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The dwarves didn’t know what they were saying. ‘I’m sorry.’ What the hell did they mean ‘I’m sorry’?! They said that the young woman he was looking for was lying cold as ice just behind that door. They didn’t know what they were saying. He knew Ciri. She was tricking them. Biding her time so when the moment was right, she would leave.
But why didn’t it feel right?
The dwarves had left him alone standing outside the door that’ll lead him directly to Ciri. She was right there. All he had to do was step forward. The moonlight cast an ominous glow into the wooden cabin. Thanks to his mutations, he didn’t need the light to see. His sharp yellow eyes could see even the smallest details.
His eyes caught Ciri’s body facing away from the door on the small wooden bed. She was sleeping. All he had to do was shake her awake, and take her away from this enchanted island.
But why couldn’t his body move?
Fuck it all. He was a witcher. They were stripped of all feeling. They had no fear. He had no fear.
So why was his heart pounding so hard, he could practically feel it through his chest?
He took a few steps forward. Hoping they were loud enough for Ciri to stir a little out of her sleep.
She didn’t move.
He took a few more steps, just hoping that by the time he was there she would feel his presence.
She still didn’t move. She laid on the old cot, still and unmoving like she was…he didn’t want to think of it. Not his Ciri. She was just tricking him. She had to be. She loved to play pranks and jokes, especially when she was younger, but this wasn’t fucking funny.
He laid a light hand on her shoulder and turned her around. The breath that he was holding suffocated him. Limp. Cold. He knew what death looked like. He’d seen it countless times, but this…this he didn’t want to believe.
That couldn’t be his Ciri. Not his little girl. His cub.
He gathered her cold body into his arms, straining his ears for a heartbeat, hoping and believing that his body, his energy, would transfer to her so that she’d wake up. She hung limply over his shoulder, his dread sinking deeper with each movement.
A strangled cry left his lips, but no tears dripped from his cheeks. Gods this was more painful than anything he’d every experienced. He didn’t want to let her go, because if he did he’d have to face his fear that Ciri was gone.
He hated fate. He hated destiny. He hated himself.
It couldn’t be all for nothing. Destiny couldn’t be this fucking cruel taking his child away from him. This was his Ciri, his child surprise that he’d come to love as his own.
This can’t be the end.
“Ciri,” Geralt whispered painfully as he held her close.