— –Alexander Montclair– —
Time was up.
Or, at least the time he'd given himself was up. He still had a few more days left in the timeline O'Dimm had given him. But he knew better than to wait until the last moment to return to Limbo.
Outside the elven tower of Tor Gvalch'ca, a snowstorm raged like a beast clawing at the walls. Wind howled against the barrier Avallac'h had raised, sheets of white snow slamming against invisible boundaries and freezing into a thin crust of frost. The world beyond looked ready to tear itself apart, but inside the tower, the air was still. Quiet. Almost painfully so.
And at the very peak, just like something ripped straight out of a Marvel movie ending, the gate blazed, a massive column of light punching through the ceiling and spearing the sky. Avallac'h's portal. Ciri's way out. Her last step.
Alex's gaze drifted over the barrier as another wave of ice pressed against it, spiderwebbing into thin cracks before softening into frost.
"Ready?" He asked, voice softer than he meant it to be.
Ciri stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the gate. The light painted silver over her features, making her look almost otherworldly. She turned at his question, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"Ready as I'll ever be." She tilted her head slightly. "You?"
"I'm optimistic." He chuckled under his breath.
He had expected fear to choke him here. Some last-minute panic. Some desperate urge to buy more time. But instead… he felt calm. Not numb, just… settled. A quiet certainty inside his chest.
Even if Limbo swallowed him whole… he would be able to say he lived. Oddly enough, that was enough for him.
Ciri and he had only been "together" a little over two weeks, barely anything, really, but those days had been full. Real. He'd watched her reclaim her medallion from the Crones with Geralt at her side. He'd made his final preparations in Novigrad and Kaer Morhen, teleporting between the two places with Avallac'h's and Ciri's help since he still didn't have full control over his own power.
And Ciri… Ciri had spent her last days visiting everyone she cared about, slipping away without telling a soul. Leaving notes in places only they would find. He admired that part of her.
For his own part, he'd left gifts. Small ones for people like Dandelion or Vesimir. But Dudu and Yennefer had done more for him than anyone in this world aside from Ciri herself. He wanted to give them something a bit more intricate to remember him by, even if he never returned.
Dudu had been the easier of the two. Alex had given him the basics of the Aether Core, the skeleton of the concept, the theory behind the design, the pieces that made the whole thing work. The Doppler couldn't recreate it with technology, not in this world, not without decades of development and infrastructure and half the conveniences Alex had back home. But magic… magic made the impossible feel a little less impossible.
He wasn't sure why he hadn't realized it sooner, but the Aether Core wasn't just an invention. It was, in principle, the same as a sorcerer binding themselves to another dimension, siphoning power through controlled channels.
If anyone could take that and run with it in a way that wouldn't end in catastrophe, it was hopefully Dudu. The Doppler had a good heart. Whatever Dudu built from it, Alex trusted him.
Yennefer had been harder.
He didn't have much to give her. Not really. Nothing that felt worthy of her. So he'd left her a notebook, a return gift for the one she'd handed him during their first real conversation. His was filled with everything he could remember about Limbo's magic and Ororo's spells. Fuzzy memories, half-formed impressions, the fragments he'd caught from dreams tied to the soul piece inside Illyana.
It wasn't much. Not compared to what she deserved. But Yennefer was brilliant. She would find a way to turn scraps into something useful.
If he had one regret, it was Geralt, someone who was practically Ciri's father. The man hadn't warmed up to him. Alex had tried, but all of their interactions had stayed short, stiff, and politely strained. Geralt just didn't like him, and Alex didn't fully understand why.
Maybe that was life. You didn't get the approval of every legend you met.
He glanced toward Ciri again, toward the faint smile she wore as she faced the gate. Then after a moment, he reached into his coat and grasped a pouch. He still had one more thing to give. Something he'd been turning over in his hands for days now.
"Hey." Alex said softly. "I have something for you. Before we go."
"A gift? Now?" Ciri turned, the light from the gate catching the green in her eyes.
"Well, it's now or never, isn't it?" Alex answered with a soft smile as he reached into the small pouch and pulled out a silver medallion.
