The broken mage chamber was no longer empty, it was crowded now. Twenty of the Scoia'tael stood in clusters around the active portal, weapons still half-drawn out of habit. Elves in worn leathers, a few younger ones barely past boyhood, hardened scouts with eyes that had already seen too many burned villages and burned people of their kind, and a handful of dwarves like Yarvik who had somehow ended up in Faelorn's company.
Lune stood nearby, arms crossed tightly as she watched them approach. Yarvik, now awake, sat propped against a broken stone pillar with a rough bandage wrapped around his shoulder where his arm used to be.
Faelorn and Sebastian came in together through the ruined archway.
The moment Yarvik's people spotted him, confusion ran through the group.
One of the younger elves pointed immediately.
"What the fuck happened to ya?"
Yarvik didn't even bother looking offended.
"Shite happened," he said dryly. "Long story."
"Very long story," Faelorn added immediately, cutting off any curiosity before it could grow legs and more of them to start asking questions.
"Alright. You can go through one by one. We've tested it. It's stable." Sebastian said calmly.
That alone didn't convince anyone, a few elves glanced at Faelorn instead, as if expecting contradiction, clarification, or at least a warning.
Faelorn exhaled slowly, then raised his voice.
"For the love of… just do as he says already. And for the love of the gods, do not enter the portal next to it unless you wish to die a horrible freezing death."
That got their attention.
The Scoia'tael began moving, carefully.
Cautiously.
One by one stepping into the portal while muttering prayers, curses, and threats at the universe. A few of the younger elves hesitated too long and were promptly shoved forward by older ones who looked like they had no patience left for hesitation in general.
Lune watched them go with relief she didn't bother hiding.
Yarvik leaned slightly toward Sebastian.
"If I fall through another bloody magic hole after this, I'm haunting someone."
"You'll have to get in line, but don't worry I've tried it while you were half dead." Sebastian replied.
That actually earned a tired chuckle from both Faelorn and Yarvik.
Eventually, the crowd thinned.
Then vanished entirely.
Until only Faelorn, Sebastian, Lune, and Yarvik remained in the chamber.
Faelorn tilted his head slightly toward Sebastian.
"C'mon then."
Sebastian didn't move immediately.
"I will only accompany you so far," he said. "I have to return through where we came from. I left my horse near that burned village, and I was already bound for a certain destination before all of this happened."
Faelorn studied him for a moment, then nodded once.
"I understand and I won't pry."
There was no protest or an attempt to argue, that, in its own way, said more than anything else.
Faelorn, Lune and Yarvik stepped toward the portal and Sebastian followed.
The world folded.
Light swallowed sound.
And then reality returned.
They landed inside a small, ruined house.
Old wood. Sagging beams. Damp floorboards. A place that had clearly been abandoned long enough for nature to begin considering it a possession and outside the broken windows: swamp.
Endless wetland stretching in all directions under a grey sky.
Sebastian exhaled slowly.
"It's fine," he said, glancing around. "I don't sense any monsters here. Which is… unusual. These places are usually full of water hags or drowners."
Yarvik immediately groaned.
"Water hags…" he muttered. "I've got a bad memory with one."
Seb blinked slightly.
"I'm not sure we're talking about the same kind of water hag... are we talking about the monster that blinds people with mud and attacks them?"
Yarvik nodded solemnly.
"Aye. She blinded me once with mud but we didn't have the energy to fight anymore."
There was an awkward silence, then Lune snorted.
Faelorn looked between them.
"…He's not talking about a monster," she said, trying not to laugh.
Sebastian paused, then slowly exhaled.
"…I realized."
Sebastian led them carefully along firmer ground, guiding them away from the worst of the marsh until the terrain gradually shifted. Mud gave way to gravel. Gravel gave way to packed dirt. Eventually, they reached a proper road.
An old, maintained crossroads stood ahead of them, weathered signposts still intact despite time and neglect.
Sebastian slowed as he read them aloud.
"Vizima… northwest. Moën… southwest. Ellander… northeast. Carreras… southeast."
He nodded once.
"Good. That confirms it, we're in Temeria."
Faelorn let out a low whistle.
"Not exactly the safest place for Scoia'tael.."
Sebastian glanced sideways.
"You're also hunted here like in Redania. Just… don't draw attention.."
Yarvik pushed himself upright a little.
"Carreras is decent," he said. "Border city near Mahakam foothills. I've got friends there."
Sebastian turned to Faelorn.
"Up to you where to lead them."
Faelorn looked at his people, tired, battered, missing pieces of what they once were but still standing.
Then he nodded once.
"I like Yarvik's idea."
A few murmurs of agreement passed through the group.
"We'll go there."
Sebastian gave a small nod.
