The Witcher : Against Destiny

The chill of winter bit through their cloaks as the young Witchers-to-be stepped tentatively onto the frozen lake. Each step sent faint cracks whispering through the ice, though none dared pause long enough to listen. Alaric was at the front of the group, his sharp amber eyes scanning the distant shore shrouded in mist.

"Well, this is easier than I thought," Rennes said with a low chuckle, his voice carrying just enough to make Alaric glance his way. "A lake frozen solid. One might even say this trial's gone soft. We'll be across in no time, no sweat."

"Careful what you say," Alaric muttered, his amber eyes scanning the surface. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, though he couldn't yet place why.

Someone behind them chuckled nervously. "He's right, though. In summer, we'd have to build a raft to cross. But now? A quick march and we're done."

As if in answer, THUD a muffled sound reverberated through the ice—bang. It wasn't loud, but it was deep, resonant.

The group froze. The laughter dying instantly.

A silhouette glided beneath the ice, vague but massive. The lake seemed darker now, its crystalline sheen fractured by the shadow below.

"Maker's breath," muttered one of the boys at the rear, his voice barely above a whisper.

Another shadow slithered beneath the ice, larger this time, moving with ominous purpose. Then another. And another.

"YOU HAVE JINXED IT!" someone hissed through their clenched teeth.

BANG. This time the sound was sharper, closer.

The ice rippled underfoot. The silhouettes multiplied—one, two, four, six—slithering and darting with unnatural speed, their movements predatory.

"Run!" barked Alaric, his voice cutting through the mounting panic like a blade.

The wolves-to-be sprang into motion, their boots pounding against the ice.

The surface beneath them groaned with a sound like cracking glass. Shapes darted below—chitinous, monstrous forms that moved with impossible swiftness. Then came the first strike.

With a deafening crash, a jagged, saw-like limb burst from the ice ahead of one of the boys, razor-sharp teeth along its edges grinding as it retracted. Around it, the ice spidered with cracks, radiating outward in jagged veins.

"ASCHENAS!" someone screamed, their voice laced with terror.

The word had barely left their lips when chaos erupted. The young Witchers bolted, scattering across the treacherous ice in a desperate bid for safety.

The ice cracked and shattered beneath them as the creatures beneath struck repeatedly, their saw-like limbs tearing through the frozen surface with relentless force. One limb swiped upward, carving a jagged trench through the ice, sending a boy tumbling into the freezing water below.

Alaric skidded to a halt, his boots slipping on the treacherous surface as he reached for one of them. The boy's hand grasped his wrist with desperate strength, but before Alaric could pull him free, a monstrous claw shot from the depths, dragging the boy into the abyss. The water around darkened, swiftly turning a deep, haunting red. Alaric watched as the crimson hue spread.

But he didn't have time to gawk, the ice beneath Alaric suddenly groaned loudly. He stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the fissure that snaked toward him. Around him, the others were leaping from one precarious ice chunk to another as the lake fractured into a chaotic mosaic of jagged bergs.

"Keep moving!" Alaric shouted, his breath ragged.

Rennes was ahead, vaulting from one ice floe to the next with practiced ease. "Come on, Alaric!" he shouted over his shoulder.

The survivors pressed on, the gaps between the icebergs widening with every step. Alaric's muscles burned as he jumped from one fragment to the next, his boots skidding dangerously close to the edges.

Another crash echoed beneath them, and an Aschenas burst through the ice, its grotesque, insectoid body glistening in the moonlight. Its serrated limb lashed out, carving a path of destruction across the frozen surface.

"Down!" Alaric shouted, tackling one of his comrades as the creature's limb swept overhead, missing them by inches. The ice beneath them cracked further, the two barely scrambling onto a larger berg as their previous perch sank into the depths.

The shore was in sight now, tantalizingly close but separated by a stretch of open water and unstable ice.

Behind them, one of the younger boys—barely more than thirteen—miscalculated a jump. His foot slipped, and he plunged into the freezing water. The others screamed his name, but the cold sapped his strength instantly, his cries fading as the Aschenas circled below.

"Leave him!" Rennes roared, grabbing another boy by the arm and dragging him forward. "We can't save him!"

"Last stretch!" Alaric yelled, his voice hoarse. "Go!"

The group surged forward, leaping desperately from one fragment to the next. The shore loomed closer with every heart-pounding second, but the Aschenas were relentless. One lunged from the water, its massive jaws snapping shut around the leg of a boy who had lagged behind. His scream was cut short as he was dragged below.

Alaric reached the shore first, collapsing onto the solid ground with a gasp. He turned, his hand outstretched to pull up the others as they scrambled onto the bank.

