Chapter 81: Cintra's Final Days - Preparation
Hour sixteen of the siege watch.
The monastery's stone walls provided shelter from the summer heat, but nothing could shelter from the tension that filled every moment. Through Guild Network Vision, I observed the nearest outpost crystal—too distant to see Cintra directly, but close enough to receive intelligence updates in near-real-time.
"Southern walls still holding," Sera reported, compiling the latest refugee accounts. "But the defenders are exhausted. Night assault expected—Nilfgaard likes to attack when defenders are tired."
"Casualties?"
"Significant. The reports mention hundreds dead, maybe thousands wounded. Medical facilities are overwhelmed."
I paced the monastery's main chamber, unable to sit, unable to focus on anything except the reports and the beacon receiver that remained stubbornly inactive.
"She hasn't broken it yet. Hasn't needed to, or doesn't remember she has it, or is already—"
I wouldn't let myself finish the thought. Ciri was alive. She had to be alive. Everything I'd done for years led to this moment, and failure wasn't acceptable.
"You should rest," Mira said, watching my pacing with concern that had grown over the sixteen hours we'd been waiting. "When the moment comes, you'll need energy."
"I can't rest. Not now."
"Then at least sit. You're wearing a path in the floor."
I sat, but the stillness felt worse than the movement. Every minute that passed was another minute of siege, another minute of Cintra dying, another minute closer to the moment when I'd either rescue Ciri or discover I'd failed.
[SYSTEM STATUS: MONITORING]
[Emergency Beacon: INACTIVE]
[Member Locator: Cannot detect non-member targets]
[Energy Pool: 4,800/5,000 (conserving for deployment)]
The system couldn't help me find Ciri—she wasn't a guild member, wasn't connected to the network, wasn't trackable through any capability I possessed. The beacon was my only link to her, and she hadn't activated it.
Hour Thirty-Two
"Night assault confirmed," Sera announced, reading the latest intelligence. "Nilfgaardian forces breached the outer defenses at the southern gate. Street fighting in the lower city."
The siege was accelerating. Once street fighting began, the end came quickly—defenders couldn't hold every building, every intersection, every choke point. They'd be pushed back, consolidated, eventually overwhelmed.
"How long?" Marcus asked.
"Twelve to twenty-four hours until complete collapse. Maybe less if the central keep falls early."
I recalculated my deployment timeline. If Cintra fell within twenty-four hours, we needed to be ready to move at any moment. The beacon might activate during the chaos—or Ciri might try to escape without using it.
"Horses stay saddled. Equipment stays packed. We sleep in shifts—two hours maximum, then rotate." I assigned watch schedules. "When movement happens, we respond within minutes."
"And if the beacon doesn't activate?"
"Then we deploy anyway when the city falls. Search and extract based on likely escape routes." I'd mapped Ciri's probable behavior—she'd try to flee north, toward Skellige where her grandmother had family connections, or toward the forests where she might hope to hide. "She won't stay in the city. She'll run."
"How do you know?"
"Because staying means capture or death. And Ciri is smart enough to understand that." I studied the extraction routes I'd prepared. "The question is which direction she runs and whether we can intercept."
Hour Forty-Seven
Distant fires became visible on the horizon as darkness fell.
Cintra burning. The ancient city that had stood for centuries, defended by the Lioness herself, finally succumbing to the force she'd refused to believe would come.
The beacon receiver remained inactive.
"We move," I announced, the decision crystallizing from hours of agonizing wait. "Beacon or no beacon, the city is falling. We deploy now."
"Without knowing where she is?"
"We know the evacuation routes. We know where refugees are gathering. We know where a princess trying to escape would likely go." I gathered the team with urgent efficiency. "Group Teleportation to the western approach—it's clear of Nilfgaardian presence according to latest reports."
"That's still a war zone."
"Everything is a war zone. But this is a war zone where we might find the person we're looking for."
[GROUP TELEPORTATION: INITIATING]
[Targets: 5 (Finn, Mira, Marcus, Kell, Sera)]
[Destination: Western Cintra approach (previously scouted)]
[Energy Cost: 2,000]
[Current Energy: 4,800 → 2,800]
Reality folded around us—the familiar sensation of teleportation multiplied by five, five threads of existence being pulled through space simultaneously. The monastery vanished, replaced by moonlit hillside overlooking distant flames.
Cintra burned below us.
The city's silhouette was outlined in fire—buildings ablaze, defensive positions collapsed, the sounds of battle carrying even at this distance. Screams mixed with the crash of combat, creating a symphony of destruction that made the reality of war impossible to ignore.
"Gods," Sera whispered. "It's worse than the reports suggested."
"It's always worse than reports suggest." I scanned the western approaches with enhanced vision. "Refugee columns should be forming here—people fleeing before the final collapse. We move toward them, search for our target."
"And if Nilfgaardian forces have already cut off escape routes?"
"Then we adapt. The teleportation gives us options." I began moving toward the distant firelight, the team falling into formation behind me. "Stay alert. Danger Sense will warn us of approaching threats, but in this chaos, threats are everywhere."
The approach took thirty minutes—careful movement through terrain that might conceal either refugees or soldiers, every shadow potentially hostile. Twice we diverted around Nilfgaardian patrol positions that Sera's scouting identified before we stumbled into them.
The first refugee column appeared near a crossroads—perhaps a hundred people, mostly women and children, guarded by a handful of armed men who looked more like farmers than soldiers.
"Spread out," I ordered. "Search for a girl, fourteen years old, ashen hair. She might be hiding, might be using false identity, might be injured."
The search was systematic but urgent. Each refugee face examined, each small figure checked, each hiding place investigated. The refugees were too terrified to question why armed strangers were searching their group—terror had stripped away normal social responses.
Ciri wasn't there.
"Next column." I pointed toward another group visible further north. "Keep searching."
The second column held three hundred people. No Ciri.
The third held fifty survivors from the castle district. No Ciri.
Hours passed. Dawn approached. The beacon remained inactive.
"Finn." Mira's voice carried exhaustion and concern. "We've searched a dozen groups. Thousands of refugees. She's not here."
"She has to be somewhere."
"She might have escaped in different direction. She might have been captured. She might—"
"Don't."
The word came sharper than intended. I couldn't accept the possibility that Ciri was already lost—captured by Nilfgaard, killed in the chaos, beyond my ability to help.
"We keep searching. Different routes, different approaches. She escaped somehow—the history I know says she survived. We just have to find her."
"The history you know?" Mira's attention sharpened. "What does that mean?"
"Too much. I said too much."
"It means I have reasons to believe she survived the city's fall. Reasons I can't fully explain." I forced my voice to steady. "We keep searching until we find her or until searching becomes impossible."
"And when does searching become impossible?"
"When Nilfgaardian forces consolidate control of all escape routes. When dawn makes movement too visible. When we've exhausted every possibility." I looked toward the burning city, where the flames had begun to die as structures collapsed into embers. "Not yet. We're not there yet."
The beacon receiver pulsed.
Once. Twice. Three times—the activation signal I'd been waiting for, finally triggered somewhere in the chaos below.
[EMERGENCY BEACON: ACTIVATED]
[Location: 2.3 kilometers southeast, near forest edge]
[Signal Strength: STRONG]
[Target Status: ALIVE (beacon requires physical contact to activate)]
"She's there." I pointed toward the signal's origin. "Two kilometers, forest edge. Move now."
The team sprinted after me, exhaustion forgotten, hope replacing despair. Ciri was alive. Ciri had used the beacon. And we were close enough to reach her.
The rescue I'd spent years preparing for was finally happening.
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