Chapter 93: Skellige's Shores
POV: Adam
Ard Skellig's harbor bustled with activity that made Oxenfurt look like a quiet village.
Longships lined the docks—sleek vessels built for speed and raiding, their dragon-prow carvings fierce even at rest. Merchants shouted prices in accented Common tongue mixed with Skellige's native language. Warriors strutted through crowds, openly armed, settling minor disputes with fists and steel rather than words.
And everywhere, eyes followed our group.
"Word travels fast." Geralt's observation came dry. "The siren fight's already spreading."
"Good thing or bad thing?"
"Depends on who's listening." His golden gaze swept the crowd, cataloging threats and opportunities with witcher efficiency. "Skellige respects strength. Your display established that you have it. But strength also attracts challengers."
"So I should expect fights?"
"You should expect tests. Skellige warriors prove themselves constantly—against each other, against monsters, against anyone who claims power without demonstration." Geralt's hand rested near his sword. "Stay alert. First impressions determine everything here."
The harbor-master met us at the dock—a grizzled warrior named Björn whose scars spoke of decades of combat. He moved with the controlled violence of someone who could transition from greeting to killing in heartbeats.
"Storm-Brother." The title came with a nod of respect that surprised me. "Word of your storm-riding reached us before your ship. And now the siren battle..." His smile showed teeth missing from old wounds. "Jarl Crach an Craite requests audience. Immediately."
"Requests or demands?"
"In Skellige, those are the same thing when a Jarl speaks." But Björn's tone held no threat. "He means you honor, not harm. Anyone who fights ocean monsters with the ocean itself deserves recognition."
Ciri stepped forward, and something changed in Björn's expression. Recognition flickered—assessment, memory, confirmation.
"Princess Cirilla." The name came with sudden formality. "Eist Tuirseach's blood. You've returned to your grandmother's homeland."
"How did you—"
"Your grandfather's eyes look out of your face, Princess. Any Skellige warrior old enough to remember Eist would know you anywhere." Björn's bow was shallow but genuine. "The Jarl will want to know you've come. Clan Tuirseach has been without leadership since your grandfather fell at Cintra. Your presence... complicates things."
"Complicates how?"
"That's for the Jarl to explain." Björn straightened, gestured toward the mountain fortress visible above the town. "Come. Kaer Trolde awaits."
—Scene Break—
POV: Ciri
Walking through Ard Skellig felt like stepping into her grandmother's stories made real.
The town sprawled across the harbor slope in organized chaos—mead halls and smithies, homes and shops, all constructed from stone and timber that had weathered centuries of ocean storms. Warriors everywhere, openly armed, their tattoos and scars marking achievements and affiliations she couldn't read but recognized as meaningful.
And the women. Shieldmaidens, Calanthe had called them—Skellige women who trained alongside men, fought alongside men, earned glory alongside men. Ciri saw them in the crowds, as fierce and scarred as their male counterparts, treating her with nods of professional assessment rather than the dismissive courtesy she'd received in mainland courts.
"You're home, Princess." An elderly woman emerged from a shop doorway, her face weathered but eyes sharp. "I remember you—visited when you were perhaps five summers old. Eist carried you on his shoulders through these very streets."
Memory surfaced: warmth, laughter, a giant's hands keeping her safe above crowds that had seemed threatening to tiny eyes. Grandfather Eist, who'd loved her grandmother so fiercely and died defending her kingdom.
"I don't remember clearly." The admission came rough. "I was very young."
"You remember enough." The woman touched Ciri's cheek with fingers calloused by years of work. "His blood runs in you. The islands know their own. Welcome home, Princess of Cintra. Welcome home, daughter of Skellige."
The tears came before she could stop them.
—Scene Break—
POV: Adam
Kaer Trolde dominated the mountain above Ard Skellig like a predator surveying its territory.
The fortress had been carved from living stone, walls and towers emerging from the mountain itself as if grown rather than built. Ancient runes marked doorways and windows—protection magic older than most mainland kingdoms, power sleeping in granite that had watched Skellige's clans rise and fall for millennia.
"Impressive." The word felt inadequate.
"Functional." Björn led them through gates wide enough to admit siege equipment. "Built to withstand anything the mainland could throw at us. Never been taken by assault—the few invaders who tried became food for the crabs."
