A foreign sun crests the horizon over a beautiful, restful land. A land that could be said to come straight out of fairy tale, ruled by a fair and beautiful maiden with gallant knights at her call. This is the Duchy of Toussaint. Located deep in the Empire of Nilfgaard, far from the war torn lands of the Northern Kingdoms. It is a land recently beset not by war, but by a terror in the darkness. As dawn rises, it comes so at a relief of many who are piecing together their lives and their city in the wake of vampiric attack.

The grand castle of the Toussaint Monarchy, Beauclair Palace, looms above the sprawling capital city; beautiful and majestic. It gives the fable-like atmosphere of the land all the more legitimacy, for it appears like it emerged straight out of a storybook. Sparkling white stone greets the morning sun on a world where none see to its rise, the orange rooftops shining and standing tall in the wake of such destruction that has been known in the land of late. The Beast of Beauclair was dead, and there is peace once more in the land.

Craftsmen are busy setting to work repairing ruined and burned buildings, as the sunrise greets a crowd of mourners visiting the local graveyard. Wailing and sobbing can be heard, but so to can the sounds of celebration and revelry from the plazas, inns, and taverns of the city as dawn welcomes the new day. While this land has suffered from the events of the last weeks, they emerge from the dark with the stalwart air of a people who celebrate the wonder of the life they have been given. Goblets of a morning's wine are raised in toast to the sun and to those who fell, and those who stood, and to above all the one who saved the land from the beasts of the dark.

Above it all, the vast Mt. Gorgon looms, a peak far higher then any mortal could climb, its snow covered top looming majestically, looking down upon a land once more... at peace.

Across the forests and fields the land was warm and golden. Past vineyards and orchards, past the great statue of the Prophet Lebioda recently erected with the care and work of the people of Toussaint, between the river Sansretour and the large lake called the Seidhe Llygad, and just northeast of the grand Tourney Grounds of Beauclair where knights proved their mettle and grand celebrations were held... rests a vineyard.

It was a smaller vineyard of the many dotting the land, but it was well kept and well maintained. Rows of ripe, plump grapes glistened and gleamed on the vine, and already the first barrels and casks were being produced and sealed away in the cellars underneath, a new generation of Sepremento laid to rest. Already the inhabitants of the vineyard were moving about, heading out to the vines or moving to take care of needful tasks here and there. Children could be seen darting about, playing games of 'Knights and Vampires', with one carrying a long wooden sword another pretending to have long rending claws on his fingers. Their laughter and games a joyful sound in the morning light.

The manor house lies above the vineyard itself and the outbuildings that serve as homes for the servants and staff, a glittering white coloration marking its name; Corvo Bianco. Built on the ruins of an elven settlement, its history was long and ancient. And now, thanks to the current owner, in more pristine condition then it had been in years. A grand gift from the Duchess to the one who saved her land and her people, and her long lost sister, the vineyard was a home that the current owner had never expected to have beyond the great keep of Kaer Morhen.

A loud cracking sound split the morning air, coupled with a clattering thunk of wood falling to earth. The woosh of an axe being swung through the air with skill. Care and battle worn hands bent to work and gathering large sections of cut logs which he is separating into pieces of firewood.

The man standing before the stump of a tree is tall, yet not a mountain of a man. Still his shoulders are broad under the leather he wears, with a strong, fit frame formed from one who has spent many long years on the Path. His body does not betray the fact that he is older then even the oldest folk on the vineyard, save perhaps for his silvery hair which stands stark white in the morning sun. One gloved hand reaches for and grips another thick piece of log, setting it just so on the stump with practiced ease, before he brings his hand down to join the other on the haft of the large axe at his side. A weapon yes, but not one of war. A simple felling and wood splitting axe, designed for the task at hand rather then carving into the flesh or carapace of monsters.

