Reincarnation ➵ The Witcher

xxxv.

"SIX years ago, stable hands started vanishing at the castle above the city," Triss explained, and Edith's gaze was focused on the contents of the room, "Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all of Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried."

They followed behind, and Edith would be lying if she would say she was listening to what Triss was saying, "Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

They came to a stop, Triss turning to face them as a question formed in Geralt's mind, "Was she pregnant?"

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married," Geralt debated her words, and Edith held in a yawn, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations," he stated, watching as Edith fiddled with some herbs over at one of the tables in boredom, "They can't be cured."

"Good thing it's not a vukodlak."

Confusion swept across Geralt's face, eyebrows furrowed as Edith smelt some of the herbs, "What's this?" She questioned, raising the herb for Triss to view.

"Rosemary." She replied simplistically, and Edith shrugged her shoulders, pushing the plant into her small pocket.

Geralt watched her movements, golden irises glowing within the candle light, "Put it back, Edith." He rasped, and watched as she hesitantly placed the now crushed plant back where she found it, but not before shooting daggers at him.

Triss began to lead them down a hallway, and as Geralt left to follow her she grabbed the plant once again in rebellion before trailing a distance behind.

"Two thousand orens if you can tell me what exactly killed these people."

Edith caught up, eyes widening at the sight of the dead buried in sand. She watched as Geralt approached a man with his eyes gouged out and a nasty cut across his face. He reached for the pendant, taking it with a grim expression, "You didn't want the people to know that it bested a witcher." His jaw clenched in anger, "And you let them believe that he fled with their coin."

Edith watched as Geralt began digging into the sand with his gloved fingers, and grimaced in disgust as his hands entered his chest, "Never knew you were a graverobber as well a witcher, Geralt."

He greeted her with silence, hands removing themself after he was done with the observation, "His heart's missing along with his liver. Only one creature I know is that picky an eater." His lips pursed, "A striga."

"Strigas are old wives' tales."

"They're very rare." Geralt informed, "The only way to make one is through a curse."

Edith's mind debated Geralt's words, "Well, shit. Does that mean someone wanted Adda dead?"

"Mm-hmm but the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster."

Triss was alarmed at the words, "Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female." Geralt stated, sighing slightly with his golden eyes downcasted in thought, "The striga's a princess."

Edith's mind wandered, looking around at the multiple dead bodies in slight disgust.

"Is that what killed these people?"

"Hm."

Edith's brown irises locked onto him, a surge of panic urging her body into overdrive, "What if it kills you as well? What will I do then?"

"Stay with Triss." Geralt instructed, and Edith's anger spiked. His golden irises looked down at her in an attempt to comfort, but it didn't work. Triss stayed to the side, watching the argument unfold in silence.

"I'm coming with you, Geralt."

He let out a small laugh, gazing down at her at the statement, "Don't be stupid, girl." His head tilted to the side in a patronizing manner, in a feat to steer her away from her thoughts, "You'll get yourself killed."

Edith's eyebrows raised in rebellion, "I've handled just fine so far, haven't I?"

"Hardly." Geralt spat, and Edith's anger dissolved into desolation. White haired prick.

She understood his words loud and clear, but that didn't mean she had to like them. Edith feared the unknown, and her staying locked up away from the action would cripple that fear into an anxiety that would claw at her mind. In simpler terms, she was worried for Geralt. Hell, the creature had already massacred one witcher, another one didn't seem like too much of a difficulty.