Awakening

Where am I? Atram wondered as he gingerly opened his eyes and peered around.

The first thing he noticed was a cobweb-filled ceiling and weathered stone walls with cracks running down their length. Then his gaze was drawn to a dusty desk and a wooden chair that appeared to have been abandoned for years.

As he attempted to sit up, his body felt sluggish and unresponsive. Glancing down at his clothes, or rather, the lack thereof, he noticed he was covered in bandages. The scent of a potent herbal remedy hung in the air, saturating his skin with its pungent aroma.

Atram wondered how he had ended up in this state. His memory was hazy, and he struggled to recall anything that could explain his current situation. While trying to piece together his thoughts, he noticed the dim light filtering in through a small window high up on the wall. With effort, he struggled to his feet and made his way over to the window, curiosity driving him forward. Peering out, he was greeted by a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of rolling hills, cloaked in vibrant greenery, stretched out before him. A river meandered through the valley below, while a snow-capped mountain dominated the distant horizon. 

However, before he could truly appreciate the awe-inspiring view, he heard the door behind him screech and open. He turned around, and a middle-aged man with a fabulous mustache and graying long hair tied neatly into a knot stood at the entrance, watching him.

Atram observed that the man was a warrior, as evidenced by the two swords slung on his back and the leather armor adorned with strips of chainmail on his shoulders.

What was most peculiar though, were his mystifying yellowish cat-like eyes that even in the dimly lit room, shone like lost embers in a wintry bonfire. In addition, his posture caused Atram's hair to stand on end. It was as if he was ready to pounce on him at a moment's notice.

The two men stood like two great serpents, sizing each other until one of them finally broke the silence and spoke.

"Although i am happy to see you up and about, you shouldn't have gotten out of bed just yet. You had a large laceration under your abdomen two broken ribs and at least a dozen minor cuts and bruises. No man should be able to stand, let alone walk, with those injuries." Vesemir admonished him.

Atram, feeling better now that he was awake and could circulate his inner energy, shrugged off Vesemir's concern. "I've had worse," he replied with a smirk. "Sir, were you the one who tended to my wounds?"

"Yes, although it wasn't by choice. I literally found you inside my courtyard."

Atram quirked an eyebrow at that but didn't inquire further. "I see... Well, first of all, you have my thanks for taking care of me. Even if it wasn't intentional, not many would go out of their way to help a stranger."

Vesemir gave a small, husky laugh. "Don't mention it lad, and to be honest, your natural regeneration is very impressive, even to a witcher." He responded and watched Atram's expression intensly.

"I have no idea what a witcher is." Atram admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Vesemir squinted his eyes and focused his gaze on Atram. After he felt satisfied about something, he chuckled. "No need to be ashamed lad; not many in this day and age know what witchers are. Most folk consider us a relic of the past or a myth, and our dwindling numbers don't help with that fact either."

"Si-"

"Cut the 'sir' crap; it makes me uncomfortable. Just call me Vesemir."

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that. Name's Atram Visoren."

Vesemir nodded. "Now that the introductions are over, let's get down to business," he said, pulling the chair towards the bed and motioning with a gesture for Atram to take a seat.

Atram sat on the bed and continued, "While i have many questions about my current situation, something doesn't add up."

"Oh, and what is that?"

"Vesemir, as an adventurer, i've been to the frozen peaks of the Darakun Mountain Line all the way to the lush Adalari forest, and not once have i heard or seen any witchers. Now, I don't want to call you a liar, but if a group with such peculiar characteristics like yours existed, I would have known."

"Damn, the fall must have really taken its toll on you. I assure you, I've never heard of the places you just mentioned. Do you know what year it is, at least?" Vesemir questioned, trying but failing not to sound condescending.

"I may not remember how I got into this situation,but I know that I'm neither a liar nor delusional, as you clearly deem me to be," the man replied, his voice growing more firm. "As for the year, it should be 5225 ADF."

Firstly, upon hearing his answer, Vesemir's eyes widened in disbelief, and he let out a scoff. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The man's response was simply preposterous. However, after some consideration, he inquired further.

