Celeste always felt she was meant for greatness, even though she was born out of tragedy.
Celeste born and raised in Kaer Morhen, after her mother, Vesemir's one true love, passed away after birth.
In honor of Celeste's mother, Vesemir raised the l...
"Indeed, there is nothing more repulsive than these monsters that defy nature and are known by the name of witcher, as they are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft. They are unscrupulous scoundrels without conscience and virtue, veritable creatures from hell capable only of taking lives..." Monstrum, or a Portrayal of Witchers, Anonymous.
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Celeste felt nausea forming in her stomach, the acrid taste of bile threatening to rise in her throat as her body refused to move, no matter how hard she tried, she was petrified. Celeste had heard stories of what had happened to Kaer Morhen, but the reality was much worse. The witcher tried to utter any words, but not even syllables came out of her mouth, the shock was so great that she felt as if she had been stabbed in the chest, as if she would shatter, just like Kaer Morhen.
It was her home, it was where she was born, where she was raised, where she met Geralt and all her friends, for Celeste to see Kaer Morhen after it's fall was like seeing her home after it had been burned to dust. And as she saw her old home so decayed, a sense of guilt plagued Celeste, for never coming back, for not seeking out any of her friends, for giving up when everything was going to shit. Besides, Celeste was a witcher, at least she believed she was, she felt to her core, so when she didn't come back, when she let them attack Kaer Morhen, it was as if she had failed in her duties as a witcher, turned her back against her own people, her family.
She hadn't stopped to think like that until then, until she saw how much everything really had changed, but she had no way of guessing, she didn't feel welcome anymore, which is why she gave up on coming back and also she had no idea what to say to Vesemir.
She had left a large slice of her energy when she thought about Vesemir. As much as she tried to ignore what had happened and leave the past behind, sometimes she thought about what a father figure Vesemir was to her, that was how she saw him, that was how she felt, that he was her real father. She didn't care about genetics, Celeste never cared who her blood is, she didn't know who her father was and her mother was dead, to her family was Geralt and the other witchers. Of course she thought about trying to find out more about her blood family, but whenever she even tried to talk about it, it was like poking a wound that had never healed, only further lacerating such a deep, bleeding, wound.
