To Thaw A Frozen Heart

chapter 32

A.N -  sorry I've been missing for a while! Was going through some stuff but I'm back and will be updating this regularly! Here's a bit of a longer chapter to say sorry :)

In the dim confines of the underground cellar beneath the vineyard, Antea lay motionless, her breathing shallow and labored. Geralt knelt beside her, his expression grim as he assessed her condition. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and wine, and the distant echo of dripping water reverberated through the stone walls.

Antea's face was pale against the flickering torchlight, her hair now stark against the darkness of the cellar. Geralt gently brushed a strand away from her forehead, his fingers lingering against her skin. She was still warm, but he could sense the ebbing of her life force, a quiet desperation that fueled his determination.

"We need to get her help," Geralt muttered to himself, his voice low and urgent. Hoisting Antea's limp form over his shoulder, he navigated the tunnels of the cellar with practiced ease. His senses were on high alert, scanning for any sign of danger lurking in the shadows.

Emerging into the cool night air, Geralt surveyed the vineyards spread out before him, the moon casting an eerie glow upon the twisted vines. In the distance, he spotted the flickering light of a torch, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. With Antea slung over his shoulder, he set off towards it, his footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the night.

As he approached the source of the light, Geralt found himself in a makeshift camp at the edge of the vineyard. A group of mercenaries lounged around a crackling fire, their weapons glinting in the firelight. Without hesitation, Geralt approached their leader, a grizzled man with a scarred face.

"I need your help," Geralt said, his voice steady despite the urgency gnawing at his insides. He explained Antea's condition in terse, clipped words, leaving no room for doubt or negotiation.

The mercenary leader eyed Geralt warily, his gaze flickering to the unconscious woman slung over his shoulder. "And what's in it for us?" he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Geralt's jaw clenched, his free fist tightening at his sides. "You help us, and I'll make sure you're rewarded," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

After a moment's hesitation, the mercenary leader nodded, motioning for his men to follow. Together, they carried Antea to the village at the foot of the vineyard, where a local healer awaited them in a small, candlelit cottage.

The healer's name was Isolde, a middle-aged woman with kind brown wirnkled eyes and a gentle demeanor. She listened intently as Geralt explained Antea's condition, her brow furrowing with concern as she tied her curly caramel hair behind her, and examined the unconscious woman lying before her.

"She's depleted her magic entirely," Isolde murmured, her voice tinged with apprehension. "But there may still be a way to save her."

With a mixture of herbs and potions, Isolde worked tirelessly to revive Antea, her hands moving with practiced precision as she administered the remedies. Geralt paced restlessly outside the cottage, his heart heavy with worry for the woman he had come to care for more deeply than he dared to admit.

Hours passed in tense silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant howl of a wolf. Geralt's thoughts raced as he waited, his mind consumed with memories of battles won and lost, of friends and lovers long gone. He had faced many trials in his life, but none had ever tested him quite like this.

Feeling restless,and useless, he decided to use his time alone wisely. He told Isolde he would be back as soon as he could, and whistled for Roach. His chesnut mare rode swiftly to his side, her head swaying in acknowledgement as he mounted. 

"C'mon, Roach." He said gently as they galloped back towards the Vineyard of Corvo Bianco.

Winding down the tunnels of the basement, and back into the open room where the bruxa's head greeted him at the end of the stairs, Geralt let out a sigh  of relief to see that the body the bruxa was toying with had not been moved.