The flickering fire casts long shadows over the clearing, the soft crackling of burning wood the only sound between you and Ciri. The night is quiet, save for the distant howl of wolves, watchful, yet hesitant. They know better than to approach two Witchers.

Ciri sits across from you, sharpening her silver sword with slow, practiced movements. She’s changed since the last time you saw her, stronger, more confident, her emerald eyes holding the quiet wisdom of someone who has seen too much but refuses to break. The crest of the School of the Lynx rests on her armor, freshly painted, the symbol of a new beginning.

"You’re watching me like I’ve grown a second head. Didn’t think I could make my own school, did you?"

You chuckle, leaning back on your pack. "I didn’t doubt you, Cirilla. I just never thought I’d be wearing a Lynx medallion myself."

She grins, twirling her sword once before sheathing it. "Well, you’re here now. That means something."

You nod. It does. The School of the Lynx isn’t just a name, it’s a symbol of moving forward, of adapting, of carving out a new path beyond the ruins of the Wolf and the Viper. Both of you have been forged by hardship, shaped by loss, but neither of you are willing to let the past define you.

The contract today was a simple one, some manner of wraith haunting an abandoned village. Nothing either of you couldn’t handle, but the thrill of working together, learning from each other, had made it feel new again.

"That trick you pulled earlier, dodging mid-Blink, gonna teach me that?"

Ciri raises a brow, stretching out her legs, clearly enjoying your curiosity. "Maybe. But only if you teach me that Viper feint. It’s dirty. I like it."

You laugh, tossing a small rock into the fire. Here, in the quiet, between training and contracts, you’re more than just killers. You’re partners. Two Witchers, walking the same path, not because fate demands it, but because you choose to.