Bryan entered carrying a magnificent large goblet. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel-fire.ɴet
"But before you take the girl away from me, I have only one request, Lann... Let her drink the water in that cup."
Geralt suddenly jumped up.
"Are you going back on your word, my lady? That’s the Water of Brok Leon, if a girl drinks it, she becomes a tree spirit, and if a man drinks it, he will die!"
Aisne didn’t spare a glance for the other two demon hunters, her silver eyes fixed steadily on Lann.
"Just this one request, Lann. You’ve been dealing with Bryan for a few days, you know well that this water won’t disrupt a person’s logic or thinking, nor will it alter their character. Even someone like Bryan can retain their memories from when they were human. It merely gives girls a new beautiful skin, agile muscles, and an affinity for the forest."
Aisne’s eyes met Lann’s, showing an emotion rarely seen in silver eyes—determination.
For a supernatural being that has coexisted with Brokilon, this emotion was indeed rare.
"Just let her drink the Water of Brok Leon, let me see her drink it with my own eyes, and I will make no other demands, you may come and go as you wish."
Lann silently exchanged a long gaze with her, then as if understanding something, tentatively spoke.
"You want to... witness some sort of event? Something will happen when Ciri drinks this water?"
"Yes. I can tell you everything, this water might not affect her. But it’s a proof..."
Aisne frankly stated.
"Proof that the age hasn’t ended, that everything is just beginning, that there’s still a chance for everything."
"You’re being so poetic, can’t we be more straightforward? Just because she’s the child of that... Ancient Blood? Can it prove so much?"
"Just because she is the child of Ancient Blood."
Lann rubbed his forehead.
He now understood how Geralt and Vesemir felt when conversing with Aisne.
There was so much he didn’t understand in her words, and she seemed unwilling to elaborate.
"Alright then." Lann stood up, walked to the carpet where Aisne and Ciri were, half-squatting to look at the girl. "How do you feel? I’ll tell you first, this water might be unpleasant to drink..."
Bryan and the White Wolf simultaneously said, "It definitely is unpleasant."
But Ciri didn’t hesitate much, nodding emphatically: "If this is how I can leave... I’ll drink it."
Aisne ignored them, straightforwardly took the cup from Bryan, turned it around, and faced Geralt.
"Do you recognize the Elder Runes on this, White Wolf?"
"The Sword of Destiny has two edges, you are one of them."
Even if Ciri turned into a tree spirit, they could still take her away, and with this understanding, Geralt appeared much more at ease.
"You still emphasize the elusive destiny to me?"
"’Elusive’? We will find out soon enough. Now, drink, child of Ancient Blood."
Aisne held the cup to Ciri’s lips.
Everyone watched as the little one drank the magic water, but under the gaze of all, there was no fainting, no convulsions, fever, or vomiting...
She merely looked a bit flushed from quickly drinking too much water, but nothing else happened.
Until Aisne said "enough," pressing down on the cup in Ciri’s hand.
The little girl, lifting her face from the large goblet, looked straight into the tree spirit’s silver eyes, saying the same words as before: "I will follow the path of destiny."
The Tree Spirit Queen’s face showed a complex expression.
Whether it was gratitude or disappointment, fatigue or relaxation... Lann and Vesemir both felt at that moment that their experience was too shallow to understand the unspoken emotions contained within that expression.
Ciri stood up from Aisne’s embrace and walked toward Lann.
Aisne didn’t stop her.
The little girl looked up, and only after Lann patted her shoulder did she move past him and rush into Geralt’s arms.
"So..." the young man tentatively said, "Have you seen the event you wished to witness?"
Aisne hesitated for a while before answering Lann: "Not bad, not a bad result."
Lann noticed a vague color fading from those silver eyes.
Had she cast a spell just now?
Because Dun Kanar was filled with chaotic energy, the demon hunters’ silver necklaces constantly trembled, unable to provide effective warnings. Lann could only make assumptions based on the current situation.
Did she cast a spell while Ciri drank the Water of Brok Leon, claiming to witness ’ages,’ ’turning points,’ or something like that... Was she prophesying?
Using Ciri or the Ancient Blood within her as a medium to cast a prophecy?
This was another unfamiliar area, and Lann was still a novice in demon hunter knowledge, let alone such high-level skills as prophecy in the warlock circles.
Then, before any of them could react, a sudden dizziness swept through everyone’s mind.
Lann was no exception, the dizziness was several times worse than a portal, and almost instantly, he lost consciousness.
When Lann suddenly opened his eyes again, he saw the sky where a golden sun, looking like an unrimmed large gold coin, hung above the clouds in the winter wind.
The roots under him poked painfully.
He quickly sat up, his forehead met with a dull thud.
Ciri’s painful cry came from beside his head. Looking over, the girl had poked her head into his face, and just as he sat up, they collided.
Lann expressionlessly touched the tooth mark on his forehead, which had just been made by the collision.
"What were you trying to do just now?"
The little girl held her jaw and lips, turning her face aside with a muffled voice: "I wasn’t trying to do anything, just wanted to wake you. I opened my eyes and it was daylight, and we’re not in the great forest anymore, I panicked, okay?"
Lann smirked coldly, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Ha, you panicked and wanted to call someone, why didn’t you wake Geralt... he’s the one connected to your destiny."
"Well, you’re closer!"
Facing the little girl’s unhesitant response, Lann glanced sidelong at Geralt’s head, tilted toward Ciri’s feet.
"Wake up! Geralt, wake up!"
Watching Ciri kneel beside Geralt, tugging at his chain mail, Lann sighed helplessly.
He turned and ran to Vesemir, who was lying on the ground nearby.
Before he could touch him, the old man stretched himself, lying there, cracking joints sounded loudly.
Geralt also opened his eyes, vaguely saying, "For the sake of the plague... where am I?"
The old man, however, was as if he had woken up in his own bed: "Good morning, child."
Lann couldn’t help but sigh, the older the wiser.