Witcher of Vengerberg

I am a ghost.

I am a destroyer.

I am fear.

I am Aamon.

But I wasn't always this way.

I was born in Vengerberg, into a family that had little besides each other. We were poor, like most around us, but as a child, I never cared.

Then my little sister was born.

From the moment I held her, I had a purpose.

Protect her.

She was different. The world was cruel to her, so I promised I would always be there. That no matter what came for her, it would have to go through me first.

She believed me.

So did I.

But I failed.

I lost her.

And that day, something inside me died too.

Years passed. The frightened boy from Vengerberg disappeared. In his place rose a Viper-a Witcher shaped by blood, shadows and poison.

Eventually, people forgot my name.

They simply called me...

The Ghost.

But decades later, whispers reached my ears.

A powerful sorceress.

Raven-black hair.

Violet eyes.

And a name I thought I would never hear again.

Yennefer of Vengerberg.

My little sister was dead.

...wasn't she?