"That's good. Then this is where we part ways."
Faelorn let out a short laugh.
"You know you could come with us. Not so bad, living like this. We'd even need a witcher."
Sebastian actually laughed at that.
"No, thank you."
He adjusted the straps of his gear.
"It was… good having company for a while. But my path is still elsewhere. I've got somewhere I need to go."
"But it wouldn't be bad to see you again." He added.
Faelorn nodded.
"That goes both ways."
Then Faelorn squinted slightly.
"Thank you again, Sebastian, for everything."
Sebastian gave a slight shrug.
"I didn't do it for gratitude."
Faelorn smirked.
"I know. That's what makes it worse.."
"You know…" Faelorn exhaled, almost scoffing at himself as much as the world around him. "For all the hell you dragged us through, you're still the first human I've met who didn't feel like a rot spreading through the world the moment he opened his mouth."
Sebastian smiled at that, "Technically… I'm no human."
Faelorn blinked once, then let out a rough, laugh "Oh, fuck… right. Of course you'd say that now. Brilliant timing." He rubbed his face, shaking his head. "Perfect. Just when I was starting to think my hatred for the species was easing up for five damn minutes."
Then Sebastian turned slightly, already preparing to leave.
"Farewell. All of you."
Faelorn suddenly raised a hand.
"Wait."
Sebastian paused.
Faelorn's expression shifted.
"Can't let you go without payment, I'm not like the humans who have no sense of gratitude."
Sebastian looked back over his shoulder.
"I don't need gold."
"Oh I know," Faelorn said. "I'm not offering coin."
He didn't joke, didn't deflect, didn't hide behind sarcasm or command tone. He simply reached into one of his belongings and brought out a long, narrow box.
Dark wood, reinforced with thin bands of aged metal. Elven craftsmanship, elegant, and old enough that the runes on it were still written in original Elder Speech.
The Scoia'tael around them fell quiet.
Even Yarvik lifted his head slightly and Faelorn held the box with a weight that wasn't physical alone.
"This," he said finally, "is the finest sword I have."
His fingers brushed over the lid once, almost unconsciously.
"Actually… it's the finest sword any of us have."
A faint breath of wind rolled through the crossroads, stirring dust along the road signposts.
Faelorn continued, voice steadier now, but quieter than usual.
"It's ancient, and Elven as you can see, older than most human kingdoms think they have a right to be proud of."
He gave a short, humourless huff.
"The history of this piece is mostly lost. Some say it was forged by a legendary elven smith, others say it's older than the humans themselves."
His hand tightened on the box.
"Either way… it's been passed down, protected and well kept."
He finally looked at Sebastian directly.
"And I'm giving it to you."
Sebastian blinked once, then immediately shook his head.
"No."
The answer was simple. Reflexive.
"I can't take something like that," he said, glancing at the box. "Especially not from you. You need it more than I do."
A few of the elves were surprised at that, like the idea of refusing Faelorn's command was somehow more shocking than giving away an ancestral blade.
Faelorn, however, just snorted.
"Oh fuck it."
Sebastian paused.
Faelorn stepped forward and shoved the box closer into his space.
"You'll take it whether you like it or not."
"That's not how gifts..."
"After what I have seen," Faelorn cut in, voice sharpening slightly, "after those ruins, that frozen dead world, that thing... the White Frost…"
He exhaled through his nose, glancing briefly at his people.
"…I realised something."
The tone changed again, less commander, and more man standing in front of something far bigger than himself.
"The people around you," he said, "the ones who stand, fight, survive… they're the only real treasure worth anything anymore."
His grip tightened on the box.
"Not relics or old blades and not pretty history sitting and waiting to rot."
A faint, bitter smile crossed his lips.
"And certainly not illusions that our world is stable enough to pretend we don't need help."
His gaze returned to Sebastian.
"If that White Frost is coming for everything… then swords like this don't belong sitting with us anymore. They belong in the hands of someone who can actually use them when it matters."
Then he said bluntly,
"Besides, we're all going to be fucked anyway if that thing reaches us properly."
That earned a short laugh from Sebastian, he was amused at the honesty of it.
Faelorn thrust the box forward again.
"So take it, please."
Sebastian hesitated this time.
His eyes lowered to the box.
Then slowly, he exhaled and extended a hand.
"…You're all terrible at goodbyes," he muttered.
Faelorn grinned faintly.
"We're elves. We invented dramatic suffering. Goodbyes are part of the culture."
Sebastian shook his head slightly, but there was a faint smile at the corner of his mouth now.
He took the box.
The weight surprised him, it was not heavy like ordinary steel.
He adjusted it under his arm carefully.
"I'll put it to good use," he said quietly. "Thank you."
/-\
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