Faelorn stood with his arms folded beside the crossroads sign, the wind tugging lightly at his cloak as the Scoia'tael gathered themselves for the road ahead.
It was just a road, a simple road and sohow it felt stranger than everything else they had survived.
The Scoia'tael had already begun moving. So of the younger elves were helping Yarvik walk despite his protests that he only had one missing arm and not two missing legs. Others were gathering supplies and quietly discussing their route toward Carreras and eventually Mahakam.
For the first ti since Sebastian had t them, they looked less like hunted fugitives and more like people with a destination.
Faelorn stood watching them for a mont before turning back toward Sebastian.
The elven commander folded his arms.
"Where can we find you again?"
Sebastian adjusted the newly gifted sword resting against his shoulder.
"If you ever need , send a letter to Novigrad."
Faelorn imdiately frowned.
"Novigrad.."
The way he said it sounded like soone ntioning a disease.
Sebastian laughed.
"Not a fan?"
"I cannot say I enjoy that city."
"I know soone there." Sebastian smiled. "His na's Dandelion."
That earned several confused looks.
"Dandelion?" Faelorn repeated. "The famous bard?"
"Yes, that's him."
For a mont, nobody spoke.
Then Lune stepped forward while looking down, even Sebastian looked slightly surprised.
The elven huntress had been avoiding eye contact ever since they left the swamp house.
Now she stood in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back, looking everywhere except at him.
Sebastian waited, Lune swallowed, then swallowed again, then looked like she wished a hole would open beneath her feet.
Faelorn imdiately recognized what was happening.
"Oh boy.."
Lune shot him a murderous look.
"Commander."
"What."
"COMMANDER.."
"Yeah, sorry I'll leave.."
Several Scoia'tael imdiately started grinning.
Yarvik looked delighted, Sebastian was beginning to understand.
Unfortunately for Lune, everyone else understood too.
She took a breath, then another and finally she looked up.
"Thank you."
Her voice ca out much quieter than intended.
Sebastian smiled.
"You already thanked ."
"I know."
"Then you're welco."
That clearly wasn't what she had rehearsed, Lune glared at him.
Sebastian raised both hands.
"Sorry."
The huntress sighed.
Then, before she could lose her courage, she stepped forward very quickly, almost faster than Sebastian could react and she leaned up and pressed a brief kiss against his cheek.
Then imdiately stepped back, her face and elf ears turned red.
The silence lasted exactly one second.
Then half the Scoia'tael exploded into laughter.
"Oh gods."
"No way."
"She actually did it."
"I owe soone three crowns."
Lune spun around.
"SHUT YOUR TRAPS, HALFWITS!"
The laughter only beca worse.
One unfortunate elf laughed a little too loudly.
Lune reached for her dagger.
He stopped laughing imdiately.
Faelorn pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Aen Seidhe, preserve ."
Yarvik nearly fell over.
"I lost my arm to the White Frost for this, not a bad trade."
Sebastian touched his cheek, looking mildly bewildered.
Then he looked at Lune, the huntress had completely abandoned the battle and was staring very aggressively at the ground.
He couldn't help smiling.
"Take care of yourself, Lune."
The elf glanced up briefly.
Just long enough for him to see the smile she was trying and failing to hide.
"You too, Seb."
Sebastian looked around at all of them.
The weary warriors, the young elves, the stubborn dwarf.
The commander who had beco a friend.
"We'll et again."
Faelorn snorted.
"You sound awfully confident."
"You already know ."
"Aye."
Then Sebastian took a step backward.
"Farewell, everyone."
One by one they answered.
"Farewell, Witcher."
"Good luck."
"Va fail."
"Safe travels."
Yarvik raised his remaining arm.
"If ye ever co to Mahakam, drinks are on pal."
Then Sebastian finally turned and began walking back down the road.
The evening breeze stirred his coat, and behind him, the Scoia'tael were already gathering themselves to continue their journey.
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
He hadn't known them for very long, yet leaving felt oddly difficult.
Perhaps because sowhere between the burning forest, the ancient ruins, the wraiths, the White Frost, and the endless argunts, they had stopped being strangers.
A voice suddenly called after him.
"Sebastian!"
He stopped and looked back.
Faelorn stood several dozen paces away.
The commander had one hand raised.
"By the way."
Sebastian waited.
