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.・゜゜・・゜゜・．
|Word Count: 2,947|
𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬. The Witcher was tired...body aching after his last duel with Eredin, the master of the Wild Hunt. Yet despite the Ane Elle slayed, things weren't finished yet. The White Frost was coming still and Ciri's fate being tied to it. He wasn't going to stand by and let her die, not after everything he had endured for so many months in searching for her, not after all the friends that had died in protecting her.
Climbing the last flight of stairs, he was soon reached the hollowed out center of the tower. Avallac'h was there, the powerful elven mage channeling the magical energy about the tower, focused it towards the lone sturdy door at the ruined tower's far end. Geralt moved in, silver blade still in hand as he remember Eredin's last words.
"Avallac'h has betrayed us both. He set us against each other...and he's made off with Cirilla."
He had said he didn't believe him...yet seeing Avallac'h alone sparked doubt in him. By now the elf had noticed him, finishing his channeling before speaking in his very calm and formal manner.
"Geralt...So unfortunate. I'd hoped you wouldn't have to witness this." Turning about, he'd facing the Witcher with a sorrowful look hinting his sharp featured face.
Geralt stepped closer, expression stern towards the elf. "Where's Ciri?" He simply demanded.
"Nearby. Listen-" Avallac'h started.
"Shut up." Geralt grasped his blade in both hands, stance shifting to fight. "I've heard enough of your bullshit. Draw your weapon, let's get this over with."
Avallac'h stepped back, sensing how frustrated the Witcher was. Yet he'd draw his blade, stance tense before he'd shake his head and tossing his blade aside. He'd look back at Geralt, still keeping that calm look about him even in the face of death.
"Think I'm willing to spare you?" Geralt questioned, suspicious at what the elf mage was planning.
"I think you will not attack one unarmed." The elf countered back.
Geralt tightened his grip on his blade. "Wouldn't be so sure. I'm in a foul mood."
"I am not your foe. I am meagerly helping Cirilla."
"I don't believe you. Can't. Not after all that's happened."
"Will you believe me?" A familiar female voice said off to the side.
