In “Through Time and Space” Geralt, Avallac’h and Ge’el return to Novigrad to convince Ge’el that Eredin killed King Auberon.
The scene plays out as it currently is until you get to Ge’el’s line:
Ge'el: “Ah yes, the oneiromancer. Visions that cannot be fabricated …
from that point on he would continue: “suppose I agree to this dream. What then? Do you expect me immediately betray Eredin and proclaim Avallac’h our King?”
Geralt responds how you choose.
Ge’el: “And this dream will show me who killed our King?”
Avallac’h: “You will see what Zireael has seen. The events leading to Auberon’s death. “
Ge’el: “Very well. Have your oracle summon dreams of my King’s last moments.”
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The dream begins with the player riding Kelpie as Ciri with Avallac’h.
Avallac’h: “We will soon arrive at Tir na Lia, Loc’hlaith.”
Ciri: “I am not the Lady of the Lake! I am a prisoner here! And you are my jailor! Why not admit it?
Avallac’h: “A prisoner … a prisoner that is ill-treated, you have said so before. The riding trips are undoubtedly forced, you wear a sword on your back under pressure and as punishment you have to wear those garments, which are so much more tasteful, newer and cleaner than the one in which you were discovered. These wrongs that we have committed against you, you repay with rebellion."
Ciri: "When I go riding, I always end up back at the same place. Whether I head out on either side, whether I change direction, no matter what I do, every time I end up back where I started. Every time. I cannot get away from this place. So it is a prison. It’s worse than a dungeon with bars on the windows. I just want one thing – to go home! To my world! To my people! To those who think just like me! In the same way!"
Avallac’h: “You can go back to them … after a period of time. We have been waiting a long time, fearful of one thing – that you would not be able to get here. But you did it. You have confirmed your origin, your blood. And that means that here, and not among the Dh’oine is your place. You are the rightful daughter of Lara Dorren aep Shiadhal.”
Ciri: “I am the daughter of Pavetta! I do not even know who this Lara of yours is!”
Avallac’h: “A few generations of lineage means nothing to the Aen Elle. What matters is that you are a direct descendant of Lara Dorren. She who chose as her love the human Cregennan of Lod. In her blood, your blood, lies the key to saving our people. We want you to bear a son, Swallow, daughter of Lara Dorren. Once you give birth to the child, we’ll let you leave here and go back to your own world. Of course, the choice is yours. I imagine your wild ride will have helped you to make the decision. What is your answer?”
Ciri: “My answer is no. Categorically, permanently, no. I’m not ready and that is that. How can you even ask such a thing? How can you? By what right?”
Avallac’h: “We have the right and we can demand, Swallow. Your … D’hoine ancestor … , Cregennan, took our child. You have to give one to us. To pay off the debt. It seems to me to be only logical and fair.”
Ciri: “But I won’t do it! Do you not understand? I won’t! I hate the idea that you would try to implant a fucking parasite in me, it makes me sick to think that this parasite would grow in me, that … I’ll escape, you will not be able to hold me against my will.
Avallac’h: “As I said, the decision is yours. We respect that, but we must take certain steps. You will find that there is no escape, Swallow. If you refuse to cooperate, then you will stay here forever and you will never see your world or friends again.”
They ride silently for a few moments until they reach a view of Tir na Lia. You may optionally choose the following:
Ciri: ‘Avallac’h.’
Avallac’h: ‘Go ahead.’
Ciri: “Who is to be the father of the child, for whom you care so much? Or maybe it does not matter?’
Avallac’h: ‘The father will be Auberon Muircetach. Auberon Muircetach is our… How do you say… King?”
Ciri: ‘King? King of the Alders?’
Avallac’h: “You can call him that.”
Regardless of the above conversation. Ciri can only conclude teh converdation by choosing the option that leads to:
Ciri: ‘If I decide to ... then… later… I’ll be free?’
Avallac’h: If you agree you will be free to return to your world or to stay here with the child. I give you my word. Does that mean you have decided?’
Ciri: “I’ll decide when we get there.”
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Ciri and Avallac’h approach Tir na Lia. They dismount and Eredin approaches Avallac’h and Ciri. He is wearing the same armor he has on in game.
Eredin: “Avallac’h.”
