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"Fuck, what have I done?" Yennefer stares at Ciri, horrified.

The girl is tossing, turning and thrashing in her bed, her face a grimace of pain.

"What did you do, Witch?" Geralt asks sharply, rushing into Ciri's room. "Step back!" He pushes Yennefer to the side unceremoniously and sits down next to his child surprise.

"Just a little spell to calm her. She was having a nightmare, something about the black knight grabbing her."

"Looks like your little spell has made it a lot worse. Do you at least know a counter-sp—"

Geralt's last word is drowned out by a loud howling coming from Ciri's mouth. But it is not Ciri's voice. It is a man's voice, deep and rough, full of pain and hatred. The girl sits up with a jolt, her eyes flying wide open. They are not her eyes, not emerald green. They are ghastly white.

Yennefer flinches back.

"Fuck," Geralt curses. "Not another prophecy."

It is no prophecy. It is worse.

"You, it's all your fault!" Ciri points at Geralt, talking with the wrong voice. Her dead, white eyeballs glare at the Witcher accusingly. A chill runs down his spine. He knows the voice.

"You brought her here, brother, and then she killed us!" Ciri draws her index finger across her neck in a cutting motion. "Now we take her, and you will pay!" Fast as lightning, Ciri reaches toward Geralt, grabs the hilt of his dagger and pulls it from its sheath. Then she lunges at the Witcher's throat.

Geralt ducks to the side, the knife just so grazing his skin.

"Dammit, Ciri, drop that thing," he demands, seizing her wrist and holding it in a vice-like grip. Ciri does not react. Her creepy eyes bore into his. She does not blink.

"Spirit possession?" Yennefer asks, her purple eyes wide. "Gwain?"

"Merek," Geralt pants. The girl is much stronger than she should be. It takes all his strength to stay her hand. "Get Vesemir, quick!"

Yennefer darts out the door and along the corridor to the great hall. Merek, one of the witchers killed by Voleth Meir when Ciri was possessed by the demon. Then it is her fault, not Geralt's or Ciri's. She helped free the demon. She brought Ciri to Cintra. How she regrets what she has done. Yet, it cannot be undone. Not even by magic.

"Damn," is all that Vesemir says when Yennefer tells him what is going on. He rushes to his laboratory, grabs a few items and hands them to Yennefer to carry. Then they hurry to Ciri's room, Yennefer's heart thumping like mad. What will she find in the girl's chamber? Is it possible that Ciri, while possessed, would slit Geralt's throat?

Geralt is still alive when they burst into the room. Blood is trickling from a gash in his cheek and several cuts in his hand. Ciri, or rather Merek, is circling Geralt, the dagger trained on him, ready to pounce at is former brother any moment.

For a second, Vesemir stops dead at the sight. Then he acts. He draws a Witcher sign all over the floor around Ciri and Geralt.

"Give me the box," he then orders. He opens it and flings the entire content at Ciri. Not having any idea what the white substance is, Yennefer watches with apprehension. When Ciri was possessed by Voleth Meir, Vesemir would have sacrificed her if necessary. He is not planning to do so now, is he?

The white granules take immediate effect. As soon as they hit the girl, an angry hissing can be heard. Then a translucent shape separates itself from Ciri. A male shape, dark skin, black hair and black beard. Yennefer does not remember him, but judging from the way Vesemir looks at the spirit, he does. Geralt grabs Ciri by the arm and flings her across the room toward her.

"Catch!"

Although taken totally by surprise, Yennefer does. Ciri collapses in her arms, her eyes closing shut. She feels unnaturally cold, but she is breathing. Yennefer cradles her to her bosom protectively. The white granules in her ash-blond hair taste like salt.

In the meantime, Vesemir has applied oil from one of the flasks to a peculiarly shaped dagger.

"Geralt!" he says, throwing it to the white-haired Witcher who catches the dagger with ease.

"I'm sorry, Merek, I had to bring Ciri to Kaer Morhen," Geralt explains. "It wasn't her fault that you died. It was the demon Voleth Meir."

"Right, never your fault, wolf. But why would I care? You'll come to regret it anyway!" The ghost leaps at Geralt with incredible speed. Geralt dives to the side, rolls and jumps to his feet. The ghost goes after him. Then it is stuck.

"Yrden. You should have remembered. And I truly am sorry." Geralt plunges the dagger into the ghost's heart, his expression grim, determined. Witchers kill monsters, and spectres are monsters, no matter who they were before they died. Sooner or later they all turn vengeful and evil. It is not the ghosts' fault, it is how things go.

The ghost of the witcher Merek freezes. It begins to wail. An eerie sound that makes Yennefer's blood curdle. Then it goes up in sudden flames. And vanishes.

"Salt, spectre oil and the blade that killed the person, it usually does the trick," Vesemir says. "How's Ciri?" he then asks, furrowing his brow.

"W-What happened?" she slurs drowsily, blinking her eyes open. Emerald green. She looks at Yennefer and the two witchers, confused. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing important," Geralt says, scooping her up in his arms. "We'll tell you tomorrow. Let's get you back to bed. I'll stay here with you tonight. Alright, Ciri?"

"Yes, please." Ciri snuggles up against his chest. It feels safe, the safest place in the universe. "Good night Vesemir, good night Yennefer." She smiles at the purple-eyed sorceress. She has forgiven her. Hopefully, Geralt will also do so soon.

Then she will have a family again.