The Last of the Witchers

[Mr.BossMan]

Kaer Morhen
Mid-Day
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The sun was out and seeping over the mountainous terrain of Kaer Morhen. It was a grim and unwelcoming sight to Anthoni and perhaps the other children in the room. Each one stood shoulder to shoulder awaiting their master and mentor; Kraten. He would be the one to oversee the Trial of Grasses and ultimately each transformation. Every boy here has prepared for this moment and Anthoni was no exception. The thing is, only now, did the fear start to creep into his gut. Again Anthoni bit his tongue and remembered the words Kraten had told him weeks earlier.

"The trial is hard, yes, but you are strong Anthoni."

However the boy of eight didn't feel strong, he felt scared and empty. His small shoulders slumped low and his arms to his sides. He stared at a small beam of sunshine directly on top of his foot. Trying and moderately succeeding at controlling his breathing. His thoughts wandered to the eleven other boys next to him. His only thought was how many of them, and would he, be here tomorrow. Suddenly he heard the slow footsteps of Kraten behind him and instantly his head shot up. His attention now focused on his mentor who stood before them all.

"You young men who stand before me now, all know what is to happen." Kraten's voice spoke unapologetically "you've trained for it and now I feel is the time to move forward. Fate will now determine if you are to be a Witcher." He then took a step forward and looked slowly at each boy. Finally he stopped at Eskel, the boy next to Anthoni, then gently he guided Eskel into a room where the mutations would occur. Each boy strapped down and fed magical and herbal mixtures that eventual turn you into a Witcher. Sadly only three out of ten boys survive the transformation; the rest die in agony.

Anthoni let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Soon enough they would come to the next kid, soon enough Anthoni would be one of them. For now he stood and looked straight ahead until he heard the door close behind him. Eskel was the first to go through the process and one of the last, ever. Anthoni closed his eyes and started counting in his head; waiting for what was to come.

When he reached the number 72 Eskel's screams echoed through the ancient castle of Kear Morhen.

@Dark child

 

[Dark child]

Gallus was prepared for this. He was ready to face what lay ahead, yet still felt a lump in his throat. His small hands clenched into fists as he stood in line with the other boys, eyes staring straight ahead no matter what side of the room Kraten was on. To some, this might be disrespectful, but he was still alert, like a soldier standing at attention. His eyes did not leave their particular spot on the wall, studying every chip in the many stones that comprised the castle walls between the windows that let in sunlight.

He knew none of the others that stood on either side of him. The boy couldn't help but feel as though this were a slight comfort, not being attached to any of them, but did little to ease his mind of what was about to happen to every single member of the group. Perhaps if he did know those next to him, he would whisper a word of encouragement, something to keep their spirits up, but as it was, he remained dead silent. Afraid to open his mouth to offer comforts that might make him appear weak.

Despite his efforts to try and stop it, his heart beat furiously with his chest. To be chosen was an honor...but to die?...Gallus did not wish this. Valar had raised him to be nearly as hardened as a young boy could be, but he still showed compassion and care to Gallus. Those yellow eyes, which many perceived to be the work of black magic, looked kinder on Valar's face than any man he had ever before seen. Valar would want him to be strong. Valar would want him to succeed. These thoughts calmed the boy's mind, and his heart rate decreased.
He was ready to take responsibility.
He was ready to become a witcher.

Eskel's scream pierced his mind, but Gallus did not let it get to him. He told himself that Eskel was strong too, and that he too would survive. Against all odds, they would survive. He knew what the Trials meant, but this was one falsehood he was willing to tell himself. For he could not let fear take hold once more.​

 

[Mr.BossMan]

One by one they came and took them away. Anthoni watched as each child was shuffled away from the group. In his mind he kept repeating Kraten's words over and over again. However Kraten's reassuring words couldn't drown out the screams of the other kids. He had to bite his tongue to force the rush of helplessness away. He stood still while he tried to focus on his breathing, his eyes closed and his mind wandering free. Thinking about his family and wishing he knew them.

As the minutes turned to hours Anthoni was finally alone with one other. A boy he didn't know by name, his eyes were green and his face covered with scars. Anthoni was a bit taller and maybe older however he couldn't be certain. With just them two in the room he had to break silence, but he remained staring forward. He just needed to think about something else.

"My names Anthoni, yours?" Was all he said but he made sure to speak quietly. He didn't want anyone else to hear his voice besides the kid next to him.

 

[Dark child]

There was no choice, Gallus knew this. To fight all that which was dark you must accept some darkness into you, but why was it that the world had come to be so cold? The boy's thoughts were not quite as deep, but he did wonder why monsters existed, and why men must always fight them. So many Witchers accepted this as simple reality, but there had to be more to it. A great curse upon mankind itself. Evil did indeed breed evil. Many of the kingdoms were divided, greedy, at each others throats for the riches of the land like a pack of hungry wolves upon a fresh kill. Gallus had been born into that world. Violence had to be accepted in one way or another, but he was certain of one thing, if he did survive, he would use his new gifts to bring an end to not just the beasts of the land, but the conflicts that had shattered it's peoples.
In the boy's mind, only one word described all this, and that was "good". He would be a good man, like his father and Valar. No matter what happened to him in there, no matter what he had to go through, he would remain the same.

