![]() Beneath her storm of tangled black hair shone huge, wide-open eyes the color of anthracite. She was clinging to the back of the dolphin in the dried-up fountain, embracing the moss-overgrown stone with her tiny hands, so pale they seemed transparent. ![]() The singing broke off abruptly, and then he saw her. He didn’t need to – the witcher felt and understood the very nature, the essence, of this quiet, piercing singing which flowed through the veins in a wave of nauseous, overpowering menace. He didn’t understand the words he couldn’t even identify the language. It was already open, just as he had left it. He no longer had his old sword in its lizard-skin sheath on his back its place was filled with a shining, beautiful weapon with a cruciform and slender, well-weighted hilt, ending in a spherical pommel made of white metal. Geralt didn’t calm her with the Sign he jumped from the saddle and threw the reins over the horse’s head. The mare flattened her ears against her skull and snorted, throwing up earth with her hooves she didn’t want to go. Visit the forum at to talk about the author
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