Avallac’h: “Zireael, let me introduce to you this man – Eredin Breacc Glas.”
Ciri:"Hael Eredin." She smiles."
Or
Ciri: "Nice armour." She laughs.
Eredin: [To Ciri] - “Nice to meet you" (he does not say this part if Ciri is less polite). [To Avallac’h] - "She looks like an ordinary small Dh’oine. In this creation, deeply hidden, lies Lara’s gene? Who else, if not you, should know? Ah … there it is, in her eyes I find something that awakens in me the memory of Lara Dorren. Like I’ve found a nugget of gold on a pile of manure. I wonder if this girl, who is trying to pierce my eyes, knows the reason why she is here?”
Avallac’h: ‘Yes.’
Eredin: “And is she ready to cooperate?”
Avallac’h: “Not quite.”
Eredin: ‘Not quite. This is bad. The nature of the task requires cooperation for it to completely work. Unconditional. Otherwise it will not work.”
Avallac’h: “Is Auberon expecting us?”
Eredin: “Yes, the King is expecting you. He is anxious. He has demanded that the Swallow come to him immediately, without a moment’s delay. Now if you’ll excuse me, duty calls. Oh, one more thing…”
Eredin leans down and plucks a blossoming twig of myrtle. He sniffs it and the hands it to Ciri with a bow (if Ciri was polite). Walks straight over to her otherwise.
Eredin: “Reconciliation. An apology for careless words (he does not say this if Ciri was less polite earlier). "Listen to me very carefully, Zireael. There is no escape. You cannot break the barrier of Magic around this place. And even if by some miracle you pass the barriers, know that my Hunters, are able to cross the chasms of time and space. Va Faill, luned.”
Avallac’h: “Let’s go. With your permission, Zireael. I am going to leave you in the hands of the women. You’ll have to prepare quickly. First impressions are everything.”
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After a bath, Ciri walks up to the Royal apartments. Ciri awaits in a room when a very charming Elf enters the room.
Auberon: ‘Zireael. Thank you for agreeing to see me. Are you nervous?’
Ciri: ‘No, I’m not.’
Or:
Ciri: "A little."
Auberon: ‘Are you in a hurry?’
Ciri: ‘Of course.’
Auberon: ‘Would I be unduly curious, if I asked where you are in such a hurry to go?’
Ciri: ‘Home. To my world.’
Auberon: “Your world! Your hairy ancestors appeared with sword in hand latter than the chickens. And yet I have never heard a hen claim that it was “their world”. We, Aen Elle, we cared very little about the deeds of your ancestors. We left that world a long time ago. We chose another universe, more interesting. In that time, it will surprise you, it was possible to move freely from one world to another quite easily. So, it was, so it was… We told ourselves, what’s the difference, we will stay here a little while, then there a little while, so what if the stupid Dh’oine insist on destroying themselves and the world? We’ll go somewhere else … Then came the Conjunction of the Spheres. The number of worlds increased. But the door closed. It was closed to all but a handful of people – like Lara Dorren. And the clock was ticking. We needed to open the door. Urgently. It was imperative. Do you understand that word?’
Ciri: ‘I’m not stupid.’
Auberon: “No, you’re not. You cannot be. You are the Elder Blood. When I was told, I did not believe it. But it is true. Your eyes are Shiadhal. Lara’s eyes. Would you like some food?”
Ciri: “Yes. Thank you.”
They sit down and eat together and eat.
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Ciri finishes her desert and sips wine. She appears tipsy. Auberon smiles at her.
Auberon: “As I understand it, you are convinced that destiny binds you to this man, Geralt?”
Ciri: “That’s right, Destiny. He, that is, Geralt, is predestined for me, and I him. Our fates are intertwined. Therefore it would be better if I left immediately. Do you understand?”
Auberon: “I admit, not much.”
Ciri: ‘Destiny. The power that is not advisable to resist.”
Auberon: “What do you mean?”
Ciri: “I think it is wrong for you to keep me here. And if you force me… Well, you know what I mean. I have to leave here, and hurry to aid Geralt and Yennefer … Because my destiny…”
Auberon: “Fate. Predestination. Something that is inevitable. The mechanism that causes a virtually infinite number of unforeseeable events to necessarily lead to one result and not another. Is that it?”
Ciri: “Exactly!”