Inside, the great hall matched the exterior's scale. Massive pillars supported a ceiling lost in smoky shadows. Fire pits burned at intervals, their light revealing walls decorated with weapons, shields, and the skulls of creatures I couldn't identify. Warriors filled the space—drinking, arguing, arm-wrestling, conducting the business of a warrior culture in the heart of its power.
And at the hall's far end, on a throne carved from a single piece of black stone, sat Jarl Crach an Craite.
The man radiated authority the way a bonfire radiated heat. Scars covered his face and arms, each one a story of survival. His eyes held the calculating intelligence of someone who'd ruled through crisis and war, someone who'd earned his position through blood rather than inheritance.
Those eyes fixed on Ciri. Recognition flashed—grief, memory, calculation—all in a single heartbeat before composure returned.
"Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon." His voice carried to every corner of the hall, silencing conversations and freezing motion. "Granddaughter of Eist Tuirseach. Last blood of Cintra's throne. Welcome to Skellige."
The hall erupted.
—Scene Break—
POV: Geralt
The witcher watched the chaos unfold with professional assessment.
Skellige warriors shouted over each other—some welcoming Ciri as returned royalty, others questioning her claim, a few demanding she prove her blood through traditional trials. The noise was overwhelming, the passion genuine, the political implications immediate and complex.
Crach let it continue for exactly thirty seconds before raising his hand.
Silence fell like a blade.
"The Princess will speak." The Jarl's command brooked no argument. "Tell us, daughter of Eist, why you've come to your grandfather's homeland after all these years."
Ciri stepped forward. Geralt felt pride at her composure—the frightened girl who'd fled Cintra had become something else entirely, someone who could face a hall of warriors and hold her ground.
"I came seeking sanctuary." Her voice carried clearly, trained by months of practice, strengthened by months of survival. "The Wild Hunt tracks me across dimensions. Nilfgaard's Empire sought to claim me. Everywhere I've hidden, enemies have found me. But Skellige's ley lines..." She paused, choosing words carefully. "I hoped the islands' magic might provide protection that nowhere else could offer."
"You seek protection." A warrior near the throne—young, ambitious, wearing clan colors Geralt didn't recognize—stepped forward. "What do you offer in return? Skellige doesn't shelter refugees without price."
"I offer my blood." Ciri met the challenge without flinching. "Eist Tuirseach was my grandfather. Clan Tuirseach has no heir since his death. If my presence creates problems, I'll face them. If my blood grants me rights, I'll earn them. I'm not asking for charity—I'm asking for the chance to prove I belong here."
The young warrior opened his mouth to respond, but Crach cut him off.
"Well spoken." The Jarl studied Ciri with something approaching approval. "Your grandmother's spirit in you, girl. Calanthe would be proud." His gaze shifted to Adam. "And what of your companion? The one who fought sirens with the ocean itself?"
Adam stepped forward, and Geralt noted the subtle shift in the hall's attention. Warriors who'd been focused on Ciri now assessed the young man with professional interest.
"I'm Adam. No titles, no claims. I'm here because she's here."
"Simple loyalty." Crach's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "Rare quality in these times. The storm-riding, the siren-fighting—how does a mainlander command the ocean?"
"I don't command it. I work with it." Adam's honesty was either brave or foolish—Geralt couldn't decide which. "The sea has its own will. I just... ask nicely."
Laughter rippled through the hall. Not mockery—appreciation. Skellige valued modesty almost as much as strength.
"Asks nicely." Crach's smile showed more warmth than Geralt had expected. "The ocean doesn't grant favors to those who ask nicely, boy. It grants them to those who earn respect." He stood, and the hall's attention intensified. "You've earned respect through action rather than words. That's the Skellige way. You're welcome in these halls for as long as the Princess needs you."
"And the Princess herself?" The young warrior pressed.
"Will face the traditional trials, if she chooses." Crach's answer came measured. "Blood claim requires blood proof. Cirilla can establish her place among us through the old ways—or remain a guest without formal standing. The choice is hers."
"I choose trials." Ciri's response came immediate. "Whatever tests you require. I didn't come here to hide behind hospitality. I came to find my place."
The hall erupted again—this time in approval.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
The Mentalist: New Detective /Suits: The Win Rate System / The Walking Dead: Shelter Sys
Love [ In The Witcher With Avatar Powers ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ In The Witcher With Avatar Powers ] with exclusive access to 70+ min chapters ( 5 chapters every week ) on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!