His thoughts had become so distracted they had all but blocked out the screams, putting him in an almost zen-like state. The same vacant look in his eyes that he got when Valar told him to listen for movement, sometimes for great lengths of time. The hunter always testing the boy to see how sharp his human ears were, and how sharp he could make them with proper training. Gallus had not learned to read or write like many of the scholars, but he had learned much more than many of the youth his age ever would, along with some hard lessons that no farm hand would ever come across.

Strangely enough Anthoni's voice registered on a much lower level than that of the screams, snapping Galon out of his state of withdraw. While his composed stature may have been mistaken for strength, slipping from reality like that was just as much of a danger as it was a benefit. The trace itself had been derived from fear, which was not a good sign.

"Gallon."
The boy whispered back, his eyes not moving from the wall.
Yet he did begin to wake up more, his breaths deeper and less regulated. It was nice to know that someone was beside him.
Now, despite the risk of being called out by one of the Witchers who would surely notice, he turned his head towards the side out of curiosity. Studying Anthoni with his sea green eyes. He had never met another that was raised by a Witcher like himself until now.​

 

[Mr.BossMan]

"Gallon," the boy beside him whispered then slowly turned his face to better look upon Anthoni. He let him meeting the boy with a gaze of his own. The only thought he had was a simple one, would this boy survive the Trial of the Grasses? His eyes unknowingly pierced right through Gallon because he was so lost in thought. However it didn't take long for Anthoni to snap out of his trance. The back door behind him finally opened once more, except this time the foot steps that followed were numerous. Instantly he focused ahead of himself, eyeing the wall with intensity.

That's when he noticed that Kraten was no longer alone, instead two more Witchers were with him. His mind only thought of one thing; was he in trouble? The three Witchers, Kraten in front, stopped and looked in silence at the two boys. Gallon was to Anthoni's left and for the first time in a long time Anthoni felt a lingering sense of comfort. Whatever where to happen at least this time he wouldn't be going it alone. That's when Kraten's eyes rested on him once more except this time they stayed. It was a short gaze but Anthoni felt his spine tingle. Almost as if Kraten could sense his relaxed nature and felt...well something.

Suddenly Kraten spoke and Anthoni's attention was capped.

"You two are the last out of twelve, the final younglings to under go the Trial of the Grasses. However unlike the other boys the Trial you'll both endure is modified from the original. Other Witchers in times long past attempted this trial before, and only one boy survived. He grew to become a legend in his own right. Now times are even more drastic for our Order, only a handful of us remain and we are all here at Kaer Morhen to ensure your survival."

With that both Witchers on Kraten's left and right came and grabbed Anthoni and Gallon. He let himself be carried away by the huge brute of a man and didn't really have time to see Gallon. Kraten's voice was heard again as they were being carried away by to a different location away from the other ten boys.

"Because of the....sensitivity of this trial you both will be undergoing it together."

With that the two boys were taken away.

 

[Dark child]

The muscular hand of one of the new arrivals latched unto Gallon's arm. The witcher was gruff looking, towering over the small boy. His hand itself could easily have wrapped around the trunk of a young tree, and Gallon's arm looked like a twig in comparison. His somewhat fair and light skin a stark contrast to the leathery appearance of the hunter's hand, which was rough and covered in scars. Even if Gallon were to protest at this point he would have no say. Witchers didn't often take "no." for an answer, and after loosing nearly an entire generations worth of training within the boys that had succumb to the trials and died, they were willing to stake anything on the last two that remained.

Half dragged half walked, Gallon was pulled down the corridor with his coincidental companion.
~Only one survived?~
The single thought passed through his mind.

The injustice of it all finally dawned on the young boy. How could they do this? How could Valar let them? Where was his protector now? Why had he gone at the moment Gallon needed him most?

The truth was he wasn't ready to die. Though Gallon did not fully understand all aspects of life and specifically those related to taking it, he knew that this to be wrong despite what he had been raised to believe. These actions were not good, this wasn't righteous. He was a sacrifice, a chance to bring more balance to the world by using wicked means. His would be cast aside like nothing if this did not go well.

As the witcher continued to drag him, Gallon looked over at the other boy. Tears had began to form in his green eyes as he stared at the only other remaining youth, but he did not dare let the droplets escape.
This was it.
The right of passage.​

 

[Mr.BossMan]

The Witchers lead Gallon and Anthoni into a very old part of the castle. Now the walls were in ruins and the moon light outside could be seen through the cracked stones. Everything was a blur but eventually the two boys were sat down facing each other, no more than a meter apart. Anthoni himself was done being afraid of what was to come. A bitter sense of anger now washed over him, pulling him trough what needed to happen. He knew now that he had nowhere else to go, Kaer Morhen the only place he'd ever be welcomed.

Kraten handed both him and Gallon a cup of mysterious liquid. He then instructed both of them to drink and with an attitude only seen within Anthoni, the boy drank his mixture. It burned like hot coffee all the way down his throat, the taste was awful and bitter. It didn't take long for the mixture to work it's way through Anthoni. He could feel the poison in his gut, churning and burning its way through him. When the pain hit, it hit hard and fast. Brutally pinning Anthoni to the ground. He lost focus of then other Witchers, he even lost focus of where he was.

