To Thaw A Frozen Heart

~ chapter 31 ~

They followed a trail of bloody footprints and dead bodies, into a large, open room.
Straight ahead, stood a naked woman, rummaging through something in front of her. Geralt recognised her immediately.

"You.  Saw you at the inn." He spoke, as she turned slightly towards them, "I know what you are, dont know why you killed these people though, clearly wasn't for their blood."

She turned slowly towards them then, baring her blood covered chest and face for them to see. A menacing look dawned her face.

"We dont have to fight." Geralt spoke calmly. But the woman began slowly walking around, not breaking eye contact.

"You are wrong." Was all she said, before vanishing into thin air - a gust of wind began circling the room, and Geralt followed it, before the woman reappeared by the entrance, and locked it. The once beautiful woman before them began to wither away, transforming into a hideous beast of bone and muscle, large fangs and claws at the ready. "I cannot let you leave" it spoke, in a low, grainy voice, before disappearing once more.

Geralt drew his silver sword. Antea followed closely, readying her chaos, silver dagger ready to plunge. A loud scream could be heard, and as it reached its peak, Geralt cast aard, knocking the bruxa over before impact hit. The blast made the woman reveal herself, but only briefly. She stumbled, and Geralt managed to slash her once or twice. Antea was worried, she couldn't sense the bruxa, it wasn't like any other creature. She couldn't feel the warmth of blood like Geralts - though his was colder than most others. A whoosh behind her alerted her to danger, and she ducked, as Geralt took out his crossbow, and fired above Anteas head. The bruxa let out an ear-bleeding scream, and Antea whipped around to see the woman withering in pain.

"What was that!" Antea yelled, quickly building a stone wall between the pair, and the bruxa.
"Vampire oil - should weaken her a bit. Don't let up." Geralt gruffed, gripping his sword tightly as the wall crumbled behind Antea.

The pair battled continuously for nearly thirty minutes, Antea using the earth and fire around them to lash out at the bruxa, distracting her - while Geralt swung and slashed with his silver sword. They were tiring, though. Geralt had made some progress in hurting the woman - but she grew angrier each blow. She circled them in a gust of wind, rendering them unable to hear. The sound of flesh could be heard piercing, a scream, and the clang of silver.

The dust cleared, and the body of the bruxa lay motionless on the ground. Her head on the other side of the room. Pants and sighs of relief were exhaled by both Geralt and Antea, and they looked to each other with happiness. But suddenly Geralts breath hitched, and his demeanour switched. His face grew cold and pale, his body stiff. His eyes wandered slowly down to his abdomen, to his bloodied hand. He dropped his sword with a clang, and grabbed his side in a gasp of pain. His breath became short, and the blood was flowing heavily. Antea saw where his eyes were looking, and gasped suddenly. He slowly raised his eyes to hers with a look of sorrow, before he collapsed, eyes rolling back in his head.

 Antea rushed over, a shriek of terror and tears welling in her eyes as she observed the deep wound on Geralts stomach, and the bite marks along his arm. She could see the muscles and blood underneath the skin in his forearm, and there was far too much blood on his body to determine how fatal the injury was - but judging by how quickly Geralt gave up, she couldn't imagine it was good. She cradled his head gently, forcing back strands of silver, sweat-ridden hair that were laced over his face, sobbing and rocking him back and forth.
"Geralt... please!" She cried, "Please you can't leave me..."

She wiped the tears blocking her vision and placed Geralts head onto the ground once more. 

Shaking her head and focusing herself. She stopped blubbering and let out a sharp breath, holding out her shaking hands. Closing her eyes and focusing her breathing, she felt the heat of chaos make its way to her palms, and she pushed a wave of continuous healing towards her companions wounded body. After a short while she opened her eyes, and saw that not much had changed - he was still bleeding, his eyes were still closed. She could hear his heart beat somewhat stronger now, but his body would soon give up on him again if he wasn't healed. She pushed more - as much energy as she could towards him. Letting out a yell, her whole body emitted a faint green light, which seemed to connect to Geralt. His hand healed within seconds - his torso mending itself back together like someone was sewing him, seamless and precise. 

Antea was becoming nauseous, her vision blurring slightly, but determined to see it through, she ignored the blisters forming on her hands, and the pain in her head. Even when her nose began to bleed, she kept pushing.

Geralts eyes shot open, and he sat up with urgency. Anteas kneeling position made her stumble backwards, and with her ongoing nausea, she vomited. Coughing up blood and shaking uncontrollably, Geralt rushed to her and picked her up, quickly exiting the cellar, locking doors and sealing shut entrances as he went. He mounted Roach and rode to the city centre, seeking help from healers or witches. 

Anteas eyes were now shut, but he could see her chest rise and fall. Geralt rode fiercely through the vintage streets of the city, winding around paths and through gardens yelling out for help - for a healer, for anything... An elderly woman spoke up, shushing and waving him down and declaring that she could help, and Geralt swiftly brought Antea inside her small, mould-infested home, placing her on the kitchen table. The old woman questioned him as to what had happened, flustering over Anteas still, dirt-covered body - but he could not speak - no words left his mouth and his focus did not leave her. He just stared at the girl lying in front of him, covered in blood and dirt... her hair now completely white.