Rennes was the last to cross. He leapt from the final iceberg as the Aschenas surged behind him, their limbs shattering the remaining ice in a frenzy. Alaric caught his arm, hauling him to safety just as a massive claw slammed into the shore where they had stood moments before.

The survivors lay sprawled on the frozen earth, their breaths ragged clouds in the frigid air. The lake behind them was a churning chaos of broken ice and dark, writhing shapes.

Rennes let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Next time, I'll keep my mouth shut."

Alaric didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the lake, his chest heaving. Two of their number were gone, swallowed by the icy depths. And this was only the beginning of the Trial.

...…

The group stood in silence on the shore of the lake, their breaths still ragged from the harrowing sprint. The memory of Aschenas claws striking through the ice lingered in their minds, but they had no time to dwell. Ahead loomed the dark, yawning mouth of the cavern. Its jagged edges framed by frost glistened.

Death was no stranger to the wolves-to-be. They had seen comrades fall in the Trial of Grasses, their bodies twisted by alchemy, or in the Trial of Dreams, where fragile minds shattered like glass. Still, the memory of the dead always lingered.

"Well," Rennes muttered, rolling his shoulders as he glanced toward the cavern. He stepped forward without waiting, his typical swagger muted but not entirely gone.

The others followed, their boots crunching against the snow until they entered the cavern's gaping maw.

"Everyone got their Cat?" Alaric asked, pulling a small vial from his belt.

One by one, the boys uncorked their potions, the acrid scent of alchemy filling the air.

"Cheers, gentlemen," Rennes said dryly, raising the vial in mock toast before tipping it back.

The liquid burned as it went down, a sharp, metallic tang flooding their mouths. Almost immediately, veins darkened around their eyes, and their pupils dilated into inky pools. Their breathing hitched, the muscles in their faces tightening and twitching as the potion's effects gripped them.

Alaric exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Alright. Let's move."

The cavern swallowed them whole, its oppressive darkness now split by the Cat potion's effects. The world became a haze of gray light and shadow. Stalactites hung like the claws of some forgotten god, and every creak of rock or drip of water echoed endlessly in the chamber.

"Watch your step," Alaric murmured, his voice low as he led the group deeper.

Rennes clicked his tongue as his boot slipped on a loose rock. "Well, if I break my neck this clumsily, at least it'll be a good laugh for you lot."

"Shut up, Rennes," hissed one of the boys.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did my impending demise disturb you?" Rennes shot back, his grin audible even in the dark.

Alaric just sighed, his patience thinning.

The group pressed on, moving cautiously through the labyrinthine cave system. Rocks jutted out at odd angles, forcing them to climb, twist, and balance as they navigated the treacherous terrain.

"Handhold to your right," Alaric called, reaching back to help one of the boys struggling to find his grip.

Another trainee cursed as his foot slipped, sending a spray of pebbles clattering down the slope. "Maker's breath, does everything in this cursed cave want me dead?"

"Probably," Rennes quipped. "But don't worry. You're not important enough to be killed first."

"Rennes, I swear, if we make it out of this alive—"

The air grew colder the deeper they went, and soon the group stumbled upon their first grim reminder of the Trial's stakes. A skeleton lay crumpled in a narrow crevice, its bony hand still clutching at a ledge it had failed to reach.

"Guess he didn't make the cut," Rennes said, though his usual humor faltered.

One of the boys gulped audibly, his gaze fixed on the empty eye sockets staring back at them.

"Keep going," Alaric urged, his voice steady despite the growing tension.

Further in, the ground dropped into a steep descent, forcing the group to slide down on their backsides. The icy stone scraped against their armor, sending jarring shivers through their bodies.

When they reached the bottom, one of the boys groaned, rubbing his bruised side. "Great. Now my arse is numb."

"Could be worse," Rennes replied, offering him a hand up. "You could've landed on your head. Though with you, I doubt it'd make much difference."

"Enough," Alaric hissed, his eyes narrowing as he held up a hand to silence the group.

Hufff Puff Hufff They froze.

A sound drifted through the cavern—a deep, rhythmic rumble that made their blood run cold. It wasn't the hollow groan of shifting rock or the soft drip of water. This was alive. Loud yet shallow, like a bellows breathing, slow and steady.

Alaric motioned for silence, his hand reaching to the hilt of his sword. The group followed his lead, creeping forward with painstaking care.

The cavern opened into a vast chamber, the ceiling lost in shadow. In the center of the space, a massive form lay sprawled across the stone floor. Even in the dim light of the Cat potion, its bulk was unmistakable.

