— –Alexander Montclair– —
*Crack*
"He built not sword, nor steel, nor spell,
But wrath no saint nor mage could dream,
A mortal's art, a forge of hell,
Unholy craft, precise, supreme.
He bound the flame to mist and wind,
Turned air to poison, light to pain,
And from his hands the world was thinned,
By ghostly fire and ashen rain.
Through smoke and screams his vengeance came,
A storm that burned, the sky defied,
And though the Hunt would curse his name,
He left no soul unsanctified."
Dandelion's voice carried faintly through the cold, broken air, the lute strings trembling with each note. The melody wasn't cheerful, and if he were being honest, the song was starting to get on Alex's nerves.
"Dandelion, can you shut up." Ciri shouted with some annoyance as she turned to the bard who had been busy pacing around them.
The bard froze mid-step, looking almost embarrassed as he lowered the lute and began to walk a bit further away.
In a way, Alex couldn't blame the bard for wanting to come up with something to distract himself with. Because, for his part, he also wanted to get away from everything. But, in a strange, morbid way, he also couldn't get his eyes away from it.
He stared at the burning village in the distance, the fire from the napalm had spread into one of the buildings, and from that building, it had escalated onto the next. And now, the fire was starting to consume the rest of the village.
He had done what he had to. That didn't stop the guilt.
Perhaps he'd grow out of it with time.
*Crack*
Yeah, there was that too.
He felt like he was in five places at once. But at the same time, he felt like he wasn't entirely standing in solid ground. Like it would collapse under him, and he would find himself floating through space once more. Thankfully, Ciri kept him grounded enough not to slip through. Still, focusing on keeping his power, which he didn't yet know how to control, from taking him away was mentally exhausting.
But, from the little experience he had, once his emotions settled, the feeling would go away.
Because the last thing he wanted was to be forced to leave this world for another. Be forced to learn everything by himself, to start from scratch again. No, he wouldn't let himself fall into that trap, not when he had so many things to prepare.
And so, he held on.
"Good, just focus on me." Ciri said softly, snapping him out of his daze. "Let's get away from this place."
Shaking his head, Alex turned to look at the village.
"We should wait a few hours." Alex said after a while, rubbing the side of his head. His voice sounded distant, almost mechanical. "Let the fumes settle. After that, we'll hit the place again, burn everything left standing. I don't want anyone tracing what happened here."
Dudu turned from where he'd been watching the horizon.
"If that's the case, maybe you and Ciri should start heading back to Novigrad. Me and Dandelion can clean up what's left." His expression was hard to read, somewhere between fascination and unease. "I know what to do to make sure no one finds out."
"That would be good." Ciri answered, stretching slightly as she looked down at the burning village.
But Alex shook his head.
"No… Actually." He said quietly as he stood up. "This is where we should split up. At least for now."
"What?" Ciri asked.
"We need to find Yennefer." Alex explained. "Even with the hunt gone, I still only have a little over a month. We can't waste time riding back to the city. Now that we can move freely, we should go to Kaer Morhen for what comes next. Witchers should have something for dealing with demons. And Yennefer can help you lift the curse off from Avallac'h."
"Yes, you are right." Ciri answered, realization dawning in her eyes. "Yennefer should be able to cure him. And if Avallac'h survives, I'm sure he could also help you control your power. He's the one that taught me."
"So that's it, then?" Dudu asked with a frown. "You're leaving already? But what about the printing press? It's not complete yet."
"I'm sorry." Alex forced a slight smile. "I wish I could help. But you'll figure out what you need, I'm sure of that. And the plans I left you should give you enough to work from."
Dudu didn't seem entirely convinced, but he nodded nevertheless.
"Until next time, then."
"Don't you worry, my friends." Dandelion said, strumming a faint chord. "By the time we meet again, this tale will have spread from Toussaint to Skellige. A song of monsters, men, and madness."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. For a fleeting second, Alex saw the truth beneath the showmanship, the unease.
"Just… make it a song worth remembering." Ciri turned toward him.
"Always." Dandelion nodded once.