Geralt of Rivia, Witcher, and so much more, was dressed in simple garb this morn. With no expected conflict, he wore only a white silken shirt and sleek black trousers of an equally soft fabric. A gift from Yennefer, who had grown tired of him wearing leather and metal to their restful moments rather quickly. They weren't quite the finery that the taciturn witcher despised, but served as everyday clothing for the simple moments between them.... and considering the multiple suits of armor adorning the racks and displays in his home, the comfort of leather and steel was only a short distance away if it was required. Yet still, he kept his blades close. Beside him two pristine blades lay sheathed as he worked, both hidden away in scabbards. Each storied and important to him, and he carried them with him ever close should the need arise. And it did. Often. The world, and Toussaint itself, was not yet so peaceful that a Witcher could afford to go unarmed, even on his own land.

How strange that seemed to him in that moment as his golden eyes drifted over the demesne. A slow smile formed on his lips, fond and proud at the same moment before he raised the axe once more and brought it down with a loud crack and splinter of wood as the half-log was split cleanly in half.

"Sir Geralt, must you really insist on performing such... menial tasks... by your own hand? The winter months are coming soon, but if you wished firewood placed in the manor, you needed only have requested it," came a rather clipped, if pleasant, voice from over the Witcher's shoulder. A tall, bald-headed human wearing fine shaded spectacles had strolled up as the Witcher worked. His voice carried a flawless hint of the aristocratic conviviality, as did his mannerisms. In his perfectly set vest with an immaculate white ruff around his throat and stylish, pristinely cared for clothing.

A grunt came from the Witcher even as he withdrew the axe from the stump, turning his head to look toward his majordomo with a look of surly contentment, "Barnabas-Basil. Good morning. And I told you, if we're going to continue this relationship for as long as I intend to be here, you're going to have to get used to my... eccentricities." The last word was said with a faint smirk on his face, even as he picked up another log section and placed it on the stump with a heavy thump.

This provoked a wince from the prim Majordomo, then a put-upon sigh, "Aaaah, of course, my lord. As your humble servant it would behoove me simply to just... grin and bear it?" The words were said with not even a hint of mocking tonality, yet the Witcher could feel the teasing come from every dry word coming from the butler's lips.

In reply, the Witcher smirked, "Cut the 'my lords' and 'sirs' too." The axe rose and fell once again, even as Barnabas-Basil winced a second time.

The majordomo replied, his every word dripping with such proper decorum it couldn't be anything but mocking, "Of course. Would you prefer any of your other, many titles?" He cleared his throat, beginning to recite a rather... extensive list of noble titles and airs forced upon Geralt by the nobility of Toussaint, and others earned for earlier deeds and misdeeds, including 'Butcher', 'Champion', 'Landholder', 'Knight of Toussaint', 'Savior of the Realm', and many more both couth and uncouth. It took only moments to provoke a bark of amusement from the Witcher even as he released the handle of the axe and turned to face his Majordomo.

"Enough! Enough. Round to you, B.B.," he said with a fond smile on his lips as he extended his hand to clasp that of his Majordomo in a fond shake. It was a game that both had begun to play with one another in the months of their acquaintance. Every time Geralt tried to play the put-upon false noble card, B.B. would counter with a level of butlerian snide that was unassailable.

"I believe that makes the score at-," B.B. was about to tease further while Geralt raised his hand to still him with a pained look.

"I know you're winning, B.B., no need to rub it in."

A warm smile broke the facade of Barnabas-Basil's expression, and he fondly inclining his head to his friend, "I still must say, sir, you remain one of the most... pleasant and unique... members of the gentry that I have ever served."

This further reminder of his legitimate status as a member of Toussaint's noble class gave the Witcher a look of pain once again. But, with a sigh, he allowed himself to relax into the reality. A fact he only needed to be reminded of every... other day or so.

He WAS getting better.

He was!

"Enough then. So, how is Marlene?," questioned the Witcher with a look of pointed curiosity. There was a hint of teasing in his words, as well as sincere interest. Ever since rescuing the once baron's daughter from her curse, her continued presence in Corvo Bianco had been a boon. Her culinary skills were excellent, despite her years as a Spotted Wight. And while initially her appearance was a haggard and old woman, once she had recovered from the majority of the effects of curse, she had begun to restore herself and put both meat back on her bones and regain femininity lost in the years of her curse.