Faelorn's lips curved into a smile. "Your secret is safe with ."
Sebastian blinked. 'My secret?'
Faelorn simply waved his hand in farewell.
The gesture was subtle, yet his gaze briefly drifted toward Sebastian's shoulder.
Toward the place where the silver arrow had wounded him beneath the ruins, toward the blood Faelorn had seen, toward the truth he had quietly pieced together and never spoken aloud.
Sebastian stared for a second, then realization ca.
"Did he..." he muttered.
Faelorn only smirked.
"Farewell, Witcher!"
Then he turned away before Sebastian could talk back.
The Scoia'tael followed their commander.
Within minutes they were already moving down the road toward their uncertain future.
Sebastian watched them go, then shook his head and he turned back toward the distant swamp house portal.
.
.
.
.
The first thing Sebastian noticed when he stepped back into the forest he burned was how normal it felt.
Other than the lingering stink of burned flesh and scorched armor, it was pretty normal.
The transition was so abrupt it almost felt insulting.
He stood still beneath the canopy for a mont, letting everything that just happened behind him. Sebastian exhaled slowly, watching his breath fog in the forest air.
"Right…" he muttered under his breath. "Back to reality."
He adjusted the sword on his back and started forward.
The forest had changed since he'd last walked it, the place where the Redanians had fallen to him was no longer quiet as voices carried through the trees.
Armor clinking, boots shifting over ash and broken bark.
Sebastian slowed instantly, his hand drifted closer to his sword out of instinct, but he didn't draw it. He moved instead like a shadow between trunks, keeping the wind in his favor, letting Witcher senses spread outward.
A small forward camp had been established near the clearing.
Redanian colors.
Fresh soldiers and investigators, he crouched behind a half-burned log, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched them.
They were speaking loudly enough for him to listen.
"...I'm telling you, it weren't n who did this or the bloody elves.." one of them said. "No bandits do that to twenty trained soldiers. Not like that."
Another spat into the dirt.
"Then what? Monsters? Here in the middle of nowhere? Don't make laugh, twenty armored n are more than enough to deal with monsters."
"You didn't see the captain," the first soldier insisted. "Face carved open like glass, armor lted in his body and a clean cut through his mouth..."
A third older solider cut in.
"The cuts are too clean... a werewolf perhaps?! But I've never heard of a werewolf that burns people...."
That silenced them slightly.
Sebastian tilted his head a fraction, listening.
The older soldier continued slower, choosing each word carefully.
"We found scorch marks all over the treeline. Bodies burned black, so cut clean in half and others…" A pause. Even from here, Sebastian could hear the discomfort. "Others looked like they were hit by sothing that didn't care what armor they wore."
A younger soldier muttered, uneasy.
"So what are we dealing with? Scoia'tael? Sorcerer work?"
"Those tree fuckers could only wish they could do sothing like this... but aye, it could be a sorcerer..." the older one said quietly.
Sebastian almost smiled at that.
The wind shifted slightly, and a soldier near the edge of the camp glanced in Sebastian's direction.
He froze instantly.
Sebastian didn't move.
Didn't breathe any louder than necessary.
The soldier frowned.
"…Damn this wind," he muttered to himself.
Sebastian slowly eased backward into the trees.
"Better not get involved further," he murmured under his breath.
And he ant it.
He turned away from the camp and slipped deeper into the forest, footsteps silent, presence dissolving into shadow and leaf.
Let them have their mystery, let them fear it.
By the ti the burned village ca into view again, dusk was settling low over the broken rooftops.
The Redanian camp had expanded here too, tents, torches, supply crates stacked in rough order. Horses tied near collapsed fences. Soldiers moving with that uneasy energy of n stationed too close to sothing they didn't understand.
'Shit they got my horse as well...' Sebastian slowed at the edge of the village.
Then stopped entirely, he stood at the tree line, half-hidden, watching.
The soldiers were talking again, voices more relaxed now that they felt safe behind walls and numbers.
Or what passed for walls here.
One of them sat on an overturned crate, gesturing with a mug.
"I'm telling you, it weren't Scoia'tael," he said again. "They don't leave nothing like that."
"Then what does?" another snapped.
The first soldier hesitated.
"…A demon?" he offered, uncertain.
That got a few laughs.
"Drink less next ti."
"I'm serious!"
/-\\
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