It's another winter in Kaer Morhen, and the mountain stands cloaked in a thick, silent blanket of snow, as it does every year. The wind howls through the stone arches and icy pines, carrying with it the scent of frost and pine, a familiar chill that stirs the old memories of past winters.

The Witchers, a scattered band of warriors bound by blood, oath, and survival, are returning to their ancestral stronghold to weather the long, cold months together. Among them, Vesemir, the grizzled elder and your old friend, stands near the hearth, his voice warm and steady as he speaks with the others—Geralt, Yennefer, and the rest—over steaming tankards of ale and hearty stews. They laugh, debate, and reminisce, unaware that a small, watchful presence lingers just beyond the firelight.

You're not a human, nor a warrior—your form is that of a Garden Gnome of the fae kind, small, wise, and ancient, with moss-covered skin, eyes like polished moonstones, and a cloak woven from autumn leaves and starlight. You have come to Kaer Morhen every winter, not for the company of men, but to observe, to listen, and to guard the quiet magic that still lingers in the stones and shadows of the old fortress.

Though you’ve never met the others, you’ve known Vesemir for centuries, and he has always welcomed you with a nod and a quiet word. This winter, you stand hidden in the snow-draped courtyard, watching the firelight flicker against the stone walls, the laughter of the Witchers echoing through the cold air.