In a quiet cave in Dol Blathanna, home of flowers and elves, Filavandrel and Francesca congregated.

"The spies have news, Daisy. All the children we sent to Novigrad to assist Vilgefortz have died." Filavandrel was in white, and he stood before Daisy. There was a sorrowful smile on his face. "Not even the sorcerers made it."

Francesca stared at the xenovox. She'd been waiting for a response, but so far, it was dark. Tears glistened in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Cyrus, the Hierarch of the Eternal Fire, ordered for their bodies to be hung in the plaza as a warning and remembrance for those who died in the battle," said Filavandrel, his voice choking. "But the truth is, most of the guards were killed by the witchers, and yet the Hierarch pinned the blame on the children. It's like he's gone mad. Not an ounce of blame was pinned on the witchers."

"The Northern Realms now know of this confrontation, and the kings have taken notice of Scoia'tael, the extremely anti-human organization." Filavandrel stared at Francesca, his gaze questioning. "This is vastly different from what Vilgefortz promised." He clenched his gloves tightly, his knuckles white. "Is this all a joke to him? Is our future nothing but his plaything?"

Francesca's shoulder shivered. She caressed the xenovox's crystal and stared at the screen in the air. It disappeared the moment it formed, and again and again and again the elf watched. Eventually, she said, "I can't establish contact with Vilgefortz anymore." A tear fell down her cheek. It was shed for her fallen brethren.

"He tosses us aside after we outlive our usefulness? What does he think the children are? Pawns?" Filavandrel's eyes were filled with the flames of fury, his voice scraping and hard. "Did he betray us?"

Francesca shook her head. "He has no reason to. We're Nilfgaard's allies. There must be something else."

"Something more important than the children?"

"I will demand an explanation. But not now. And I'll be asking someone else for help down the line."

"He put the children in the line of danger, caring not for their safety. Are we still going to antagonize the Northern Realms for him even after this?" The ex elven king stared into Francesca's profile, hoping she would say no.

"What we're doing next is not for him; it's for the future. For our children to have a place they can call home. For them to never have to hide in the mountains and starve." Francesca extended her right hand. An Apollo butterfly fluttered into the cave and landed on her sleeve, its wings flapping.

"We have reached an agreement with Emhyr. The war shall begin soon. As the Eternal Fire has chosen to antagonize us and side with the witchers who have slaughtered our children, we will burn them down with the fire of vengeance." Calmly, she ordered, "Tell Isengrim Faoiltiarna to lead a brigade to Brokilon. They shall work with the nymphs and attack humans as they see fit. Should they run into any danger, Eithne will provide them protection. Eveline, Toluvair, and Kenzafa will lead a brigade to the borders of Blue Mountains and gather allies among the discriminated non-humans. There, they will be engaging in skirmishes."

"Is this worth it?" Filavandrel asked. "Most of them are going to end up dead. Perhaps staying at the Blue Mountains could give them a better chance at survival?"

"Keeping to ourselves will only lead to extinction. We must strike out and at least reclaim Dol Blathanna. We must battle against the humans and stop them should they start preparing for war. This is the agreement we made with Emhyr, and we can't break our word. I am sorry, Filavandrel."

Filavandrel bowed. "I forgive you, Enid, but I do not know if the children who'll sacrificed themselves will."

***

A gale hurtled into the window of Stygga, rustling the countless tomes on the bookshelves. Lytta looked at the flash of magical light from the xenovox beside the vat, and she frowned. This marks the tenth time. She was more than surprised. They've been trying to contact Vilgefortz for a while now. Probably doesn't know he's dead.

Lytta's eyes twinkled. Even now, she still couldn't believe that Roy killed Vilgefortz and reduced him to atoms. And he did it quietly too. Just like that, the top sorcerer and the Continent's most desired man was gone.

If Roy hadn't taken her to Stygga and shown him Vilgefortz's most trusted lieutenant being an inch away from death, she'd have thought he was joking about Vilgefortz's death. Before this visit, she had no idea the dashing, talented, respected, and beloved Vilgefortz was a maniac who loved to torture the innocent.

