After the last cryptic word left her lips, Ciri went completely still—eyes glassy, staring through the world as if she wasn't in it at all.
"Ciri!"
Aren splashed out of the river barefoot, water dripping from him as he grabbed her by the arm. A strange shock ran up his fingers, sinking into his bones, but before he could focus on it, Ciri blinked.
"Ah! Why are you standing in front of me naked!?" she yelped, hands flying up to cover her face—though she very clearly peeked through her fingers.
"Stop staring!" Aren snapped, bonking her lightly on the head as he turned away, one hand moving down to cover himself. "Are you alright? Do you feel… strange?"
"Strange?" She blinked at him, confused—until realization suddenly hit. Her emerald eyes widened.
"Don't tell me—was I in a trance again?"
"Yes. And look away, I'm changing," he muttered, heading toward the clothes he had left on a rock.
"N-no—wait!" Ciri hurried after him, trying very hard not to look at his very obvious pale backside. "Did I… say anything? While I was out?"
"Give me a second to get decent first," Aren muttered, annoyed.
"Right. Sorry…"
She stopped, staring at the ground, shoulders tense. "It's just… it's happening more often. It was never this bad in Cintra. But this past year… It has happened three times already. Once with Geralt, once with Vesemir… even once when I was alone with Triss. My mind just blanks out. And when I wake up…"
Her voice tightened.
"I don't remember anything."
Aren dried himself off quickly and pulled on his clothes. Whatever calm he had hoped for this morning was gone—washed away by her strange voice and the weight of the words she didn't remember saying.
"Why is this happening to me Aren?" Ciri muttered, rubbing her arms. "I always knew something about me was… different. At first I thought it was just magic, but Triss said not every mage can just speak prophecies. And mine are always about someone dying—"
She froze.
"Wait. No. Don't tell me I… prophesied your death too?"
Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
Aren didn't answer immediately. He finished pulling on his shirt, strapped on his gear, and took a slow breath.
"Aren… please."
Ciri stepped closer, grabbing his arm with trembling fingers. "I did, didn't I? I'm sorry—I never mean to. I can't control it. When it happens, my mind just… disappears. Everyone told me I speak strange things about how they'll die. But I swear, I would never say that on purpose. You have to believe me."
"I believe you, Ciri," Aren said gently, patting her head with a tired sigh. "It's not your fault."
She let out a shaky breath, relief softening her features as she fell into step beside him.
"Then… what did I say this time?" she asked quietly. "Geralt, Vesemir, Triss—they all told me the prophecies I made. I didn't understand half of it but… the part about how they'd die was always clear." She swallowed. "But Triss also said nothing is guaranteed. Prophecies don't have to come true. So you don't need to worry!"
She squeezed his arm, almost pleading.
Aren could hardly focus on what she was saying.
He could still hear the voice that wasn't hers, cold and ancient, echoing in his skull.
Every word was burned into him.
But he forced a smile.
"It happened so suddenly I barely remember any of it," he lied softly. "If it comes back to me, I'll tell you. Don't stress over it."
He stepped toward Bojack, adjusting the horse's reins.
"Now help me get them ready."
"A-alright," Ciri muttered, still watching him with worry as she moved to help.
Aren kept his expression calm, but inside, his thoughts churned.
It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her—he just didn't want to put more weight on her shoulders right now. She had enough burdens already.
And there was another reason.
He had realized instantly that the "Forest Forbidden" was almost certainly Hogwarts' own Forbidden Forest. If Ciri knew the prophecy spoke of that place, she might refuse to go to Hogwarts at all… and she definitely wouldn't let him go.
And Aren was not about to lose his one real chance to learn magic.
Besides, he told himself as he tightened Bojack's saddle straps, if the Forbidden Forest is going to kill me, then I'll just… not go in.
Simple.
Though the part about the "fire" still bothered him. Whoever—or whatever—that referred to, he had no idea.
"Thanks for… not getting weirded out by me," Ciri said quietly, walking beside him as she guided Kelpie by the reins."This past year… you've been my only friend. If you started avoiding me too, I—I don't know what I'd do."
"Well, weird is better than boring," Aren said with a grin. "Makes you more interesting, Princess of Cintra."
"You're terrible at comforting people," she muttered, giving his arm a sharp pinch—but she was smiling. "And I'm no princess anymore. Cintra's been taken by Nilfgaard, and now they're hunting me so they can claim it 'legitimately.'"
Aren bit back the truth.
It wasn't just Nilfgaard.
All of Westeros was hunting her—and not for political gain alone. The throne of Cintra was just a convenient excuse. What truly mattered was the Elder Blood in her veins, a power worth more than any crown. The prophecies she spoke were barely a glimpse of what she could really do.
It was still not that bad as not many people knew about it, even Aren only knew of that because of his own meta knowledge.
"Earlier," Ciri said softly, "I asked what you think about me going to Hogwarts. You never answered."
"What's there to think about?" Aren replied, rolling his eyes. "It's the best magic school in Westeros. You'll finally learn to control your powers. And weren't you the one always complaining about fleeing across the continent, hiding in forests, sleeping in barns? Now you get to stay in a castle. It should sound like going home to you."
"I—I know that," she murmured, kicking a pebble. "Vesemir said something similar. But it feels like… maybe Geralt's tired of protecting me. Like he wants to get rid of me. Sending me to the most famous school in Westeros—won't I just be a sitting duck there? Everyone will know where I am."
"No, you'll be safest there, kiddo," a soft familiar voice called ahead of them.
A red-haired woman stepped onto the path, a warm smile brightening her face.
"Hogwarts has Dumbledore—the most powerful wizard in Westeros watching over it," she said.
"Triss!"
Ciri dropped Kelpie's reins and sprinted toward her, throwing her arms around the sorceress. "It's been so long!"
