"Enough."
The ancient druid emerged from the shadows of the trees. His robes were woven with living vines, and his beard, long and gray, seemed to move like roots in the wind. The attacking druids lowered their staffs immediately, stepping aside to allow the elder to approach. He walked slowly.
"Have we fallen so far," the elder murmured, "that we butcher intruders without understanding their intent?" The lead druid scowled but did not argue. He stepped back.
Triss was already at Liam's side, her hands trembling as she reached for her potions. Blood stained the snow beneath him, his breath shallow and ragged. His armor was barely recognizable—crushed, torn, and flickering with dying sparks.
"You do not belong here, outsider," he said at last. "Nor does she. Take him and leave."
"You nearly killed him! And now you expect us to just walk away?" Triss's hands curled into fists.
"Yes. Because if you stay, the next time you cross our paths, there will be no mercy."
Triss trembled with fury, but one look at Liam—his face pale, his body barely clinging to consciousness. They had no choice.
"Stay with me," she begged. "Just a little longer."
"Not… dead yet." Liam's lips barely moved, but she heard it after a minute of infusing healing magic and potions.
The elder druid rose and turned away, already disappearing into the woods.
"This is your only warning," he said.
Triss gritted her teeth, her arms trembling as she held Liam's nearly limp body over her shoulder. Her boots sank into the damp forest floor.
"Liam… just stay with me," she whispered. Triss stumbled, the weight of Liam's broken body and her own exhaustion to an abandoned hut that they have noticed before they entered the forest.
Behind them, deep within the woods, the elder druid led his brethren away. The eldest druid suddenly stopped on his tracks and looked back at the direction the duo disappeared to.
"I felt it… The presence of Aen Elle… within the boy." He murmured.
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Two days had passed since Triss dragged Liam into the abandoned hut. The place was crumbling and the roof barely holding together, letting cold drafts slip through the cracks. Yet, it was shelter—enough to keep Liam alive while she tended to his wounds.
Triss worked tirelessly, barely allowing herself rest. Every few hours, she checked Liam's temperature, administered alchemical potions, and channeled healing magic into his broken body. Despite her efforts, he remained unconscious for most of the time, occasionally mumbling in his fevered sleep. His breathing had stabilized, but his body bore the aftermath of his brutal defeat—deep bruises, shattered bones, and flesh torn by magical strikes.
She exhaled sharply and clenched her fists. She had never felt such helplessness before—not even during the worst battles in Novigrad or the war between mages and the Eternal Fire. Watching Liam be reduced to this state had filled her with rage. The druids had shown no mercy, and now all she could do was nurse him back from the brink of death.
By the end of the second day, Liam stirred slightly, his fingers twitching.
"Liam?"
His eyes fluttered open for a second, but the glow that usually lingered in them was dim. He muttered something incoherent before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Triss exhaled, a mix of relief and frustration bubbling inside her. He was still too weak. She needed more time.
The third day.
The sun had barely risen when the disturbance came. Birds fell silent, and the very air in the forest thickened with magic. Triss, who had been crushing herbs near the fireplace, immediately sensed the shift. She turned her head sharply toward the doorway.
The eldest druid stood there. His eyes studied the hut, then settled on her.
"You," Triss growled. Her hands instinctively crackled with magic, fingers curling into fiery whips of energy.
The druid did not move, nor did he raise his hands in defense. He simply stood there, as though waiting.
Triss had spent two days stewing in anger. Seeing the old druid standing in front of her, so calm and detached, sent a surge of fury through her veins. She hurled a blast of raw fire toward him.
The flame shot forward—but just before it reached him, it dissipated into harmless embers. The druid hadn't even lifted a finger.
"Do you think I'll just let you waltz in here after what you did to him?"
She raised both hands this time, summoning a stronger spell—a wave of fire hot enough to turn the entire hut into an inferno. The fire surged forward, but before it could reach its target, the air around the druid shimmered.
With a flick of his wrist, the eldest druid dissipated the flames into harmless flickers of light. It was as if her magic simply ceased to exist the moment it reached him.
"You are strong, sorceress," the druid said. "But your emotions make you reckless. If you wish to strike me, at least have the wisdom to use more than fire."
A groggy voice interrupted them.
"Triss…?"
Both turned toward the source.
Liam, still weak, had dragged himself to the doorway. He leaned against the wooden frame. His skin was pale, his lips slightly parted as he tried to catch his breath.
"You shouldn't be up!" Triss immediately abandoned her fight and rushed to his side.
"Not dead yet." Liam managed a small smile. Triss sighed, forcing him to sit on a nearby stool.
"You," Liam muttered. He was fuming in anger inside. He was ready to go back home with Triss so that he could get a proper treatment, now that he was conscious but he had stopped himself. He was curious. "Why are you here?"
When Liam first faced the druids, he didn't expect them to be so ruthless just because he killed their monster. The game was a bad indicator of how people were in real life. These druids weren't peace loving at all. What nature? What balance? They almost killed him. He didn't care anymore to learn magic. But this fight also made him understand of his shortcomings. His armor, now in pieces, wasn't all powerful. He didn't even have time to launch all the powerful attack of the interceptor.
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