"Old Speartip," one of the boys whispered, barely audible.

The cyclops was colossal, its single eye closed, its chest rising and falling with each thunderous breath. Its skin was rough and gray, like weathered stone, and jagged scars crisscrossed its body. A massive club lay nearby, splintered and worn with age but no less deadly.

Alaric held up a hand, his fingers splayed, signaling the others to stay perfectly still. He crouched low, motioning for them to follow suit.

Rennes, for once, said nothing.

The group moved in unison, their breaths shallow as they skirted the edge of the chamber. Every creak of armor, every scrape of a boot against stone, felt deafening in the oppressive silence.

As they reached the halfway point, Speartip's breathing hitched.

The group froze, their eyes snapping to the cyclops.

It shifted slightly, its massive arm dragging across the ground as it exhaled a deep, guttural sigh. Then, mercifully, it settled again, its breathing evening out.

Alaric's heart thundered in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. Slowly, he turned back to the group, his eyes locking with theirs.

No one needed to speak. One wrong move, one misplaced sound, and Old Speartip would wake.

....

The boys pressed on. Going further the tunnel soon split into branching passages, twisting away into the unknown.

"Which way?" one of the boys asked, his voice tight with unease.

Alaric scanned the paths, his enhanced senses picking up faint sounds from the leftmost passage a faint skittering, sharp and unnatural.

Before he could answer, the noise intensified, echoing through the cavern. Fleeting shapes darted in the shadows, small, humanoid figures with hunched postures and glowing eyes.

"Nekkers," Alaric growled, drawing his silver sword.

Rennes whistled low under his breath. "Perfect. Just what we needed—a swarm of these nasty little bastards."

"If we're near their nests, they'll keep coming. Prepare yourselves."

The boys drew their swords, forming a loose circle with their backs to each other. The skittering noise crescendoed, and then the nekkers surged from the tunnels, screeching and snarling.

Alaric stepped forward, planting his feet firmly as he thrust out his hand. Aard!

A shockwave of force exploded from his palm, blasting a group of nekkers off their feet and sending them crashing into the cave walls. The air trembled with the sheer power of it, far stronger than any Aard the others had seen.

"Damn, Alaric!" Rennes shouted, fending off a nekker with a quick slash. "Warn us next time, yeah?"

"No time for banter," Alaric snapped, swinging his blade in a fluid arc and severing a nekker's head. "Focus!"

The swarm was relentless, claws flashing and teeth gnashing as the boys fought tooth and nail to hold their formation.

Igni! one of the boys thrusted his hand forward. A burst of flame roared to life, engulfing a group of nekkers and sending the rest scattering back momentarily.

"Nice one," Rennes called, only to grunt as he blocked a leaping nekker with his forearm and drove his blade into its chest. "I'll take that over Alaric's hurricane any day!"

Alaric ignored him, stepping forward and unleashing another powerful Aard that cleared the immediate area. The force shattered nearby stalagmites and sent fragments of rock skittering across the ground.

"Keep moving!" Alaric commanded, his amber eyes darting toward the faint glow of light filtering through a fissure in the cavern ceiling. "We're close to the exit!"

The boys began a controlled retreat, cutting down nekkers as they pushed toward the light. Another wave of the creatures surged forward, but Alaric met them with an Aard so forceful it cracked the stone beneath his boots.

"By the Maker," one of the boys muttered, wide-eyed. "How do you even do that?"

As they reached the incline leading to the cave's mouth, the distant sound of a thunderous roar echoed through the tunnels. It was a deep, guttural sound that shook the ground beneath them.

"Speartip," Rennes muttered, his voice unusually serious.

The massive cyclops had awakened. Worse still, the heavy pounding of its footsteps grew louder, unmistakably headed their way.

"Move faster!" Alaric barked, his tone sharp with urgency.

The boys scrambled up the rocky slope, their muscles burning and lungs straining as they climbed. The nekkers seemed to sense the danger, retreating back into the shadows as Speartip's approach sent tremors through the cavern.

Just as they reached the cave's mouth and emerged into the blinding light of the outside world, a deafening roar erupted behind them. Alaric glanced back to see Speartip's massive silhouette filling the tunnel, his single eye blazing with fury.

-x-x-x-

A/N:-

I AM BACK!! WITH 2500+ WORDS!!

Thank you for your patience and understanding during my brief hiatus. Life happened, which kept me from writing. But guess what? I'm back now and more excited than ever to dive back into our journey! New content is on its way!

Stay tuned and let's get back to the adventure.

Clear skies to all of you!!