Barnabas-Basil cleared his throat slightly, a look of vague discomforted crossing his features, "She is quite well, Geralt. Lady Yennefer's magical treatments have done wonders to allow her to resume a more normal existence after the horrors she witnessed and experienced."

Geralt's look was knowing. Yennefer herself had taken the woman under her tender care once she had moved into the estate, offering and practicing a level of magic upon the victimized woman that allowed her to retake some of her lost years. When Yen had finished, Marlene had turned out to be rather striking, and her close friendship with Barnabas-Basil had turned into something more. Marlene had moved into the Majordomo's home on the property and the pair had been seen walking out and sharing very happy times together.

"It makes me happy to hear that, B.B. For all she has suffered, she needs your kind of stability in her life. You make a great pair," intoned Geralt with real pleasure in his words, and satisfaction. Happy endings were rare in his line of work, and seeing the victim of such a hideous curse find some joy with such a good friend filled him with a subtle pride.

For his part, the Majordomo's cheeks had colored slightly and he cleared his throat with some abashedness, "Moving on. I see the lady Yennefer has finally finished removing the scars from your encounter with the vampiress..." He motioned to Geralt's left cheek and neck. A small shot sent back the way of his master in turn.

Rather then responding with similar emotion, Geralt's amusement rose, "As she said 'The only woman's claw marks allowed to be seen on your body, Geralt of Rivia, are mine.'"

Responding with a butler's reserved chortle, Barnabas-Basil nodded, "That is our Lady Yennefer for you... and why hasn't she done the same for your facial scar and the others?" He asked this with real concern. In his mind, a Lord would usually strive for a perfection of features usually only available through magical means. And with Geralt romantically involved with such a legendary and powerful sorceress, the Majordomo had long assumed she would do the same for Geralt.

Geralt slowly shook his head in response, "She actually rather enjoys my scars. Says they add character, and that she wouldn't know what to do with me if I was the baby-faced youth I was when we first met." This is said with a hint of mockery in turn. At no point in his life had the Witcher ever been such a thing, but his years of life and long road had certainly marked him over the last years. Geralt, himself, wouldn't have it any other way. "Yen was just rather particular about that one."

The Butler nodded, folding his arms behind his back as his right hand took his left wrist in a relaxed pose, "Considering who gave it to you, I am honestly glad to see that you will not be carrying a reminder of that... child killer... for the rest of your days." Distaste and anger was in his words. After the fall of the Beast of Beauclair, other vampires and their... proclivities... were rooted out of society. Geralt himself felt a pang of remorse. If he had chosen to go after Orianna that fateful night, perhaps he could have stopped her then. Instead he had taken a different route, and by the time he went to looking the former high society figure had vanished into the night.

That was, until he had found her.

That had been a night to remember...

Shaking his head, Geralt turned back to the stump and gripped the axe, as Barnabas-Basil considered him. He watched Geralt raise and lower the axe another time before commenting over the clattering of falling wood, "Would you be needing anything special ordered today, sir? Or will it remain business as usual?"

Geralt paused in picking up the pieces of fresh firewood, "Could you place an order for some more bottles of White Wolf from Liam and Matilda?" The story behind the heirs of two of the largest vineyards in Toussaint breaking off their familial feud and finding love had become a popular tale, along with his role in it. It made him quite pleased that in these days he would not have to ask for their first born child in payment... settling instead for bottles of the wine they had named for him in honor of the uniting of their vineyards and the solving of the conspiracy to drive them both out of business. It helped that both Yen and himself had quickly found the wine to be one of their favorite locally produced vintages, topping even that his own vineyard produced.

B.B. clicked his heels smartly, "Of course. I will send a runner at once. With their speedy service and your continued friendship, they likely will fast courier some over by tomorrow."

