Spring crept back to Kaer Morhen, snow melting into cold rivulets, frost loosening its grip on stone, and the scent of thawed earth replacing the sharp bite of winter. Two months had passed in a blur of steel, bruises, and ink-stained pages.
Sebastian stood in the courtyard, breathing in the softer air. He had grown, only a little in height, but far more in presence. His stance had changed. No longer the uncertain posture of a wounded child, but the balanced, alert poise of someone shaped by discipline and pain.
The witchers' handiwork.
Behind that progress lay endless drills: wooden swords turning to blunted steel, balance exercises atop narrow beams, monster lore drilled into him until his head rang. Vesemir's voice, steady and unyielding. Eskel's patient corrections. Lambert's sharp, relentless pressure.
And beneath all of that, hidden from their eyes Sebastian had trained something else entirely.
Late nights. Locked doors. Seb trained his flame flame powers, and how to control it, his breath held tight as he mastered a power he dared not reveal to the others.
He had also taken to the Witcher Signs like a storm to the sea.
Aard had come first, exploding from his palm with startling force. Quen followed, his shield forming cleaner and stronger than most novices ever managed. Yrden circles he carved with unsettling precision. Axii came naturally, almost too naturally, and Igni..
Igni was dangerous, too dangerous since he couldn't control it well, the nature of powers made Igni far more destructive than it should have.
Vesemir had noticed.
They all had.
"He shouldn't be shaping signs this cleanly," Lambert had muttered once, watching Seb extinguish a practice target with a controlled burst of flame. "Not at that age. Not at all."
"Some mages take years to reach that control," Eskel had added quietly.
Vesemir had only narrowed his eyes, studying the boy as though fate itself had dropped a riddle at his feet.
Now that riddle stood watching three witchers prepare to leave.
Horses stamped in the courtyard. Saddlebags clinked with potions, oils, and coin. Steel and silver swords rested in their scabbards. The path called again, contracts, monsters, coin, and danger.
Eskel tightened the strap on his saddle, then glanced at Sebastian with a small, fond smile.
"Two months," he said. "And you're already swinging like someone twice your age. Try not to get better than us before next winter, yeah?"
Sebastian smiled lightly. "I'll try to."
Lambert scoffed, swinging his leg over his horse. "Confident little bastard, isn't he? Vesemir's doing a fine job raising a smart mouth."
Vesemir snorted from behind them. "I trained you, Lambert. The smart mouth is on me."
Lambert grinned. "Then we're all doomed."
Geralt leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, white hair catching the pale spring light. His gaze lingered on Sebastian longer than the others'.
"You kept up," he said simply. "Not many children would've."
Sebastian met his eyes without flinching. "I don't plan on being 'many children.'"
Eskel chuckled. "See? Already sounds like one of us."
Lambert pointed a finger at him. "Careful, kid. Sound like a witcher long enough and you'll end up as grumpy and ugly as Geralt."
Geralt exhaled slowly. "Lambert."
Lambert grinned wider. "What? Truth hurts."
Sebastian laughed.
Vesemir stepped forward, resting a heavy hand on Eskel's shoulder.
"Path won't be gentle," he said. "It never is. Keep your blades sharp and your heads sharper."
Eskel nodded. "We always do, old man."
Lambert gave a mock salute. "Try not to turn Seb into another us while we're gone."
"I'll try," Vesemir replied.
They turned to Sebastian.
Eskel crouched slightly to meet his eye level. "Keep training. Don't slack. And listen to Vesemir, even when he's being unbearable."
Lambert added, more quietly than usual, "Don't get yourself killed. We'd hate to come back and find you outdid us in stupidity."
Sebastian smiled, touched by the rough sincerity beneath their tone.
Eskel and Lambert then rode away.
Vesemir folded his arms, watching them with the quiet pride of an old wolf seeing his pack take to the road again.
"Safe roads," he said.
Sebastian lifted a hand in farewell.
"Safe roads," he echoed.
As the two witchers rode beyond the gates and into the thawing wilds, Sebastian stood beside Vesemir, eyes lingering on the horizon.
