The snow came down hard enough to blur the road into a white ribbon vanishing beneath Roach's hooves.
I held on to Geralt as tightly as my small hands could manage, my fingers bunched in the rough fabric of his cloak while his horse trudged through the growing storm. Every now and then the wind cut through the layers around me and found whatever warmth I had left, and my body would tense all over again.
I may have had clothes now, and even wrapped in a blanket, and pressed against the back of a witcher, but the cold still sunk deep into my bones. I could still feel that alley in the back of my mind, frozen mud under my spine, my naked skin stinging in the wind, and those red eyes in the dark.
I forced myself to breathe slowly and keep looking around.
The snow-laden pines lined both sides of the road, dark and towering, their branches bent under the weight of snow. The road head was a dark and narrow path that felt empty and eerie, like we were moving through a land that would swallow us whole the second we stopped.
Somewhere off in the trees I thought I heard a distant animal cry, but the wind tore the sound apart before I could place it.
Geralt didn't speak much during the ride. He sat steady in the saddle, one gloved hand on the reins, the other loose but ready near his side. Even without seeing his face, I could tell he was alert. Every shift in the snow, every movement in the trees, every sound in the night, he was listening to all of it.
I tried to do the same, more out of fear then the discipline of a trained and season Witcher.
This wasn't a dream to me anymore. I understood I was here, in the Witcher world. In the body of some six-year-old half-elf named Cain. I also had a system window like some generic isekai story.
Not to mention I was riding through a winter storm with thee Geralt of Rivia.
The thought was still absurd enough to make my head hurt.
After what felt like ride far longer than thirty minutes, faint yellow lights began to glow through the snowfall ahead. At first they were nothing but blurs, dim and wavering, but slowly shapes took form around them, fences half buried under drifts, peaked rooftops capped in snow, chimneys pushing smoke into the night, and the dark outline of a larger building near the center of the little town.
I let out a breath I didn't realized I'd been holding.
Geralt guided Roach through the half-frozen street without hesitation. The town was quieter than the last village, though not silent. I caught the muffled bark of a dog somewhere off to the right, the clatter of shutters being pulled closed, the drunken tail-end of laughter spilling briefly from a nearby house before a door shut and cut it off.
A few people glanced our way from under awnings or through half-open doors, their expressions sharpening when they saw the white-haired Witcher riding into town with a small bundled-up child in front of him.
None of them looked welcoming but I wasn't surprised either. I knew enough about how things worked on this continent.
Geralt led Roach toward a long, low stable beside the inn. The building itself was squat and broad, made of dark timber and stone, with warm firelight spilling in orange bars from its shuttered windows. A hanging sign creaked above the front door, though the snow made it hard to read in the dark.
He dismounted first, boots crunching in the snow, then lifted me down like I weighed nothing.
I still hated that even if I knew I also desperately needed it. By the time my feet touched the ground, they were already numb again through the thin stockings.
Geralt led Roach into the stable, stripped the saddle bags, muttered something low to the mare while checking her tack, and set out feed and water with efficient movements. I stood just inside the stable door, wrapped in blanket and cloak, watching my breath fog in front of me while I fought not to shiver too hard.
The smell of hay, horse, leather, and old manure filled the place. Compared to the alley, road, or freezing to death, it actually wasn't that bad.
Geralt glanced back once. "Stay put."
I nodded.
He secured the stable door behind us, slung the saddle bags over one shoulder, then led me toward the inn. Warm light spilled across the snow when he pushed the door open.
The heat inside hit me all over again, and with it came the layered scents of cooked meat, ale, smoke, damp wool, onions, sweat, and burning wood.
The common room was less crowded than I expected, though a few late drinkers still lingered at the tables. Their conversation dipped when we entered.
A big older man stood behind the counter. He had thick forearms, a barrel chest, and the kind of face that looked as if it had spent years scowling at people for sport. His gray-brown beard was cropped close, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow despite the cold outside. He looked first at Geralt, then at me, and his mouth twisted into something halfway between a smirk and a sneer.
"Well now," he said. "Didn't know mutants could have children. But I suppose elves are different."
The room gave a few low chuckles.
