The spring water reflected Tycha's true form, while the flowers of the World Tree on the water's surface rippled with a serene, soft glow.
The dryads bid Tycha farewell with reluctance, their earnest words cautioning Maya about the terrifying monsters and humans of this unfamiliar world, striving to instill vigilance in the amnesiac Maya towards all strangers.
Tycha, cloaked in a disguise, readily agreed, navigating this world as a Maia of Middle-earth.
The midday sun peeked from behind the clouds, its warm rays melting the lingering frost on the grass.
By the time Tycha and Lambert emerged from the forest on horseback, a night had passed. The Witcher's robust physique still invigorated Lambert, who began to inquire about the stories of Middle-earth.
"The elven queen Francesca of the Valley of a Hundred Flowers and the elven sage Ida Emean are both significant figures. They hold exceptionally high status among sorceresses. These two ladies founded the lodge, and it was they who expanded this group, which male mages initially treated as a joke."
Tycha tilted her head, looking at Lambert, who was attempting to break the ice with an awkward topic, and said with a light laugh, "There's no need to beat around the bush. Just ask me directly what you want to know."
The Witcher showed no embarrassment and immediately followed Tycha's words, asking, "Is what the dryads said true? Did you come for these lost exiles?"
"It wouldn't be entirely accurate to say I came for them. They wish to return to their homeland, and I want to understand the patterns of the celestial conjunctions. Although our ultimate goals differ, the outcome is the same. It's just that their souls have been tainted by the essence of this world, and whether they will be reaccepted by Middle-earth remains unknown."
In the memories of the spring water that the dryads had transformed into, Tycha had not obtained any information about the Rings of Power. By this calculation, these elves and dryads were drawn into this world at the end of a period of peace. The Valinor where they resided had become a battlefield, and these beings, eager to return home, had instead avoided this world-sweeping war.
Having resided in this world for so long, their souls had been branded and were no longer pure. Native worlds typically did not welcome their return.
"Why do they call you a Maia?"
Lambert's curiosity remained unsatisfied, and he continued to ask with wide eyes.
"That is another term for a spellcaster, no different from a sorceress."
Tycha recalled the old sorcerer who wielded two swords and was teased for only knowing the light spell, and couldn't help but laugh. A mage who could wield a sword and engage in close combat with a Balrog might not be unparalleled, but they were certainly unprecedented.
The horses passed through sparse bushes and arrived at a highland. Amidst scattered traces of frost, aconite flowers bloomed in purple. In the distance, a majestic castle stood, but unfortunately, it was in ruins. The collapsed walls vaguely hinted at its former grandeur.
Lambert blew his whistle, clenched his thighs against the horse's belly, and urged it to quicken its pace towards Kaer Morhen.
The mountains were layered, and the only path was covered by weeds and snow. The heavily burdened horses strained with all their might but couldn't reach the castle, situated on a plain on the mountainside, before sunset.
The exhausted horses panted, their bodies trembling. Tycha erected a hemispherical wind-breaking barrier and enticed the reluctant animals with apples and carrots, coaxing them back into motion.
Lambert led the horses on foot, guiding the way. The faint sound of wolf howls in the wind and snow made the horses timidly pace in place. The unlucky Witcher had no choice but to buckle down and do the hard work.
Kaer Morhen, now close at hand, presented a unique sense of desolation in the wind and snow. The snow-covered ruins and broken walls added a sacred and solitary aura to this desolation, as if it were isolated from the world.
Passing through the collapsed city walls, Lambert skillfully avoided traps and entered the main building. The empty hall echoed with the howling cold wind, and the roaring fireplace did little to warm the interior.
In the firelight, an old man with white hair and beard, wrapped in a blanket, was warming himself. Hearing familiar footsteps, the old man, who had been dozing with his eyes closed, opened his orange-yellow eyes, identical to Lambert's, and smiled as he appraised Tycha, who was cloaked from head to toe, behind his disciple.
"Lambert, my child, while I am genuinely happy that you have brought a friend to visit, I have seen how Yennefer flew into a rage because of Triss. I truly do not wish for this already precarious castle to endure the wrath of another sorceress!"
Lambert pouted and began unloading supplies from the horses to send to the kitchen. "Where are Geralt and Eskel?"
"Eskel is still on his way back. As for Geralt, I haven't heard from him in a while."
Vesemir friendly gestured for Tycha to come closer to the fire, handing her a cup of mulled wine with apples heated by the fireplace to ward off the cold. He then turned and said nonchalantly, "Who knows who he's sleeping with right now? In any case, it's bound to be more comfortable than the frigid Kaer Morhen."
Lambert began his work, humming a tune. Kaer Morhen was the home of all Wolf School Witchers, where they received training and grew. Witchers who couldn't integrate into human society often spent the winter here before departing in the spring.
"Madam, you do not seem to be a sorceress I am familiar with?"
The old man's wise eyes held a judicious amount of inquiry and curiosity, which did not make Tycha feel offended.
"Indeed," Tycha said, spearing a piece of apple with a fork and eating it. "I am a mage, and I have come for information regarding celestial conjunctions."
"Oh, that is quite unusual."
The old Witcher looked at Tycha with some surprise. "Sorcerers should know more than us. They have made some progress in researching the phenomenon of celestial conjunctions, which they have used to develop teleportation spells."
"Perhaps you can find their relevant records in the sorcerer's academy and library on Thanedd Island. Kaer Morhen has long been without sorcerers, and those documents have not been carefully preserved. You will need to spend some time."
Vesemir's meaning was clear: he did not refuse Tycha access to the library to consult materials. Since the old Witcher had shown goodwill, Tycha felt obliged to reciprocate.
A drop of dew fell from the hem of Tycha's robe, splashing onto the stone floor and creating a mist. In the instant the water splashed, the dilapidated building was visibly restored to its former completeness.
The broken window frames were replaced with brand-new stained glass; the hole in the ceiling of the hall was repaired, and the cold wind no longer gusted indoors. Even the tattered and filthy carpets and curtains were restored to their former glory, appearing as if they had just been taken from a tailor's table.
Lambert poked his head out from the kitchen, marveling at the new castle. "Vesemir, you've always wanted us to inherit Kaer Morhen! I am willing to take on such a daunting responsibility!"