The wind picked up, pushing smoke across the road. It curled between them like a veil, carrying the scent of ash and something faintly sweet, sap, resin, maybe the oils they'd used. Alex stared at the glow behind the mist for a moment.
Then he turned away.
"Let's go." He said quietly.
Ciri reached out and took his hand. Her grip was steady, warm against the chill. The world bent in on itself, and the two of them vanished into light.
— — —
Light folded around them, a pulse, a heartbeat, then stillness.
The world reassembled piece by piece. Stone underfoot. A faint chill in the air. The whisper of snow brushing against old towers.
When the dizziness faded, Alex found himself standing beside Ciri on what looked like the remains of a battlement. Below them stretched the ruins of a castle, half-shattered but enduring. The courtyard was quiet, blanketed in pale dust and the long-forgotten remnants of training dummies. The air smelled of rain and ash.
Kaer Morhen.
Ciri exhaled softly, her breath misting in the cold.
"We're here." She said, almost to herself. "My home."
Alex leaned forward on the ledge, his hands resting against the crumbling stone. The wind nipped at his face, cold and clean, a welcome change from the stench of burnt flesh and poison that still clung to him.
"It's quiet." He murmured. "Peaceful, even."
"It never used to be." Ciri smiled faintly. "When I was training, there was always shouting. Steel, laughter, insults. Now…" She looked out at the empty yard. "It feels like memory more than place."
Alex followed her gaze, studying the broken dummies below. For a moment, he could almost picture the ghosts of what she described, figures sparring, shouting, laughing. Then the vision faded, leaving only silence.
Ciri broke the quiet first.
"You should rest." She said gently. "You've been pushing yourself since Novigrad."
"Can't." Alex's voice came out rougher than he intended. He stared at his hands, turning them over slowly. They were steady, but the sight still made his stomach twist. "If I stop now, it'll hit me harder later. I'd rather just keep pushing on for now."
"You mean the Hunt?"
"Yeah." He hesitated, then nodded. "And everything that came with it."
She didn't answer at first. The wind filled the space between them, cold but not unkind.
"It was them or us." Ciri said quietly. "I've seen what they do. What they would have done to us."
"I know." Alex said, voice low.
She leaned against the railing beside him. Then after a few moments, she turned, meeting his eyes.
"You'll stop blaming yourself one day. Maybe not soon, but you will. The first kill always stays with you. After that…" Her voice softened. "It gets easier."
Alex looked at her for a long moment before glancing away. The moon hung low above the valley, pale and silent.
"I can't tell if that's comforting or terrifying." He said finally.
"Both." Ciri replied, smiling faintly. "That's life."
Alex couldn't help but smile at her answer.
"C'est la vie." He echoed, causing her to raise an eyebrow, because, in the end, that was the answer she always gave him.
For everything bad that's happened. For everything bad that would happen.
That is life.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The wind slipped through the gaps in the stone, carrying the faint whistle of distant mountains. Ciri leaned against the railing beside him, her cloak brushing his arm as the silence stretched between them.
Alex's hand rested near hers, their fingers barely an inch apart. The thought crossed his mind that he could move it that last bit closer, but he didn't. Not yet.
"Hey, Ciri…" He began softly. His voice wavered at first, but he steadied it. "I think I love you."
"What?" Ciri blinked, caught off guard.
"I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly younger than he was. "I'm not sure if it's love, not really. But it feels close enough. After everything… it just felt wrong not to say it."
Ciri stared at him for a long moment, searching his face as if expecting him to laugh or take it back. But he didn't.
"Love's a dangerous word." She murmured, voice softer now. "It doesn't end well for people like us."
"Maybe." Alex said quietly. "But if I die tomorrow, I'd rather die after saying it than wish I had."
Alex wasn't sure what was going through Ciri's mind after what he'd told her. She opened her mouth a few times to answer, before closing it once more. And then, after a few moments, she took a slow breath.
"You really are an idiot sometimes." She said, though there was no bite in her voice. "But… a good one."
"I try." Alex smiled a little at that.