My shoulders stiffened under the cloak but Geralt didn't react. Well not outwardly anyway. He just stepped up to the counter and said, "Need a room."
The innkeeper leaned one thick arm on the wood. "Four orens each."
"Does that include food and a bath?"
The man's eyes flicked toward me again, taking in my appearance, the clothes that didn't quite fit, the blanket, the way I was standing silently beside a witcher.
"Aye," he said. "Bath if you heat the water yourself. Food if you're not picky. Dinner's done, but there's leftovers. Room's the last door on the left."
Geralt set coins on the counter and took.
I said nothing.I kept my face calm and tried not to show how much I wanted to disappear every time someone looked too closely at me.
The innkeeper's first comment had put the whole room on edge in that ugly, casual way that told me this kind of thing was normal. Witchers were unwanted. Elves were unwanted. Half-elves were probably worse. And I was all the wrong things at once, standing in a place where I had neither money nor name nor protection beyond Geralt's temporary goodwill.
The innkeeper grabbed the coins, bit one, then jerked his head toward the stairs. "Don't set the place on fire."
Geralt ignored that too and walked.
He led me upstairs and down a narrow hall to the last door on the left. The room inside was small but better than I had expecteda narrow bed pushed against one wall, a simple wooden chair, a table with a dented tin basin on it, and a stone hearth in the corner where a low fire still glowed beneath a layer of settling ash. The air inside smelled like smoke, old wool, and damp wood, but it was warm enough.
That was all that mattered.
Geralt set the saddle bags down, moved directly to the hearth, and stirred the embers with the poker until sparks rose. Then he started gathering what he needed as if this were routine. Bucket. Basin. Kettle. Towels that looked rough enough to take skin off.
He looked back at me once.
"Stand by the fire."
I did exactly that.
He went out twice to fetch water, once to the kitchen for a kettle already warm from the inn's cookfire, and once more to gather enough kindling and wood to keep the hearth alive. By the time he was done, steam was rising in curling wisps from the basin, and the room had gone from merely warm to comfortably hot. He pointed at the basin and then at the clothes I had worn.
"Clean yourself," he said. "You smell strange."
I blinked at him.
"Is there any soap?"
Geralt gave me a flat look. "You don't know who you are, but you remember soap?"
I opened my mouth, then shut it and shrugged awkwardly. "I… guess so."
He muttered something under his breath, dug through one of his pouches, and pulled out a small bundle of crushed herbs wrapped in cloth.
"This is comfrey," he said. "Rub it into your skin while you wash. Might get rid of that scent."
I frowned. "What scent?"
He was already loosening his gauntlets. " I don't know, can't say I smelled it before. It just smells wrong. Not like rotten or dead but something that might attract the things like that Katakan from earlier."
That was not remotely comforting but I filed it away in the back of my mind. I have a wrong scent that could attract monsters.
Since Geralt smelled something off about me I should take that seriously. If I smell like something he hasn't smelled before, it might not be a normal smell for this world? Honestly, that was possible too but I didn't ask about it any further.
Getting out of my clothes in front of another person would have embarrassed me on instinct, but that instinct kept slamming into the reality that I was in a child's body. Everything about this was awkward and I mean everything.
Still, Geralt had the detached manner of someone bathing a wounded stray dog rather than dealing with a child, which somehow made it easier.
I washed as thoroughly as I could. The warm water was almost painful at first, especially over my feet and fingers. Dirt, blood, and melted snow turned the water cloudy almost immediately.
I scrubbed with the comfrey as instructed and quickly discovered the herb left behind a sharp, clean scent somewhere between crushed leaves and earth after rain. Better than whatever I'd smelled like before.
I should enjoy this while I can who knows the next time I will have the luxury to bath like this. Guess I can thank the military in my past life for getting me used to being in the wilderness for days on end without bath or shower.
When I was done, Geralt tossed me a rough cloth and took his turn without any self-consciousness at all. He was less scars and more muscle, but they were there with some old wounds, and practical movements.
The medallion at his neck caught the firelight every now and then as he scrubbed dirt from his arms. Up close, seeing the scars and the way he moved, it was easier to believe he was younger than the Geralt I remembered from the games. Harder around the eyes, maybe, but not as weathered. He was definitely still dangerous. Still tired in some deep way that had nothing to do with sleep.
