Elsa

The pair had situated themselves inside their room, waiting for Elsa's response. It was a small, dimly lit space with two single beds pushed up against the wall. The sheets were worn and slightly yellowed, while the straw beneath was lumpy and uncomfortable. A rickety wooden chair sat in the corner, and a small table was pushed up against the opposite wall. There was a cracked mirror above the table and a washbasin beside it. The room smelled musty and stale, like it hadn't been aired out in weeks.

Despite its lack of charm, the inn's room was a welcome respite for weary travelers. It offered a safe place to rest and recharge before setting out on the road again. And for those who were willing to overlook its shortcomings, it provided a glimpse into the simple life of rural folk—one that was far removed from the hustle and bustle of city living.

It was well past midnight, and the soft glow of the moon filtered through their closed window. Atram sat in meditation, wrestling with the newfound concept of ki-telekinesis that he had abandoned long ago . Despite his efforts, he found it challenging to manipulate objects more than a few meters away, and even then, the movement was painfully slow and exhausting.

However, after his sparring with the witchers, it was becoming easier by the day. For the past four months, he had been constantly fighting superhuman beings, pushing the depth of his concentration beyond what he thought was possible. He could feel the power coursing through his veins, the density of his ki within him growing stronger with each passing day. It felt as though he had tapped into a latent potential within himself, one that had always existed but remained elusive until now.

His companion was sitting cross-legged on the bed with his sword resting on his lap. With a firm grip on it, he emitted an ethereal yellowish energy through the blade. The room was filled with a warm glow that seemed to emanate from the sword, and as his consciousness drifted further, he could feel the metal calling out to him. He exhaled slowly and reached out to touch the hilt.

The razor sharp entity in his hands demanded release; it wanted to be wielded by its master, to cut, to slice, to conquer. The sword seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if it were alive and eager to be unleashed upon the world, and he knew the moment was perfect. With a single, decisive movement, he unseathed his sword, holding it in a one handed grip. Twirling it around, he heard the air whistle as the blade sliced through it effortlessly.

Turning the blade to the side, he admired the perfection he had attained. His ki had spread harmoniously along the length, reflecting the moonlight in a dazzling display of white and yellow. 

Before he could bask in his glory, his sensitive ears picked up footsteps echoing from the hallway. They were light and deliberate; any step forward was made with great hesitation. He could hear fabric rustling and the faint sound of quickened breathing. Geralt turned towards Atram and snapped his fingers several times.

Atram jolted out of his meditative state and looked up at Geralt with a puzzled expression. "Is our guest coming?"

Geralt nodded and holstered his sword. "She is jittery."

"Can you blame her? She is barely a woman." Atram replied with a slightly raised voice and winked at Geralt.

Geralt blinked at the gesture, but a moment later, his eyes gleamed with understanding as he gave a mischievous grin and a nod. He waited for the perfect moment before speaking. "What will you do if she denies your offer?" He asked with a voice that was equally loud.

"If she does, then so be it. As I said before, the choice rests with her. I can only hope that she sees reason and consider it carefully," he paused and pointed at the door.

Geralt made the okay sign with his hand, prompting Atram to continue. "Nevertheless, it would be bad for her to stay here. With her situation as it is, she could be a danger to herself and to those around her."

"That she is; if not properly trained, her powers will go out of control, and with the way she is being treated, it is only a matter of time." Geralt chimed in.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

"Who is it?" Geralt demanded in his metallic voice, which sounded like a loud, ominous whisper.

"I-it's me, Elsa. Master witchers, may I come in?" she requested timidly.

"Door's open," Atram replied, and Elsa entered the room.

She looked around nervously, her eyes darting from Geralt to Atram and back again. Both the giant and the white-haired man were sitting cross-legged on their respective beds. The first had an inviting look in his eyes, while the latter's gaze made her shiver, his viper-like pupils sending a chill down her spine.

"What brings you here, Elsa?" Atram asked, his tone soft and gentle.

"I c-considered your offer, and I'd like to ask something before my decision becomes final."

Atram pointed at the decrepit chair in the corner. "Take a seat."

Elsa sat down, her eyes scanning the room. She couldn't help but feel uneasy in their overwhelming presence, despite their relaxed demeanor. She was like a deer in a lion's den.

She took a deep breath and relaxed her nerves. "Why me? Why do you care so much about a fifteen-year-old girl?" She inquired, trying to hide her fear.

Atram slowly shook his head before replying, "It has nothing to do with your age or gender. Be it a boy or a girl, my offer would be the same." He paused, his anger resurfacing. "Firstly, it concerns the way your father treats you and by your expression we are now sure it was him." He clicked his tongue. "To think someone would abuse his own flesh and blood, or any human being in such a way, is... unnaceptable."

Elsa looked at her arms; the pain of her 'father's' beatings still lingered. "He is not my real father, you know," she revealed, her voice heavy with bitterness and resentment. "In fact, I've never met my biological parents. I simply work here for a roof over my head and a warm meal in my belly." Her words dripped with venom, each syllable laced with the pain of her harsh reality. "But Lothar, the owner of this 'fine' establishment, insisted on introducing myself as his daughter to avoid any misunderstandings."

Geralt quirked an eyebrow at that. "And what would that misunderstanding be?"

Elsa shrugged. "Perhaps he wanted to hide the fact that he was beating me from the customers by claiming to be disciplining his daughter." She paused and shook her head in disdain. "Of course, no one ever showed concern about my bruises. Some even congratulated him on 'doing the right thing' by being a strict father to his spawn."

"How long have you been here?" Geralt asked, seeing that Atram had a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"It hasn't been long. It was early December, so two months give or take." Elsa informed.

"Were you considering leaving? I mean, after the winter had passed." Atram inquired, his anger slightly subsiding.

