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TWL Chapter 267: Claws, Blood, and Bones
🕑 Added 2024-12-07 14:58:30 +0000 UTC"This is blood." Geralt pointed to the black marks on the ground. “It must have been here for several days. There should have been more than one person, and a fight should have occurred.”
Supporting his claim, Gerd picked up a piece of cloth from the floor. “It's tanned wolf leather. Very tough, difficult to cut even with a knife. It’s not as good as specially processed leather armor, but it’s not something that’s easy to shred either.”
Lann examined the material with his golden eyes, assessing it carefully. “But this seems to have been torn apart. If it is as sturdy as you say, then there is only one explanation...”
“A beast with sharp claws.” Gerd concluded, sniffing the air and analyzing the pheromones around him that his witcher senses showed him. “Though there are no traces of beasts here, unless it is a creature obsessed with cleanliness. Can you think of anything?”
The answer was obvious.
Lann stated firmly: "Berserkers!"
Without wasting any time, they began searching for more clues.
"There was more than one person at this location." Gerd analyzed. "A small fight broke out, but it was contained. There are only traces of a moderate amount of blood... well, actually, more than a moderate amount."
Gerd added in a serious tone: "No one died here, at least not instantly. Based on the marks on the ground, we might be able to identify who fought the berserkers."
Immediately, the witchers surrounded the area, beginning to record the nearby pheromone trails.
"There are signs of people fleeing here." Kolgrim announced, pointing in a direction. "Over there!"
The ground was covered in a thick layer of dust, but Lann's lion eyes could make out faint dots of dark red outlining a barely perceptible path.
Although the traces were about to disappear, there was no doubt: it was blood.
Suddenly, a vague human figure appeared fleetingly in Lann's mind.
[He was a mountaineer. Together with his companions, for unknown reasons, he had come to this place, but they encountered a Vildkaarl. In front of them, the human transformed into a huge bear, unleashing chaos. In the midst of the confusion, the mountaineer was injured and abandoned his companions to escape, seeking refuge in these ruins.]
Lann followed the translucent image of that man until he saw it disappear inside a building.
It was the temple, located in the center of the village, built in honor of the dark god Svalblod.
It was the strongest structure in the village, built from the strongest rocks on the mountain by the strongest warriors. That's why, despite the Skelligers' attack, it had managed to retain its basic form, unlike other buildings that could barely be distinguished from a pile of rubble.
The objective of his search was in there.
Gerd was about to rush in but was suddenly pulled by Lann.
"What's wrong?"
"For reasons I don't fully understand, I have a special sensitivity to spectral presences." Lann replied, unsheathing the Aerondight Sword with his right hand and preparing a magical sign with his left. "I have a classmate from Cat's school with similar abilities. I'll introduce him to you someday."
"Are you saying...there are wraiths inside?"
Gerd stopped immediately, peering through the gaps in the temple walls.
The sun was about to set, and the dim light barely allowed one to make out the ruins inside: scattered stones, broken columns that had lost the roof they were supposed to support, and a disturbing darkness in the corners where the light did not reach.
It was, without a doubt, a perfect setting to encounter wraiths around any corner.
Lann crouched slightly, ready to cast a sign powerful enough to cover the entire temple. Behind him, the witchers drew their silver swords, applying oils designed to counter wraiths and other ethereal beings.
However, before Lann could finish his preparation, the black scimitar on his back began to glow.
Iris emerged from the scimitar. Her soft voice broke the silence: "Let me do it."
Instantly, a bright green fire engulfed her body. Inside the temple, something began to dimly glow.
Behind Lann, Gerd was stunned.
He held onto his shaking medallion as he awkwardly pointed between the black scimitar and the ruins of the temple.
"Was that... a specter? No, it can't be. No specter looks that... beautiful."
"She is not a specter." Lann corrected sternly. "She is a soul, a manifestation of pure emotions that linger in this world. Do not confuse her with those creatures again."
Gerd stepped back, raising his hands in apology. "Okay, okay... no need to be like that."
...
Lann is not worried about Iris's combat effectiveness at all.
Of all his followers, she possessed the highest stats, mastered a variety of advanced skills, and also had a unique talent.
In the face of the specters, Iris was the best option to confront them. But, even having overestimated her in his mind, Lann was surprised when he entered the temple.
Iris stood in the center of the temple hall, emitting a warm emerald light; four specters crawled at her feet, and the lanterns burning with green flames were thrown aside by them.
Lann could still faintly sense the emotions from those evil spirits at this moment: there was fear, reverence, and a hint of unattainable longing and shame.
Iris maintained a solemn expression until she saw Lann walk in. Her soft smile brightened the place even more.
"That one you see crouching." Iris said, pointing at one of the specters. "That's the mountain man they were looking for, or at least what's left of him."
Lann looked around quickly. There were several skeletons in the corner of the temple. The freshest one matched the pheromone he remembered in his witcher senses.
Iris continued: "Its memory is very vague. He only remembers coming to Fornhala with his companions. As for why and how he came, he can't remember it at all."
"The only thing that is clear in his memory is the image of the giant bear. Afterwards, he fled to this place seeking refuge but ended up being killed by the vengeful spirits of the sanctuary."
The hues of the other specters next to Iris were deeper, which revealed their age.
They were probably former priests who had died during the attacks of the inhabitants of Skellige. Their resentment had turned them into these creatures.
"This information is not enough for us to find the Vildkaarls." Lann pointed to the old specters. "Since they used to be people from the temple, can we ask them? Maybe they can give us some more information?"
Iris shook her head. "Specters are born of unresolved hatred and resentment. If they retain any consciousness, it is very limited. The oldest are like beasts, with barely anything human left in them."
Iris pointed at the newest specter. "The only one we can still communicate with is this one."
The specter moved slightly. The greenish flames covering it intensified, becoming more solid.
Iris closed her eyes, concentrating as if she were listening. After a moment, she spoke: "He says he has forgotten almost everything, except the name of his home village. We could go there. If any of his companions survived, perhaps we can find out more about what happened."
Lann's eyes lit up. "What's the name of the village?"
"Egro... Egron.."
"And its location?"
Iris closed her eyes. Her eyebrows trembled slightly. Finally, she replied with resignation: "It forgot..."
Lann let out a long breath. "Well, at least we have a new starting point. It's better than wandering around aimlessly."
He turned to his companions, ready to leave, but as he did, he noticed that Iris looked hesitant. Something was bothering her.
"Lann." Iris bit her lip lightly. "I was wondering... could we help these specters rest in peace?"
"Hmm?"
"The years I spent trapped in the world of painting were unbearable." Iris said, looking down as she held her clothes tightly over her chest. "These specters are like me back then, they survive on hatred and resentment. Their suffering is immense; I can feel it."
Lann looked at her seriously. "Do you want to free them from their torment?"
The witchers exchanged glances. The request was reasonable, and even if Iris hadn't mentioned it, Lann was already planning to do so after obtaining the information they needed.
They used their witcher senses to locate the specters' skeletal remains. Some were so badly damaged that they blended in with the dust and stones on the ground, almost unrecognizable.
With a synchronized gesture, four hands formed the Igni sign, pointing at the bones on the ground.
Iris, however, frowned. Something was wrong.
The oldest specters, who had been in the sanctuary for decades, began to emit a piercing shriek. Their bodies became engulfed in green flames before disappearing, only to reappear immediately in mid-air, roaring with fury.
Driven by their survival instinct, the specters attacked.
The suffering that kept them alive was unbearable for them, but on the other hand their fear of disappearing pushed them to fight. This was the eternal torment of the specters.