"I will ask you some questions, and you will answer them as fast and concisely as possible."

"If that gets you to believe me, then fine. Fire away!" Atram responded in confidence.

"What is the name of the continent we are currently on?"

Atram shrugged. "How should I know that? There are three continents, but judging by the mountain range, I would say on Hudias."

Vesemir nodded absentmindedly. "Tell me the name of one of the four largest Northern Kingdoms."

"By far, the biggest Northern Kingdom is Agothan, with its capital at Agoson."

The questioning continued for a while. Vesemir asked Atram about the three Northern Wars, the name of the Nilfgaardian Emperor, and even the names of the most known monsters, like drowners, harpies, and ghouls.

To his astonishment, the one thing Atram went on about extensively and was mostly correct, were the monsters.

"Ghouls remind someone of a hunched old man. They have ashen-colored skin, which, due to their undead status, is eternally decaying. They have slim limbs with very sharp claws at their ends. As any undead, they are the bane of all that is alive and multiply either by biting or scratching their victims, who turn into one of them if they die and are not burned or blessed by a cleric. As for the harpies..."

"There is no need, it is evident you know your monsters. Although we don't call them undead, but necrophages. As for the other answers you gave me... I don't know what to say. On one hand, you can't be making all that stuff up, but on the other..." Vesemir became silent, trying to think of a possible explanation.

"Look, I know my mental functions are all there. So, I will address the elephant in the room. You said you found me in your courtyard. People don't just simply appear out of thin air. Was there someth-"

Atram paused as he watched Vesemir slap his forehead and chuckle to himself. Yup, definitely insane.

"Lad, it appears I'm the one who's at wrong, or rather, I got so sidetracked by our conversation that I'd forgotten my original line of thought."

Atram remained silent.

"What do you know about magic? I mean, do you believe in it?"

Atram grinned. "Vesemir, with a mother who's a Tier 7 wizard, magic's been part of my life since I was born.

Vesemir's eyes widened in surprise. "Your mother is a sorceress?"

Atram shook his head. "I said wizard, not sorceress. There is a key difference between them."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"The short answer is that wizards are all about knowledge and understanding. In contrast, sorcerers are exceptionally gifted individuals that can forego knowledge and focus on feeling, intuition, and, of course, something that both have in common: imagination."

Vesemir looked confused by Atram's response. Not wanting to be detoured by another lengthy conversation, he held back his questions for now. "Come with me, and I'll tell you on the way, how I found you and what happened before that."

Atram simply gave a nod and followed Vesemir through the decrepit corridor that led to many rooms similar to the one he was in. Descending the dust-filled staircase, his nostrils were bombarded by the heavy aroma of herbs and old, musky books.

Their first stop was a room adjacent to it that was filled to the brim with chests containing attire. Coifs, scarfs, hoods, cloaks, jackets, vests, and all kinds of breeches and other garments, the wooden containers had it all.

"Pick something to wear, but be careful not to rip your bandages. Should I take a look before you dress?" Vesemir asked with concern in his voice.

Like a granny. Atram thought, giving him a toothy smile. "Thank you for your concern, but..." he unfurled the linen cloth and showed his torso where his injuries had been. "I won't be needing those anymore."

Where once there were deep, jagged scars and pus-ridden wounds, now there was only smooth skin. "Remarkable... not even the most powerful healing potions could achieve this level of regeneration," Vesemir marveled. "How?"

Atram deliberated for a moment but thought it would be right to explain. "Simply put, I was born a mutant. Through a series of events, my mother had to consume a very potent healing elixir during her pregnancy in order to save her life and ultimately mine. For me, who was still in the womb, the elixir bared unforeseen gifts, resulting in my body developing an enhanced ability to regenerate damaged tissue and organs at an accelerated rate."

"That is an incredible attribute to have. I would take enhanced healing over speed or strength any day. Muscles can be built, but you only have one life." Vezemir said sagely.

"I couldn't have put it better myself. You can't imagine how many times this ability of mine has saved my ass. But enough of that; we are getting sidetracked again. Let me put on some clothes, and let's go outside."