Geralt nodded, "Could you see if you could get one by tonight? I have some plans to celebrate with Yen." He added this by way of explanation. The axe was swung again, this time simply burying into the empty stump. "I have some potion brewing to do." He had used the last of his supplies of Black Blood in the fight with Orianna, and rumors of another rogue vampire in the north parts of Toussaint had reached his ears. It was only a matter of time before a contract was posted, and he wanted to be ready. "And make sure to send some bottles of Sepremento in kind," he included, even as he added with a hint of sadness in his voice, "I hear Matilda is expecting and Liam will be sure to want to celebrate."

There wasn't a day that went by that either himself or the woman he loved did not regret the fact that they could not have children together. Ciri had been everything they could have hoped for in a daughter, but both of them had long ago resigned to their mutual fates. His sterility from the witcher mutations, her barren womb from her awakening as a sorceress.

B.B. smiled with fond understanding, and nodded in acknowledgment, "It will be done. I leave you to your day, sir." With that the proper Majordomo turned trotting off to set the affairs of the vineyard in order... and to spend some time with Marlene.

Out amongst the outbuildings and resident quarters of the vineyard, the children continued to play. Their laughter marking a bright and happy moment in a day that was soon to turn... very dark indeed.

Another world, another dawn.

Celestia's sun rose in slow majesty over the land of Equestria, drawn from the far side of the world in its slow, majestic spin around the stationary world of Equus. With it came the setting of the moon, slipping into silent, lonely slumber and sent around to continue its march across the far side of the world over lands unknown and uncharted to ponykind.

And for the first time in years, the moon was sent to bed without the presence of its Mistress...

For a thousand years Princess Celestia had maintained the orbit of both heavenly spheres alone, and to do so again without the guidance of her sister after regaining her from the darkness sent a wave of grief through the majestic ruler of the Diarach. Lavender eyes watched it go with sadness, even as her thoughts were filled with the night's events. With the morning there would be questions, as many compared notes about the strange, lucid dream they had all shared. Equus as a whole would come to understand that whatever had happened, it was an experience that they had all come to share.

Her heavenly mane of sky blue, aquamarine, and pink rippled in silence, as the Princess of the Sun stood deep in thought at the terrace where both she and her sister usually stood for such intimate moments as fulfilling their duty and talent. Bringing life and care to the inhabitants of their world, and sharing quiet and heartfelt love for one another as the celestial spheres did their dance.

Celestia's thoughts ran deep, her mind churning with the images she had seen. After so many long years, a human visage had been seen in Equestria... and the cost of it had been great. Yet despite the suffering it had caused, she could not help but feel mixed emotions. Long ago, three young humans had come to their world on the backs of pegasi, flying over the rainbow itself to bring Harmony to the world. The vision of this new human, and the monstrous woman he had fought, elicited emotion of many kinds, from hope to fear to doubt to joy. She thought of his face, care worn and scarred. And his eyes, so different then those of those of any other human, even though of the kind through the Mirror, filled her with strange emotion all its own.

Long had her sister and she known of Starswirl's Mirror, and while the humans beyond it were not as she had known, they were fascinatingly mirrored beings of Equestria. A parallel world in the many in the cosmos, but clearly not the one their original benefactors had come from. It had been Starswirl's original objective to find the world where that kind, blond haired girl and her siblings had returned to. Perhaps bridge the gap of space and time and allow a reunion of friendship and family to reform.

It made her sad that it was seemingly not to be.

A sigh escaped her, even as she rose to all four hooves. Turning, she trotted slowly towards the shared antechamber that served as the breakfast nook for herself and her sister, her ethereal mane and tail rippling behind her as she walked with slow, regal strides. Carefully she constructed her mask as she moved, the care worn sadness on her features, the grief, the worry, the doubt. All were washed away in the mask of regal perfection she forced herself to wear in moments like this. She could not trouble her little ponies by showing her how troubled she truly was.

She was joined in moments by Raven Inkwell, her ever loyal aide.

"Good morning, Princess," gently spoke the smaller mare. Unlike many, she was fully informed of the current situation. "Lord Starswirl is with your sister, as you requested. He is doing what he can for her, along with the Royal Physicians, but the magical exhaustion that is affecting her is being exacerbated by whatever magic that caused last night's little show."

