The Divine Hunter

Chapter 636: At the End of the White Frost

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Ciri held Eileni tight, looking around. All she saw was carnage. Tor Lara’s battlefield was covered in corpses. Corpses of Aen Elle, the Hounds, the Order’s knights, and the sorcerers. The blood had stained the air red, and its stench was nauseating.

The only silver lining was that they suffered no casualties on their side, though the witchers were badly injured, and the sorceresses were the shade of the White Frost.

And then Ciri looked at the coastline beyond. What she saw made her jaw slack. “What is that?”

A sea of seagulls and petrels were charging into the Isle of Thanedd. The shadows they cast even blocked out the sun in the skies. As they flew, their screams of despair filled the air. Behind the escaping birds, a black hole was torn in the skies. It was like the void of space itself.

Hail and snow poured from the hole, and they spun with the winds on the sea, turning into a gigantic hurricane of white. The hurricane was taller than the tallest peaks of Amell, and it connected the seas to the skies.

The hurricane roared, slowly moving ahead. The seas and air it plowed through were turned into a world of frost, filled with nothing but ice and snow. All the living beings it touched were turned into frozen statues. Dozens of seagulls, lagging behind, were turned into ice and dragged into the center of the hurricane.

Fishing boats on the sea were pulled up into the air. As the hurricane wobbled and the frost swirled around, the boats were crushed into pieces. The hurricane was like a white bear traipsing along the sea, devouring everything that came in its path.

But the nightmare did not end there. More frost was sputtered out of that hole in the skies, bolstering the hurricane’s size.

Ciri’s mind was filled with a strange vision. She saw a white skeleton floating within the endless void and pale white frost for what felt like an eternity.

***

“This is no ordinary storm.” Coral clenched her fists, her heart aching, her fiery hair dancing in the wind. She knew that her lover would be leaving her soon.

“Then what is it?” Triss asked, her voice hoarse and solemn.

Francesca clutched her chest, her face the color of the hurricane. In a singsong voice, she said, “The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireadh, the Time of End. Ithlinne’s prophecy is coming true. This is Tedd Deireadh, the last era! We have an hour at most before Thanedd is frozen in ice forever!”

***

At the back of the battlefield, the sorcerers were gazing at the hurricane in disbelief, and they stopped casting their spells. They had researched the ancient texts, so they knew of Ithlinne’s prophecy. They knew what this hurricane meant.

“Why now? Just when we had ended the brotherhood’s conflict. We were about to show what we could do, and now the legendary disaster is upon us?” Philippa was dismayed. In fury and terror, she hissed, “This is the Wild Hunt’s fault! They brought this upon us!”

“No. They too are terrified of the White Frost.” Tissaia shook her head, looking at the retreating Wild Hunt. Moments ago, they were fearless warriors who had a great advantage in this battle, yet now they were giving up on the offense. Instead, they took their Hounds and scurried away into the black vessel in the air.

Tissaia could see the fear in their eyes when they glanced at the hurricane, as if they’d been wounded by the same thing before. “People, I suggest all of us open up a portal and escape Thanedd right now. We cannot stay here, or we’re going to die.” Sabrina’s hair was swaying.

“And where can we run to? If the prophecy is true, no one can escape the White Frost, no matter where they go in this world.” Marti wiped the sweat off her forehead. Romance was swelling in her heart uncontrollably. “So why don’t we find the ones we love and spend our final moments with them?”

***

“We chased the Wild Hunt away, and we have to face the White Frost now? Is this our destiny?”

Eskel held up Vesemir. Geralt and Lambert were seated in a pool of blood, back to back. Their armor was covered in frost, their faces white as clouds.

“What’d the prophecy say again? Everyone’s going to be frozen solid? I’m stupid. I should’ve gone home and seen poor Pashia.”

Lambert shook his head in disdain. With his frozen right hand, he slicked back his receding hairline that was cut off even more earlier, then he turned to his right. “Does love turn you into a pessimist? Can you look on the bright side? Even the kids are tougher than you are.”

***

The injured younger witchers were holding each other up, lining up like a fortress. They were exhausted, but their eyes were filled with the light of excitement.

“The evil Wild Hunt is defeated. The allies of justice, that’s us witchers, won! Let’s see who killed more, brothers. I killed a soldier and two Hounds,” Acamuthorm shouted happily. He had fangs thanks to the higher vampire decoction he took.

“So? I killed one more than you did.” Carl carefully touched the scar that spanned his brow down to half his face. It was a badge of honor, and he was excited. Now no one’s going to say I look like a girl.

“I killed two more than you did.” Monti’s left arm hung limp. He smiled weakly.