It was round, polished, and unmistakably Witcher-like. But the creature etched into the metal wasn't a wolf. It was a swallow, wings spread as if captured mid-flight.
"I started preparing it after my first trip back to Novigrad." Alex said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the edge. "Before you and Geralt went to recover the one you lost. But by the time you came back with yours, this was already finished."
He offered it to her carefully, almost as if it might break.
"Yennefer helped me enchant it." He added. "So it should work exactly like any other Witcher medallion. It'll react to danger, to magic, and well, pretty much anything that will try to kill you."
Ciri let out a slow breath. It wasn't quite laughter, not quite a sigh, something warm caught between the two. She closed her fingers around the medallion and looked up at him.
"It's beautiful." She said simply.
Then she paused, the faint smile fading as something heavier settled in her expression. Before he could speak, she reached beneath her cloak, fingers slipping around the chain at her neck. Her original medallion, the one she'd fought to reclaim, the one tied to her home, her childhood, her father-figure, glinted in her hand as she unclasped it.
"Here." Ciri said, stepping closer. "You should take mine."
"Ciri—" Alex tried to speak before Ciri cut him off as she placed her medallion in his hands, already moving to clasp the one he'd given her.
"That medallion matters a lot to me. So I am just lending it to you. You'll need it where you are going. I'll come and pick it up once I am back. Once I am ready. Alright?"
Alex looked at her for a moment before giving her a smile as he pressed the medallion tightly in his hand before moving to clasp it around his neck.
"Alright. I'll keep it safe for you." He answered, earning a chuckle from her.
For a moment they looked at each other. Then Ciri finally turned, letting out a breath as she faced the gate again.
"It's time." She said, giving him one last nod, the kind that said everything they weren't saying aloud. "It was fun, Alexander."
"It was." He echoed.
They'd already spilled their goodbyes before ever setting foot in this tower. He'd thought that would make the moment easier. Maybe it did. But it didn't stop the faint ache in his chest as he watched her climb the steps toward the silver gate.
She paused for only a second.
"Thanks." She said quietly.
Then she stepped forward and disappeared into the light.
As the portal swallowed her, the barrier around the tower shattered, breaking into glittering shards of ice that scattered and dissolved into the cold air, like the world itself had exhaled.
"Let's go, Avallac'h." Alex said, turning toward the Aen Elle as the elf adjusted the metal mask over his face.
The wind howled through the now-exposed tower, but Alex didn't flinch.
There was nothing left to wait for.
— –Illyana Rasputin "Montclair"– —
The fallen leaves told a story.
A story of grief, of revenge, of captivity.
Illyana stood beneath Ororo's tree, watching as another brittle leaf drifted down. She caught it gently between her fingers. It was dry, too dry, and with the slightest pressure it crumbled into dust against her palm.
Ororo's tree was dead. The heart of the garden was dead. And soon, everything Ororo had grown would collapse with it.
It was strange. For years she had felt trapped here, shut in by beauty that refused to change, this gilded birdcage that healed her wounds but offered no freedom. She'd spent so long resenting it… and now, as she watched Belasco's corruption leech the color from every corner of the garden, she found herself wishing she had just one more day. One more morning in a place untouched by his shadow.
"Thank you, Ororo." Illyana whispered, resting her hand against the bark one last time. Her voice sounded too small in the dying quiet. "For everything."
She stepped back, letting the last of the leaves fall without reaching for them. Then she turned and walked through what remained of the garden. The path she'd walked thousands of times was almost unrecognizable now, petals turned black, vines brittle, grass mottled with patches of decay. The air carried no warmth, just the metallic chill of encroaching Limbo.
By the time she reached the entrance, Kate was already waiting.
The mask she wore hid her expression, but Illyana didn't need to see her face to know what she felt. Kate had lived here too. She'd watched this place grow with them, watched it shelter them. Losing it hurt her as much as it hurt Illyana.
Still, Kate's gaze was fixed ahead, toward Belasco's castle. Even now, she was steady. Even now, she stood like a wall against everything coming.
Then, as she tilted her head up, a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"It's going to rain soon." She said softly.