I dressed again afterward, grateful for dry clothes and heat and the sheer miracle of not freezing to death. Geralt had spread a blanket near the hearth for me and pointed at it with the same matter-of-fact tone he used for everything else.
"You can sleep there. We leave at first light. Snow should stop by then."
I sat down on the blanket, tucking my legs under me and pulling another blanket around my shoulders.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
He was seated on the chair now, sharpening a blade with long, slow strokes, not looking at me. "We aren't going anywhere. I'm going back to the Witcher strong hold. I should've been back but the mayor caught me on my way back."
I frowned.
Cain glanced up then, gold eyes reflecting the hearthfire.
"Listen carefully, kid. I'm not going to lie to you." He rested the blade across his knee. "You being half-elf means humans won't like you, and lot of full blooded elves won't either. They'll tolerate you if they must, but wouldn't count on their acceptance."
I looked down at my hands.
He continued, voice calm, but his words were blunt, and uttered without pity. "I can find an orphanage that might take you, might being the key word. If they're desperate enough for hands to scrub floors and labor. If your lucky it will be one well funded by the lord of those lands."
That option left a bad taste in my mouth before he even finished.
"Or I can try to place you with a craftsman. Blacksmith, maybe. Someone willing to keep you fed in exchange for work. Better than the street and you will have work waiting for you when you get older. Since elves full blood of half blood live longer your skills will be sought after by nobles and kings alike. But elves won't like making weapon for the humans who took their lands."
He paused, then added, "Or I can see if there's a group of elves nearby willing to take you in. Might be kinder than humans or the might not."
I stayed quiet for a moment as the fire popped softly in the hearth. I could hear outside, as the wind scraped snow against the shutters.
My choices were shitty one way or another.
The first one being Orphanage. Not chance in hell.
Even without the Witcher world's prejudice, orphanages in most worlds were bad enough. Add being a half-elf child with no background, no patron, strange looks, and absolutely no social protection? That was a path straight into exploitation if not outright abuse.
Now the second being a blacksmith's apprentice is actually better.
At least that meant a trade job. Guaranteed shelter. Food. Skills. Structure. But I was six in body, unproven, and visibly different. Even if someone took me in, it would probably be because I was cheap labor first and a child second. And if they found me inconvenient later, I'd be back on the streets, but no Witcher to help me out.
Now the third option being a band of elves. That was also bad.
Maybe less immediately dangerous than humans, maybe not. But I knew enough about the Witcher setting to understand that elves were proud, bitter, wounded, and often deeply suspicious of half-breeds. I wouldn't belong there any more than I belonged among humans.
There was one option my mind kept circling around and refusing to say out loud. Because I knew it was insane and way more dangerous. It would be choosing a life built on suffering, thankless , and dying somewhere nowhere will even find my body.
But it might also be the only path that offered any real power of choice. I just don't know if I'm ready to make that choice.
I swallowed. "I understand, sir."
He snorted. "I'm no knight. Just Geralt."
I nodded quickly. "Right. Yes, Geralt."
For a few seconds I just watched the fire, thinking. Then another question pushed its way to the front.
"What did they mean about my eyes?"
Geralt paused in the middle of wiping down his blade.
I continued, quieter now, "I understand why people keep staring at me with my skin and my hair. But they all keep mentioning my eyes too."
Geralt studied me for a moment, then reached for the silver sword propped against the wall.
"Look for youself."
He angled the flat of the blade toward me and I leaned closer. At first I only saw a warped firelit reflection. Then my face sharpened enough in the polished metal for me to understand what everyone had been looking at.
My eyes.
The irises were a bright, striking gold, not brown or amber in the ordinary sense. But Gold, like polished metal catching sunlight. Clear and vivid and unnatural enough to stop conversation.
I stared at them for a moment, my own breath caught. "Oh wow."
That was all I managed.
Geralt slid the sword back into place. " Those are some unique eyes," he said. " Very memorable to, so be careful, piss of the wrong person you will be easy to pick out in a crowd."