“So I’m dead last again?” Lloyd looked upset. He was wiping his chipped silver sword, looking a little miffed.

Felix, Coen, Kiyan, and Aiden smacked them on their heads. “You ignorant brats. We have a disaster on our ass, and you’re competing among yourselves?”

A bone-chilling gust of wind howled across the island. Everyone narrowed their eyes, as if the frost had hurt them. The lads looked at the skies beyond, and the excitement earlier died down. Sobbing, they asked, “Are we all going to die? Will the hurricane eat us all?”

No one answered.

***

“After two hundred years, the Viper School is finally reunited.” Ivar stared at the four unconscious Viper Wild Hunt soldiers tied in silver chains, a smile of satisfaction curling his lips. “Pity I couldn’t kill off that bastard, Eredin, myself. And now this blasted White Frost is here.”

“Don’t feel down, oldie. The kid must have a way through this.” Letho rubbed his head. There was confidence in his eyes. “He’s never let us down before.”

Serrit and Auckes exchanged a smile, and they turned their attention to Ciri.

***

Ciri stared at Roy. He was charred, and his body was covered in wounds. The girl almost couldn’t recognize him, and tears spilled from her eyes. “No one would’ve died if they didn’t try to protect me. You wouldn’t have been hurt either. And that hole wouldn’t have shown up.”

“This isn’t your fault. And I can heal up in two weeks from this.” Roy patted Gryphon’s head to calm it down. He then turned to the worried Coral, Triss, and Francesca. He smiled. “This is a mistake destiny made.”

And then, a sigh of complaint, hatred, dismay, and resignation filled the air. Avallac’h appeared out of nowhere, staring at the witcher. “The Elder Blood is a regal bloodline. Why does someone not of Lara Dorren’s descent have it? How did you manage to slay Eredin and Caranthir and absorb their bloodline? You triggered the White Frost before it should’ve happened, and the Red Riders’ efforts over the years are now for naught.”

The witcher and sorceresses looked at Avallac’h with hatred. They answered, “You killed Caranthir and Grimm. You wanted to force Ciri to mate with an old git over 600 years old. You do not get to take that tone with me.”

Avallac’h was quiet for a moment. He then took a deep breath and bowed at everyone. “Very well. I apologize. I had to do it for my tribe’s continuation. But fear not. I swear I will not lay a finger on you again. To be precise, there’s no point in doing that now.”

The ladies looked to Roy for his opinion.

“You have one minute. Tell me what your plan is. Give me a reason not to slice you and the remaining Wild Hunt up like pieces of meat.”

Avallac’h looked at the lands beyond the bridge. That was where Gors Velen stood. The citizens noticed the incoming disaster, and they took to the streets. The air was filled with screams of despair and fear. Some turned tail and ran. Some spun around in distress, while some fainted. Some even took the chance to cause destruction and mayhem, and some robbed the people around them blind.

“See? Before the White Frost, humanity is insignificant. That goes for all of you. It might be moving slow like a bear that’s eaten too much more than it can take, but it will grow in magnitude and speed. And it will grow fast. That’s the conclusion my tribe gleaned from seeing countless worlds getting frozen solid. If we do not come up with a solution now, the world will be destroyed in a week at most. Trust me, if you stay here, there is nowhere you can hide. You cannot run from this disaster.”

“What are you trying to say?” Yennefer gulped.

“The mistake has been made. We can do nothing but plan our move with that in mind.” Avallac’h looked at Roy, Ciri, and Eileni. He extended an invitation, “Bearers of the Elder Blood, bring your loved ones and return to Tir na Lia with me. With your power coupled with the gate, we can trigger large-scale teleportations and leave these dying worlds. We can escape to somewhere safer. That’s the reason for the Elder Blood’s existence.”

“You escape to another world, hide for a few hundred years, then the White Frost comes for you again, and you escape once more like a dog with its tail between its legs?” Roy stared into Avallac’h’s eyes. With scorn, he said, “Your tribe has escaped for eons. Aren’t you tired?”

“Running away is a disgrace, but it’s better than death. And don’t forget, you have friends and family.” Avallac’h could see that the witcher was the leader of this team. He was almost spewing drool around when he spoke. “You’re going to stay and die with them?”

“I do not plan to sit around and die,” Roy said. He looked at Coral, whose gaze was filled with love. He then looked at Triss, then Yennefer, and the witchers who were huddled around him. “I will not run away either. The White Frost will freeze world after world and destroy all living beings in its way. Only I can stop this disaster. I have mused over it long enough, and I will bring an end to this once and for all.”