"Good." Illyana answered, stepping forward. Her foot crossed the threshold of the garden, her first step outside Ororo's protection since the day she'd been rescued.
The moment she left it… she felt him.
Belasco.
His presence pressed against her skin like a hand she couldn't swat away. A cold gaze trailing down her spine. Watching her. Measuring her. Waiting.
She half expected him to materialize before them, to drag her back by force, to snuff out this tiny rebellion before it fully began. But he didn't.
Of course he didn't.
He didn't need to rush. He thought she'd come crawling back eventually. He probably still saw her as the frightened girl he'd molded.
Illyana felt her jaw tighten, a frown pulling at her face before she could stop it.
Kate stepped to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder, tapping it twice. A familiar gesture. A grounding one.
"Don't let him get to you. Remember, he wants you angry, he wants you to lose control. That is how he wins." Kate said.
Illyana let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The heavy wind brushed her hair back, cold against her cheeks. She nodded once.
"I won't." She whispered. "Not this time."
Then she took another step. Toward the castle. Toward Belasco.
Toward the end.
Because there was nowhere else to run anymore. Nowhere to hide. All they could do now was face the man who had kept them as prisoners in his realm.
She had truly believed that Belasco would send legions of demons in her direction. Countless enemies to try to overwhelm her and Kate. Enemies that would tire her out before the eventual confrontation. Or maybe he'd twist Limbo itself around them, try to drown them in its power before they could even set foot near him.
Yet, no one came.
Even once they arrived at the outskirts of Belasco's castle. Even when the path should have been crawling with all sorts of demons. No one came in their way, no one tried to stop them. In fact, they did not see a single demon all of the way until they arrived at the very gates of the castle.
Standing there was S'ym, the purple demon that had once acted as her and Alex's prison guard.
Illyana's hand twitched, ready to summon her own soulsword to her hand, ready to fight. Even Kate, next to her, drew her own blade in one smooth motion, preparing to attack the moment the demon moved to stop them.
Yet, S'ym didn't even flinch at seeing them. He simply glanced over the two of them for a second before stepping to the side, giving them free passage to the castle.
"Lord Belasco has been waiting." He announced, his voice empty of everything. There was no anger, no threat, not even curiosity. Almost as if this was just another day for him.
Illyana could feel her pulse quicken at the demon's behaviour. For a second she even considered drawing her sword either way and attacking him. Ending him for keeping her and Alex imprisoned. Yet she held back, she needed to conserve as much energy as she could. It wouldn't do her well to tire herself out before reaching him.
Yet, as Kate sheathed her blade once more and the two of them began walking forward to the castle, Illyana couldn't help but hesitate. Perhaps she should turn around now, run as far as she could. Belasco wanted them to walk in. If Belasco had a trap ready for them, then this is exactly how he would spring it, by doing nothing. By letting them wrap the chain around the necks themselves.
And yet…
A small part of her whispered that maybe this was their chance. Maybe his arrogance had finally gotten the best of him. Belasco was prideful enough to believe no one could hurt him, not her, not Kate, not anyone. Maybe he truly didn't see them as threats. Maybe he was so sure of himself that he hadn't even bothered to prepare for their arrival.
What if this was the one moment he would be least prepared to fight?
The one moment he wouldn't be prepared for her soulsword.
All she needed was one strike, after all. All she needed was to draw a drop of blood with her soulsword to turn the tables. He might be the king of Limbo, but his control came by force. The moment he loosened the chains, even slightly, Limbo would turn to her side. To Darkchylde's side.
So, taking a deep breath to calm herself, she walked into the lion's den.
Walking those halls again with S'ym behind her pulled at something inside her. She remembered the cold floors beneath her bare feet. The chains. The fear. The helplessness. She even remembered walking these halls beside Alex, her hand reaching out for his own, both of them terrified and pretending they weren't.
Her fists tightened until her knuckles ached.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn the entire place down. But she refused to let Belasco see her lose control. He wouldn't get that satisfaction.
Finally, they reached the familiar double doors to Belasco's throne room. Illyana swallowed once, placed her hand on the handle, and pushed it open.