Celestia turned her head, giving Raven a gentle nuzzle which startled the smaller mare, but was quickly returned, "Thank you, Raven. And the messages?"

Raven nodded, examining her clipboard, "Princess Cadenza is on her way. Prince Armor is seeing to the care of the Empire while she is gone. She left immediately after receiving your message after you took your sister to her rooms. She will be here very shortly and intends to teleport as soon as she is in range. Prince Armor will see to it that whatever trouble last night's events cause in the Empire will be contained and their people calmed."

Celestia nods, her wings settling to her sides, "How about the Ambassadors?"

Again checking her clipboard, Raven speaks smartly as her tail flicks, "Only the Griffon Ambassador is in residence, and will attend you this morning. The ambassadors from the Minotaur, Zebra, and Thorax's Changelings are not in residence and messages have been sent by dragonfire crystals requesting they attend as soon as may be."

Another gentle nod given, the Princess trots to her usual place in the breakfast nook, "A pity about the Changelings and Minotaurs, I would have really liked their input on the meeting. The Zebra might take last night as a prophetic dream, and thanks to Luna little more then that. Perhaps one of the Shaman might understand the nature of last night's attack, but few else. As to the... other... Ambassador. I have tended to that personally."

Raven gives a slight wince at the mention of the other ambassador, even as she makes a note on her clipboard. "And Princess Twilight?"

Celestia smiles a fond smile, "I already sent a message to her via Spike. She should be arriving as soon as she gathers her friends." A pause, "I will have to make a note to ask her if she could send a message to Sunset Shimmer. She might be in another world, but she is still of this one. I do not know if she was affected, but perhaps--"

A bright magenta flash of light cuts off the Solar Diarach as the small lavender alicorn herself appears in a sudden flash of light. It is followed in only moments by the smaller shape positively hurling herself into the larger alicorn with a cry of, "Princess!"

Celestia, not seemingly phased in the slightest, catches Twilight in a sudden and fierce embrace. Her great white wings spreading to both cushion the impact and gently embrace her dearest student to her. Her head dips, and the two share a private and intimate moment of mutual reassurance before they part, "Dear Twilight... I'm glad you made it."

Twilight, feathers ruffled and body still looking worn out from a night's restless recording of every little detail of the dream, responds with her usual exuberance, "Oh Princess... Last night was so confusing... and terrible. I've tried to make sense of it, but I just can't. It wasn't an attack from a nightmare from the Dreamscape, nor was it some kind of psychic intrusion... and those images! That fight! I can't understand what happened. And poor Princess Luna,--"

Celestia gently cuts off her student with a gilded hoof to her muzzle, "I know, Twilight. Starswirl and I both have been trying to figure out what happened. Its left us completely at a loss."

Twilight, gently shaking her head, settles back onto her haunches as she looks up, "How... how is Luna?"

Celestia closes her eyes, her voice quiet and soft, "In a coma. Her magical exhaustion was immense. She has reverted back to the more pure form, like she was after you and the others cleansed her of the Nightmare. Starswirl is using his techniques to help her recover, as are the Physicians... but the magic of the attack is still lingering in her body."

Twilight bows her head, shuddering, "The feeling of it was so... wrong. It came... across the same flow of magic as the power of Harmony does when we tap into the Elements. I couldn't do anything to protect myself, or anyone else. I... I should have--"

Celestia shakes her head, nuzzling at her student's ears, "Be at ease, Twilight. It was ever Luna's domain to be the Mistress of Dreams, as is fitting. Your powers do not run along the same lines as hers do. I, too, was helpless before the vision. Try as I might, I was locked in slumber and forced to feel it slip through the very bonds of Harmony to all my little ponies..."

Twilight looks up sharply, "It-It wasn't your fault either, Princess. I mean, I even went to the Tree last night... it looked... well." She shakes her head.

Celestia, looking deeply concerned, prompts gently, "What did it look like, Twilight?"