She saw his lab. It was filled with torture devices, syringes, a custom-made electric chair, and dozens of skeletons belonging to his test subjects. And to make things worse, he was already in cahoots with the South and betrayed the brotherhood. The man was nothing but scum.

"He's not in the top brass for nothing. His collection of books is almost complete. And they're all valuable. Let's see… My estimation puts the number of books here at about one-fifth of what Ban Ard's library has. It's like a small magical academy here."

The mousey, balding Kalkstein was holding a thick tome. He had a mischievous grin on his face, his robes swaying as he walked. "And this is an out-of-print edition of The Mysteries of Natural Magic.' Once I'm done with this, I'm sure I can be a better alchemist. Pity that his most valuable items are destroyed. He wouldn't keep it anywhere but his personal inventory space."

Kalkstein thought that was a shame. He had no idea that Roy had told Coral to tuck away the files of Vilgefortz's greatest and most terrible project of all: the extraction of the Elder Blood. That file was on the list of forbidden books.

"This isn't a bad castle, however. It's right beside Ebbing's stone lake. A remote place, a no man's land, a spacious spot, and it comes with a fully decked out lab. We have enough gemstones and magical materials to last us for decades. Why don't we move our lab here, Lytta?"

"We don't have to." Lytta shook her head. "From now on, Stygga, the underground chamber of Temple Island, and the lab under the Valley of the Nine's lake will be the brotherhood's shelters."

"Good idea." Kalkstein flipped the tome open and skimmed through the pages. Nonchalantly, he asked, "So how are you going to deal with Lydia?"

Coral was in silence for moments. She did not expect Roy to keep Lydia around. She could be a problem. "Lydia's not even fifty years old. She's just a girl who fell for that conspirator's brainwashing. I'll lead her back to the straight and narrow."

***

The evening sun drenched the skies in a warm shade of red. Gusts of breeze sauntered across the courtyard, dancing with the branches of the weeping willows like they were in a slow waltz.

After the battle, the orphanage once again saw the children moving around its grounds. Vicki was within the lab, holding bags of potions. She stared at the vials and vessels on the workstation, reluctant to leave them behind. "I-I don't have enough space for my babies."

"Stop crying, Vicki." Renee grinned, though she barely had any teeth. She quickly tucked a bunch of dried celandines and buckthorns into her blouse's pockets, filling them up until they were about to burst. She almost looked like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter. "Letho said Kaedwen has everything. We'll get whatever we want once we're there. And it's time we get new stuff, right, Conrad?"

The boy beside the furnace nodded. He looked outside the window, melancholy flickering on his face.

Everyone was busy outside. Acamuthorm was standing behind Felix. He had changed into a new set of armor, and the boy looked lively. He was holding a crate half the height of an adult as he slowly ambled toward the portal before the conference room.

Carl grinned and kicked the butt of his companion. The dozen or so apprentices were huddled around the young witchers, their eyes shining with worship. They wanted to know everything about the battle that took place in Novigrad.

Oreo, Terry, and Bhim were saddled with a few sacks of seeds, and in their hands were farming tools and archery gear. They were following Serrit around.

Quintus, Fyodor, and the Tordarroch blacksmiths donned their favorite apron, holding their hammers tightly. They were a little nervous about their new home.

The bald Gryphon had a pile of luggage on its back, and it covered up its bald spots perfectly, or Gryphon would die from the embarrassment alone. Ebony was happily barking at it, all the while licking its beak.

Eskel's, Geralt's, Roy's, and Lambert's horses were huddled in a circle within the crowd, whinnying and braying amongst themselves.

The other students were in their bedrooms, excitedly tucking away their bedrolls, clothes, and notebooks. All were engaged in conversations regarding their upcoming travels. They were red with excitement, but they were also nervous and slightly reluctant to leave.

Conrad muttered, "It's only been two years. I can't believe we're moving already."

"Ah, chin up. You're a boy. Besides, Vesemir said we can always come back." Renee harrumphed, but she too puckered her lips, and the rims of her eyes were red. This beautiful little compound had given them so many memories to treasure their whole lives.