It made her laugh, just once, small and quiet. But the sound still managed to pull something in his chest loose. She turned back toward the railing, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I don't know if I can say it back." She said after a moment. "Not yet. But I do care about you, Alex. More than I should, probably."
He'd be lying if he said the answer didn't sting a little, but even then, he couldn't help but smile. At least it was honest.
Still, as the silence settled again, his mind wandered.
Back to the flames. To the screams. To the moment he froze.
He had stood there like an idiot as they charged towards him. Had the Aen Elle been resistant to the chemicals, or been able to wipe the Dimeritium off their armor, it would have been over. Either he would have been killed, or Ciri would have had to step in to save him, risking her own capture.
And that was something he would never let happen again. No matter what lines he'd have to cross.
He took in a deep breath and exhaled as he looked over to Ciri, who had been watching him. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer. Her hand reached up, brushing his collar lightly.
And, breaking his own self imposed promise immediately, Alex froze. Not out of fear, but surprise as she leaned in.
The kiss wasn't long. It wasn't perfect, either. If anything, it was quite uncertain. Her lips were cold from the wind, and he almost felt her pull back before he returned it. Still, Alex couldn't help but feel like all of his worries were slipping away.
And then it was over.
When she pulled back, she stayed close, her forehead resting against his. Her breath mingled with his own, warm in the cold night air.
When Ciri finally stepped back, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Don't overthink it, alright?"
Those words made him finally burst into laughter.
It wasn't loud or forced, just the kind that slipped out after too long holding everything in. The sound startled even him a little, and maybe that's why Ciri started laughing too.
"You know that's not how I work." He finally answered.
"You'll have to try."
Good times didn't last long, however. Not for them, at least.
Alex wasn't sure how he knew it. Or how he could understand the feeling. But the moment he felt his blood run cold, he instinctively reached for the back of his waist, where he had hidden his gun.
Drawing the gun, he aimed it into the empty air, where a portal appeared just moments later. Yet, before he could fire, he felt Ciri grab his shoulder, stopping him.
"Wait." She whispered.
Then, the portal peeled open, and a tall figure stepped through, his steps unhurried, his presence filling the clearing. Silver hair, robes of layered blue and brown, and a mask that gleamed faintly under the light.
"Zirael." His voice was soft, tired, even, as he greeted her. Then, his gaze slid past Ciri, settling briefly on Alex before returning to her.
"Avallac'h!" Ciri exclaimed, relief breaking through her surprise. "That's perfect, this saves us the trouble of finding you. If we can call Yen here, then she should be able to help you with the curse before it takes effect."
"You shouldn't have waited for me." Avallac'h warned, already raising a hand as a faint shimmer began to form beside him. "We need to leave before they track you down. Quickly, follow me."
"Wait." Ciri said firmly, and that single word stopped him cold. "The Wild Hunt is dead."
"Dead?" He repeated. "You can't mean—" His gaze snapped back to Alex, eyes narrowing as he stared at the gun still in his hands. And, after a moment, Avallac'h reached for his mask and removed it, revealing the surprise underneath it. "How is that possible?"
Alex grimaced slightly at the question, but Ciri stepped forward, taking the lead.
"It's a long story." She said. "We should go inside the castle for now. We can explain everything there."
— –Ororo Munroe– —
"Illyana…" Ororo whispered, her voice barely a breath as she brushed a hand through the girl's hair. "What have you done, my child?"
Illyana's head rested limply against her arm, her skin cold with sweat. She looked so fragile now, fragile in a way that frightened Ororo more than any wound ever could. Her chest rose shallowly, her pulse faint against Ororo's fingertips.
She should have been watching her. She should have seen the signs.
The scent of burnt ozone still clung to the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of the flowers that had once filled the garden. Now, the petals were blackened, edges curling inward as though recoiling from what had just happened. Limbo's taint lingered here, faint but undeniable, like an echo that refused to fade.
Ororo's heart twisted. She had failed her.
