Chapter 19: THE DEATHLESS MOTHER MOVES
The corridor stretched before us, empty and wrong.
Geralt had taken the west passage with Lambert, leaving me with Ciri and Vesemir to search the east wing. The keep's stones seemed to press inward, the familiar walls transformed by the wrongness that saturated everything.
"This way," Vesemir said, moving ahead with his sword drawn. "The old archives. He used to go there when he wanted to think."
Eskel. We're hunting Eskel like he's a monster.
The Ciri-Link pulsed with Ciri's fear—sharp, controlled, but present. She'd armed herself with a short sword, and her posture said she was ready to use it. I stayed close enough that my Nullification field could reach her instantly if needed.
We rounded a corner, and Vesemir froze.
The archive door hung open. Beyond it, darkness that seemed to swallow our torchlight.
"Wait here," Vesemir whispered.
He moved forward, silent despite his age, blade leading. The shadows parted around him—
Then Ciri gasped behind me.
I spun. Eskel stood in the corridor we'd just passed, blocking our retreat. He shouldn't have been there. The passage had been empty thirty seconds ago.
His eyes were wrong.
Not yellow anymore—black. Consuming. Something ancient and hungry looked out from a face I'd grown to love as a brother's.
"The girl." The voice wasn't Eskel's. Too many layers, too many echoes, like a crowd speaking in perfect unison. "Give us the girl."
"Ciri, run."
"I won't—"
"RUN."
I activated the Nullification field and charged.
[ABILITY: NULLIFICATION — SUSTAINED FIELD ACTIVE]
[SP: 185/200... 170/200...]
Eskel met my rush with speed no training should have provided. His arm swept out—claws, actual claws, extending from fingertips that shouldn't have been able to produce them—and I barely dodged, feeling the wind of their passage across my chest.
He's faster than before. Stronger. Whatever's inside him is burning through his body's limits.
I threw a punch into the Nullification field, hoping to disrupt whatever magic animated him. Eskel staggered, his expression flickering—
"Cole—" His voice. His real voice. "Help—"
Then the other voice crashed back in, and he lunged.
We fought down the corridor in a brutal exchange that would have looked wrong to anyone who knew Witcher combat. This wasn't sparring or even honest battle. This was survival against something wearing a friend's face, knowing that every strike I landed hurt someone who didn't deserve it.
[HP: 345/380... 320/380...]
His claws caught my ribs. Fire bloomed across my torso, blood soaking into my shirt. I stumbled back, and Eskel pressed the advantage—
Vesemir's blade intercepted the killing stroke.
The old Witcher had circled back, appearing from the archive entrance with timing that saved my life. His sword locked against Eskel's claws, holding the possessed Witcher in place.
"Ciri!" Vesemir shouted. "Get to the great hall! NOW!"
I heard her footsteps retreating. The Link confirmed she was running, terror and guilt mixing with the determination to survive.
Good. Now we just have to not die.
[SP: 140/200... 125/200...]
I pushed the Nullification field harder, expanding it to encompass both Eskel and Vesemir. The effect was immediate—Eskel screamed in two voices, his body jerking like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
"HELP ME!" Eskel's voice, desperate, drowning.
Then the other: "You cannot stop what wakes."
He collapsed.
For a moment—just a moment—the corridor was silent except for our ragged breathing. Blood dripped from my wounds onto ancient stone.
Then Eskel's hand twitched.
"Bind him," Vesemir said, already producing chains from somewhere in his coat. "Before she takes control again."
We secured Eskel in the lower storage room, the one with walls thick enough to muffle screaming.
The chains were silver-inlaid—old Witcher equipment for containing creatures too dangerous to kill outright. They wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, his torso, pinning him to a support column that had probably been placed there for exactly this purpose centuries ago.
He didn't fight the binding. Couldn't, really—the Nullification had left him temporarily paralyzed, the possession unable to regain full control. But his eyes tracked us as we worked, flickering between black emptiness and desperate yellow.
"It hurts," he whispered. Eskel's voice. "She's... she's inside everything. Every thought. Every memory."
"We're going to help you." I knelt before him, keeping the Nullification field active despite the drain. "We're going to find a way to get her out."
"You can't." The other voice bled through, eager and mocking. "I've been here since before your kingdoms had names. I'll be here long after your bones are dust." Black eyes met mine. "But you, First Blade—you interest me. We should talk, you and I."
"I don't negotiate with parasites."
Laughter that scraped like nails on glass. "You will. Everyone does, eventually."
[SP: 100/200]
[WARNING: STAMINA APPROACHING CRITICAL]
I let the field drop, stumbling as the exhaustion hit. Vesemir caught my arm, steadying me while Lambert appeared in the doorway with Geralt and Ciri close behind.
"Contained?" Geralt asked.
"For now." Vesemir's face was grim. "The possession is deep. Too deep for standard exorcism methods."
"What about the Nullification?" Lambert asked, gesturing at me. "Seemed to work."
"It disrupted her control, but didn't break it." I pressed a hand against my bleeding ribs, wincing. "Whatever she is, she's anchored in more than just magic. It's like she's woven into his soul."
Silence settled over the room. Eskel—or the thing wearing him—watched us with patient malice.
"We need magical help," Vesemir said finally. "Someone who understands demonic possession. The kind that roots in the spirit rather than the flesh."
Geralt's expression hardened. "I know someone."
"Who?"
"Yennefer." The name carried weight. History. "She was researching possessions before she lost her power. She might know something."
Lambert made a sound of disgust. "The witch who betrayed us to Nilfgaard? That's your solution?"
"She didn't betray—" Geralt stopped himself, jaw tightening. "It doesn't matter. She's the best chance we have."
I looked at Eskel, bound and broken, fighting a war inside his own head.
"Then go," I said. "Find her. Bring her back." I met Geralt's eyes. "We'll hold the keep until you return."
I sat outside the storage room until my legs went numb.
Lambert paced. Vesemir had retreated to research old texts. Ciri sat against the opposite wall, close enough to touch but not quite making contact.
Inside the room, Eskel alternated between pleading and promising. His voice, then not-his. Real agony, then calculated manipulation.
"He saved my life," Lambert said, still pacing. "First contract after the Trials. I fucked up, got myself cornered by a griffin. Eskel just... appeared. Took a talon through the shoulder getting me clear."
Callbacks. Every Witcher has a hundred stories like that about each other.
"He'll fight this," I said. "He's still in there."
"You don't know that."
"I heard him. When the Nullification hit—he was still there. Still fighting."
Lambert stopped pacing. Stared at the door. Said nothing.
Ciri finally spoke: "I've seen possession before. In Cintra, during the sacking. A soldier was... something got inside him. He killed his own squad before they put him down." She hugged her knees tighter. "But this is different. She's not just wearing him. She's... erasing him."
"We won't let that happen."
"Can you promise that?"
I couldn't. We both knew it.
But I answered anyway: "Yes."
Want more? The story continues on Patreon!
If you can't wait for the weekly release, you can grab +10, +15, or +20 chapters ahead of time on my Patreon page. Your support helps me keep this System running!
Read ahead here: [ patreon.com/system_enjoyer ]