I huffed out a small breath. Of course. Of course in a world already primed to hate me, I had to have a face and features no one would forget. I lay down after that, using the folded blanket as a pillow. The hearth was warm, almost too warm against one side of my face, but after the cold outside it felt like heaven.
Geralt remained awake in the chair for a while, cleaning his blades, checking his vials and pouches, giving the room the kind of quiet attention that said he never fully slept unless he had to. I watched him through half-lidded eyes, listening to the scrape of steel, the crackle of the fire, the occasional muffled sound of voices downstairs.
My body gave out before my mind did. Then exhaustion dragged me under fast.
The last thing I saw before sleep took me completely was Geralt looking in my direction, his expression unreadable, while the wolf medallion at his throat gave the faintest tremor against his chest.
Then darkness.
When I woke again, it was to sound and light. The Blue translucent system window unfolding in front of my eyes. For a split second I almost jerked upright, my pulse racing, before memory caught up.
The room was dark except for the dying orange glow in the hearth. Geralt was asleep in the bed, one arm folded across his chest, the other resting close to his gear. Snow hissed faintly against the shutters.
But the system window in front of me was very much awake.
System Notification:
Common Ranked Quest: Survival in the New World — Complete
Reward: 1 Rare Equipment Chest awarded.
I stared at it, blinking the last of sleep from my eyes. Then I glanced at the hearth and noticed the fire was nearly out.
For a moment I considered ignoring it and focusing entirely on the system, but instinct won out. Cold was still too fresh in my mind. I crawled over, added a couple of split logs from the stack nearby, and bent down to coax the embers back to life.
A few careful breaths, a bit of rearranging, and the fire began to catch. Orange spread through blackened wood, then bloomed steadily until the hearth started giving off real heat again.
Only then did I sit back on my heels and turn my attention fully to the waiting blue window, and my reward from the quest.
I mentally selected it and Another window appeared immediately.
System Notification:
1 Rare Equipment Chest — Opened
Rewards Received:
Trait has been acquired: Bloodline Trait: [Sealed]
+1 Common Healing Potion
+1 Hunter's Edge Knife
Bloodline Trait: [Sealed]: Conditions have not been met to unlock this bloodline trait.
Common Healing Potion: A potion capable of healing a average amount of health.
Hunter's Edge Knife (Rare): A weapon from a renowned hunter of the Forgotten Realms, who traveled the planes and hunted planar creatures.
Effect: +1 Strength, +1 Dexterity
Bonus Ability: Can be thrown and summoned back to the thrower.
I just sat there while my eyes widened slowly. A knife. A healing potion. And a trait. These are my first quest rewards.
The sealed bloodline trait caught my eye first which only meant I have meet the conditions to unseal it. I wonder what I will get when I do.
The weapons rank and effects make it a handy, and a weapon apparently from the Forgotten Realms. Which I know is setting Dungeons & Dragons. I stared at the words for a solid few seconds, trying to understand how I was supposed to react to that.
What is something like this doing in this world?
Which makes me question the system had just casually given me a item that wasn't from the the Witcher universe. Which told me that It had access to something beyond this world. Other worlds, settings, and planes of reality. I found to be only fiction or in this case reality considering where I actually was.
What the hell kind of thing had attached itself to me and why?
I focused on the knife in my inventory and summoned it. The weapon appeared instantly in my right hand.
I nearly dropped it in surprise. It was beautiful.
The knife was longer than something meant for a child's hand, but not impossibly so. The blade was narrow and slightly curved, polished to a bright silver-steel shine that caught the firelight in thin red-gold lines. The grip was wrapped in dark leather worn smooth by long use, and the pommel bore a subtle mark I didn't recognize, something like a stylized hawk or hooked fang. It felt balanced and dangerously real.
And the moment it settled in my hand, I felt it. A subtle shift in my body. Just… slightly more energy and clarity hit my mind. My fingers felt steadier around the grip. My arm felt a touch firmer. My body's tiny weakness seemed just a little less in the moment.
The attribute bonuses were real. I stared down at the knife again. "Forgotten Realms," I mouthed silently.
Something tells me that wasn't flavor text. Which meant the sealed bloodline trait was probably real too.I looked at that line next.
Bloodline Trait: [Sealed]
No description or hint beyond conditions not met.