Vicki pursed her lips, determination flaring in her eyes. "That's why we have to grow stronger. Strong enough to keep our home safe. We're not going to just hide and pray for them next time."

"Yeah."

The witchers were gathered outside the fence, saying goodbye to their friends and acquaintances in Novigrad.

"Kaer Morhen is a long trip from Novigrad. Please, take care of yourselves." Dandelion looked at the witchers sadly. For once, he switched out his pretentious outfit for a more solemn grey jacket. "Don't worry about us. My friends will be working with Cyrus to turn your reputation around as fast as they can. And with the coins Roy borrowed from the usurer, our next step will be opening up a branch in Redania. I promise that in a year at most, everyone will hail you as heroes again. That's what bards do. Novigrad is home to more than thirty thousand people. A couple of thousand dissenters is nothing."

"You and your bad habit of bragging." Geralt shook his head. "You don't have to worry about us. Worry about yourself. If you run around and sleep with any random woman you meet, someday someone is going to cut off your junk."

He looked at the beautiful Priscilla. She was in a blue tight-fitting shirt with orange sleeves. "Stay loyal to your lover."

"Don't insult me, Geralt. And I can say the same to you. Do not desert Yennefer again. And stop sleeping around."

"There are no other women in Kaer Morhen. It's in the middle of nowhere. One more stupid reply and I'll shut you up with Yrden."

"Hey, Dandelion." Coen gave Jaskier a pleading look. "Take care of Igsena while I'm gone." He then turned to the woman beside him. She was dressed in the latest fashion. Igsena held his arm and stared into his eyes with love.

"I'll come back once a month or so."

Out of love for poetry and stage plays, Igsena stayed behind. Coen was a member of the brotherhood, and given his upbringing as a knight, he could not leave the kids or his brethren alone. And so, he chose to leave with them.

"Don't you worry." Dandelion patted Coen's shoulder and gave him a wink. "Priscilla and I are going to make her into a star. She'll be the branch's showrunner."

Another couple was also present, though they were not exactly in the crowd. The handsome Eskel was engaged in a quiet conversation with a ravishing exotic woman. She had horns on her head, and her skin had a healthy tan. Her eyes twinkled with hope, and she was talking about building a home with Eskel in Kaer Morhen.

***

Roy pulled back his hand from the cloth that swaddled Mino, and he found his palm drenched. His lips twisted downward.

Mino blinked at his brother and gurgled, then he grabbed Roy's finger and sucked on it. Moore and Susie were in the courtyard, saddled with cooking utensils. They smiled at their sons.

Shortly after their arrival at the House of Gawain, they took up the menial jobs around the orphanage, including farming, cooking, and cleaning. They were indispensable stewards for the orphanage, and they too would be going to Kaer Morhen with the group.

Roy's goal was further beyond this, of course. The witchers shouldn't limit their base of operations to the South and the North, though he would need the help of two other Elder Blood bearers to realize that ambition, and one of them was yet unborn.

Calanthe's delivery is expected to be two months after we move to Kaer Morhen. I should be preparing for the third Trial too.

***

Rustling footsteps came from the woods' entrance. Aiden stepped into the courtyard, followed by a pair of burly, armored, and motivated knights.

"Grimm? Cahir?"

"Hello, witchers. Geralt." Grimm smiled at everyone. He was excited to be met with more than a dozen witchers. "Finally, we meet. But before we talk, we have a humble request. Will you hear us out?"

"I don't see why not." Geralt stepped forth and nodded at the knights. He was more than willing to give them a chance, given how they defended the witchers and put in a good word for them. Still, he was wary about Cahir, given that he was a Nilfgaardian and Ciri's former captor.

"I would like to go on this journey with you. As a guest. And I would like to spar with everyone." Grimm leaned on his greatsword, his eyes shining as brightly as the sun.

"I…" Cahir bowed. He was tense, and he stiffly requested, "I would like to see Ciri once more, Geralt. If that is possible with you."

***

***