Twilight winces, "...I can't really describe it but..." Her voice drops into a whisper, "...like it was afraid."

Celestia blinks, then murmurs, "How--- how could it look afraid?"

With a helpless look, Twilight responds, "I don't know. The Tree was trembling softly. The Elements were glowing like they were active and ready to protect the Tree."

Celestia gives one sharp inhale, then lets it out, "So the very thing that binds us, binds our world together, was somehow used to convey this vision to us..."

Twilight shakes her head, "I-- I know you said I should have gotten the others and came by train. But I wanted to see you first. I'll go back and get them. I-- couldn't wait to see you after last night, when I read your message. I had Spike go and start contacting everyone after he woke up Starlight so everyone will be at the Castle when I get back."

Celestia smiles an understanding and benevolent smile to the mare she helped raise from foalhood, feeling nothing more then a deep, motherly affection for this child not of her blood, "Its alright, Twilight. I understand. The nightmare scared me too."

By this time, the ever dutiful Raven has already withdrawn, leaving the two Alicorns alone. And in those quiet moments, there was nothing but peace between them as they let the darkness of the night before wash away in the warmth of one another's company. Instinct, emotion, and shared experience allowing the two of them to draw strength from one another in those intimate moments. It filled Celestia and Twilight both with memories of the latter's youth, and the times when Celestia had held the young filly as she trembled from fear in the night.

Their quiet moment is interrupted by mutual growls. Growls that make both blink, look at each other, then erupt into laughter. "It seems breakfast is in order," speaks the Solar Princess with gentle warmth as her horn flickers into a gentle glow. A small cord in a niche is covered in the golden light of her magic and is pulled, causing a bell to ring outside for the duty servers. "We both must be strong for the coming storm. And perhaps it is better that your friends wait for you in your castle. That way you can all be on hand if the Map delivers a warning. With Spike there a message can be gotten to us quickly enough for you to return home and gather the troops."

Twilight nods, moving away from her mentor and taking a seat beside her. Her smaller wings remain in contact with Celestia's larger, both of them taking comfort in each other's continued presence in the wake of events and the word of Luna's continued situation. "You're probably right. Its likely for the best. Would you please send Spike a message for me? I want to make sure they don't all charge up here now."

Celestia, ever benevolent in her grace, nods in turn, "Of course, Twilight. It would be my pleasure."

The doors to the breakfast nook open, and server ponies quickly trot into the room carrying platters of pancakes, eggs, and hash browns as attentive ponies quickly set the table for both Princesses and begin to serve tea and pour fresh squeezed orange juice. A cavalcade of multicolored ponies in their white chef's outfits and two swiftly moving maids quickly tending to their needs.

"I could really use some coffee right now...," moans Twilight softly, and as if on queue, a softly pink figure trots in through the open doors, her purple, magenta, and blond tri-color mane and tail swirling behind her with the speed of her movements.

"You and me both, Twili. You and me both," quips the Princess of Love and Empress of the Crystal Empire, "Hello, Auntie!"

Twilight, beaming, calls out, "Cadance!" And with complete abandon, she raises her wings to give a gentle flap, sending herself flying over to the taller mare and both perform their ever adorable greeting. Much to the chagrin of the watching servers and maids. And the gentle, loving smile of Princess Celestia fills the room with contentment.

Sunshine sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!

"Hello, my dear niece. Come. Join us. We have much to talk about and plan," greets Celestia and motions with one wing to the place to her other side. A place usually reserved for her sister. A fact that only briefly sours the happy mood both sisters share at their greeting before they move in on either side of the larger Princess and lean in for a nuzzling hug before taking their places. "But first... breakfast," coos Celestia softly, as the third setting is quickly placed and the maids and servers withdraw from the room, leaving the Princess in a relatively peaceful morning.

"So," asks Cadance as she fills her place with pancakes with the blue aura of her magic, pouring on syrup and adding butter with equal aplomb, "Tell me everything..."

