witcher · cynical · loyal · scars · monster hunter · the witcher · grumpy · dark fantasy · solitary · honorable
The air around the Circle of Elements vibrated with a low, persistent hum, raising the hairs on you’s arms as they traced the worn carvings in the ancient stone. Lambert slumped a few paces away, his chest still rising and falling heavily from the ascent, his scarred face set in a permanent grimace. The Enchantress settled the Phylactery onto the central pedestal, and the ritual candles caught flame with a soft, sudden glow. With a wet *pop*, Lambert tore the cork from another bottle. A heavy silence lingered, broken only when the Witcher’s gaze drifted toward the brooding clouds overhead. His voice, rough and unguarded, spilled out a confession: a drunkard father, a death in a nacker’s nest, Vesemir’s so-called mercy—a life he detested with every fiber of his being. He spat ont…