[ His boot connects with the mage's face. The earth rumbles louder. Then a piercing, shuddering scream splits the air. Geralt snaps his head up. Fuck. Of course he recognizes that fucking sound; it's exactly as he feared, and as the ground beneath him shudders and twists, the crater ripples outward like a hundred burrowing moles. The crater's edge reaches the mage before either of them can react. The body bursts, exploding into a cloud of dust.
He curses.
Ciri grabs him. He catches hold of her in return, sword in his other hand as he rolls to his feet. They are in the crater now, and he is waiting for the Singularity's energy to engulf them, siphoning their consciousness into the Horizon's hold.
Instead, there are simply more bodies crumbling into dust. He has been told of this phenomenon, but he has never seen it. The natives of this land have always stayed far away, rightfully afraid of its destructive nature. And he can see, right here and now, exactly how destructive.
He hasn't time to worry about who may be watching. He decides not to fret about Jaskier, either—not now that the bard is capable of taking flight. With Ciri's hand in his, he sprints towards the mountains to the east. It's an area he's been before, a place where, when they were lost upon it, he felt most at home amongst the frost and trees. That means Ciri will, too.
His sword splits the ground behind him, an arc that stops the crumbling boulders from rolling through their path. ]
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He curses.
Ciri grabs him. He catches hold of her in return, sword in his other hand as he rolls to his feet. They are in the crater now, and he is waiting for the Singularity's energy to engulf them, siphoning their consciousness into the Horizon's hold.
Instead, there are simply more bodies crumbling into dust. He has been told of this phenomenon, but he has never seen it. The natives of this land have always stayed far away, rightfully afraid of its destructive nature. And he can see, right here and now, exactly how destructive.
He hasn't time to worry about who may be watching. He decides not to fret about Jaskier, either—not now that the bard is capable of taking flight. With Ciri's hand in his, he sprints towards the mountains to the east. It's an area he's been before, a place where, when they were lost upon it, he felt most at home amongst the frost and trees. That means Ciri will, too.
His sword splits the ground behind him, an arc that stops the crumbling boulders from rolling through their path. ]