The sorceresses in the room froze at the sudden disturbance, all turning toward the direction where the portal had opened.
Tissaia de Vries reacted faster than anyone else. The instant the portal formed, she jolted awake, and from the spatial turbulence caused by the teleportation, she roughly calculated the location on the other side.
When several blood-soaked sorceresses stumbled out of the portal, Tissaia's expression changed drastically.
The other sorceresses only felt a blur before the Arch-Mistress had already blinked to the front of the portal. She didn't spare even a glance for the dying women on the floor—she immediately summoned her staff, surged with vast magical power, and pointed it straight at the portal.
"Arch-Mistress—close the portal!"
The scream from one of the escaping sorceresses came a step too late.
Even so, despite the speed of a legendary sorceress—
Boom!
The spinning portal suddenly shuddered violently and came to an abrupt halt. Blazing orange-red magical light flared chaotically.
It was as if some ferocious, world-ending beast were imprisoned on the other side, baring its fangs as it tried to crawl out of the abyss to devour human flesh.
"Back—into the abyss!"
Tissaia shouted furiously. After rapidly finishing a spell in a sharp, piercing voice, she slammed her sapphire-inlaid wooden staff into the orange-red portal.
The portal—normally formless, nothing more than a passage—suddenly seemed to gain substance. The strike landed like a hammer smashing into a massive pane of glass, and the portal exploded into countless shards of light.
"ROAR!"
A furious howl of pain erupted from the fragments, echoing in unison throughout the chamber. The sorceresses clutched their ears in agony, screaming as their minds reeled.
The next instant—
From the not-yet-dissipated fragments of the portal, countless jets of steaming, scalding crimson blood burst forth, splattering across the walls, extinguishing candles, staining parchment, and soaking the light robes—and terror-stricken faces—of several sorceresses.
Tissaia grimaced and swung her staff once more.
The roar stopped abruptly.
What remained was a chamber drenched in blood, utterly wrecked, and filled with the cries of wounded sorceresses.
Tissaia immediately summoned several bottles of potions and handed them to Vice Arch-Mistress Talia, instructing her to treat the sorceresses whose souls had been shaken by the creature's psychic assault.
After confirming the blood was non-toxic, Tissaia ignored the ruined documents and knelt to examine the injured herself.
Fortunately.
None of the four sorceresses had suffered fatal wounds—mostly shallow cuts, likely from thorns and branches while fleeing through the forest.
Except for the first sorceress who had warned Tissaia.
Her injuries were far worse.
Her exposed, pale back inspired no illicit thoughts—only horror. A massive claw mark stretched across her entire back, nearly tearing her in two. Flesh was shredded, bone exposed to the air. It was hard to imagine how she had escaped at all, let alone managed to warn Tissaia.
"Faniel, what happened?" Tissaia stabilized her injuries with magic and demanded an answer.
"Arch-Mistress—" Faniel, seeing the portal gone and finally relaxing, tried to speak—but her eyes rolled back. Her head slumped to the side beneath tangled hair as she lost consciousness.
"Faniel!" Talia cried, rushing over.
"She's only lost too much blood," Tissaia said calmly. A gentle white glow enveloped Faniel's body as the bleeding stopped. "I'll maintain her vitals. Go fetch the priests of the Temple of Melitele."
"I'll go! I'll go!" Fiss, having recovered from the psychic shock after taking a potion, bolted out before Talia could assign anyone.
Talia surveyed the blood-soaked chamber with lingering fear, her gaze lingering on the foul-smelling pools of blood.
"Arch-Mistress… what was that thing? A Viy?"
Dol Dhu Lokke was infamous for monsters—most notably the Viy summoned by Alzur through a forbidden double-cross ritual that once destroyed half of Maribor.
Tissaia shook her head. "No. According to the records, Viy's rely on brute strength. They don't possess cries that can damage the mind and soul."
That answer brought Talia no comfort—only deeper dread.
A Viy was an expected danger of Dol Dhu Lokke. Preparations had been made. This unknown creature, however, was something no one had prepared for.
"Faniel shouldn't have gone that deep," Talia said after a deep breath. "The exploration mission should've been in its final phase. They were only supposed to reconfirm the established routes."
The expedition force hadn't yet fully assembled—but the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, and Tissaia herself, could never afford to wait.
Terrain reconnaissance had begun two months ago, even before the Dol Dhu Lokke summit convened.
The rescue of the Ban Ard and Rissberg sorcerers was inevitable.
Delaying until all factions gathered would've been far too late.
To avoid political disputes, Tissaia had dispatched only Aretuza sorceresses skilled in stealth, combat, and tracking—and after sufficient progress, she herself had joined several missions.
Even so, Aretuza had suffered many losses.
In this expedition, Aretuza bore responsibilities that should never have been hers alone.
Though most sorceresses understood Tissaia's choices—and hoped to demonstrate the power of female mages across the North—there was no shortage of quiet resentment.
That, too, was why Tissaia increasingly longed to relinquish her post.
If she were only Arch-Mistress, she could act solely for Aretuza and its sorceresses.
If she were only a member of the Council, she could prioritize the Brotherhood and the development of the magical world.
But she was both.
And sometimes, those roles clashed—just as they did now.
"Faniel isn't reckless," Tissaia said softly. "Something unexpected must have happened. We'll ask once they wake."
Talia nodded and began directing the recovering sorceresses to clean the ruined chamber.
Just then—
Noise erupted outside the window.
The earlier disturbance had been far too great. Regardless of their personal motives, the sorcerers in the camp were among the most powerful on the Continent—and extremely sensitive to magical fluctuations.
"Talia, explain what happened," Tissaia ordered. "Don't mention the monster. Just say the reconnaissance team encountered an accident."
