ROD - 3 Echoes of Sorrow (Patreon)

Marabel's empty streets whispered with eerie stillness as Geralt and Ciri pressed forward, their senses sharp, searching for any trace of Yennefer. The haunting melody of the Banshee's shriek still lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of their recent encounter.

They had been separated from Yennefer, and her absence weighed heavily on Geralt's heart. With each step, he couldn't help but worry about the woman he loved, held captive by the vengeful spirit. He knew time was of the essence, and they needed to find Yennefer before it was too late.

Ciri's young but perceptive eyes scoured their surroundings, searching for any clues. Her gaze landed upon a set of fresh footprints leading toward an ancient and overgrown graveyard nestled on the outskirts of the city.

"Geralt, look," Ciri whispered, her voice barely audible. "Footprints, heading towards the graveyard. It must be where they've taken Yennefer."

The footprints were faded, but distinct. Appearing in one spot as if something in flight had landed, or materialized. Five digits with a talon tip, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Geralt nodded, his determination reignited. "Let's follow them," he said, his voice resolute. "We need to rescue Yennefer and put an end to this creature's malevolence."

With careful steps, they entered the eerie graveyard. Shadows danced among weathered tombstones, and a sense of foreboding hung in the air. The Banshee's presence was palpable, its aura of sorrow seeping through the very fabric of the place.

As they moved deeper into the cemetery, a faint, ethereal moaning reached their ears. The sound seemed to emanate from a dilapidated crypt hidden behind a gnarled oak tree. A sliver of hope sparked within Geralt's heart.

Approaching the crypt cautiously, Geralt and Ciri pushed open the creaking iron doors. Inside, a dim light flickered, casting eerie shadows upon the stone walls. Their eyes were drawn to a figure in the corner of the crypt—a woman with long red hair, bound and bruised. It was Annabelle.

Rushing to her side, Geralt quickly untied the ropes that held her captive. "Annabelle," he called softly, relief washing over him. "Are you alright?"

Annabelle's voice quivered as she spoke, her body bearing the signs of torment. "Geralt, Ciri," she gasped. "The Banshee... it took Yennefer. It's taken her to the depths of the forsaken mausoleum."

Geralt's heart sank, a mixture of fear and determination welling up within him. He helped Annabelle to her feet, supporting her weakened form. "We'll find her," he vowed, his voice filled with resolute determination. "We won't let the Banshee take her from us."

With Annabelle's guidance, Geralt and Ciri navigated the maze-like catacombs beneath the graveyard. The air grew heavy, suffused with an otherworldly energy that sent chills down their spines. The haunting melody of the Banshee's sorrowful song filled the air, guiding them deeper into the heart of darkness.

Finally, they reached a vast chamber adorned with ancient sarcophagi and flickering torches. At the center of the room stood the Banshee, its spectral form exuding both beauty and malevolence. And beside it, Yennefer, trapped within a web of ethereal tendrils.

Geralt's eyes burned with fury as he confronted the vengeful spirit. "Release her!" he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "I won't let you take her from us!"

The Banshee's ghostly figure turned towards Geralt, its eyes gleaming with an ancient sorrow. "You cannot save her," it intoned, its voice carrying a mournful weight. "She belongs to me now, forever trapped in my web of sorrow."

But Geralt refused to yield. With a swift movement, he unsheathed his silver sword, his grip steady and resolute. Ciri, her eyes blazing with determination, readied herself beside him.

"We'll see about that," Geralt growled, his voice laced with determination.

He strode toward the banshee, clenching his jaw, and swung his sword, lashing out in a direction he hoped would be a misdirection.

The banshee countered, moving at a speed Geralt had never seen. It didn’t so much move as flicker parts of its body in and out of existence. A talon pierced his lower jaw, followed by a blur toward his neck. Luckily, the potion he’d ingested still gave him uncanny speed and dexterity and he was able to turn away at the last moment, but not unharmed, a deep welt rose on his pale flesh as the talon scratched the surface of his throat.

“Geralt, you can’t use your eyes!” Ciri said, approaching the melee. "You have to move on feel, like this.” Ciri closed her eyes and made several upward thrusts with her dagger, and Geralt was surprised to see that the Banshee connected with each thrust, wounding it’s physical body.

It shrieked in pain, and Ciri counter-screamed, the waves of force from their sonic bursts sending Geralt to his knees.

Something about the sonic waves must have reached Jennifer. She opened her eyes, and struggled against the mystical bonds, her fingers dancing in the air as a chant whispered from her lips.

Geralt struggled back to his feet, dazed, taking a defensive posture, before closing in again on the creature. Ciri had stayed on it, her dagger making deep gashes in the things leathery wings. Geralt doubted the beast would fly after this, if it were still left alive.

Geralt attempted to close his eyes. Following Ciri’s example, and for a moment he felt like he could sense where the thing was going to put…there. He stabbed upward, and connected with some body part as the thing shrieked again.

Yennefer cast off the mystical web, and began murmuring something else. Electricity sprang from her fingertips and she cast toward the creature. It was electrified again and again and again, each time emitting sonic screeches, that Ciri countered with her own scream.

The trio fought the creature into a corner until it was flitting and fickering in and out of reality in a mad crescendo. Geralt couldn’t possibly follow it with his sight, he continued to keep his eyes firmly closed, angling his weapon again and again in the direction of where he felt the creature would appear.

Yenn called down iron staves that slammed into the beasts corporeal form, pinning it to the stone floor. It shrieked, frantically trying to fly away or discorporate, but the iron held the thing firmly pinned to the floor.

The thing opened it’s batlike mouth and shrieked a final time as Ciri screamed back. This time though, the sonic waves crashed into each other, creating a maelstrom that battered the trio from all sides. He felt something inside him tear away, and he could no longer scream, yell, or warn the other two he was caught in something that spun him around and around.

The mystical wind rose higher and higher, Ceri’s scream terminated with Geralt’s hearing, but he could still feel himself in the grip of this spiritual maelstrom that rose upwards, and out, faster and faster until he was nothing more than a whirling essence.

Abruptly, he ran into something that stopped his momentum cold, and he fell to the floor, his senses overloaded from the spiritual backlash of the maelstrom. He tumbled into a heap, thrown from the radius of the creature, and didn’t have time to see the conditions of the other two.

Oblivion intruded.