And as the three Princesses settle down to a breakfast and talk, some distance above them an ancient pony unicorn of immense power sits by the side of the now diminished Lunar Princess. Gently holding her hoof as his bearded head is bowed, horn aglow as magic flows into the sleeping, comatose Diarach.

And in her dreams, the Princess of the Night can hear him.

He began... to sing...

Another world, another morning.

Geralt, shouldering his baldric in one fluid movement, walks with casual ease as the swords on his back provide a familiar and reassuring weight. Stepping down the stairs from the manor house, he strode over his land with the walk of one at peace. It was another morning, a day where he could relax, spend his hours with the woman he loved, and enjoy the fruits of long earned labor. Still, with the swords on his back, Geralt couldn't help but fall into the easy walk drilled into him over and over again. The stride of a man ready, at a moment's notice, to draw his blade and wield it. Memory filled him of the years spent in Kaer Morhen under the watchful gaze of Vesemir.

The laughing children sprinting across his path was met, however, not with alarm but a quick pirouette and dodge to the side as their laughter and games continued. His small smile grew for a moment, even as he approached the stable for his companion in arms.

"Good morning, Roach," rumbled the Witcher even as he reached down to produce a fresh apple from a pocket. With a contented nicker, the tall chestnut mare trotted forward to meet him and accepted the treat with a swift crunch as she took the apple in her large teeth. Geralt's hand gently brushed through her mane and along her long neck, "I'll take you out for some exercise later. Maybe visit that stallion down the road, huh? Would you like that?" A playful butt of the Mare's head was his only response, provoking a laugh as he gave her one last fond pat before heading towards the herb gardens.

The gardens were originally set aside by the former owner's wife, and had since been re-purposed and replanted by Geralt's request. Instead of decorative flowers, each bush and flower, hedge and vine in the gardens served a purpose; to provide top quality alchemy ingredients. It was husbanded and tended carefully, with plants being relaid as needed. A hint of magic in the soil and stones of the garden, paid for by the former owner, greatly sped the growth and cultivation of the various herbs and bushes.

And so he set to work, picking up a pair of pruning shears from the little alcove in which they hung, the Witcher began to tend and gather, nurture and prune.

Deep into his work, Geralt of Rivia found himself growing nervous. Instinct well honed begin to scream a warning. Rather then reveal his foreknowledge of the danger, however, he merely set himself... crouched low over a hellebore bush. Carefully gathering the petals of the toxic plant with the gentle care the task required, body tensing as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand straight.

To the side, at the end of the row, the children that had been playing all morning had gathered and were crouched down together in an attitude of conspiracy.

It was, at that very moment, that for Geralt of Rivia...

...the world froze.

The children began to sing.

His smile fair as spring, as towards him he draws you;
His tongue sharp and silvery as he implores you.

Geralt, motionless, could only listen as his heart beat like a drum inside his chest.

Wishes he grants, as he swears to adore you,
Gold, silver, jewels - he lays riches before you.

Slowly his gloved hand closed into a fist, crushing the fragile purple petals in his grip.

Dues need be repaid and he will come for you
All to reclaim, no smile to console you.

In what seemed like the only movement in all the world, the Witcher rose slowly to his feet... his hand opening to let the ruined petals fall to the earth below.

He'll snare you in bonds, eyes glowing afire
To gore and torment you till the stars expire!

Raising his head, golden eyes, glowing with an inner fire of rage... looked upon the figure that stood on one of built up stone terraces of the garden above him. Silhouetted against the rising sun, a man of utter ordinary stature stood. The man was so ordinary, in fact, that one could miss him in a crowded room, or simply walk by without ever realizing he was there.

But for Geralt of Rivia, looking upon the smiling, ordinary man... it was like looking into a gaping pit to hell. He felt all his hopes, all his dreams of a peaceful, ordinary life come crashing down around him. His body taut, his eyes burning. He could only look upon the figure above him, and if he had it in his heart, or knew of any god who could hear him in that moment... he would have begun to pray.

"Good morning, Geralt," said Gaunter O'Dimm.

Author's Note