That made my skin prickle. Why would the system give me a trait I couldn't use yet? Unless it intended for me to meet those conditions later.
Like this whole thing had a road already planned out. That thought was not comforting in the slightest. Neither was the reminder from before that it had threatened me with death if I refused the quest.
This system wasn't neutral it had a plan for me. It wasn't a gift out of pure generosity. It had direction, Intent, and maybe even an agenda. I couldn't even comprehend.
And I didn't like that. The thought of being a slave to a system window or whoever controlled it pissed me off more than anything.
I opened the inventory instinctively, and to my relief the knife slipped into it the second I willed it gone. The potion appeared as a tiny vial of faint red liquid with a cork stopper when I hovered over it mentally, then tucked away just as easily.
At least the inventory is useful. But dangerous too, because anything that useful came with strings. I could feel it already. Power was never free in fiction, and I doubted it was free here either.
Then another system window slid into place before I could think much further.
I stiffened.
System Notification: New Quest Available
Common Ranked Quest: Road to Kaer Morhen
Objective: Go with the witcher Geralt to the Wolf School of Kaer Morhen.
Rewards: +1 to all attributes. 1 Common Equipment Chest +1 Ability Point
Warning: Failing to take this quest will lead to your death.
[Accept / Decline]
I stared at it so long my eyes started to hurt.
Of fucking course. Of fucking course it was this. I should have expected it. If the system's first quest was survive with Geralt , the second was always going to be choose the road. And apparently it had already chosen for me.
The Witcher School of Kaer Morhen. The old keep of the School of the Wolf. The place where Witchers were trained.
My heartbeat quickened.
There it was. The insane option my mind had been circling since Geralt first laid out the alternatives.
Orphanage. Hell no.
Blacksmith. Maybe survivable, maybe useful, but weak.
Elves? Uncertain at best.
But a Witcher… That was power. Not easy or safe power. But real power in a world that would eat me alive otherwise. And now the system was telling me, in no uncertain terms, that it wanted me to be a Witcher. So badly it was willing to repeat the same threat.
If I decline I die. I almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
"What is your plan?" I said bitterly at the window. "What the hell are you trying to make me into?"
The window didn't answer, not that I expected it to. But I was still staring when a quiet, rough voice came from the bed. "You're awake."
I looked up sharply.
Geralt was watching me through half-lidded eyes. I had no idea how long he'd been awake, but his hand was already resting near one of his blades.
I let out a slow breath. "Yeah I'm up."
He glanced at the hearth, then back at me. "Good. Fire was dying."
I nodded once. Then, before I could lose my nerve, I asked the question I had been turning over and over in my mind. I need to make sure this world is just like the one I know. If this world just has cosmetic changes to how the characters look but the story is overall the same, I can work with that.
"Geralt… what exactly is a Witcher?"
Geralt studied Cain for a second, and Cain saw a faint shift in his expression. Not quite suspicion. It was more like recalculation.
"You heard enough downstairs to know the word."
"Yes. From the people in the town you found me in to. I want to know more."
He leaned back slightly in the chair.
"A Witcher is a monster hunter," he said. "Trained from childhood. Mutated through alchemy, magic and trials so we can survive what kills other people. The mutations make us faster. Stronger. Better reflexes and senses. We kill beasts for coin. Sometimes break curses. Sometimes things people are too afraid to name."
His voice stayed even.
"We're not knights or heroes. Those stories lie about how ugly and brutal fighting monster's is."
I listened without blinking. He continued.
"The training is hard. The Trials kill many boys. Three to four out of every ten boys, sometimes even more. The ones who survive are changed forever." His eyes narrowed slightly. "It isn't some grand life. No feasts. No songs worth hearing. Mostly roads, cold, blood, and people spitting at your back after you save them. Some might even kill you if that can't pay you."
I swallowed. That matched what I knew. Maybe worse, hearing it said aloud like that. Still, my answer came anyway.
"I want to become one. I want to become a Witcher Geralt."
The words hung in the room.
Geralt's gaze sharpened. For a moment he said nothing at all. Then he asked, "Do you know what you're asking?"
"Yes, I may be a child and not know my past" I admitted. "But I know when I see my best options."