Auberon: “So where and why do you want to go? Drink wine, enjoy the moment, enjoy life. What is to come, will come, if it is inevitable.”
Ciri: “No. You can’t sit there and do nothing. Nothing comes by itself! You’ll miss the right moment… There is often only one, unrepeatable. Time cannot go backwards.”
He stands and walks over to her location.
Auberon: “Time is the passing moments, like grains of sand in an hourglass. We try to measure acts and events, but in every deed and every event lurks in the past, the present and the future – in short, eternity. Every departure is also returning, every welcome is also a goodbye. Everything is simultaneously the beginning and the end. And you… You’re the beginning and the end. And because there was a question of destiny, know that this is your destiny. Being the beginning and the end. You are everything to us. Everything to me. Do you understand?”
Ciri: ‘I understand.’
He kisses her and she returns the kiss. Auberon kisses and touches Ciri. Biting her lip.
Auberon: “Undress please.”
Player choose to undress or stay dressed. If player chooses undress:
Though obviously shocked by the request, Ciri begins to untie her dress. He sees her body (the player does not though) gets up and walks away. Leaving her flushed and trembling. He does not even look at her. Ciri’s blood rushes to her face and forehead. She curls up on the bed and begins to sob.
If player chooses not to undress:
Ciri stands there petrified.
Auberon: I apologize. Will you join me again tomorrow evening for company.
Ciri: Do I have a Choice?
Auberon: Yes.
Ciri: Fine. Goodnight your Majesty.
Auberon: Thank you for coming. Now leave me alone. Va faill, Luned.
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The next day she awakens. She leaves her room to find Avallac’h in the Court yard.
Avallac’h: Zireal. How are you feeling this morning?
Ciri: “…”
Depending on what Ciri chose the night before it is either:
Avallac’h: “Ah … I see. You’re disappointed, Disappointed and disillusioned and above all outraged. Please remember that Auberon wants to treat you with reverence, as a native Aen Elle. Do not forget, we, the People of the Alders, do not ever hurry. We have time.”
Or:
Avallac’h: "Ah ... I see. Do not worry. Nothing will be forced upon you. As I have said, you have a choice. Please remember that Auberon wants to treat you with reverence, as a native Aen Elle. Do not forget, we, the People of the Alders, do not ever hurry. We have time.”
After a moment of silence he continues -
Avallac’h: ‘We have very serious reasons for believing, that your world is in danger of disappearing. You must have heard of Ithlinne’s Prophecy. She speaks of the time of the White Frost. It will be a powerful ice age so extensive that it threatens the existence of most living creatures on the world where you were born. Those who survive will fall into barbarism, killing each other in ruthless battles for food, they will become prey to predators mad with hunger. The child, on which so much depends in the prophesy, will be a descendant of Lara Dorren and may save the inhabitants of your world. You are the descendant of Lara and we believe that your child will have abilities a thousand times more powerful than those we have. In short, we will have the opportunity to travel between the worlds, and not for only a single person. We want to open Ard Gaeth – The Great Gate, which all will pass through. We will evacuate the dying world, the Aen Seidhe, all of the endangered, Zireael. Everyone, even the humans.”
Ciri: “Really? Even the Dh’oine?”
Avallac’h: “Yes. Trust me. Do you now see how important you are, how we care about you? It is important that you return to Auberon and spend the night with him.Remember that time is of no importance here.”
Ciri: “For me it is!”
Avallac’h: “I told you not to behave like a stubborn child. I’ll repeat – this arrangement is your only chance at freedom.”
Ciri: "Really? ‘I’m beginning to have my doubts! I’m beginning to suspect that you’ve tricked me! That you have all deceived me…"
Avallac’h: ‘I promised that you will return to your world. I’ve given my word. To doubt ones word is a very serious offence for the Aen Elle.”
Ciri: “Please excuse me for doubting those who are trying to blackmail me! You say I have a choice, but what choice do I have? You act as though my blood is a blessing. Well I can assure that Lara Dorren's blood is nothing but a curse!"
Avallac’h: “Who are you, to dare to so profane her name? Oh, I know, I can see who you are. You are the daughter of Cregennan. You are an inconsiderable, arrogant, narcissistic dh’oine, a representative example of a race that knows nothing, but that has to ruin and destroy everything, who can defile with a touch alone and befoul with a mere thought. Your ancestors stole my love from me, smug and ruthlessly took her away. You may be worthy to be his daughter but I will not let you take my memories of her away.”
