“What the hell kind of place is this?” Roy climbed up the hill filled with strange rock formations and came to a long, winding path. He stared into the distance, where a mountain range was hidden behind the fog. Behind them stood a gigantic moon. It shone clearer than the surface of Lake Vizima, drawing the eyes of anyone who saw it. Roy felt like he could touch the moon and the mysterious mountains if he just stretched his hand out.
“Like it? There’s more to see. But remember. You have to find the answer before time runs out,” Gaunter said again, his voice booming everywhere. The Master of Mirrors was hiding somewhere, watching the witcher struggle.
Roy ignored him. The hourglass in his hand was petite and beautiful, but the sand wasn’t flowing quickly. I probably have… about an hour. Roy tried to summon something from his inventory again. His last playthrough of the game told him about the riddle’s answer. If he could use his oil, potions, and water, this would be a cinch. However, his inventory did not respond to his summons, as if it were locked by a layer of unknown magic.
Roy held his blades up and let the moon shine on them. He looked at the swords, but they were covered in a layer of white membrane. They looked like sword-shaped pearls now. They looked muddy, impossible to show his reflection. “Knew it wouldn’t be that easy.” Roy went and dug a hole in the nearby land. He looked around and pissed in it, but for some reason, the ground absorbed his urine right away. Well, so much for that plan. So this is what he means by cheating. I’ll have to find the answer through the right way.
Roy leaped into the air, charging ahead like a cheetah hunting its prey. It was as if he were blinking through the air. The wasteland was eerily quiet and dead. There was not a sound but his footsteps. He didn’t even hear any cicadas chirping. The air was filled with a thin layer of cold mist. Weed and dead, gnarled trees stood by the path, as if they were sentries guarding a gate to the underworld.
There was a lantern hanging from the trees’ branches every few feet. The light was an eerie red, as if the space around it were drenched in blood. Roy was starting to have a bad feeling about this. He kept running, but he could feel his temples throb, and his instincts screamed at him. About five minutes later, he knew why.
Two silhouettes came out from behind the stones on the path. They charged at Roy, and he scrambled to defend himself, though he didn’t panic. He reacted in time thanks to his combat reflexes. He charged ahead and rolled through the opening between them. Roy dodged their attack and turned around. He unsheathed Aerondight and cast Quen. The silhouettes tried to attack him, but he circled them, finding an opening to attack.
‘Silhouette
Age: ???
HP: 80
Strength: 8
Dexterity: 5
Constitution: 8
Perception: 5
Will: 4
Charisma: 3
Spirit: 4′
***
These monsters were unlike anything Roy had seen before. They were all black, and they devoured all the light around them. These monsters smelled of violence and destruction. They weren’t even alive. Roy could see their outline, and they looked like a monster commonly seen around bodies of water—drowners.
He turned around and saw a gaunt, spindly arm holding the wooden bridge, and a boy’s head bobbed up. He had a bowl cut, his chubby face as red as wine, and snot dangled from his nose. The boy looked like he was about eight or nine, and he was amusing, but Roy couldn’t even laugh. “This has got to be a joke. Gaunter’s casting this spell.” Bad memories came flooding back. Can he actually take the souls of the dead and imprison them in his world? Roy shook his head and calmed down. He decided to ignore the boy and went ahead.
“Save me, Roy! It’s me, Brandon!” The boy’s screams turned even louder, and he trembled in fear.
Roy hastened, and the bridge started wobbling.
“Did you forget about me? I introduced you to Fletcher! And he took you in! You owe me one. Please, help me! I-I don’t wanna die!”
“How’d you get here, Brandon?” Roy asked, but he didn’t stop. He was slowly getting near the other side of the bridge.
“I-I don’t know. I didn’t do anything, but I found myself in this place right after I woke up. The river’s hotter than the sun! It hurts! It’s gonna cook me like a pig!”
“Hello, friend!” someone else bellowed, cutting the boy off. “Mount Carbon sends you its regards. Fancy seeing you here. Are you dead too?” A thich, short hand held the bridge’s ropes, and a bearded dwarf showed up. “Quick, give me a hand!” The dwarf struggled to hold the rope. He was dangling from the bridge, swaying with it. The dwarf looked tense, but he forced a smile. “Pull me up and we’ll save the boy. Then we have some catching up to do. And we’ll have an archery competition. I wanna see if you’ve improved. Life is shit down here. Good thing dwarves are tough.”
Roy didn’t stop or hesitate, and the dwarf panicked. “Where are you going, Roy? Help us! Don’t leave your friends behind!”
“Sorry, but Barney’s still alive, and he’s a lousy archer.” Roy waved at him.
“Look here, witcher! It’s me, Berschel! The old baker’s son!” A humble young man with pus all over his face crawled up. “Your potion destroyed my insides. I couldn’t even die painlessly because of you. I can still feel it churning in my belly. Please, pull me up. Pay for your sins. Please, help me. I wanna see my father!”
***
“Sorry, but I can’t waste my time saving you.” Roy gnashed his teeth and held the hourglass tightly, but the sand wouldn’t stop falling. He finally got across the Bridge of Memories. The past did almost torture him, but they failed to make him waver. “The dead can’t come back to life. They’re all fake.”
The familiar voices disappeared behind the veil of fog. They were taken away by the winds into a land far, far away.
“You didn’t even care about your friends, witcher,” Gaunter mocked him. “Did the mutation wipe all your feelings away? Turned you into a heartless monster? They should call you Roy, the Stonehearted. You’re still a lad, but you’re inhumanly heartless.”
“Hey, O’Dimm!” Roy retorted, “I’ll catch you, I swear!”
“That’s all it took to rile you up? Give up, my friend. Release yourself from this misery.”
“In your dreams, O’Dimm!”
***
***