Reincarnation ➵ The Witcher

xvii.

"MARILKA brought us to you." Geralt cut in, orange eyes scanning the expanse of the halls.

"Oh, Marilka. Marilka works for me," They had stopped at an entryway that was open to the view of the pink blossoming tree, "Now and then, on matters of great import." Edith wanted to question the man further, but respected Geralt's business first. The place was stunning, and Edith was sure a blind man would notice. However, Geralt remained nonchalant, and she knew to expect nothing less from the white haired Witcher.

"A reclusive sorcerer who uses an alias and hires a young girl to procure him a Witcher." Geralt looked out into the beauty of the illusion knowingly, "You don't want my monster, you want me to kill yours." His gaze narrowed back onto the sorcerer, and Edith smirked at the slight surprise on Stregobor's face. He's ruggedly handsome and smart too, bitch.

"Very clever," He mused, "indeed."

Edith smiled, "Can't be a badass without a brain to go with all that brawn, can you?"

Geralt resisted a smirk, "What kind?"

"The worst kind. The human kind," he seemed to survey Geralt for a second before continuing, "Its name is Renfri."

Edith attempted to stop herself from reacting to that information, they knew Renfri. And from what they saw, Renfri was no monster. Just like how Edith was no monster. She watched Geralt's face for a reaction and was met with a blank canvas as his golden eyes seemed to scan Stregobor with distrust. Surely he wouldn't accept it, Edith came to the conclusion that this wizard was completely mental and probably psychopathic, too.

"Hm." Both Geralt and Edith watched Stregobor stride into the courtyard, the latter of the two following with reluctance. Edith watched as Stregobor's hands pick an apple from a tree before fiddling with it as if it was some sort of artifact to gaze upon.

"Destiny has many faces, Witcher. Mine, for example, is beautiful on the outside but hideous on the inside. She has stretched her bloody talons towards me."

Edith's eyebrows raised, "That sounds like a you problem, Stregobor."

"It will become an us problem if it's not resolved."

Edith wasn't convinced, "Sure."

Geralt's face hardened in annoyance, "Wizards are all the same. You talk nonsense while making wise and meaningful faces," His gaze burnt into Stregobor's, "speak normally. And you," he looked towards Edith, "Stop antagonizing him."

Edith stopped herself from poking her tongue out at him childishly, in fear he'd chop it off. Instead, she kept her mouth shut after a brief roll of her eyes. Sure, she was being a brat and she knew she was being a brat, but she liked Renfri. And she couldn't keep liking her if Stregobor had her head on a stick.

The apple in Stregobor's hand disappeared, "Have you ever heard of the Curse of the Black Sun?" Geralt didn't reply, "First full eclipse in 1,200 years. It marked the imminent return of Lilit, a demon goddess of the night sent to exterminate the human race.. According to the wise mage Eltibald, Lilit's path was to be prepared by 60 women wearing gold crowns who'd fill the river valleys with blood."

"So you want Geralt to kill Renfri to ease your paranoia?" Edith questioned, and was met with silence from Stregobor instead. His gaze stayed locked on the Witcher, waiting for his reply.

"Hm," he began, arm coming up to rest on the circular masoned stone next to him, "Doesn't rhyme. All good predictions rhyme."

Edith nodded towards him, "He has a point there."