The oppressive heat of the afternoon blanketed the forest. Moments ago, the lake's surface had been as deep as jade, but now it gleamed like molten gold.
The light reflected from the water was so dazzling that Eredin Bréacc Glas, standing atop the ivory-white tower, had to turn his gaze away, looking instead at the blond elf still working with the lapis slab.
Calling it a slab wasn't quite accurate—it was a vast section of the tower wall itself, set with countless runes etched into an intricate magical array.
There were also pictographic shapes—like swallows.
Such symbolic figures could be seen all across the slab.
Eredin Bréacc Glas, however, paid no attention to this curious creation.
Draped in a loose golden-threaded chiffon robe, he leaned against the rail as white as jade, frowning as he watched the blond elf.
"Avallac'h, is the spiral still unstable?"
"You can see it yourself—why bother asking me?" Avallac'h didn't lift his head, only touched a groove on the side of the lapis slab.
The column-shaped groove was filled with a shimmering ice-blue essence, like the concentrated spirit of deep winter, chilling enough to freeze the mind at a glance.
Of course—
For Eredin Bréacc Glas and Avallac'h, it caused no harm.
At least, not at this level.
"Of course I can see it," Eredin's impatience showed. "But it's been two full months. You told me two months ago that the spiral's fluctuations normally settle within a week. But now, two months have passed, and still nothing."
"And now you tell me to just look at it myself?"
"I don't care whether the spiral is stable or not—I want to know *when* it will stabilize!"
"A hundred Red Rider scouts are trapped on the other side of the spiral. It's been two months—their supplies must be nearly exhausted."
"The war agenda has already been approved, yet the Red Riders can only wait idly here in Tir ná Lia."
"Do you know the cost of these two months of delay?"
"And on top of that, our connections to other worlds have suddenly been severed. Many worlds were just beginning to stabilize. Avallac'h, tens of thousands of Alder Folk in Tir ná Lia depend on those supplies from beyond…"
"Avallac'h, you know what this means."
"I suppose," Avallac'h sighed lightly, rising to his feet, "that's precisely why I'm here in the Tower of the Swallow."
"Then have you found a way to calm it yet?" Eredin pressed, unwilling to relent.
Avallac'h stayed silent for a moment, then walked to Eredin's side, shaking his head slightly as he looked down at the lake beneath the tower.
Beneath the Tower of the Swallow lay four lakes. The nearest was an oval stretching from south to north, like the stalk of a clover leaf.
Its water was crystal clear, the colorful lakebed gleaming as if inlaid like mosaic tiles.
It was the most beautiful place near Tir ná Lia, yet no Alder Folk came near it, for they had named it Tarn Mira—
*Bottomless Lake.*
"Why would a spiral, usually so regular, suddenly erupt now?" Avallac'h asked suddenly, staring at the dreamlike waters of Tarn Mira.
"What do you mean, Avallac'h?" Eredin's relaxed body went taut at once.
Avallac'h ignored his reaction. "The Red Rider scouts departed two months ago. The spiral's counter-cyclic turbulence also began two—"
Crack!
Eredin slammed his palm against the ivory railing, leaning forward, his eyes sharp as a provoked hawk.
"What are you trying to say, Avallac'h?"
"You think the spiral's disturbance was caused by the Red Riders?!"
"Impossible. Only the most elite of the Alder Folk are chosen as Red Riders, and the scouts are the finest among them…"
Avallac'h remained unmoved. "I won't inform Auberon Muircetach. Nor will I notify the Elder Council…"
Before he even finished, the hawk eased, adopting a languid air as he followed Avallac'h's gaze to the strange patterns at the bottom of Tarn Mira.
"Then what are you trying to say?"
Avallac'h turned back, studying Eredin's eyes intently, as if trying to read every flicker within them.
"To resolve the spiral's disturbance, I must first know why it was disturbed. What was it that stirred *Him*?"
"Only then can I stabilize it quickly—and you won't have to go back on the war declaration you swore to those humans."
Eredin Bréacc Glas stayed silent for a long while before answering. Instead, he sighed softly.
