Witcher: Sovereign of Magic

Triss nodded. "And we're going to be a part of it." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A statement that echoed in her mind as she walked beside Sheala and Margarita through the bustling streets of Avalon a week later. The hum of magic permeated the air, a constant thrumming that vibrated through the very stones of the city. It was a subtle shift, but Triss, with her sensitivity to magical currents, could feel it distinctly. The raw, untamed magic she had sensed upon first arriving was now… refined, channeled, almost domesticated. It was as if Solomon, through his influence and the city's design, was slowly taming the very essence of magic itself.

"Five thousand," Margarita murmured, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief, but also a sliver of something else… calculation. "Five thousand souls in Avalon. That's… remarkable, considering where we were just a few weeks ago."

Sheala nodded, her gaze sweeping over the bustling streets, her eyes still holding a shadow of the trauma she had endured. "And they're not just refugees anymore," she observed. "They're… citizens. They have a purpose here. They're invested." She paused, a frown creasing her brow. "It's… impressive. But it's also… controlled."

It was true. The mages who had been rescued from Deireadh, along with others who had sought sanctuary in Avalon, had been integrated into the city's structure. They were builders, artisans, scholars, healers. They were contributing to Avalon's growth, its prosperity. They were no longer just survivors; they were the seeds of a new world, carefully cultivated and guided by Solomon's hand. He had taken broken, displaced individuals and given them a place, a function, a reason to believe in something again. It was masterful, but also… unsettling.

"Solomon is a master strategist," Margarita commented, her voice cool and analytical. "He understands that a city is more than just walls and buildings. It's the people that make it thrive. And he understands how to use them."

Triss agreed. Solomon had not only provided shelter; he had given them a purpose, a sense of belonging. He had turned a collection of refugees into a community. But Triss couldn't shake the feeling that this community was built on a foundation of… obligation. They were beholden to Solomon, dependent on him, and that dependency gave him immense power.

They passed by the newly expanded training grounds, where Rhiannon oversaw the training of new recruits. The clang of steel, the crackle of magic, and the shouts of instructors filled the air. The recruits, a mix of mages and non-magical individuals, were undergoing rigorous training, honing their skills, preparing to defend Avalon and serve Solomon's vision. Triss noticed the way Rhiannon's eyes gleamed with a fervent light as she watched her trainees. It was more than just duty; it was devotion. It was the kind of unwavering belief that bordered on fanaticism, and it made Triss uneasy.

"They're building an army," Sheala said, her voice laced with a hint of concern. "A large one."

"A necessary one," Margarita countered, her gaze sharp. "In this world, strength is the only guarantee of survival. And Solomon understands that. He's not just building a city; he's building a power."

Triss couldn't deny the truth in Margarita's words. The world outside Avalon's walls was still a dangerous place, filled with prejudice, violence, and the ever-present threat of the Wild Hunt, their relentless pursuit of Ciri a constant, looming danger. A strong defense was essential. But Triss worried about the purpose of this army. Was it solely for defense, or was it intended for something more… aggressive? She had seen the gleam in Solomon's eye, the almost messianic fervor in his pronouncements. Was he truly building a sanctuary, or was he forging a weapon to secure Ciri for himself?

They continued their walk, passing by the workshops where artisans crafted intricate magical tools and artifacts. They saw the healing gardens, now expanded and flourishing, providing ingredients for Anya's potent elixirs. They witnessed the construction of new buildings, their designs even more ambitious than the existing structures, reaching towards the sky like spires of pure magic. Triss noticed that many of these new structures seemed to have a… military purpose. Armories, training facilities, strategic observation points. Avalon wasn't just becoming a city; it was becoming a fortress.

"The improvements are… impressive," Triss admitted, her voice cautious. "Solomon is investing heavily in Avalon. But… what is the ultimate goal?"

"Control," Margarita said, her voice flat. "He's building a power base. A foundation from which he can… influence the world. And secure Ciri."

They reached Solomon's castle, Castlevania, the heart of Avalon, where Solomon resided. The guards at the gate bowed their heads in respect as they passed. Inside, the castle was a marvel of architectural brilliance, its corridors adorned with shimmering mosaics and intricate carvings. The air hummed with a powerful magic, a testament to Solomon's presence. It was a place of power, radiating an almost palpable sense of authority.

They found Solomon in his study, overlooking the city. He turned as they entered, his expression calm and composed, but his eyes held a glint of something… ambitious.

"Triss, Sheala, Margarita," he greeted them. "I trust you are… adjusting well to Avalon."

"The city is… thriving, Master Solomon," Triss replied, her voice carefully neutral. "The improvements are remarkable."

"Indeed," Solomon said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Avalon is more than just a city. It is a testament to what we can achieve when magic and vision… combine. It is a symbol of what is to come."

He gestured towards the window, where the city spread out before them, a tapestry of light and life. "Five thousand souls now call Avalon home," he said. "And they are just the beginning. We will continue to grow, to expand, to become a beacon of hope in a world threatened by the Wild Hunt."

"And what of… Ciri?" Triss asked, her voice cautious. "The Wild Hunt… their pursuit is relentless."

Solomon's expression turned serious. "The Wild Hunt is a formidable foe," he acknowledged. "Their power is ancient and terrifying. But we are prepared. We are strong. And we will not allow them to take Ciri. Her capture would be catastrophic. We will… prevent that at all costs."

He paused, his gaze meeting theirs. "You are my Archons," he said. "You are the chosen. You are the ones who will help me secure Ciri and shape the future. And together… we will build a new world."

Triss, Sheala, and Margarita exchanged a look. They were bound to Solomon, not just by fear, but by a shared ambition, a belief in his vision, or perhaps, a recognition of his power. They were Archons now, agents of change, and they would play their part in shaping the destiny of the world. The seeds of a new world had been planted in Avalon, and they were beginning to sprout. But Triss couldn't shake the feeling that the shape of that world, and the price of its creation, was yet to be fully revealed. And she wondered, as she looked at Solomon in his castle, Castlevania, if the "new world" he envisioned was truly about protecting Ciri, or if it was about controlling her power for his own ends.