"You are right." Vesemir was already about to shut the door and leave Atram to dress in peace, but something irked him, something that has dogged his brotherhood ever since its founding. "You shouldn't have told me so easily. What if I had malicious intentions toward you?"

Atram turned to face him, his gaze piercing and steady. "Although I'm not sure of the state i was previously in, you are the man who has potentially saved my life. If you wanted to do me harm, you had days or even weeks to do it. Besides, you've already seen it; giving you an explanation would not change anything."

Vesemir cracked a smile. "Even so, thank you for your trust. It is... refreshing. Anyway, I'll be waiting in the courtyard; take your time."

Atram finally settled on a pair of baggy orange ankle cuff pants and a simple white shirt with rolled sleeves. Seeming content with his choice, he made his way to the courtyard, where Vesemir was waiting for him.

On his way, he encountered an expansive chamber, its once vibrant scenes now faded into obscurity. The supporting columns showed signs of decay, with several absent altogether. At its heart stood shelves laden with ancient tomes and scrolls, untouched for centuries, flanked by crates housing an assortment of plants and potions. Alongside, wooden tables and benches adorned the far corners, complemented by a welcoming hearth.

All in all, the great hall has seen better days. Atram craned his neck and looked upwards to the pitched brick vaulted ceiling. Although I must admit, whoever made this castle was an incredible architect.

Eventually, he approached the exit and heaved open the massive wooden gate. The sun's glare forced him to squint as he stepped outside, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air and stretching his body.

"Ah, finally. Took your sweet time," Vesemir remarked, leaning against the entrance wall.

"It wasn't easy finding clothes in my size."

Vesemir glanced at Atram, noting the young man's towering stature. Bastard's huge! The height… 2.10… ? More?! No wonder I almost broke my back hoisting him up the stairs. His unkept appearance and broad shoulders only furthered the commanding pressence he exuded.

"Not many men your size exist, to be honest."

"Then you haven't seen a purebred goliath. I look tiny in front of them." Atram exclaimed with a chuckle.

Vesemir shook his head in disbelief. "I won't even ask what a goliath is. For now, come with me to the balcony that overlooks the courtyard. I've been checking for magical disturbances around the area, but my damn medallion is useless."

Atram trailed Vesemir down a short staircase and onto the balcony, granting them a view of the courtyard below. The scene was chaotic, scattered with debris and disorderly activity. It was a sight that would likely overwhelm anyone tasked with cleaning up the mess.

"What could cause such a disaster?"

"Not just any disaster; it was as if the world was coming to an end. The sky darkened, and a swirling mass of nothingness started dragging everything towards it. Fortunately, the disturbance was magical in nature, and I happened to have dimeritium bombs with me."

"Seeing it for myself, I believe you. Give me a minute to test something," Atram said, tracing a rune with his hands. "Anaparax Flogas (Produce flame)," he spoke, and the universe yielded to his command.

A small flickering light steadily became a vibrant body of fire, no bigger than a fist. He condensed the flame more until it took on a spherical shape, then let it levitate at random locations in the vast space around him.

For minutes, they stood in awkward silence, watching the object. Until finally, something happened. Tiny parts of its structure began to deviate from the whole, disappearing momentarily, only to reappear a few meters away from the main body. This phenomenon continued until nothing remained of the spell but flickering molten particles, which gradually vanished into thin air.

"So it's true..." He whispered and went to sit on the stairs, with Vezemir following right behind.

"You look unwell lad. What did you discover that made you have such a grim expression?"

Atram lifted his head and peered at Vezemir with a heavy heart. "There is only one possible explanation that makes sense to me. The reason why I don't know any of the kingdoms here, what witchers are, or what year it is."

He looked at the snow slowly but surely piling up on some parts of the keep. "Even the season is fucking wrong!" He growled in desperation and anger.

Vesemir finally caught on to what Atram was thinking and couldn't help but agree. The abnormal circumstances he found him in and the outlandish things he has been talking about can only lead to one conclusion.

"You are not of this world."

"I come from another world."

"Fuck."

"Exactly."