The room was exactly as she remembered, with a massive throne of black stone and bone perched on a raised dais. And sitting upon it, calm as ever was Belasco.
His eyes lit up the moment they met hers.
"Illyana." He greeted, voice warm in a way that made her skin crawl. His smile widened, relaxed and delighted. "Welcome home."
Illyana's eyes narrowed at the words. Her jaw clenched, and her hand couldn't help but tremble slightly. Not with fear, but with anger. She really hadn't expected just how strong her emotions would be once she finally met the demon face to face. She could feel her breathing quickening, even as she tried to calm down. But she couldn't.
"Kill him now."
It wasn't just her anger. She wasn't the only one who was out for blood. Alex despised him, Limbo was ready to break free, and Darkchylde inside of her was ready to explode. Even with their agreement in place, she could feel her other half threatening to take over.
Ororo had taught her peace. Kate had taught her control. And yet… she felt the composure she'd built for this moment breaking. She felt his gaze fixed on her alone, drinking in every detail of her, the way a collector admires a priceless piece he already believes belongs to him.
"You've grown." He said softly, almost fondly. "I wondered how long it would take before you returned to me."
"I didn't come back for you." Illyana couldn't help but retort. Feeling the last remainders of her composure falling apart the more she heard him talk. She could see Kate out of the corner of her eye, trying to calm her down. But when everything inside of her was shouting at her to attack the demon, she was really reaching her limits.
"Of course you did." Belasco lounged back in his throne, resting his cheek against his knuckles like her words amused him. "Everything you do leads you right back here. To me."
Illyana didn't let him continue.
With one movement, she summoned her soulsword to her hand, the golden light it emitted leaving a trail behind as she rushed towards him. She saw nothing but red as she charged. She moved faster than she ever had, crossing the length of the throne room in an instant as she crashed into the throne blade first.
The throne in front of her exploded from the force, and yet, she didn't feel the resistance she had expected. There was no heat, no flesh, no blood in her blade. The body in the throne smiled before wilting like smoke, melting down into a pool of shadows that slithered across the floor and vanished beneath her boots.
"So impatient." Belasco's voice slid behind her. "What happened to you, Illyana? You were such a well-behaved child."
Her jaw clenched.
"Revela quod ab oculis meis occultum est."
(Reveal what is hidden from my eyes.)
Illyana chanted, every syllable sharp as she poured her raw will into the spell.
For a single flicker, it worked.
Belasco's form snapped into existence just a few feet away from her, smiling, pleased, eyes bright with the amusement of someone watching a puppet dance. But before she could strike, the world shuddered.
"No." Belasco muttered.
The word wasn't loud. It didn't have to be.
The moment it left his lips, she felt it, Limbo's chains snapping tight around her spell, swallowing her magic whole. The brief moment of clarity she had vanishing, leaving nothing but empty air where she had seen him standing just moments before.
Illyana froze for half a second, teeth grinding.
Her soulsword pulsed in her hand, reacting to the shift in the realm, trying to reach deeper, to anchor her to the truth beneath the illusions. Through it, she still felt Limbo's whispers. The realm still answered her, even now, even after all this time.
But Belasco's grip was stronger.
For a moment, she saw Kate, fighting the purple demon S'ym across the room. She could hear her muffled shouts, calling out to her, and for a moment she wanted to listen, she wanted to snap out of her anger. She knew it felt wrong. But before she could regain any clarity, she heard his voice again.
"Try again." He whispered in her ear. "I'm curious how long you'll fight the inevitable."
Belasco stepped out of the shadows behind her with a casual, almost bored sort of ease, like none of this was a fight. Like she was a child practicing swings.
His fingers brushed lightly through her hair, a mockery of tenderness that made her skin crawl. His hand wrapped around her wrist, lifting it, studying the soulsword like a craftsman admiring a new tool.
"However…" He purred, tilting her hand toward the light. "This… this is something quite interesting."
He reached toward the blade with a slow, curious touch, as if he were caressing the wing of a dangerous animal.
Illyana snapped.