The courtyard of Kaer Morhen felt quieter now.
With Eskel and Lambert gone now, their hoofbeats long swallowed by distance.
Only Geralt lingered.
He stood beside Roach, tightening a strap that didn't truly need tightening, gaze distant, caught somewhere between the Path ahead and the past he never quite escaped.
Vesemir approached, slowly on frost-damp stone.
"You're leaving later than the others," the old witcher said.
Geralt gave a faint shrug. "Didn't feel like rushing."
A beat of silence passed.
Vesemir watched him for a moment, then spoke more carefully.
"Geralt… there's something else."
Geralt exhaled through his nose. "If this is about contracts, coin, or monsters, I'm already listening."
"It's about your Child of Surprise."
Geralt stiffened.
"…Not you as well," he muttered, turning his head slightly. "I've had enough people telling me what fate expects."
Vesemir folded his arms, expression firm but not unkind.
"You know the Law of Surprise. We do better than most. It isn't just tradition it's an old balance. An agreement with the world itself."
Geralt scoffed quietly. "And the world cares about our agreements?"
Vesemir's eyes narrowed.
"Magic does. Fate does. Break old laws, mock old bargains… and misfortune follows. Always has. Always will."
Geralt looked away, jaw tightening.
"I'm not dragging a child into this life," he said flatly. "I won't condemn another innocent to what we became."
"You already did," Vesemir replied calmly. "By invoking the Law. Whether you like it or not."
Before Geralt could answer, soft footsteps approached behind them.
Sebastian.
He had come quietly, golden eyes alert. He'd clearly heard more than he should have.
He hesitated only a moment before stepping closer.
'As I am now, I can't change anything,' he thought.
'I can't stop wars. I can't save kingdoms. But I can try to push fate where it needs to go…'
Out loud, he said, careful and respectful,
"Sorry. I didn't mean to listen. But… I heard what you said. About this… Child of Surprise."
Geralt turned, surprised. "Seb… this isn't.."
"It sounds important," Sebastian continued, cutting him off gently. "Not just to you. To the world."
Geralt frowned. "It's not that simple, Seb. You don't understand.."
Sebastian lifted his chin.
"Maybe I do."
Both witchers stilled.
Sebastian spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.
"I almost died in that forest. Fate should've ended me there. Wolves, or the leshen that attacked me and my family, death… it all pointed to that. But I'm still here."
His hand clenched briefly at his side.
"I don't believe that happened by accident. Destiny… magic… whatever name you give it, it doesn't just spare people for nothing."
He met Geralt's gaze directly.
"I think we all have a purpose. A reason we survive. A reason we're tested. And if fate gave you a Child of Surprise… maybe it wasn't to curse you."
His voice softened.
"Maybe it's because that child matters. To the world. To you. To something bigger than either of you."
Silence fell hard.
Geralt stared at him, visibly taken aback. Words failed him, a rare thing. Especially words coming from a child.
Vesemir looked at Sebastian with quiet pride, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Well spoken, child." he murmured.
Sebastian held Geralt's gaze a moment longer, then lowered his eyes slightly, respectful.
"I don't know this child of surprise," he said. "But if fate tied you to them… maybe turning away is the real mistake."
Geralt said nothing.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, wind tugging at his hair.
Finally, he turned away, gripping Roach's reins.
He mounted without another word.
As the horse shifted beneath him, Geralt glanced back once, eyes briefly lingering on Sebastian.
There was something unsettled in his expression.
Then he nudged Roach forward and rode out through the gates, hooves echoing into the distance.
Sebastian watched him go, thoughts tight in his chest.
'I did what I can…' he told himself.
Vesemir let out a slow breath.
"Well said, Seb," he remarked quietly. "In these two months, I've realized something."
Sebastian looked up.
"The children I was dealing with," Vesemir continued dryly, "weren't you."
A faint smile tugged at Sebastian's lips.
He turned back toward the horizon, eyes thoughtful.
The White Wolf rode toward a destiny he refused to face.
Sebastian narrowed his golden eyes.
'If I can't change the world yet… then I'll try to change the people who have a chance to.'
/-\
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