What feeling? She is gonna rule Nilfgaard from Pondar to Yaruga...
When the north falls and Radovid's head is served on a platter, she will be the Queen of the continent.
โI am hanging in there.โ
She spoke softly with a shrug of her shoulders as the events from the past few months of her on her own run through her head.
Threats were the language of a man who still believed fear could force destiny. I spoke them. I regret the necessity, not the intent.
Radovid is a fiend, yes. A rabid dog burning everything that smells of magic or defiance. I am the blade that ends him.
The witch-hunters are Radovidโs dogs, Ciri. Their pyres, their chains, their fanatic howl. Not mine.
I do not burn women for the gift in their veins. The Lodge walks free south of the Yaruga because I will it.
Begging is for the powerless, Ciri. You were never meant to be powerless.
Bloodshed is the price of peace. The North drowns its own in pyres while preaching virtue. Nilfgaard spills blood once, cleanly, so the Continent may breathe without witch hunters at every door.
Then deny me, Ciri. Deny the blood.
But you will not deny the world. The witch hunters sharpen their stakes for elder blood. The Lodge circles like vultures. The North devours its own. It will be iron, and the key will be thrown into Radovidโs pyres.
You do not remember because I made certain you would not. The curse, the hedgehog mask, the years I spent as Duny in Cintraโs court.
I claimed you then as a father by right of blood and promise. I claim you now as an emperor by right of destiny.