Suddenly the first of Anthoni's screams echoed throughout the walls of Kaer Morhen. Loud, terrible, haunting screams from an eight year old boy. He realized how bad he was now sweating as his thick black hair felt like a soaked towl. His guts still burned with a ferocity Anthoni had not known existed. Soon the boys puke came flowing out of his mouth and that's when he fell to the ground on his back. Anthoni looked up at the moon, which could be seen through the walls of the old castle. His eyes staring at the moon as he screamed in desperate agony.

Anthoni made a mental not of Gallon and he tried to sit up to see the other boy. However the pain was to great and instantly Anthoni sank back down. Apparently they could go through the trial together, but when the time came, you went through the trial alone. He had a short, instant hope, that Gallon would see the sun rise tomorrow. However as Anthoni howled at the moon in pain he knew only one thing.

The humanity within him was being burned away.

 

[Dark child]

Daylight gave way to dusk, and dusk in turn, accepted the pale light of the moon.

Five sets of footsteps rang out in the empty hallways, down corridors and up flights of stairs the steps echoed. Into vast great rooms and halls that now lay vacant. Here, the steps almost sounded bitter. A cold reminder that there was nothing left of the Witchers. That they were things of the past. Forgotten, yet admired.
Just like Kaer Morhen itself.

Light was not present here. It was not needed, nor was it implemented. The Witchers had no time to light the torches that adorned their stands on the walls, it would not make the task they had set upon any easier, their eyes easily adapted to the dim light. Walls which bore the blackened marks of soot from the torches were quite barren, all objects of value had long since walked off while Kaer Morhen had been left unguarded. No Witchers remained that could be spared for such a meager task, their skills put to better use elsewhere.

The footsteps passed through the keep as they moved downwards, through many corridors, and up a winding staircase. The sound of heavy boots mixed with two sets of a much smaller kind.

Finally, they reached the top of the spire, the very heart of Kaer Morhen. The first tower ever built upon the side of the mountain. Conceived many centuries ago when the Witchers had first come together to form the order of men which hunted that which lurked in the dark. The steps leading to the top had been worn down by the passage of feet throughout the ages. The stone itself was more weathered, the sharp edges of the masonry worn smooth by cloth and armor of those that had ascended the steps, and was covered in soot from torches.

Within the tower were many holding cells, the iron doors all open. They had remained that way for quite some time. Nothing was imprisoned here any more. The Witchers chose the largest of the rooms directly at the head of the stairs. The iron cell door lay open and moonlight filtered in through several barred windows.

Gallon was ushered through the open doorway with the other boy. His tears had calmed, but his face still held the blank expression of deep shock. His skin looked almost white, not nearly as healthy as it had been, and despite his best efforts his muscles still shook with tremors of what was to come, something that the Witcher who still grasped his arm could undoubtedly feel.

When instructed to, Gallon knelt opposite of Anthoni, looking into his eyes as they were passed the concoction of spirits and told to drink.

Raising the crude chalice up to his lips, Gallon began to drink at nearly the same time that Anthoni had finished.. The liquid burned within his throat, but did not taste as bad as the sulfuric odors that rose from the dark liquid smelled to his delicate nose.

Gallon forced back the last sip, his eyes now watering not from sadness but the sting of the liquid within his sinuses and deep within his throat. He wished to gag, and indeed he did, but nothing came forth. The large room became filled with the sounds of his wretching. Anthoni too became afflicted, his body spasming on the floor as Gallon watched, choking on his own bile.

The liquid wrenched at his insides, causing Gallon to bend over in agony, clutching his stomach as he knelt. He felt as though he could hardly breathe, that he would suffocate there inside his own body. His face turning red from built up gasps between dry heaving fits as his stomach refused to give up it's contents.

It ate away at him. At his very core. Until there was nothing but scorching agony and his vision became consumed by a deep blackness that shut out even the light of the moon.

The boy finally gave way. Letting the concoction win and do whatever it wished to his body. Scarcely putting up any of a fight when it came down to it. The fire was allowed to spread through his veins, a rush of power and a flood of torturous feelings.

His vision began to return.
His nails had scraped across the surface of the stone, causing them to bleed.
His heart rate increased with thunderous intensity. All things within his sight did not register as colors like they had before. He saw one thing and one thing only, Anthoni's still spasming body.

Great emotion came over him, that of rage. A primal need to tear Anthoni asunder and rip his body to pieces.

The boy lunged. His blood tipped fingers lashing out towards Anthoni like claws, but a pair of hands grabbed him and held his arms fast, not allowing them to move. Yet the fight which Gallon put up surprised the Witcher who held him in place, having to fight much more to keep control of the young boy than he ever should have.

Gallon heard them shout at one another, but he was not focused enough to concentrate on the words. His eyes still locked on Anthoni for several minutes before the feelings finally subsided and his arms relaxed in the Witcher's grasp. Just in time for Anthoni to awake...
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