She could tell herself a thousand times that it was Belasco's fault, that it was his shadow pressing closer these past months, sending demons through the cracks in the wards, corrupting everything they'd built. But that truth did not excuse her absence. It didn't change that she had seen Illyana closing herself off, hiding her workings behind layers of spells, and done nothing.
She had been too tired, too distracted by the ceaseless battles at the border where Limbo bled into her sanctuary. Every night she fought to keep the garden alive, to keep Kitty and Illyana safe, to keep hope alive. And while she fought, Illyana had drifted farther from her reach.
Perhaps if she had allowed her to fight beside Kitty, the girl would not have turned inward. Perhaps if she had trusted her more—
No. Excuses. They were all excuses.
She had been blind to how desperate Illyana had become. Blind until it was almost too late.
And now, she was holding the result of her failure.
To tamper with the soul… Ororo shivered. That was a path even the wisest mages dared not tread. One mistake, one fracture in the pattern, and the soul could unravel beyond repair. To attempt such a thing without guidance was not bravery, it was suicide.
Yet Illyana had done it. She had reached into the abyss itself and returned alive.
Barely.
Ororo's thumb brushed over the girl's cheek, feeling the faint warmth still clinging to her skin.
"You foolish, beautiful child." She murmured. "You survived what no one should."
Her eyes flicked to the faint shimmer that clung to Illyana's chest, a mark half-hidden beneath torn fabric, a faint glow, like a heartbeat that wasn't her own. The sight made Ororo's throat tighten. Two rhythms, two lives, bound together.
"Two souls…" She whispered to herself. "Gaia help us."
She had no idea what would happen when Illyana woke. Whether she would still be Illyana, or something else entirely.
All she could do was hope, hope that the girl she had raised with such care was still somewhere inside, fighting to stay herself.
And so Ororo held her a little tighter, whispering a prayer under her breath, not to any god or spirit, but to the girl herself.
"Come back to me, little snowflake. Please."
Ororo couldn't help but grimace as she felt another presence brush against her garden, heavy, suffocating, unmistakable.
With a low grunt, she lifted Illyana from the ground, cradling the girl's limp body in her arms. The child's skin was cold to the touch, her breathing shallow but steady, alive, thank the goddess. Ororo carried her to the bed and laid her down as gently as she could, brushing a lock of blonde hair away from her face.
"Rest now, my little snowflake." She whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Then, straightening her back, she turned toward the door.
"It's your turn, Kate." Ororo murmured, sending a faint pulse of magic through the air, a whisper carried on the wind to summon her friend.
Her steps through the garden were slow, deliberate, as though she could delay the inevitable with each one. The flowers bent with her passing, the scent of rain clinging to her robes. But all too soon, she reached the entrance, and there he was.
Belasco.
He stood at the edge of the garden like a scar that refused to fade, smiling that same disarming smile that had once fooled her, before she learned what it truly hid.
"The years have not been kind to you, Ororo." He said, his voice smooth, familiar.
"Neither have they been kind to you." She replied coldly, stopping just short of the garden's boundary.
He chuckled, low and amused, the sound almost pleasant if not for the faint hum of power in the air. His golden eyes caught the light, gleaming with malice as he stepped closer.
"I've come for the girl." Belasco said simply.
"Why now?" Ororo's heart tightened, but her voice remained steady.
"It's time."
The smile slipped from his face, revealing the truth beneath, that old, cruel satisfaction that always lived in his eyes.
"You've known this day would come. I merely lent her to you, Ororo. It's time to return what was never yours to keep."
"Give her more time." Ororo whispered, her composure cracking just enough to show the fear beneath it. She wanted to fight. Every instinct screamed to strike him down, to call the storm and end this here and now. But she couldn't. Not only was she not strong enough, but any open defiance would only draw his wrath toward Illyana.
The girl wasn't ready. Not yet.
"She needs more time." She repeated, softer now, almost pleading.
Belasco tilted his head, almost pitying. Then, slowly, he reached out, tracing the curve of her cheek with one clawed finger before grasping her chin and turning her face toward his as though she were something to be studied. His touch burned.