She let the sword fall from the hand he held, catching the hilt with her free one and twisting her body in a fluid motion. She slashed upward with everything she had.
But once again, her blade cut nothing.
She couldn't control her body as she shouted in pure anger and frustration. It felt like every single emotion that she had pushed back for years was coming back to the surface, causing her pulse to quicken, her breathing to become heavier and her thoughts to become muddled.
She tried to search for Alex's guidance inside of her, like he always did when she needed him most. But when she reached for him, she only felt more anger. Pure, unbridled rage.
"You fucking coward!" She shouted, losing her composure in its entirety as she began to swing her blade at every single shadow. "Are you going to keep hiding?"
She wanted to anger him, to stop fighting her using the tricks he was using. Ororo had taught her that the only way to get through to Belasco was to strike at his pride. She was right.
The impact hit her before she even finished her breath. It was like being hit by a bus.
Her entire body lifted off the ground, thrown clean across the room. She didn't even have time to protect her head before she smashed through the stained glass window. The world blurred around her for a moment, cold air, then a plunge, then—
The ground slammed into her.
Illyana bounced once, skidding across the rough stone courtyard, rolling until she finally managed to slam a hand against the ground and stop herself. Her lungs burned. Every bone in her body ached. She forced herself up, staggered, then locked her footing and glared upward.
Belasco hovered in the shattered window frame. His smile was gone. He descended slowly, cloak trailing behind him as he touched down only a few steps away.
"Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, Illyana." Belasco reprimanded her. "I'm letting you throw your tantrum, am I not?"
Illyana's breath quickened up until the point she was practically panting from the anger as she reached for her blade and tried to slash him once more. Yet, all Belasco needed to do was simply take a step back to dodge her blade.
Time and time again, Illyana swung with all her strength, trying to cut the demon, only for Belasco to shift just out of her reach. She was ready to explode, to let Darkchylde out to fight on her behalf when she felt it.
Something cold touched her cheek. A single raindrop. Then another. And another.
Her body froze mid-swing.
She lifted her gaze. The clouds above had gathered thick and low. Each drop striking her skin felt like a hand shaking her awake, peeling back the rage that had been choking her thoughts.
Inside her chest, beneath the pounding of her heart, she felt that faint, warm tug. Not fury. Not darkness. Something else. Someone else. She pressed her hand to her chest, right over the place where Alex's soul pulsed faintly against her own.
And only then did she understand just how wrong this rage felt. How foreign. How forced.
"Alex?" She breathed out loud before she could stop herself. But no, that wasn't him, that wasn't her. She was angry, she hated Belasco, but…
She didn't get time to unpack it.
The ground beneath her split with a sharp crack as chains burst upward, dozens of them, rushing for her ankles, her wrists, her throat. She reacted on instinct alone.
Illyana leapt back, swinging her soulsword in a wide arc. Golden light blazed across the courtyard as she sliced through the chains, each link shattering into crimson sparks. For the first time since the fight began, she wasn't pressing forward.
She was being pushed back.
More chains erupted behind her. Another wave from her left. Then her right.
She spun through the air the way Kate had drilled into her, tight rotations, clean footwork, letting her momentum carry the blade where her reach couldn't. Every twist brought the soulsword cutting through another spell aimed to restrain her.
Yet Belasco didn't react, he simply watched her with that same damned smile as she fought back against him.
Illyana's jaw clenched. She hit the ground in a controlled slide, sparks kicking up around her boots as she carved through another cluster of chains. She retreated only enough to buy herself space, yet before she could catch her breath she was forced to jump into the air again as countless hands burst from the ground underneath to try to grab her.
Belasco raised a hand, almost lazily. A jagged spear of crimson fire shot toward her.
Illyana swung her blade, but the spear twisted midair, alive in a way it shouldn't have been. It coiled around her like a serpent before erupting into a swirling tornado of flame.
Heat slammed into her from all directions, and the world started to tilt. She jammed her soulsword into the ground to anchor herself, but the moment the blade hit the stone, her knees buckled.
A cry tore out of her throat before she could stop it.
