The chort came at Seb again, massive and maddened, its wounded flank streaming smoke, and this time Seb did not dodge away he stood his ground, planted his feet in the churned, blood-soaked earth, and let it come.
"Seb!" Geralt's shout carried real alarm.
The beast's claws swept through him, through him, its talons passing through fire where flesh should have been, meeting no resistance at all. The chort staggered, confusion breaking through its animal fury, small eyes darting, its next swing even more desperate, more wild, as it swiped again and again at a shape that would not break, would not bleed, would not fall. It bellowed in something that might, in a beast, have passed for fear.
Seb held perfectly still through it all, arms loose at his sides, letting the creature exhaust itself against him and then, in the space between one wild swing and the next, he moved, dropping low and driving both palms flat against the chort's forelegs. Flame poured out of him in a controlled, brutal wave, wrapping around them, and the beast's legs buckled beneath it with a sound like green wood splitting, its massive weight crashing down, pinned now, thrashing, unable to rise.
"Now, Geralt!"
Geralt was already moving, vaulting up onto the chort's heaving flank before it could so much as twist away, scrambling along its spine and he reached the base of its skull, silver blade already falling in one clean, merciless stab, driven straight down through bone into whatever passed for a chort's brain. The beast shuddered once beneath him, a great, rattling breath, and went still.
Geralt slid down off its flank, boots hitting the bloodied earth, and turned to find Seb already straightening from his crouch, fire fading from his skin. "Good work," Geralt said with a smile.
"You too," Seb answered, wiping dirt and sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
Geralt studied him a moment longer than the compliment required, something thoughtful crossing his face. "I noticed you're dodging more than you used to when you fought the nekkers and the foglets."
Seb let out a short, humorless breath, glancing down at his own hands as though they belonged to someone else. "Learned that the hard way, I suppose. You never know what you might face out there. Figured it's better not to be reckless anymore." Something flickered behind his eyes.
"Good," Geralt said simply, "Vesemir will be glad to hear it."
Seb's mouth curved into a tired, genuine smile and then, over Geralt's shoulder, movement caught his eye. The wall of flame around the druids was guttering, the chanting slowing to its final cadence, and Ermion's voice rang out across the clearing, rough with exhaustion but unmistakably triumphant.
"Geralt! Sebastian!"
Seb dropped the ring of fire at once, the flames collapsing inward and vanishing as though they had never been, and both men crossed the churned earth toward the ancient oak, where Ermion stood swaying slightly on his feet, the artifact clutched tight in both trembling hands.
"It is done," the old druid said, and only then did his gaze sweep past them, taking in the carnage scattered across the clearing, the smoking chort corpse, the scorched and broken forms of nekkers, the drifting last wisps of dissolved foglets. His brows rose. "It drew that much vermin? Gods. I anticipated this would attract some, but this.."
"Forget the monsters," Geralt cut in, low and urgent. "Can this work, Ermion?"
Ermion turned his gaze from Geralt to the ring of druids still standing solemn and spent around him, then back again, and something steadied in his weathered face, resolve settling over exhaustion. "Of course it will," he said. "For I promised you it would."
"Great," Seb said, already stepping closer. "Then please, open the portal now."
"Listen to me carefully, boy." Ermion's voice sharpened, cutting through Seb's urgency. "I believe your mask carries far greater power than this artifact of mine. I fear this.. this will only open a single way through. One crossing, and then it will be spent. A meaningless trinket, after. It will not work a second time."
"That's fine," Seb said without a moment's hesitation, "so long as it opens onto Tir na Lia. I'm certain.. more certain than I've been of anything that she's there. Please. It doesn't matter if it's one way."
"Do you understand what I am telling you, boy?" Ermion's eyes held his, grave and unflinching. "You will need to find your own way back once you're through. You'll be entirely on your own. The same holds for you, Geralt, should you choose to follow him."
"We'll figure something out," Geralt said, and there was no hesitation in it either, only the flat certainty of a man who had walked into worse odds before.
"Yes," Seb said. "Just do it. I'm ready."
Ermion studied them both a long moment, something almost sorrowful in his old eyes, before he nodded. "Very well. But not here. As you can see, we've defiled this place far more than we ought already."
Before following, Seb turned back toward the scattered dead, raising a hand, and with a low sweep of flame he burned the corpses of the nekkers, the foglets' faded remains, and the great chort itself down to ash and cinder, the fire clean and thorough and entirely without cruelty. "It's the least I can do," he said, half to himself.
"It's fine," Ermion said, watching him with approval. "You kept your word. You did not harm the forest, nor the Oak. And now I shall keep mine, so follow me."
He raised his staff, and the air split open before them, pale light spilling out into the dusk. "Through here."
"Lovely," Geralt said, already stepping forward despite himself. "Another portal."
Seb said nothing at all, and simply walked through.
They emerged onto a windswept mountain peak, snow stretching in every direction, the distant sea barely visible far below through drifting cloud. "Here," Ermion said, breathing hard from the crossing, his robes already whipping in the bitter wind. "A proper place. Far from any soul who might stumble upon what we're about to do."
He knelt in the snow and laid the artifact down with reverent care, then drove his staff into the frozen ground beside it. Light gathered along its length, and his voice rose in Elder Speech, ancient and resonant, each word seeming to cost him something. The artifact began to glow, brighter and brighter, until it lifted from the snow entirely, hovering, spinning slow in the air and then a column of pure white light tore upward through the sky, splitting the clouds, and within it, a portal opened, vast and shivering, offering a glimpse of some other world entirely.
Ermion staggered, one hand pressed hard against his staff to keep himself upright, sweat freezing on his brow despite the cold. "NOW HURRY! I CANNOT HOLD IT OPEN LONG!"
Seb and Geralt exchanged one final glance with no words needed, only a shared nod and together they leapt through the light.
"Thank you," Seb called back, just before the portal swallowed him whole. "Truly, Thank you Ermion."
And then they were gone, the column of light collapsing in on itself with a sound like a struck bell, the portal sealing shut behind them.
Ermion sank to his knees in the snow, spent beyond words, his staff the only thing keeping him from collapsing fully. The wind howled across the empty mountaintop, carrying away the last traces of magic into the air. "Just bring the child back," he whispered to no one at all, to the cold and the silence and the stars beginning to show through the torn clouds above. "Otherwise, I will not be able to face Calanthe in the afterlife.."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch: In One Piece / Shadow Monarch in DC
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my pat-reon / FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to More Chapters Ahead of Release on All of My Stories!