The courtyard of Kaer Morhen had taken on a rare kind of life. And it wasn't the loud drunken kind that came with winter reunions between the Witchers.
Snow lingered in patches along the stone, melting slowly beneath the pale midday sun.
At the center of the courtyard, Ciri stood with her feet planted apart, shoulders tense, jaw clenched.
Yennefer circled her slowly.
"Again," she said, her voice calm, far calmer than anyone present would have expected from her.
Ciri exhaled sharply through her nose, raising her hand.
"I am trying," she muttered.
"I know," Yennefer replied, not unkindly. "That's precisely the problem."
Ciri frowned. "What does that even mean?"
Yennefer stopped in front of her, folding her arms.
"You're trying like a swordsman," she said. "Forcing it. Pushing through resistance. Forget about what these idiots taught you, this is very different, Ciri."
She stepped closer, tapping lightly against Ciri's forehead.
"Magic doesn't act that way. You don't conquer it. You allow it to flow naturally."
Ciri looked at her like she'd just spoken in an entirely different language.
"That… makes no sense."
Yennefer sighed softly, but not in frustration.
"Close your eyes."
Ciri hesitated.
"Trust me."
A brief pause, then Ciri obeyed.
Yennefer's voice lowered slightly, becoming smoother… almost guiding.
"Feel your breath," she said. "Not your body. Not your hands. Just the breath."
Ciri inhaled and exhaled.
"Magic isn't in your muscles," Yennefer continued. "It lives within us, and all over around us."
She walked slowly around her again.
"Picture it, not as something you command… but something that flows through you. Like water through a riverbed. If you fight the current…"
She stopped behind her.
"…you drown."
Ciri's brow furrowed.
Her hand trembled slightly as she tried again, reaching, searching, forcing,
Nothing.
Her eyes snapped open.
"I can't!" she snapped, dropping her hand. "I don't feel anything except… nothing!"
Yennefer didn't react harshly.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly.
"That 'nothing' you're so eager to reject…" she said quietly, "…is exactly where you need to be."
Ciri blinked, confused and frustrated.
From the edge of the courtyard, Geralt stood beside Vesemir, arms crossed, watching.
There was something almost surreal about the scene.
Yennefer was patient.
Seriously teaching Cirilla.
Geralt exhaled quietly, shaking his head just slightly.
"I didn't think she could be this…" he paused, searching for the word.
"…nice, I guess."
Vesemir let out a low hum, eyes still on the training.
"I'm just as shocked as you."
Yennefer's voice cut across the courtyard without her even turning.
"Oh, please."
Both witchers stiffened slightly.
She glanced over her shoulder, one brow raised.
"You two make it sound like I'm some sort of a monster."
Geralt said nothing.
Vesemir didn't even try to hide his smile.
Yennefer turned fully now, resting a hand on her hip.
"I like the girl," she said, more firmly. "And unlike the two of you, I don't believe in throwing children into the deep end and hoping they swim."
Her gaze softened, just slightly as it returned to Ciri.
"If patience is what it takes," she added, quieter now, "then patience is what she'll have."
Geralt and Vesemir exchanged a look.
Neither said a word.
A faint metallic clang echoed from above.
All three glanced up.
On the fortress walls, Sebastian moved.
Steel flashed in controlled arcs, his body flowing from strike to strike with precision that bordered on unnatural. Flames danced faintly along his blade, not wild or uncontrolled, woven into his movements.
Each swing showed his discipline and skill.
Yennefer watched him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, in interest.
"Quite the disciplined young man," she said.
Ciri followed her gaze, wiping sweat from her brow.
"He doesn't stop," she muttered. "Ever."
Yennefer hummed.
"I was under the impression boys trained to become witchers were… encouraged more forcefully."
Ciri snorted faintly.
"Well, he's already a witcher."
She crossed her arms.
"What annoys me is that he says this doesn't even help him anymore."
Yennefer glanced at her.
"Hmm?"
Ciri nodded.
"Something about his body getting in the way. That he's hit some kind of a limit and he can't get any better."
Yennefer's gaze drifted back to Sebastian, more thoughtful now.
"Is that so…"
A faint pause.
"My." She turned slightly toward Geralt.
"You're raising forces of nature here," she said dryly. "I almost pity the Continent."
Geralt rolled his eyes faintly.
"Stop exaggerating, Yen."
Up on the wall, Sebastian's world was quieter, he was focused.
His blade cut through the air again, faster this time, flames trailing sharper, hotter.
'I need to remember something…'
Steel struck the training dummy with a heavy crack.
'I'm not invincible.'
Another strike, clean, precise.
'She proved that already.'
'Ciri's power.'
The way it had struck him.
'Magic works on me.'
His grip tightened.
'Silver too… for some reason.'
He exhaled sharply, shifting his stance.
'And my swordsmanship…'
A flurry of strikes followed, fluid and controlled, but something in his expression tightened.
'I'm still not at the top.'
The flames along his blade flared slightly as he pushed harder.
'And my powers… there's more to it I just know..'
A final swing, the dummy's head flew clean off, tumbling across the stone.
"…you're going to run out of dummies at this rate."
Sebastian glanced back.
Vesemir approached slowly, hands resting behind his back. "Are you alright Seb?" he asked.
Sebastian lowered his sword slightly.
"I'm fine," he said before the question even came. "Just… a bit frustrated that I can't get better than this right now."
Vesemir stopped beside him, eyeing the ruined dummy.
"Frustrated," he repeated.
A faint, almost amused breath left him.
"There isn't a boy in this keep's history who's held a blade like you do."
He glanced at Sebastian.
"And that's not because of your early mutations."
Sebastian didn't respond, his gaze drifted over the courtyard, Ciri arguing faintly with Yennefer below, Geralt watching, the keep standing as it always had.
Vesemir stepped closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"There are times," he said slowly, "when you'll meet a wall you can't cut through."
His voice was calm. "Not with strength, or your speed."
"But given time… that wall crumbles on its own."
Sebastian frowned slightly.
"You're saying I should stop training?"
"Not entirely," Vesemir replied. "But perhaps… stop swinging sharp things for a while."
A faint glint of humor touched his eyes.
"You've got a brilliant mind in that head. Might be time to use it differently."
Sebastian went still for a moment.
Thinking, then his gaze shifted outward beyond the keep, beyond the mountains.
'The world…'
His knowledge and everything he thought he knew. The prior knowledge about the world he was proud about.
'What if it's only surface-level…?'
A slow breath.
'What if I've only been seeing it from the outside…'
His grip on the sword loosened.
'…and there's more beneath it all?'
He nodded slightly.
"You're right, Uncle Vesemir." he said.
"I can… focus on something else for now."
Vesemir's expression softened.
He reached up, ruffling Sebastian's dark hair roughly.
"That's our Seb."
Sebastian blinked, caught off guard.
"…I'm not a child."
"Could've fooled me," Vesemir muttered.
From below, Geralt watched the exchange, a faint smile appeared on his face.
In the courtyard,
"I said focus, not flail like a drunk!" Yennefer snapped.
"I am focusing!" Ciri shot back. "Nothing's happening!"
"Because you're still trying to force it!"
"Well, sorry I can't just 'feel the flow of the universe' like you!"
Yennefer pinched the bridge of her nose.
Geralt's faint smile grew just a fraction.
'So much for patience...' he muttered to himself.
Yet to him some things, it seemed, were exactly as they should be.
/-\
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