Polyanna: A Witcher's Mage

22 | Of Wise Bards

Her absence was noticed in her old house. The plants decorating her small front porch still had a bit of life in them, courtesy of the recurring rain in Novigrad, but she was afraid of the state of those inside the house.

She closed her hand around the doorknob and, after it recognized her touch, it unlocked. She allowed darkness to reign until she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She opened her hand and whispered a single word, feeling her palm heat up as a ball of fire was born on her skin.

Due to Gaunter's influence, the city had assumed the mage simply went on to travel to distant regions, They had no memory of her true nature, her catastrophic massacre, and all the people lost. She expected her house to be entirely ransacked, but it seemed that her benevolent reputation had saved her from such a fate. She had sold her quaint apartment, but it seemed no one had claimed it yet. That's quite a relief, she decided, as it meant that she had someplace to collect herself; she didn't have to teleport somewhere far away. After all, it would only disappoint Geralt and Ciri further.

Unfortunately, however, her plants were not as lucky. After weeks of isolation and no care, her plants had fallen to the point of no return. Her fingertips grazed them as she slowly walked the corridor; they felt coarse and brittle. She dropped her limb uselessly to her side.

She made her way up the staircase and arrived at the upstairs corridor. She walked across, gazing at the multitude of paintings she had acquired over the years. Some were gifts and others were requested upon; a copious amount were of her and her numerous friends.

She pushed her way into her bedroom, quietly noting how everything was exactly the way she left it, except with a later of dust covering her furniture.

A single Bachelor's Button sat on her nightstand. It used to be pink, but it currently wore a faded color, its head touching her wooden nightstand in death.

Unexpectedly, tears sprang to her eyes. Just for a moment, a very short and naïve moment, she had allowed herself to hope. Alas, reality had given her a good slap in the face. Geralt didn't harbor the same feelings that she did. And that was painful. It hurt to be in love with someone who just didn't have it in him to love her back.

Because that was what this was, wasn't it? In her heart, there was no doubt anymore that she didn't just harbor a serious crush anymore, no, it had progressed into her being in full-fledged all-out love with a man that she could never have.

And yet she had still allowed herself to fall in love with him. She almost longed for the past were they were simply the best, closest of friends. There had been a lot less heartache back then.

And at the same time she couldn't blame Geralt. It wasn't like he could control his feelings, and it didn't matter because even if he did have feelings for her, Yennefer was still in his heart, in the place Euphemiya desperately wanted to be in. If he just didn't have it in him to love her like she loved him, there wasn't anything either of them could do about it. And she could accept that, though it still hurt.

She wiped away the stray tear on her cheek. She couldn't feel sorry for herself, not when she was in the wrong. Perhaps she would let the tears fall when she was alone, but a presence in her house paused her in her tracks.

The person in her old house was human, she felt it, but she had learned long ago that humans are also capable of malevolence. And there was only one, but she knew how much damage one simple human could cause.

"Miya?"

Dandelion stood in her doorway, concerned. Euphemiya sent him a trembling smile, trying to soothe him of his worries, but it seemed to only make him worry more. She averted her gaze to her lap, where she picked at the skin surrounding her nails.