"No." Belasco's tone was soft, almost tender, but his eyes gleamed like molten gold.
"She is wasting away under your care." He murmured. "Her mutant gifts awakened long ago, yet you've done nothing but shackle them. Teaching her petty spells, swordplay… trying to make her something she's not." His thumb brushed against her jaw, his voice dipping lower. "You've caged her, Ororo. A songbird taught to fear the sky."
He smiled, cruel and quiet. "With me, she'll become what she was always meant to be. A queen. The queen you should have become."
The last words were a whisper against her skin. Then, with a flick of his claw, he sliced her cheek. The cut was shallow, but precise. He caught the drop of blood on his nail and brought it to his lips.
The world responded to her fury. The wind trembled, heavy with ozone. Thunder rumbled somewhere distant, and the clouds above began to swirl, bruised crimson deepening into black.
"You never change, do you, Ororo?" Belasco said, watching the sky darken with a smile that was almost fond. "Still ruled by the storm you carry inside."
He took a step closer, the boundary of her garden shuddering in protest beneath his foot.
"Do you know why I spared you and your precious cat?" His smile sharpened, voice turning cold. "Ananym."
The name struck her like a curse. Ororo's breath hitched; her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms. The sky above cracked, a single flash of lightning tearing through the clouds.
"Don't speak her name." She hissed, her voice low, trembling with restrained rage.
Belasco only laughed, soft, bitter, amused. He stepped past the garden's edge, the grass withering where his boots touched the soil.
"Illyana will never replace her." He said, his tone almost gentle now, almost mocking. "She is not your blood, Ororo. And she never will be."
At his words, the storm above finally broke as rain began to fall.
"So this is it." Ororo whispered.
Her voice was quiet, but it made Belasco smile. He could hear the resignation in it, the sound of a woman who had already decided what must be done.
She had known this day would come. Every storm has its breaking point, and she had felt this one building for years. She had prepared herself to fight to the death if it came to it. Perhaps, if Kitty and Illyana had stood beside her, they could have held him off, forced him back into the shadows that birthed him.
She knew she could not kill him. Not while he wore the crown of Limbo. But she had always hoped she could buy time, enough for the girl to grow, to become strong enough to stand against him. Enough time for the girl to be able to look him in the eye and survive.
If only she had watched her more closely. If only she had not let her heart grow weary.
The years had not been kind. Her power still slept within her veins, vast and boundless, but her body had grown old, brittle from decades of strain. Yet even now, that same storm, her storm, stirred in her blood, crackling in the air around her.
She could feel it building, hungry and alive.
The strain would kill her. She knew that.
But she had made a promise long ago, that if this day ever came, she would stand in the way of the darkness that once claimed her. She would buy Illyana every breath, every heartbeat, every second she could.
No matter the cost.
Belasco stood still, head slightly tilted, golden eyes watching her with something between curiosity and pity.
"So dramatic." He whispered with a grin.
His hand rose in the air, causing a wave of shadows to crawl outward from his palm. With a flick of his wrist, they lashed forward. Blades of demonic energy tearing through the space where Ororo had stood.
But she was already gone.
The wind carried her up, allowing her to soar upward. Lightning followed her call, striking the ground where Belasco stood. The explosion split the earth, throwing molten soil into the air. Belasco, however, stepped through the blast unharmed. The fire sparked by the lighting bent away from him as if afraid.
"Obedite." Belasco whispered. "Genuflectō."
(Obey. Kneel)
The command hit her like a hammer. For a heartbeat, her body froze, the demonic word burrowing through her wards. She felt it crawl against her soul, a sick, crawling pull that wanted her on her knees.
She bit through it with a growl, blood dripping from her lip as she forced her will against his. The wind erupted outward, shredding the command like paper. Her hair whipped violently as she raised both arms to the heavens.
The garden roared in answer.
Lightning cascaded around her, forming a spiraling storm that bent the air itself. Her magic laced through it, ancient and pure, twisting the weather into a weapon of nature and magic.
Belasco's smirk faltered for the first time.
