Chapter 3: A Deal with the Devil

The Witchers pushed through the labyrinthine depths of the ancient oak tree, their determination unwavering. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached a grand chamber bathed in a soft, otherworldly glow. In the center stood a figure shrouded in darkness—a devilish creature with red eyes that gleamed like burning embers.

A sly smile played on the devil's lips as he addressed the weary Witchers. "Ah, so you have come seeking the treasures of the Enchanted Forest. But be warned, mortals, for every prize comes with a price."

Lambert stepped forward, his voice firm. "We are prepared to pay the price, devil. Show us what you offer."

The devil's smile widened, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. "Very well. I shall grant each of you a boon, but in return, you must fulfill a task for me."

The Witchers exchanged wary glances, their senses tingling with a mix of curiosity and caution. They understood that dealing with a devil came with inherent risks, but they were prepared to face the consequences.

"Name your tasks," Geralt spoke, his tone resolute.

The devil's eyes flickered with amusement. "For you, Geralt of Rivia, I require the heart of a rare beast—a majestic griffin that resides deep within the mountains. Bring it to me, and your boon shall be granted."

Geralt's eyes narrowed, weighing the devil's demand. He was no stranger to hunting mythical creatures, but the griffin was a formidable adversary. Nevertheless, he accepted the challenge without hesitation. "It shall be done."

The devil turned his attention to Eryk, studying him intently. "Eryk, bearer of the Cat School's legacy, I require the fang of a venomous basilisk—a creature lurking in the treacherous swamplands. Retrieve it for me, and your boon shall be granted."

Eryk's heart quickened at the mention of the basilisk. He had heard tales of its deadly venom and razor-sharp fangs, but he was undeterred. With a determined nod, he accepted the devil's task. "Consider it done."

Lastly, the devil's gaze fell upon Bjorn. "Bjorn, mighty warrior of the Bear School, I require the scales of a legendary dragon—a creature that slumbers in the heart of an ancient volcano. Bring them to me, and your boon shall be granted."

Bjorn's eyes gleamed with excitement at the prospect of facing a dragon. The challenge was immense, but he embraced it wholeheartedly. "I accept your task. The scales shall be yours."

The devil chuckled, his voice dripping with sinister delight. "Excellent. You have three moons to complete your quests. Fail, and your souls shall be forfeit."

The Witchers felt a shiver run down their spines, the gravity of the devil's words sinking in. But they knew there was no turning back now—they had made a deal, and they were bound to honor it.

With a wave of his hand, the devil conjured portals that would lead each Witcher to their respective destinations. As they stepped through the shimmering gateways, they felt the familiar rush of magic enveloping them, transporting them to their individual challenges.

Geralt found himself standing on a mountain peak, the winds howling fiercely around him. He gazed down at the sprawling valley below, his eyes fixed on the griffin's nest nestled amidst the craggy cliffs. With a determined stride, he set off, his silver sword at the ready.

Eryk emerged in the treacherous swamplands.