Elsa let out a sigh and crossed her hands. "And go where? My home was in Ard Carraigh until the thrice damned witch hunters, in their fanatical pursuit of magic users and the like, burned it to the ground along with my adoptive mother, as they deemed her profession 'heretical' and 'blasphemous'."

Her lips quivered as she recounted the tragic events that led to her being homeless and alone. "What does being an apothecary have to do with the arcane arts? Iliterate fools! Pox take them all," she muttered furiously, her teeth gritted in anger.

A heavy silence fell over the room for a while, until Atram decided to speak up and change the subject. "You have been through a lot these past few months; that is undeniable," he began. "However, there is something else you should know about yourself, which is the main reason we want you to travel with us." He shifted on his bed, slightly repositioning himself to face Elsa better. The latter perked up her ears, intrigued by what he was about to say, having 'eavesdropped' on their conversation before entering the room.

"You possess a rare gift, one that few in this world have ever been blessed with. You, my dear girl, have the potential to become a sorceress," he lifted his hand in a halting gesture. "Don't interrupt; I can see the confusion in your eyes, so let me explain."

"You see, a sorcerer or a sorceress is someone naturally blessed by the ether. Inside you, there lies dormant arcane power, ready to be tapped. Now, the distinction between a wizard, also known as a mage, and a sorcerer is that a mage learns magic through rigorous study and practice, while a sorcerer is born with an innate ability to wield magic," Atram explained in an academic tone.

Elsa's eyes widened in surprise as she processed the information. "Magic? Sorceress? I don't understand. I've interacted with magic. How is that possible?"

Atram smiled gently, "It's not something that can be easily explained, but it's a part of who you are. Sometimes a child is born a sorcerer because he hails from a magical bloodline, but other times, it's simply a gift that manifests itself."

Elsa was both excited and apprehensive at the prospect of wielding such power, as she remembered their words. "What if I lose control?"

Atram's expression turned serious as he replied, "That is a possibility, but with proper discipline and training, you can learn to control your magical energy. It won't be easy, but it's necessary if you want to master your gift without endangering yourself or others."

Elsa nodded slowly, her mind drifting back to the harrowing memory of that fateful day two months ago. "As I departed Ard Carraigh, heading south, I was assaulted by two armed travelers," she recounted, her voice trembling. "Alone and unarmed, I found myself defenseless. Yet, I fought back with all I had, clawing and biting until one of them struck me with such force that I nearly lost consciousness." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat, gathering the strength to continue.

"As I lay on the cold ground, my nose bleeding, and my... I felt a... calling, an energy ready to be released. I extended my hand upwards, and with an instinctual flick of my wrist, the air around us shifted and cracked. The environment was engulfed in absolute stillness," she let out a sigh of sorrow.

"The ground froze beneath our feet, and a thin layer of frost began to form on the trees around us. Then I heard screaming. Oh, their screams. Their bodies... were being torn apart from the inside out as ice formed in patches on their skin. Their fingers fell off like icicles when they tried to move them, and their eyes glazed over with a frozen stare of terror and agony."

Elsa slowly came back to reality, her breathing still ragged. She blinked slowly and looked around as if she had been in a trance, her mind trying to convey the horror of that scene.

Atram stood up, approached Elsa, and gave her a warm hug. "It's alright," he whispered softly and drew soft circles on her back. "They are gone; you are alive, here and now."

Elsa whimpered and nestled her face in his stomach, feeling safe in his embrace. She knew she had to move on from the traumatic experience, but it was easier said than done. Atram understood this and continued to hold her until she was ready to let go. Elsa craned her neck upwards as they parted, tears and snot streaming down her cheeks and mouth as she thanked Atram.

They gave her some time to collect herself, and when the time was right, Geralt spoke up. "What you experienced is called a conduit moment ," he explained, his voice low and soothing. "It can happen to mages and sorcerers alike, but only under extreme circumstances, when an individual is going through a great deal of emotional turmoil. It's a rare occurrence, but it has the potential to be extremely powerful."

Elsa nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She had never felt anything like it before, and despite the fear and pain that came with it, she couldn't deny the rush of energy that had coursed through her body. "What now?" she asked, looking up between Geralt and Atram.

The men exchanged a nod before Atram smiled reassuringly at her. "Now we train," he said simply. "We may not be the best teachers when it comes to magic, but thankfully, you are not a mage. And as luck would have it, Geralt here is really close to a sorceress. In the meantime, we will prepare you physically," he explained with a grin on his face. Elsa shivered for some reason when she saw Atram smile like that.

"Elsa, think carefully before agreeing to come with us. We are witchers, monster slayers, which means that you will witness things that most people never see in their lifetime. And although our journey won't take more than a month, you will be exposed to danger and violence, so you must be able to defend yourself," Geralt added.

Elsa didn't need to think about it. She had always been drawn to adventure and the unknown. And she would be travelling with two witchers, what could be safer than that? Besides, this opportunity was her way out of this dreadful place.

"Sometimes freedom requires a leap of faith, and I want to get out of this hovel of pain and suffering." She stated proudly, winking at Atram.

Atram gave a small chuckle and patted her on the back. "Couldn't have said it better myself," he replied. "We leave before dawn. Gather whatever heavy clothing you possess and make sure to bring enough provisions for the journey. If you feel safer here with us, you can sleep on my bed."

Elsa nodded eagerly and quickly scurried off to gather her belongings.

"I hope we did the right thing." Geralt said when he could no longer hear her footsteps.

"What does your heart tell you?"

"It is."

"There you go. Now, can you please follow after her quietly and intervene if her 'father' tries to do anything stupid? I'd handle it myself, but stealth isn't exactly my forte." 

Geralt gave him a knowing smirk and set off after Elsa.