Yennefer's wish

Geralt and Jaskier may still be grappling with the decision of whether to save Knight Eyck, while Wayne carried Yennefer, who continued to scream, all the way back to the green dragon's lair. He casually placed the female sorceress next to the crackling fire, then untied the demeritium chains constricting her body. He opted for a more comfortable binding method, ensuring she wasn't overly constrained and in pain.

It wasn't until he securely locked the sorceress' restraints in place that he raised his head and met Yennefer's gaze, now calmed down.

Perhaps realizing the futility of escape and understanding that the half-elven youth before her wouldn't truly harm her, Yennefer stared fiercely into Wayne's eyes, her expression cold and determined, as she spoke:

"Wayne, that's your name, isn't it? I've heard Geralt speak of you—the youngest of the Wolf Witchers, a half-elf."

"But you've picked the wrong person to mess with. You've landed yourself in deep trouble. Sorceresses hold grudges, and I'm the most vindictive one here."

"If you release me now, I may still pretend this never happened. But if you persist in obstructing me, I will ensure you regret it in the future."

Yennefer's voice dripped with fury and menace, her threat palpable.

However, Wayne seemed unperturbed. He retrieved a clean towel from a nearby shelf and offered it to the sorceress, gesturing for her to wipe away the dust and grime from her face, remnants of her fall.

After Yennefer took the towel, Wayne spoke softly interrupting her thoughts;

"Yennefer, I understand that your quest to hunt dragons is driven by your desire to restore fertility and conceive a child. It's likely been a cherished aspiration of yours for many years," Wayne began, his tone gentle yet probing.

"But consider this— even without my interference, do you truly believe you can succeed in this endeavor?" he continued, offering her a piece of warm, roasted meat skewered on a wooden stick.

The enticing aroma tempted Yennefer, and a flicker of surprise danced in her eyes. Yet, she remained defiant, refusing to accept the offering as she lifted her chin and retorted, "I don't know where you've gathered such information. Even Geralt is unaware of my true purpose for dragon slaying."

"However, the potency of magic is beyond the comprehension of witchers like yourself, who rely solely on magic signs," she asserted confidently. "Given the opportunity and sufficient time to prepare my spells, even that golden dragon would be no match for me."

"Witchcraft is the most formidable force in this world," she declared. "Dragons are nothing more than powerful beasts capable of flight."

Wayne nodded in agreement with her assessment of magic. While sorcerers in the realm of witchers were mortal and faced significant constraints due to demeritium, their spells remained potent.

Just as in the future Battle of Sodden Hill, where a mere dozen sorceresses summoned devastating meteor showers and firestorms, decimating tens of thousands of Nilfgaardian troops with staggering losses.

The Wild Hunt's Navigators could teleport entire armies across realms and distances unimaginable to ordinary mortals.

Creatures like mirror masters, high-level vampires, gods, and demons possessed powers that transcended mortal understanding, operating on the brink of cosmic law.

The reason why many sorceresses appear vulnerable is due to the lengthy preparation required to unleash powerful magic. They must chant spells and ready themselves for an extended period, leaving them susceptible to interruptions and silencing.

Observing Yennefer's stubbornness, Wayne decided to be blunt with her. "Yennefer, let me be straightforward with you—you cannot accomplish this task," he asserted.

"That golden dragon is no ordinary beast; it possesses formidable magical abilities and can even shapeshift. Furthermore, it's revered as a sacred creature by the Zerrikan tribe, who have warriors lying in wait nearby," he explained.

"If the golden dragon is endangered, the Zerrikan warriors will emerge from the forest and eliminate any perceived threats," Wayne continued. "With my assistance, the injured green dragon has nearly recovered and could have fled long ago. But she remains here because the golden dragon refuses to abandon her in despair, opting instead to confront those who seek to harm his mate."

Locking eyes with Yennefer, Wayne's tone turned serious. "Even if I were to step aside, you would either be defeated by the powerful golden dragon, seriously injured or worse," he warned. "Alternatively, you may face the wrath of the Zerrikan warriors for harming their revered creature."

"And to be frank, if it weren't for Geralt's connection to you, I wouldn't be treating you with such courtesy," he added pointedly. "Do you truly believe you can contend with a witcher armed with ample demeritium?"

Yennefer's lips twitched, but she remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ground in contemplation.

At that moment, perhaps influenced by the aroma of the barbecue from the plate, a small gray creature with short legs emerged from the dragon's nest, sniffing the air eagerly. Spotting the plate beside Wayne, the creature wagged its tail in excitement, scurrying over and rubbing its head against Wayne's thigh, hoping for a treat.

Wayne, noticing Yennefer's interest, smiled and scooped up the little dragon, named Saskia, cradling it in his arms. He broke the barbecue into small pieces and fed them to Saskia, all the while addressing Yennefer.

"This little one is Saskia, the offspring of the green dragon. She was born just yesterday," Wayne explained gently. "But here you are, seeking to end the lives of parents to another newborn."

"Isn't that too cruel, especially for Saskia?" he continued. "And have you considered, Yennefer, you're not alone in your desire to restore fertility to sorceresses. Many have tried, yet for thousands of years, none have succeeded."

"Destroying a life is simple, but creating one? Perhaps only a true god can achieve such a feat."

Listening to Wayne's words and observing the adorable creature in his arms, Yennefer fell silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse with contemplation.

"I didn't expect you, Wayne, to possess the eloquence that Geralt lacks," she remarked. "He's as unpolished as a piece of wood, unable to charm or deceive."

"Meanwhile, you and that Jaskier seem to have the gift of gab," she added with a chuckle. "Perhaps you shouldn't be a witcher but rather a businessman or a bard. Who knows, you might have a brighter future in such pursuits."

As Yennefer's demeanor appeared to soften, Wayne responded with a smile, his tone gentle yet firm.

"Perhaps so, but Kaer Morhen has been my home since childhood. Becoming a witcher was my only path, and I've never regretted it," Wayne explained. "I sincerely hope you'll reconsider your course of action, Yennefer. Seeking aid from mortal sources might only lead to disappointment in the end."

"However, if we were to appeal to higher beings, while it may seem impossible for you, to such entities, it could be a trifling matter," he continued, his expression grave as he weighed his words. "Rest assured, I happen to be acquainted with a legendary deity—the Goddess of the Lake."

"When I next encounter this divine being, I will beseech her on your behalf," Wayne assured her. "May she grant you the fulfillment of your wish."

Yennefer was taken aback by his words, a glimmer of hope sparking in her previously disheartened heart. She gazed at Wayne, her lips pressed together in a mixture of anticipation and gratitude.

"The legendary Goddess of the Lake? I've read about her in numerous texts," she murmured softly. "If you truly have a connection to that deity and can plead for her assistance in granting my wish..."

"Wayne, I will most certainly repay you," she vowed earnestly.

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