"Begone, you dogs! You are nature's enemy!" the voice roared. It was like a crone's shout, but it was amplified by a hundred. It sounded crazy and hysterical. A violent air current swept past the cave as the shout overwhelmed them. The stalactites were trembling, and ripples spread across the lake's surface.
The witchers were undaunted, however. They went through the water passage in the center and came to the cave's deepest parts. There was nearly no light here. The dim illumination shone on a gigantic, bloated creature. It hung from the walls and top of the cave like a fleshy mountain filled with disgusting tumors.
The biggest and most conspicuous part of the mountain was located in its center. It was shaped like a heart, and the mass of flesh was still pounding. As if by magic, the whole cave was responding to its heartbeat, raining down debris and dust on the witchers. The flesh mountain was covered by a layer of rough, hard tree bark covered with yellow needles. It was as if the mound of flesh were protecting itself with a spiky layer of armor.
The witchers' pendants were vibrating violently. The air was filled with mana. Perhaps this mound of flesh itself was a magical creation.
"A tumor…" Letho said.
"It's the tree's core," Roy corrected. "It's connected to the roots of that oak tree on the hilltop." A thick root surrounded the core, squirming like a snake.
"Begone!" the crone shrieked again. Its voice echoed in the cave, and it was then the witchers realized that the thing that spoke was this core in front of them. "Leave my territory immediately, or you shall suffer!" the core roared. The root pulled itself out of the wall and circled the air, pointing its sharp end at the witchers.
"You misunderstand us, madam." Roy cast Observe on the core, but it was covered in a light green layer of energy. It was a natural camouflage. All he could see was the same details as the tree. He could not see through the core's real identity. "We are witchers, not dogs."
"You lie! I could sense your scent from the moment you came into this hillock. It's the same stench as those ugly, vile bitches! I know that stench anywhere, and you killed my guards!" the core screamed. "Leave if you want to live!"
"And what if we refuse?" Serrit was annoyed by the attitude. He pointed his blade at her and retorted, "Your werewolf and endregas are dead. You're in no position to threaten us."
"Try me." The core was not afraid in the least. "And you'll find the cave collapsing on you before you can even attack!"
The witchers' hearts sank.
"Calm down, madam. I think I know where that stench came from." Roy tugged on Serrit's arm and tossed the dagger to the core.
The core flew into a rage and slammed the root into the dagger. The root flailed like a whip, and winds blew everywhere in the cave. Sounds of something getting smashed filled the air, and the witchers took a step back in case the root hit them by accident.
The core was done venting after a moment, but the ground had a small hole the size of a few arms. The witchers gasped. How much does she hate the Ladies of the Wood?
"Now do you believe us, madam? We would never have allowed this 'blasphemy' to happen if we were really those bitches' dogs."
"Why do you come here with their dagger then? And how do you know I'm here?" The core was still suspicious.
"We made a deal with the ladies, but it's not what you think." Felix went ahead and explained everything they experienced. He kept emphasizing Carl in that story.
"The crones held Carl hostage. We had no choice but to hunt for the sacrifice in this hillock, but we won't let this slide just like that," Roy explained carefully. "I've read about you in a book. The crones sealed you, didn't they? You're their sworn enemy, no doubt about it, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. That's why we're here."
"You want to work with me to fight them?"
"Yes. Or at least we'd like to teach them a lesson." Auckes grinned toothily, but he sounded dangerous. He hated threats the most.
The core swayed her root around. She said, "We can talk about this later. Witcher, what is the name of the book you mentioned? And where did you find it?" the core asked, but it sounded weird.
"She Who Knows," Roy answered. "We found it in a cripple's house in Velen."
"And you believe what the book said?" The core sighed. "I need to correct you on one thing. Those vile women destroyed my body, but they could never seal my soul. I chose this holy tree as my vessel. It's one of the only two things that can house my soul in Velen." The core kept quiet for a moment. "But I was never able to break free of the tree since then."
The avatar of nature that saved her soul became her prison. The core could not make any expressions, but the witchers could feel its sadness and resignation. They slowly sheathed their silver blades.
"What else did the book say?"
"Who you really are. It calls you the mother and creator of the Ladies. According to it, you're The Mother, the most ancient being in Velen. They only tried to kill you because you lost your mind and tried to massacre the whole Velen."
The core roared in laughter, and the cave rumbled. There was no mirth in its laugh. Only mockery.
"I would have killed myself if I were really their mother. I would never have created anything so repulsive and evil," the core spat in disgust and hatred. "How dare they call themselves my daughters? I am nature's protector! Yet they claim that I would have rained down destruction on Velen? Well, that's touching. They must be heroines!" The core roared, "As if! Those bitches are no heroines at all!"
The witchers shook their heads.
The core continued, "You know who the Whispess is? Yes, she's one of the crones. She loves cutting off human ears and turning them into her spies. The Weavess loves to make silk clothes out of human hair and cover her ugly, oversized body. The Brewess brews soup made of flesh for her sisters. Sometimes she would invite random creatures to join in the feast."
Roy knew that. One of those creatures was the infamous Wild Hunt.
The core slowed down. "So, do you think they're actually angels?"
"I see. So you're not The Mother, nor did you create the crones. And they're not actually goddesses who keep the people of Velen safe."
"I see you understand what I am saying." The core heaved a sigh of relief. "Sorry. It's been a long time since I had a good chat. I lost my temper for a bit."
"We understand." Letho nodded. They would go mad as well if they were trapped in a tree for a century. "Who are you, actually? Will you help us fight the crones?"
"Very well. You were willing to listen to a monster's ramblings. I suppose I can tell you some of Velen's truths."
The core stopped for a moment, and the witchers paid full attention to it.
"I am a member of the Druids' circle. I protect the woods and swamps of Velen, keeping the balance of nature and its ecosystem. You may call me Kunguran. The crones, or as the people call them, Ladies of the Wood, are monsters from another dimension. They descended on Velen during the first Conjunction of the Spheres. They can absorb mana from the earth and control the fates of nearby creatures."
She continued. "They wish to steal this land, so they destroyed my body and sealed my soul in this tree. Nature, my ward, protected me and kept me safe from the crones' conspiracy. Nature is furious that her guardian died. She created The Whispering Hillock and awakened the beasts' primal instincts. She sent them on a rampage and stopped the crones' henchmen from harming me. Witchers, the crones have hurt both you and me. If you wish to work with me, then I have a request."
"Release me from this tree I reside in."