[ His fingers run over the rough wood of the bench. Pavetta's magic had been powerful, but nothing wildly unusual. Nothing extraordinary. It stands to reason Cirilla might've inherited something from her mother. But if what she's implying is true, then this goes far beyond a little magic in her bloodline. It goes beyond anything the entire Continent has known.

Then again. So does this. This sphere, with its mages who wield magic with an ease and power that's unsettling. And. Fuck. She doesn't even know that Jaskier is now capable of it, too. That the chaos here runs through everyone who touches it.

He wants to ask how. How it's possible she's traveled between spheres before now. He doesn't. It isn't important, not in this moment. She sounds lost and defeated. And he hasn't a fucking clue what he means to her, so far removed from the man she's seemingly known her whole life. What it means for him. Still. They're here. He can't unravel every complication in one sitting. But there are still problems he can solve. Immediate ones. The rest—the rest he'll sort out when he gets there. ]

We need to get out of here first. Before anything else. [ He pauses, considering. ] They retrieved one of the prisoners not too long ago. Hasn't been back since. I suspect they're beginning to move their pieces into place.

[ Which means opportunity. When plans are put in motion, when changes are made: that's when things fall through the cracks. It's only a matter of time. ]