The Witcher The Swallow and The Monster

The Path Taken

(F/N) pushed through the crowd in Rivia. Geralt had told him to run. That was the last order he had given. That was the last thing he heard. He didn't hear his master. He certainly didn't see him. For once he felt like he was truly alone. The crowd was shouting bloody murder. There were dwarves being strangled. Elves being skinned. There was a halfling getting his feet sawn off. The young witcher shouted for anyone, "Zoltan! Triss! Dandelion! Geralt!"

(F/N) shoved a man roughly as he tried to get out. What was going on? Why were non-humans being killed? Why was everyone so angry. He knew the answers to these questions. But his minds couldn't connect them. Everything was just happening so quickly. His head was spinning. There was blood everywhere. He could smell death. (F/N) pushed his way through the endless crowd. Until he bumped into someone. The witcher nearly let out a sob when he found a familiar face. As soon as (F/N) laid eyes on Ciri he hugged her, he was happy to see her again, he spoke softly, "Ciri!"

"(F/N)!"

Ciri kissed his forehead as he embraced her. For a split second everything felt as though nothing was wrong. The woman he loved was in his arms and she wasn't leaving. He held her tightly, as she said something, he didn't hear a word. But then, the course of history changed. If the next event hadn't happened then the events of today would have been completely different. Lives would be changed, nations would wave different banners, (F/N) would have been truly happy. But history wasn't happiness, it was pain. The young witcher was reminded of that pain when someone grabbed his hood. 

Before he or Ciri could stop it, it was yanked it off. The mood shifted almost instantly, for a split second it truly did go dead silent. (F/N) shoved Ciri away and pulled his sword, just as the crowd turned on him. They took one look at his red eyes, grey skin, and white hair and decided, he wasn't human, he had to die. (F/N) sliced a man's head off as he lunged at him, he dodged a club, but took a boot in the back. He cut a man in the leg. Then got wacked in the chest. A large group of people grabbed his arm and tried to take his sword. (F/N) yelled angrily, but suddenly there was a large bang and Ciri shot forward, a trail of light followed her. Her ashen hair was disheveled. Her green eyes were panicking, "We need to..."

"Ciri!" (F/N) charged forward and parried a blow right before it made contact with the woman's chest. The pair went back to back. The mob surrounded them. They both knew there was no escape. (F/N) swallowed, he knew, or thought he knew, this would be his last day on earth, but he was happy to die next to Ciri. He tightened the grip on his sword, "I love you, Swallow."

Ciri nodded as the crowd screamed and charged, her voice was barely above a whisper, "I love you too, Fangs."

What happened next was pure carnage. (F/N) stabbed a man in the gut. Ciri cut a large man's hand off. (F/N) got kneed. The witcheress parried a blow but received a fist to the face. Then someone swung their blade at (F/N), while he was bust with another man. Ciri pushed him out of the way the blade barely avoiding his chest. Unfortunately, she wasn't so lucky. The blade sliced her gut but not too deeply. The young witcher screamed loudly, "No!" He moved even faster, his technique was non-existent. His blows more brutal by each swing. (F/N) didn't care about anything else but revenge. He lost control. Then he heard it, "(F/N)! Behind you!"

The young witcher paused when he heard a voice, a voice that was all to familiar, "Geralt..." He never got to finish his thought, his master shoved him out of the way. (F/N) spun around just in time to see an image, an image that would stick in his head for a long time. Geralt's look of pure shock, when a pitchfork was rammed straight through his chest. A man stood smiling like a crazed lunatic as he killed his master. (F/N) froze, as the crowd grabbed onto him, and started kicking him while he laid down. He didn't know what to do. Ciri. Geralt. They were defeated. In defense of him. Why? Why was this happening? Why no? Why today? He started shaking. He had never felt so helpless. But then it happened, a large bang. Instantly, a hailstorm appeared, the crowd screamed as the small ice balls smashed against everyone. The next events happened so quickly, they seemed impossible, it was possible he wasn't capable of understanding what was happening, it was also possible he didn't want to.