He lifted a hand to defend himself as the cyclone struck, holy and electric. For an instant, the storm engulfed him, his silhouette vanishing into the blinding light.
But then, a sound like cracking glass.
The storm split down the middle, torn apart by an invisible force. Belasco stepped through it, his cloak torn but his body untouched. His claws glowed with dark fire.
"You never learn." He said softly, almost disappointed. "You can't kill me here."
"I know."
Her eyes closed for a single breath. Then they opened, burning white. Her veins glowed like molten light as she drew on the last of her power.
The storm collapsed inward, funneling toward her heart. She could feel it tearing through her, lightning, wind, and soul fusing into one unbearable brightness.
"Ororo." Belasco frowned, realization dawning.
The air screamed.
The storm lifted her, light blooming beneath her skin until her outline blurred. Her old body couldn't hold the power, but she didn't care. Every ounce of pain meant one more heartbeat for Illyana and Kitty.
"Sanctuarium vitae." She whispered. "Fiat lux."
(Sanctuary of life. Let there be light.)
All magic demanded a price. Just as fire devoured air to burn, so too did magic consume its wielder. In exchange for time, Ororo would give everything, her soul, her body, her very name to the spell.
She wasn't sure how much time it would buy. Months, years, decades? But if it was enough for them to live… enough for them to grow strong and escape his grasp… then it would be worth it.
The world exploded.
Light poured outward like the birth of a sun. The storm turned molten white, searing sky and soil alike. The barrier formed, not a wall, but a living pulse, shaped by her final breath. Every flower, every drop of rain, every spark in the air glowed with her magic.
Belasco stumbled backward, shielding his eyes, the corners of his coat catching fire. His voice broke into laughter, cruel, disbelieving.
"So much for just one girl?" He jeered, his smile untouched by the heat. "You'd burn the world for her, but you let the rest die? Where was this fire before?"
Through the roaring light, her voice came, faint and beautiful.
"Because she is mine." Ororo said, the words trembling through the air like thunder. "In every way that matters."
Belasco's laughter died. For a heartbeat, there was only silence, then the storm consumed everything.
And she was gone.
Her body dissolved into light, scattered through the storm like a thousand sparks. The rain turned silver as it fell, her essence woven into every drop.
When the light finally faded, only the garden remained, bathed in quiet, eternal radiance.
Belasco stood at its edge, smoke curling from his cloak. He watched the barrier pulse softly, humming with life. Then he smiled, cold, almost tender.
"You always were my favorite pet." He murmured. "Always so loyal to her cage."
He looked at the barrier now protecting the garden for a few more moments before he turned, vanishing into the mist, leaving the sanctuary glowing behind him, the last breath of Ororo Munroe, storm goddess, mother, protector.
Shoutout to @Basilisk, @Harman, and @Tertius711 for helping me brainstorm and keep on coming up with ideas for this story and for Beta Reading.
https://discord.gg/WTgN9J3YgK
~A/N~
I had fun with this chap.
Ciri and Alex finally smooch, I hope it felt earned. They've already been spending practically every day for over a month together. And after a bunch of hearts to hearts between each other, the timing felt right. Originally I had Avallac'h show up and interrupt the confession, but would have felt kinda cheap.
Also, Avallac'h had to show up eventually. If you are wondering why he is still Avallac'h and not Uma it's because the curse takes a while to take effect. In the game, he manages to resist it long enough to save Ciri and take her to the island with the dwarves, so judging by the timeline he should have still had a bit of time as an Aen Elle.
In the comics, I don't think it's ever confirmed who Ananym's mother was, so I just decided that we ball, and that it was Limbo Ororo during her past as Belasco's student. Hopefully Ororo's sacrifice to earn more time for Illyana felt good. It was set up a while ago.
Belasco is just him, as long as he remains king, so there's nothing else much that someone like Ororo or Kitty could do. And with Illyana dealing with the soul aftermath, well, she didn't have much of a choice.
Anyways, this first volume is drawing to an end, so I hope you all have been enjoying it.