Avallac’h froze for a moment. And then, his elegance and serenity disappeared. “No. No one can destroy the White Frost. Not even Ithlinne’s prophecy came up with a concrete method to do that. This is a pointless sacrifice. A gamble with an astronomically low chance of success. Please, just leave with us, witcher.” Avallac’h was almost pleading. “You won this time. I will convince Auberon to agree to most of your terms. Even if it’s having you, Ciri, the young girl, or even Francesca be Aen Elle’s new ruler. Even if you wish to eradicate the White Frost, we need to come up with a plan for it, but that takes time. First, you have to survive this.”

Francesca was convinced. She clasped her hands together, wishing to speak. I cannot let the bloodline of Aen Seidhe die out just like this. The elven queen was starting to hesitate, wondering how she should convince Roy to accept reality.

Ciri suddenly looked at the black vessel stopped far away from her, and she hissed, “Even if my wish is to cut off these Red Riders’ heads?”

Avallac’h hesitated. He gritted his teeth, trying to make a decision.

“Forget it! I don’t want to run!” Ciri argued loudly. “Calanthe, Bran, Hjalmar, and Cerys are here. I cannot leave them alone with the hurricane!”

“Milady, I told you, you can bring all your family and friends!”

“Even the Order’s knights, the warriors of Skellige, and all the Cintrans who are still loyal to us?”

Avallac’h shut up.

A layer of golden light appeared on Ciri’s face. Naively but with determination, she said, “Everyone in the North who hasn’t done evil in their lives has the right to live.”

“Live! Live!” Eileni clapped in excitement, though she had no idea what was going on.

Avallac’h hung his head low, sighing. “That is impossible to do. That’ll be too many people to teleport. We do not have that kind of time.”

“Then you have your answer.” Ciri held Roy’s charred arm. “Let’s go and get rid of the White Frost, Roy.”

“Pardon me for asking, but do you have a complete and feasible plan?” Avallac’h wanted to persuade Ciri to the best of his abilities, unwilling to see the hope of his tribe’s continuation die.

“Freya and Melitele have told me of a way years ago. I must reach the end of the White Frost and eradicate it from its roots,” Roy said calmly. That was for Coral and the worried witchers listening in. For all the companions concerned about him. And for himself.

“I had no confidence in this plan back then, but with Eredin and Caranthir’s gift, I can do this myself.”

“You are not.” Ciri held Roy’s hands strongly, staring into his eyes. “I have the Elder Blood too, and it showed me a vision just now. If I let you leave alone this time, we’ll lose you forever.”

And silence fell on the battlefield. Roy teared up. He didn’t have total confidence in this plan. Even though the Elder Blood in his body was stronger than it had ever been, the White Frost was fiercer than he remembered. Perhaps the battle with Eredin broke space, or perhaps the evolved Elder Blood was more alluring to the disaster.

And this time, he wasn’t going to distract the White Frost like Ciri did in his memories. He wanted to eradicate it.

Lambert gave Roy a look. “Is there no other way? Why don’t we go back to the House of Gawain, heal up, and come up with a plan?”

“Every minute we waste hesitating, more lands will be laid waste to by the White Frost. I am not sure how long I need to destroy the disaster. If I take too long, the whole world would’ve been plunged into an ice age by the time I’m done with it. I need to go right now.”

Roy paused, smiling at the concerned faces. “Don’t worry. This isn’t farewell. I’ve never let you down.”

“And I told you not to push yourself, kid. You have us.” Letho rubbed his head.

“Together! Together!” Eileni wrapped her chubby arms around Roy’s arm and climbed to the top of his head like a koala. She didn’t stay away from him just because he looked worse than a demon who just came out of purgatory.

Roy shook his head, smiling. “Calanthe will kill me if I take Ciri and Eileni with me.”

Ciri said stubbornly, “I will explain everything to Calanthe once we get rid of the White Frost. Please don’t abandon us, Roy.”

Coral held Roy’s arm tightly, her fiery hair brushing his cheek, but she said nothing. She had always respected Roy’s decisions.

For some reason, Triss could no longer hold back her raging emotions. She held Roy’s other arm and stared at him in silence, though tears were streaming down her cheeks. No one teased her this time, however.

The elven sage put away his pride and bowed at the witcher humbly.

“Vatt’ ghern, Zireael. If you can bring this miracle to fruition and return safely, you will be ruler of Aen Elle.”

***

“Am I hearing it right? Has that witcher gone mad? Is something wrong with his head?” A sorcerer shook his head in disdain. “He’s going to bring two little girls and get rid of the legendary White Frost?”

