The Divine Hunter

Roy and Geralt did a thorough search of the room. But aside from some animal skulls and bones, they found no human ones. Nor did they find any other clue. The witchers—with suspicion in their hearts—explored the remainder of the second floor. To their surprise, it was spacious. Too spacious.

“Honestly, this is the most rundown witcher fortress I’ve ever seen.” Geralt looked around the deserted corridor. And he commented, “Even Kaer Morhen has some beds lying around. And we have portraits of our predecessors hanging on our walls. But this place has nothing. It’s like the wilderness, except the wilderness has life in it.”

“Bears aren’t that attached to sentimentality. They have no need for mementos,” Roy said. Sounds a bit forced, really.

They then rendezvoused with everyone else, but they didn’t run into any bugs or monsters. However, they did find something else.

Geralt and Roy were led to the underground chamber. Flickering candlelights shone on bizarre metal containers and glass containers that had mutagens in them. There was even an oven lying around. This was the place Jerome saw in his dream.

“Tools for the Trial. This proves it. This fortress belonged to witchers once upon a time.” Letho brushed his hand across the oven’s rough surface, and he noticed some rust on it. “But these things have seen better days. Been a while since they were used. About a decade. Maybe more. And the mutagens have been here for even longer than that. Almost useless now.”

But Letho’s comment only added more questions to the mountain of queries they already had. Erland came to this place, but he didn’t use any of these tools. So why did he come here?

“Oh, we found something. You might wanna take a look.” Roy showed his companions the dog tag he found.

And then Lambert proposed something bizarre. “I don’t think it belonged to anyone. That monster didn’t eat this by accident. I bet Erland placed this in that monster. As a tag of some sort.”

Aiden rubbed the dog tag. “This is probably akin to collars people put on their pets’ necks. That monster could’ve been the guard dog of whatever’s controlling Erland. Keep an eye out, everyone. If we find more of these, we might find a clue leading us to Erland.”

“That’s a bold assumption.” Letho nodded. “Only a mad scientist or a sicko would rear something like that.”

“Actually, I found something else too.” Lambert led Roy and Geralt to a corner, and their medallions hummed, though not violently. The elemental particles hanging in the air were all but gone at this point.

But the surprising thing was the item that was radiating mana. It was a yellow, unassuming, porcelain jar in the corner. It was covered in dust and looked almost ancient.

Roy stared at it.

‘Sealing jar.

This jar used to be a prison for a powerful elemental. It has been a while since the elemental broke free of its prison, but there is mana left in this jar still.’

***

An elemental was trapped here? Roy froze, his breathing laboring. No way. No. Way.

“I still think this is some mage’s chamber pot.” Lambert crossed his arms. He seriously joked, “This thing might be ancient, but the magic remains after he peed in it. So that’s why our medallions hummed. Perhaps this mage is the one behind all this.”

“Enough with your crude jokes.” Geralt hunkered down and picked up a copper cap that was lying beside the jar. The witcher dusted it off, revealing the broken cross and an enneagram on it. Just like how I remembered it. This settles it.

The cap reminded him of someone special, and a hint of tenderness filled his otherwise calm, collected eyes. Then it was replaced by melancholy. He and Yennefer first met because of this bottle. But that was a time long past, and its memory served but to remind Geralt of his destitute loneliness. “I know this jar. Saw it once in Redania.”

“Why the long face, mate? Wait. Is this a magic jar?” Lambert looked at the glass bottle, and a smirk curled his lips. He puffed his chest, and—with confidence soaring in his heart—he announced, “Don’t tell me there’s a fairy inside it that can grant us our wishes? That only happens in fairy tales.”

Geralt looked at his companions. “For my second wish, I told it to blast the head of a guard off. I didn’t realize I was a wisher. That was just something I said in a fit of anger, but it granted the wish anyway.”

“I see Destiny played a trick on you. Gave you the best thing anyone could ever hope for only to see you fail to take advantage of it.” Lambert winced. He could feel the pain even though he wasn’t there to witness it himself. “Wasted two wishes from the get-go. I’d probably bang my head against the wall if I were you.”

“Ahem. The third wish was the only one I actually used for the right thing, but it’s a private matter, so I can’t tell.” Geralt was reluctant to speak.

“Oh, I saw your third wish.” Roy gave Geralt a mysterious smile. And he mouthed, Yennefer.

Horrified, Geralt quickly grabbed his arm, and he shot Roy a warning glare. “Don’t use your seer powers to look into my private matters.”

“What’s the big deal, Geralt?” Lambert wrapped his arm around Geralt’s shoulders. “We’re comrades. What’s a secret or two between comrades? Not like I keep my secrets from you.”

“I still won’t tell.” Geralt shook his head, his hair swaying.

Lambert’s face fell.

“Fine, I’ll let you off the hook.” Roy smiled. Geralt’s third wish was the one that started his relationship with Yennefer. Back then, Yennefer set up a magic circle in Rinde in an attempt to capture a djinn and have it give her fertility. It was there she met Geralt, who was holding the wishing cap.

From the moment Geralt saw Yennefer, he fell for her. Her beauty captivated him, and it played with his mind. Unwittingly, he became her puppet. One who would do all her biddings.

Eventually, Yennefer battled the djinn, and the elemental’s unbridled energy destroyed half of Rinde. Yennefer was on the brink of death, and Geralt wanted to save her. Thus, he used his third wish to bind Yennefer’s fate to his forever. That bond gave Yennefer protection, preventing the djinn from harming her further. And then the elemental disappeared into thin air.

Their bond was created, and the two of them copulated upon the ruins left in the djinn’s destructive wake. But their relationship was filled with obstacles. Separation and reconciliation happened more times than Roy cared to count.

***

“Then we’ll skip over this topic.” Letho said, “This is no coincidence. The bottle showed up in the very place Erland visited. It must be connected to him. But we don’t know why he came. Perhaps he was here to search for the jar, or perhaps he was searching for the one who was controlling him. But one thing’s for sure: someone used this jar and made three wishes.”

“Don’t forget about this dog tag.” Roy opened his hand. Within it slept the cap and the dog tag.

There was a connection between the monster, the jar, and Erland, but for the moment, the witchers had no idea what it was. The information they had was far too limited. No matter how much they stared at the items, no answer would come to them.

Lambert blurted, “Mates, I have a question. If djinns are so powerful, then who or what managed to seal it in a jar? That’s gotta be a god or something.”

Geralt was reminded of Yennefer’s battle against the djinn. “Either it’s a god, or we’re dealing with an incredibly powerful mage here. Roy, we need you to ask Coral or Kalkstein about this. Maybe they’ll have the answers.”

“Sure.”

“We’ll talk about this later. Come with us.” Coen made his way to the stairs. “Jerome and I found a weird mural in the other tower. It probably has something to do with Erland. You should have a look.”

***

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