.

"You say mostly." The captain asked, eyeing the stranger cautiously. "There's monster's out there that don't care for silver?"

"There are some out there that are more resilient to it, yes." The boy with the bucket came closer again. "Higher vampires for example."

The captain's eyes widened at the mention of such a dangerous creature.

"But if he was and he was dangerous, we would already be dead, I suppose." Ciri waved at the boy in a gesture that said 'go' and he, grinning over both ears, turned over the bucket over the strangers head, then turned to run away, should the former sleeper decide to chase him. Yet he did no such thing.

To the boy's disappointment, the man merely opened his eyes and shifted. No sign of anger, or hurry present in his movement or his expression. Slowly, the man got up to his feet and just now everybody realised how tall he was, towering over the captain, who was the tallest, by at least half a head. He did not seem skinny still, filling out his frame to make the impression of a slender giant, rather than a lanky beanpole. In a rather uncomfortable way, his size almost reminded Ciri of the riders of the wild hunt, who had also reached far above her and the witchers.

He was not that tall, she told herself. That and the fact that she was able to see his eyes. Kind eyes that swept about, confused, yet curious. His gaze fell on her and she stared back. Lively greens met steel greys as he held her gaze, almost challenging her in a way that most people wouldn't nowadays.

"What's your name, friend." The captain said out loudly, making the stranger break their little staring contest and look to him. Then to the ground, then back to Ciri. There was worry in his eyes and then... relief.

"My name..." He started. His voice was deep, but hoarse and shaky, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.

"My name is not of importance, but I am a Hunter."