"For me too, Ciri," Triss said, hugging her back just as tightly.
"Did Geralt call you to persuade me too?" Ciri asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Well… yes and no," Triss said with a shrug. "Would I portal all the way to this backwater forest just because that broody man asked?" She clicked her tongue. "Of course not. I came to see you, Ciri."
Then her gaze slid to Aren, warm and teasing.
"And also because I wanted to see this handsome face again. What, no hug for me today? Or did you finally start falling for me?" she smirked.
With her red hair pinned in a soft bun and a deep-cut cleavage, richly tailored top that framed her slim waist, Triss Merigold looked every bit the dazzling sorceress. Most men would trip over themselves to greet her.
Aren just looked… annoyed.
Triss blinked. "Um… did something happen? Why does it look like the kid isn't happy to see me?" she asked Ciri, who only crossed her arms and pouted.
"Triss," Aren said, stepping forward. "When I was ten, you—a full graduate of Aretuza, with all your tests and absolute confidence—told me I had no magic. That I would never be a sorcerer or a wizard. So how did I get an admission letter from Hogwarts? The top magic school in Westeros? They only invite the most magically gifted children at fifteen."
Triss sighed, shoulders loosening. "Aren… I truly don't know." She looked genuinely troubled. "I didn't deceive you. Sorceresses can see magical aptitude at a glance. Even now, I can't sense a single spark from you." She reached out, touching his arm gently. "I am sorry that you feel angry at me but I swear to you, I would never lie about something that important."
Aren exhaled. "I'm not angry at you, Triss. I'm just… worried. If you can't sense anything, what if Hogwarts made a mistake?"
"I've never heard of Hogwarts making a mistake," Triss said, rubbing her temples. "So something else is going on. Honestly, I used to think you were the normal one, but now you and Ciri both make me feel like the most incompetent sorceress alive."
"That's not true," Ciri said, slipping beside her and linking arms. "You're not the worst. Your potions at least taste good."
Triss gasped dramatically. "Oh? Making fun of me already?" She pulled a small vial from her pouch, shaking it with a wicked grin. "Perfect timing then. I have a new potion to test. I want to see if it really turns someone's skin green."
"NO—!" Ciri yelped, bolting toward the old cabin as Triss laughed after her.
"That girl is still as mischievous as ever," Triss said with a fond smile. Then her gaze drifted back to Aren. "And why is your face still down? Worried you'll be the only fifteen-year-old virgin at Hogwarts?" she teased, stepping closer. "Should I help you out and pop your cherry myself?"
Her hand slid lightly to his waist, her green eyes gleaming with mischief.
Aren didn't even flinch. This wasn't the first time Triss had tried something like this. The sorceress delighted in tormenting him—every time he reacted, she would laugh twice as hard for falling for such obvious bait.
"No thanks," Aren said dryly, walking past her. "I'd rather try my chances with someone who isn't a few centuries old."
Triss froze.
"…Did you just call me old?" she whispered dangerously.
He barely had time to blink before she snapped,
"If you didn't have such a handsome face, I'd have turned you into a toad on the spot!"
With a dramatic hmph, she spun on her heel and stalked toward the cabin.
Aren winced. Yeah… probably shouldn't have mentioned her age.
He quickly tied Bojack and Roach's reins, grabbed the gear, and hurried after her. The good thing about Triss was that she forgave easily—after a couple of apologies, anyway.
Sure enough, by the time he caught up, she was already smiling again, laughing with Ciri and mocking Geralt's slow, methodical movements as he finished his forms. Aren wisely didn't join in. Those two could tease the Witcher all they wanted—but if he did the same, then he would be the only one ending up scrubbing floors as punishment.
A sudden thunder of hooves drew everyone's attention.
Vesemir emerged from the treeline, a large sack slung over his back.
"Oh! Vesemir, where did you run off to this early morning?" Ciri called, waving.
"I was sent on an errand," Vesemir grumbled, dismounting. "By the White Wolf himself—who apparently can't even be bothered to fetch his own money from the bank."
"Oh—bank?" Triss perked up. "Did you go to Gringotts?"
"Good to see you came on such short notice, Triss," Vesemir said with a tired smile. "And yes. I went because this one—" he jabbed a thumb at Geralt "—refuses to step inside, even though he's got an entire vault sitting there."
"I just hate those goblins," Geralt muttered, ending his drills and walking over. He set down his sword and pulled on his shirt. "They swarm you like vultures smelling fresh blood."
"Well, yes," Vesemir sighed, "those little shits can sniff out coin from a mile away. The saddest part is they ignored me completely when I was there."
Geralt unfastened the bag and pulled out a large pouch.
"Here. This one's for you, Ciri."
Her eyes widened as she felt the weight.
"And this," Geralt continued, lifting out an even larger pouch, "is for their school tuition fees." He passed it to Triss, who accepted with a nod.
"Oh gods—this many gold coins?" Ciri gasped, opening her pouch. "Geralt, did you… rob a noble?"
Triss snorted. "Please. This is just a fraction of the gold he earned after conquering that Labyrinth. The one he swore he'd never touch because it was 'blood money'?" she teased.
Geralt grunted, which in Witcher language meant drop it.
"But why give me so much?" Ciri asked, completely baffled.
"What else?" Triss said, smiling as she ruffled her hair. "Your Hogwarts supplies won't buy themselves. We're heading to Diagon Alley."
Aren, who had been quietly observing all of this, suddenly straightened—eyes shining with barely contained excitement.
Diagon Alley—one of the most iconic places from his childhood stories.
A place of magic, wonder, and everything he had dreamed of in two lifetimes.
For the first time since waking in this brutal world, something warm stirred in his chest.
He was finally stepping into the world of magic!