"Since the White Ship split from the fleet, we have known each other nearly ten thousand years. Do I really seem so unworthy of your trust, Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha?"
"Precisely because we are old friends, I have reason to doubt…" Avallac'h did not shift his gaze. "The fragments of the Gate of Ard Gaeth are important, yes, but not urgent."
"The Alder folk's conquests of many vassal worlds will not collapse overnight simply because communication has been interrupted."
"But…"
The handsome, golden-haired elf stared expressionlessly at Eredin Bréacc Glas' face. "But the Red Riders, due to this disturbance, will gain greater influence before the Elder Council and Auberon Muircetach…"
"Eredin Bréacc Glas, it's not that I want to doubt you, but in thousands of years of spiral anomalies, this is the first time such a prolonged disturbance has occurred."
"Could it be that, aside from the Alder folk's Red Riders, there is another race capable of stepping into the Spiral of the Worlds, disturbing It?"
Eredin Bréacc Glas fell silent again for a long while.
A wind rose, rippling across Tarn Mira, which glimmered in the sunlight like molten gold.
"This time, it wasn't me." Eredin Bréacc Glas didn't look at Avallac'h, his face expressionless.
Avallac'h studied him for a moment longer before exhaling deeply. "I believe you."
"But Auberon Muircetach and the Elder Council will surely harbor the same doubts as I do."
"I know," Eredin Bréacc Glas shrugged, "Even without this, they… no, you all would still suspect me. So it makes no difference."
Avallac'h nodded. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the lapis lazuli slab—the grooves brimming with ice-blue elemental medium—and sighed wearily.
"But this only makes things more troublesome…"
"If the cause cannot be found, how can we soothe the Spiral's unrest…"
Eredin Bréacc Glas said nothing.
This was not his area of expertise.
But after some thought, he added, "The blood of a unicorn can cross the Spiral. We do have a retreat, only…"
He did not finish the thought. He trusted Avallac'h understood what he meant. And Avallac'h did. He drew in a deep breath, then waved his hand. "The time has not yet come. Not yet…"
"Hm?" Avallac'h suddenly gasped in surprise.
"What is it?" Eredin Bréacc Glas asked, puzzled.
Avallac'h raised his hand, pointing at the grooves on the lapis lazuli slab. The ice-blue elemental glow was fading at a speed visible to the naked eye.
He rushed quickly to the slab, inspecting it in haste.
Eredin Bréacc Glas pressed his thin lips together and followed closely behind.
Just then—
Eredin Bréacc Glas' footsteps halted sharply behind Avallac'h. He suddenly turned his head, gazing toward the open balcony.
The bright daylight seemed to dim for a brief moment, and a black dot appeared outside the Tower of the Swallow.
Sensing the anomaly, Eredin Bréacc Glas willed his power, and the savage armor of the Wild Hunt surfaced instantly across his body.
By the time his right hand grasped the hilt at his waist, that black dot abruptly expanded, releasing a streak of eerie violet magical light that drifted slowly before him.
Eredin Bréacc Glas froze for a moment but did not resist.
The violet glow obediently seeped into his raised palm and vanished.
"What happened?"
Avallac'h had sensed the surge of power behind him—the summoning of armor—and turned back warily.
"Nothing," Eredin Bréacc Glas curved his lips into a grin, baring his grim, white teeth as he spoke slowly. "I just received a message…"
"A very interesting, good piece of news."
"Eredin Bréacc Glas!!!"
Allen shouted, jolting upright—only to see patterned silk screens, candlelight flickering in the holders, and, further away, the uncut ruby ore "Big Stone" had gifted him, resting quietly upon the carved display stand.
The balcony doors stood wide open. Mountain winds carried the scent of cedar, thyme, sunlight, and the fragrance of spring…
Spring?
Wasn't it supposed to be midsummer now?
Wait!
That ruby ore from Big Rock… so this is my room. I…
I'm back?
In a haze, Allen slowly regained his senses, a strange emptiness washing over him.
It felt as though he had lost something that had never truly belonged to him—yet it was deeply important.
No!
Not just to him—something crucial to the entire School of the Wolf!
But there was no time to think it through. Suddenly, the soft mattress beneath him trembled slightly.