"Yes, Arch-Mistress." As Talia left, the room fell silent.
Tissaia sat cross-legged in a pool of blood—uncertain whether it belonged to Faniel or the monster—maintaining her healing spell while listening to negotiations outside.
She heard the topic shift swiftly from what happened to demands for more support—more magical crystals, more Light Essence, more Bittervine—from Flame of the Hand, Withered Marsh, Crowned Silver Eagle…
She pressed her forehead and sighed.
With sudden mutations and a camp full of self-interested allies, she couldn't help but wonder:
Can this expedition truly succeed?
The answer to whether self-serving sorcerers could be relied upon needed no thought at all.
Compared to the monsters of Dol Dhu Lokke, those who should have stood united might well be the greatest obstacle.
She needed another pillar—something beyond the Brotherhood—
Realization struck.
"Rachel," Tissaia said quietly, "tell me again… about those rumors in the camp. The rumors about the witchers."
-----------------------------------
Deep in the forest, an orange-red portal suddenly opened.
"Ugh—!"
A group stumbled out, immediately retching against thick oak trunks.
"I swear, Vesemir," one witcher said, face ashen as he wiped his mouth, "I'm never taking another contract that involves portals again."
"Give it a rest, Letho," Vesemir said with his eyes closed, working to calm his churning stomach. He snorted in disdain. "You said the exact same thing last time. And today you still had the nerve to beg the Chief to let you join the expedition. No one forced you to come——"
Letho sneaked a glance past the crowd of young witchers, toward a sorceress who had just stepped out of the portal, and muttered stubbornly under his breath, "Last time wasn't a contract."
"Close enough." Vesemir didn't bother engaging him. He straightened up quickly and looked toward the faintly visible tower spires beyond the forest, saying with relief, "Good thing Lady Vera had the coordinates for this place. Otherwise, if we'd portaled straight into the camp Maribor gave us, we'd be mocked by those male mages again——"
Letho shot him a sideways look, wanting to tell Vesemir that the one he should really be thanking was Allen.
Otherwise, even with these coordinates, the Crimson Fox would definitely have portaled them straight into the camp, just to let the Brotherhood's so-called "refined" mages enjoy the spectacle.
Yes—Vera would absolutely do that. Even if the Chief were present, it wouldn't matter.
At least, that was what Letho thought, confident in his understanding of Lady Vera.
Of course, he didn't say any of that out loud.
He might have a big mouth, but he wasn't stupid.
"All right, all right, kids," Letho said loudly, "deep breaths. Think about the glorious expedition ahead. Don't let your little heads stay lost in the scenery inside the portal——"
"Urgh—!"
His words successfully turned the faces of Erni, Klar, and the other young witchers of the Witcher Corps—who had just barely recovered—green again, and they started retching once more.
"Shut up, Letho!" Vesemir slammed a fist into Letho's arm.
Portals were a witcher's natural enemy—let alone long-distance portals used multiple times in succession.
The fact that the young witchers could even stand upright, clutching oak trees and dry-heaving, was already impressive.
Letho rubbed his shoulder and chuckled, saying nothing more.
On the other side—
Allen withdrew his gaze from the near-total collapse of the younger witchers and looked at Vera, who was waving her hand and preparing to open another portal.
"Since we're already here," he asked, "don't you want to come say hello to Lady Tissaia together?"
Vera wouldn't be joining them on the expedition. But the rescue effort and investigation into the disappearance of the Wolf School witchers were also beginning today.
After seeing them off, Vera would return to Kaer Morhen to rest briefly—then formally embark on another Wolf School "expedition" of search and vengeance.
"No," Vera shook her head and snapped her fingers, summoning a portal. "If I greet her, it'll be hard for me to leave again. But——"
She paused, glanced back at the witchers still recovering from the portal effect, leaned close to Allen's ear, and whispered, "Allen, look after Tissaia for me during the expedition."
"Uh—Vera, didn't you say that wrong?" Allen asked, puzzled. "Shouldn't it be Tissaia de Vries of the Chapter of Gifts and Talents looking after us?"
Vera shook her head. "I didn't say it wrong. I already sent Tissaia letters about Rogrides and Redania's targeting. She's agreed—I won't repeat myself."
"But the more I think about it, the more something feels off about this expedition."
"I hope it's just my imagination. But yesterday, Tissaia wrote to me saying that during the Dol Dhu Lokke expedition, Narses de la Roche and Borhn Drummond—both legendary mages of the Chapter of Gifts and Talents and the Supreme Council—won't be participating."
Allen raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you tell me before that Borhn Drummond almost never takes part in Brotherhood affairs after going into seclusion? And Narses de la Roche is responsible for material teleportation and logistics in Novigrad."
"That sounds normal, doesn't it?"
Vera fell silent for a few seconds, then shook her head. "It does. But it still feels wrong."
Allen lowered his head, thinking for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I understand. I'll keep an eye on things."
By now, most of the witchers had recovered from the lingering effects of teleportation and were casting curious glances their way.
"I'm leaving," Vera said, tugging lightly at the corner of Allen's clothing. "Besides the male mages, be careful in Dol Dhu Lokke. The monsters there might not be any easier to deal with than those from the valley in the legends."
"I know." Allen scratched his head awkwardly, trying to step away from her hand. In the end, he stayed where he was, letting the sorceress smooth armor that didn't even have any wrinkles.
Vera nodded. After exchanging a look with Sol behind Allen, she turned and stepped into the portal without looking back.
"Boom~"
The portal vanished.
"Let's go, witchers," Sol said as he led the way. "To our expedition——"
Allen withdrew his gaze, looked once more at the cold tower spires jutting out of the dark green forest, let out a long breath, and followed after them.
............