“Silence, you fool!” Tissaia roared, slapping the sorcerer so hard, blood trickled from his mouth. Most of the other sorcerers glared at him. “When someone risks his life to save everyone, he becomes a hero, no matter how feeble his attempt is. Instead of praying for him, you slander him? I will turn you into a statue for a hundred years! Reflect on your mistake!”

***

This was the moment where humanity’s future would be decided, but not too many paid attention to it.

Only the witchers and sorcerers standing beside Tor Lara bore witness to this. They saw the black-haired, silver-eyed silhouette off. His wounds had been cured by Brisingamen. He took Ciri’s hand, and Eileni was sitting on the back of his neck. Starlight shone from within them, and then they disappeared.

A bright star shone within the destruction hurricane on the sea.

***

The White Frost was a long undercurrent traveling through space. It was dim, eerie, uncomfortable, and filled with endless frost, taking the heat from everything around them. Anything and everything within the White Frost would shiver from the cold. Even their souls would.

However, the Elder Blood seemed to share some connection with this godforsaken place. Ever since the witcher and the girls entered it, their Elder Blood started getting active. They could use its powers unbridled.

Roy, Ciri, and Eileni sparked the Elder Blood’s power and quickly traversed down the White Frost, going to its end. The Elder Blood morphed into a layer of warm, sturdy armor, insulating them from the cold and frost hurtling at them everywhere.

It started off smoothly. Too smoothly. Roy thought he could smell victory, but the White Frost was far longer than he and the girls expected. The darkness was like an abyss. A viscous swamp. They were trapped within the White Frost, blinking for what seemed like a year. Or was it a hundred?

Eventually, the Elder Blood succumbed to the test of time. It could no longer stave off the dangers for Roy and the girls. Icicles hurtled away at the witcher, breaking his magical barrier. Again and again and again, until the witcher had exhausted his supplies and strength. Then the icicles tore through his armor and cut through his flesh.

“Are you alright, Roy? I’m scared.”

“Take care of Eileni, Ciri. I won’t let anything hurt you.” Roy curled up as much as he could, keeping Eileni and Ciri safe in his arms. He shielded them with his whole body, taking all the abuse of the White Frost for them, but he was only human, and he could not fend off a disaster on a universal level.

It did not take long for the White Frost to completely eat him away, and he was nothing more than a skeleton with a layer of flesh clinging to it. His consciousness was fading away, but then he raised his level. Golden light flared, and vitality surged from deep within his marrow. His wounds were all healed up.

Reinvigorated, Roy resumed his traversal through the White Frost, until he was once again brought to an inch away from death. But then, a surge of strength came from the Lady of the Lake’s sword, and a sweet voice revitalized his soul. He saw a smiling face before him. Her hair was green, vapor swirling around it, and her lips were luscious. “Roy, knight of Lake Vizima. You never walk alone.” Vivienne’s power healed Roy up once more.

***

Roy was once again brought to death’s face, but Brisingamen shone. The image of a young lady, a pregnant woman, and a crone, all as one, pierced through the biting darkness. “Roy, child of the Elder Blood, you have kept your word and gave your life for it. We shall walk with you.” The auroral light shimmered like a waterfall. Freya and Melitele walked side by side, waving their hands. They rained golden light upon Roy until they were vague silhouettes of themselves.

An impenetrable golden shield kept the children of the Elder Blood safe and took them on a long, long voyage, but the darkness was despairingly endless.

Roy was once again dying, and this time, he had no gods to help him.

“Roy, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me.”

“Roy.” Eileni gurgled.

***

“You’re nothing but bones now.” Ciri cried. “Please, let us go. We’ll protect you this time.”

Eileni gurgled.

Crimson light of terror tore through the darkness. A tentacle pierced through the chilling darkness and wrapped itself around the girls. The shadow of the Most High swung its tentacles around, swallowing the White Frost with its suckers, but the White Frost was endless. It swooped down on the shadow and froze it up like it was a prey stuck in an icy web. The shadow eventually slowed down and returned to its original self.

***

“Aha!” Someone suddenly sighed in the darkness. “Roy of the Viper School, should you waste away in this matter, you will not have completed our promise. That I cannot allow. You have yet to enjoy the game I have prepared for you. It is more spectacular and marvelous this time.”

Lines of runes appeared on the skeleton’s arm, conjuring the cackling face of a skinhead and the white-gold suns burning in its eyes. “I, Gaunter O’Dimm, shall assist you with the last leg of your journey.”

***

Silver lightning flashed through the darkness, and the witcher opened his eyes. With his blade, he tore through the chaos of space, the blinding sea of stars, until he came…

To the end of the White Frost.

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