Following the vibrations, Allen turned his head—and froze.
Something was wrong.
Why was he on the bed?
When he opened the letter Vilgefortz had given him, he had been sitting in a chair. Then he had gone out across storm-tossed seas, and afterward… the plains where Ciri was…
His tangled thoughts refused to unravel. At the bedside, he noticed a tumble of golden hair.
The hair shifted, shifted again, and from beneath it emerged a delicate face—marked with deep sleep-creases, eyes still hazy with slumber.
It was Mary.
"Good morning, Allen." Mary rubbed her eyes, greeting him softly.
Allen, still dazed, instinctively replied, "Good morning, Ma—"
"Wait a second!"
"Mary—why are you sleeping in my room?!!"
His startled cry instantly jolted the young sorceress fully awake.
Her jewel-blue eyes widened in shock as she exclaimed, "Allen—you're finally awake!!!"
Finally… awake…
Allen snapped fully to his senses at those words. Realizing something, he hurriedly asked: "I… I've been 'asleep' for how many days?"
"Two days… no, at least three," Mary lifted three slender fingers. "The morning before last, Tissaia de Vries suddenly had something urgent to discuss with you, and then discovered you unconscious, collapsed on the floor of your own room…"
Tissaia de Vries discovered it—was it because of the Wolf School Grandmaster gear enchantments…? Allen froze for a moment at the thought, but soon noticed something odd.
Morning… unless it was truly important, sorceresses rarely rose early, and Tissaia de Vries was no exception.
Which meant—it could only have been Philippa Eilhart. She must have been the one who noticed his abnormal state in the morning and then informed Tissaia de Vries…
Thinking of this, Allen instinctively raised his head toward the rafters overhead.
But there was nothing there—empty.
"Allen, what are you looking for?" Mary followed his gaze upward.
"For Phil—" Allen shivered, catching himself when he realized who was asking, and smoothly changed his words: "Nothing, I just feel a little stiff in the neck from lying down too long."
Mary frowned slightly, suspicion flickering in her delicate features, but she chose to believe him. She continued:"Tissaia de Vries examined you. Though your body was perfectly healthy, no matter how she called to you, you wouldn't wake. Then the mentor came…"
"Right, the mentor!"
Mary suddenly leapt up. "Lady Vera told me to notify her immediately when you awoke."
But before Mary could open the door—
Boom!
A portal suddenly opened beside the carved screen.
The moment it stabilized, two figures burst forth in succession.
It was Vera and Sol.
The instant they emerged, their eyes fell upon Allen, sitting bewildered on the bed.
After a careful, thorough examination, the two exchanged a glance, breathed out in relief, and spoke their first words since stepping through the portal: "Allen, you're awake."
"Mm. I'm awake."
-----------------------------------
After a few stiff exchanges, Allen gradually pieced together his current situation.
Vilgefortz's letter—it seemed to have sent his "soul" (if that was indeed his soul) to a place of considerable significance.
Though he had traveled from that strange ocean to that eerie grassland, meeting Ciri and crossing paths with the Wild Hunt—in reality, those one or two hours had stretched into three or four days.
Of course, there was another possibility…
There was no difference in the flow of time between reality and those places. It might simply be that, from some kind of exhaustion, he needed three or four days before waking.
Or perhaps… he hadn't gone anywhere at all—he had simply been unconscious, dreaming all along. But…
[Ding! Witcher's Journal is dormant. Do not attempt to open the Witcher's Journal!]
Other than the power of Elder Blood, what else could put the Witcher's Journal itself into slumber?
Allen felt the first explanation was more likely—after all, the future Ciri had appeared in that spacetime.
Differences in the flow of time—such things were nothing unusual.
Still, there was another way he could confirm where he had truly gone…
Allen exhaled deeply and asked: "Lady Vera, where is Vilgefortz now? Is he still in Kaer Morhen?"
Vera and Sol exchanged a glance, then Vera gave a slight nod.
"Of course he's still in Kaer Morhen. We've secured him in a very secret place…"
"What place?"
Vera hesitated, then said softly: "The dungeon…"
"We locked him in the dungeon."
...
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