The sit silently for several moments. Ciri can choose to say nothing and storms away from Avallac'h.
Or:
Ciri: "Avallac’h. Forgive me. I behaved stupidly and miserably. Forgive me. And, if you can, forget it.’
Avallac’h: “It’s forgotten. No more talk about the matter.”
Avallac'h pulls out a flute and begins to play as Ciri listens.
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Ciri finds Kelpie in her stall and brings up her saddle and harness. She lifts her head and sees Eredin. He sits on his dark brown stallion, now free from his demonic combat gear. The rider, however, wore chainmail under his red jacket.
Ciri: ‘Be careful. Kelpie does not like strangers. And she bites.’
Eredin: ‘Those that bite, should be curried with an iron brush. Until they bleed. This is the proven method for treating defiance. Not just for mares.’
Ciri: ‘What’s with the armor? Are you going to war?”
Eredin: ‘On the contrary, I long for peace. You mares vices aside, does it have any virtues?’
Ciri: ‘What kind?’
Eredin: ‘Maybe speed. We’ll have a race?’
Ciri: ‘If you want, why not."
Eredin: I suggest we do so along the river. That way. To Porphyry Bridge, the third downstream, then to the other shore and further downstream to the mouth of the river. Ready?’
Ciri: ‘Always.’
They Race. Gameplay to the bridge.
Eredin: ‘My appreciation, for the mare and its rider. Come with me, please.’
They walk away from the bridge and up a mountain path. As they walk the following conversation occurs.
Eredin: “Here you will stay forever, my light butterfly. Until the end of your life. You will not be allowed to leave here, They are unwilling to admit despite the prophecy and myth, you’re nobody, you’re nothing, only a creature without importance. Believe it, they will not let you go. They promised it to you, just to deceive you and to provide you your tractability. They never intended to make good on their promise. Never.”
Ciri: “Avallac’h, he gave his word. Doubting an elf’s word is apparently an insult.”
Eredin: “Avallac’h is Aen Saevherne. The Knowing ones have their own code of honour, which with many noble phrases conceal an old rule that the end justifies the means.”
Ciri: “I don’t understand why you are telling me all this. Unless… You have something you want from me. You want to barter. What is it? Eredin? My freedom… For what?”
They arrive at a Gaxebo at a waterfall on a stone terrace. Below them she can see the trees, the ribbon of the river and the roofs, terraces and colonnades of Tir Na Lia. They sit on a couch in the Gazebo.
Eredin: ‘Undoubtedly, you already know little enough about Auberon. You certainly already noticed that he is ambitious. There are things that he’ll never accept, never take note of. He’d sooner die. Auberon Muircetach, never uses magic or other means able to change a situation. But such means exist. Good, strong, guaranteed resources. Much more reliable than the pheromones that Avallac’h’s maids blend into your perfume.”
He quickly ran his hand over the veined marble table. When he removed his hand there was a bottle of grey-green jade.
Ciri: ‘No, I will not. Absolutely not.’
Eredin: ‘You did not let me finish.’
Ciri: “Do not take me for a fool. I will not give him what is in this flask. I won’t do those kind of things.”
Eredin: “You draw to hasty conclusions … in this race, you are overtaking yourself. Something like that always ends in a fall. A very painful fall.”
Ciri: “I said no!”
Eredin: “Think it over. Regardless of what the bottle contains, you always come out ahead, Swallow.”
Ciri: “No!”
With a quick and smooth motion, like a magician, the elf make the bottle disappear from the table.
Eredin: “You’ll die here, butterfly. They will not let you go. But the decision is up to you.”
Ciri: “I’ve made a covenant. For my freedom…”
Eredin: “Freedom. You are still talking about freedom. What would you do if you finally regained it? Where would you go? Do you realise that you are on our world at the moment, not only in space but time. Time flows differently here that there. Those who you once knew have long since died.”
Ciri: “I do not believe you.’