His expression didn't change. "You could be anything anything else, so I don't think you know better."
I pushed on, because if I stopped now I'd lose momentum, and maybe courage with it.
"I don't have many choices," I said quietly. "You told me that yourself. If I stay as I am, I'll spend the rest of my life being weak. At best I become someone's servant. At worst I end up dead in a ditch. I'd rather fight for my life and have a chance to become strong than just struggle live like a nobody."
Geralt went silent again.
The fire cracked between us.
Finally he said, "If you become a witcher, you'll still fight for your life and struggle. Almost every day of it."
I nodded. "Then at least I'll be fighting." Plus who says all I can be is a Witcher. I have my own plans for my future.
Geralts eyes stayed on me for another long moment. I forced myself not to look away.
I was in the body of a six year old. I'm small, weak, and vulnerable to everything and everyone. But none of that changed the fact that this was probably the most important decision I was going to make in this world. Maybe the system would have killed me if I refused. Maybe not. But even without it, I knew what the other paths looked like.
Weakness. Dependence. And powerlessness. I had enough of that already in my past life.
Geralt exhaled slowly through his nose. "Get ready," he said at last. "We head out in a few minutes."
I nodded " Understood."
Then I looked back at the system window still waiting in front of me.
[Accept / Decline]
I sighed internally. "I don't know your planning, but don't think threatening my life will keep working. " I thought again, not expecting an answer. Then I mentally selected the choice I already knew I was going to make.
[Accept]
The window vanished. A new line appeared briefly in its place.
Quest Accepted: Road to Kaer Morhen
Then that disappeared too and I sat very still for a moment.
The room felt different now, though nothing visible had changed. The same and shutters. The same Witcher gathering his gear.
But my path had just narrowed. The road ahead had become clearer, and somehow even more dangerous then before.
Geralt rose from the chair and began packing the room away. I stood too, still tired but steadier than I had been yesterday. Before putting my shoes-less feet back on the cold floorboards, I summoned the Hunter's Edge Knife into my hand one last time.
The blade gleamed in the hearthlight. I turned it slightly, watching the reflection.
My life and future hanging somewhere between a wolf medallion and a system window, the later threatening me with death one to many times. I dismissed the blade back into the inventory before Geralt turned fully around.
He didn't need to know about the system. Considering he didn't see it meant even if I wanted to show him all he would see me summoning and getting rid of items like a sorcerer. So I will keep it a secret.
"Come on," he said.
I nodded and gathered the blanket around my shoulders while he opened the door.
The hall outside was quiet and dim. Dawn hadn't fully broken yet, but the sky beyond the shutter cracks had shifted from black to deep iron-gray. The storm had weakened I could feel it.
We went downstairs without speaking.
The common room was mostly empty now, lit only by the embers in the big hearth and a few guttering candles. The innkeeper was already awake, wiping down tables with a rag that looked dirtier than the wood.
He glanced up as we descended. "Well," he grunted, "mutant's leaving early."
Geralt set a coin on the table for the hot water and food despite the man having already been paid. The innkeeper looked at me next.
His eyes narrowed briefly, but whatever thought he had, he kept to himself this time. Maybe because Geralt was there.
Maybe because morning made cowards of night tongues, because he simply didn't care enough. Either way, I preferred the silence.
Outside, the world was pale and quiet under fresh snow.
The sky remained overcast, but the wind had eased to a biting breeze instead of a full assault. Smoke rose straight from chimneys. Our footprints from the night before had been buried under clean white drifts. The stable roof glittered faintly with frost.
Geralt saddled his while I stood nearby, pulling the blanket tighter around myself and breathing in air so cold it made my lungs ache.
When he was done, he looked down at me.
"You still sure?"
The question was simple.
I then thought of the alley. The katakan and the system's threat. I need power to survive in this world.
I met Geralts gaze and answered with the most honesty I could give. "Yes."
Geralt studied me for one last moment, then nodded once. He lifted me into the saddle in front of him. The horse shifted beneath us, huffing warm breath into the cold morning air. Geralt clicked his tongue and the horse began to move, I kept my face calm, my grip steady, and my mind sharp. Because whatever came next, I was done being helpless.
The road to Kaer Morhen had begun.