He doesn't know, either. Nearly everybody who enters his life have had theirs splintered in some way. He isn't even sure he would consider Jaskier the exception. Once war tears through a continent, none are left unscathed. Not even the kings who claim victory.

He's not unsatisfied with what he has. He found a place to belong with Vesemir. He has a family with Ciri. He would not trade them for anything else. There's just—a hollow. Bits and pieces that don't altogether fit. An uncertainty as to how much he's defined by a childhood that doesn't feel like his.

He wonders how she's doing. His mother. If she even knows or cares about his absence.

He studies the cup in his hand, contemplative. They've often had an understanding, he and Nadine. And he's glad she's discovered her own peace here.

"To better days."