Her hand flew to her chest, clawing, desperate for breath that wouldn't come. Her limbs trembled. Her vision blurred at the edges. She tried to push magic through herself, to ground her soul, to fight… But her body wasn't listening. It wasn't obeying at all. She was suffocating.
And then he appeared.
Belasco walked through the flames as if they were nothing more than a warm breeze. His golden eyes burned far brighter within the inferno.
He reached for her chin, lifting it gently, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"I had different plans for Alexander." Belasco whispered, his finger trailing across her cheek. "He was meant to become so much more. To taste freedom, yes… before I tightened the chain again."
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth.
"But then you had to go and do something so childish, didn't you?"
"Shut him up!" Darkchylde roared inside her. The absolute despise she now had for Belasco breaking through their agreement as Illyana felt herself be pushed to the side.
"Wait." Illyana tried to stop her, but it was too late.
Her eyes blazed gold. Her hair drained of its color. Two large horns erupted from her forehead with a sickening crack. A burst of power exploded out of her, a shockwave that threw Belasco's hand off her face at last.
Darkchylde stood in her place, chest heaving even though she didn't need to breathe, not here, not in Limbo. Yet she still clawed hard at her ribs, at that steady heartbeat buried deep inside her soul. At his heartbeat.
And then she screamed.
"LET HIM GO!"
The soulsword erupted in her hand, and its outer layer shattered.
Golden fragments burst outward in a blinding ring, orbiting her in frantic patterns, sharp as broken glass. They whipped through the air erratically, responding to nothing but Darkchylde's rage.
She stepped forward, ready to tear Belasco apart. But before she could move the fragments froze. Every single shard stilled midair, then shifted direction, heading not for Belasco, but for her.
Darkchylde's scream tore out of her as the glowing shards embedded themselves into her skin, punching deep into her side, her shoulders, her back. Pain tore through her in violent jolts, but she ignored it. She had to. She grabbed the now smaller soulsword in her hand and charged forward anyway, dragging her feet across the cracked stone.
She didn't want to stop.
But her legs buckled.
The embedded fragments pushed deeper, driving into her flesh like nails forged from her own soul. The weight crushed her to her knees. She gasped, trying to force herself upright, but she couldn't.
Belasco stepped forward, smiling softly.
"Still." He said, almost kindly. "Perhaps I should thank you."
He extended his hand toward the soulsword. The blade ripped itself from her grip and flew toward him like a loyal pet. He caught it easily. And with a slow, deliberate motion, he drove the golden blade down through Darkchylde's stomach, pinning her to the ground like an insect under glass.
"You made this so much easier for me."
Darkchylde writhed beneath the blade, her fingers sinking into the stone as she tried to pull herself forward. The soulsword pinned her clean through the stomach, glowing hot from where it fused with the ground.
"Still, I believe you should be happy. Show me that smile, Darkchylde. You won." Belasco whispered softly. "You wanted to save him, didn't you? You wanted it more than anything."
She snarled, trying to lift herself despite the blade inside her. The pain was nauseating, but worse than the pain was the rage coiled in her chest, raw, suffocating, wrong. Belasco's hand slipped beneath his cloak. The object in his hands finally made Darkchylde stop fighting. A small and familiar crimson orb, a bloodstone.
"Thanks to your sacrifice, thanks to your childish tantrum, Alexander will be free." The bloodstone in his hand began to change at his words, turning into a crimson collar. "This was meant to be his chain, but it will look far more beautiful around your neck."
~A/N~
I didn't want to outright say it in the chapter, but if it wasn't clear enough by the end, the reason why Illyana was losing her shit the entire fight is not because she can't control her emotions but because Belasco was using the bloodstone he took from Alex before he escaped to the Witcher to influence her. Also using said bloodstone to control Illyana's soulsword since it is partially made from Alex's soul.
Rip Illyana, she's cooked. Belasco op, please nerf.
Also, for anyone wondering, the influence that Alex had on Illyana's soulsword basically allows Illyana to wield her blade similarly to Jane Foster in Thor Love and Thunder with the broken hammer. So she can split the sword into fragments and control each fragment individually since her sword is basically made out of "broken glass"