Eredin: “Remember your legends. Legends about people missing and returning after a year, only to see the graves of their relatives covered by grass. Are you going to say that they were pure fantasy, things taken from stories? You are wrong. For centuries, your people have been kidnapped, snatched by riders, by the Wild Hunt. Abducted, exploited and then thrown away like an empty shell once consumed. But do not expect to be that lucky, Zireael. You will die here, you will not see the graves of your friends.”
Ciri: “You are a liar!”
Eredin: ‘Believe what you will. You chose your destiny. Let us return.”
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Ciri goes to the Royal Apartments again. The royal apartments appear empty, the silence and stillness are absolute. She sees Auberon, sitting on a couch, with a white shirt that exposing his narrow shoulders. The face and hands of the King of the Alders are almost as white as his shirt.
Auberon: ‘Shiadhal?’
He opened his hand and something falls to the carpet. It is the grey-green bottle Eredin held earlier.
Auberon: “Lara, come to me daughter. I will not be able to see your child. Zireael, Lod’hlaith, you are destined to be the Lady of the Lake. So something also begins. Yet, I have no desire to die, Zireael. And I find it terribly sad that it has to happen. I thought that I would have no regrets. I have lived a long time, I have known everything. I’m bored of it all… however, now I feel regret. And do you want to know something else? Come closer, I whisper it. Let it be our secret. I’m afraid.”
Ciri: “I know.”
Auberon: “Are you with me?”
Ciri: “I am.”
Auberon: “Va Faill, Luned.”
Ciri: “Goodbye, King of the Alders.”
She sits beside him, still holding his hand after his breathing hushed and ceased. It thunders outside.
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Ciri leaves the room and the storm picks up. The player guides her out of the palace and to a boat. When she passed the third bridge, Eredin jumps onto the bow of the boat and rocks it. Ciri drops the boat’s pole and drew her sword.
Eredin: ‘I see, you want to deprive us of your company?’
He draws his sword and approaches her. They fight on the boat. When his health is at 2/3 the following conversation begins.
Eredin: ‘Where did you learn all this, Swallow?’
Ciri: “You’d be surprised.”
Eredin: “I doubt it. The river can overcome the barrier. Did you figure this out yourself or did someone advise you?”
Ciri: “I doesn’t matter.”
Eredin: “Yes it does. And we’ll find out. We have our ways. But now, drop the sword and return.”
Ciri: “Never.”
Eredin: “We are going back, Zireael. Auberon is waiting. I guarantee that tonight he will be full of desires and requests.”
Ciri: “I doubt it. He overdosed on the stimulant you gave him. Or was it meant to do something else entirely?”
Eredin: “What are you talking about?”
Ciri: “He’s dead.”
He looks suprised and then he angrily attacks her.
Eredin: “Surely you realise, Swallow, that you are only delaying the inevitable. I cannot let you leave.”
Ciri: “Why? Auberon is dead. And I’m nobody and of no importance. It was you who told me that.”
Eredin: “Because that is the truth. You mean nothing. You are a tiny moth, which I can crush between my two fingers into silver powder. But if left alone, you can do irreparable damage to the most precious fabric. You are nothing. Nothing but annoying.”
They fight. When his health reaches zero, he knocks her sword out of her hand. The dialogue continues.
Eredin: ‘You dared to take up arms against me, Zireael. It’s too late to regret or forgive something like that. I will not kill you. But a few weeks in bed with bandages will do you good.’
Ciri: “Hold on. I want to say something else. I want to reveal a secret.”
Eredin: “What do you have to tell me? What pathetic secret?”
Ciri: “You will not fit under the bridge.”
Eredin’s head hits the bottom of the bridge, and he flies forward, losing his balance completely. Ciri stabs him in the thigh, just below the chainmail. He jumps overboard into the river and the waters close over him.
Ciri: “A few weeks in bed in bandages, will do you good.”
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The dream ends and Ge’el awakes.
Ge’el: He lied to me. He said you were the cause of our misfortune. He told me you killed Auberon. But it was him. Through negligence or malice. He lied to me. I owe him nothing. I will not kill my own kin. You must face him on your terms. In a place of your choosing. It is your only chance. Sail to Skellidge and find the Sunstone. With it, you will summon the Nagifar. Eredin will come too. Should he call for reinforcements. No Aen Elle will answer.
Avallac’h: You have done a thing must just.
The game continues as before.
