The Tower of Swallows (The Witcher, #4)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

Brisingamen, the sacred jewel of Modron Freyja, was no longer hanging around the goddess’s neck. It was lying at her feet.

For I think, Ciri, that you are the chosen one.”

“Forgive me,” Triss Merigold said hollowly. “Forgive me, Yennefer.” “Oh, no, Triss. Never.”

“Winter’s coming.”

“Now you leave my convictions alone, Vysogota. I know what I have to do! I’m a witcher!” “You’re an unstable young person!” he exploded. “You’re a child who’s been through traumatic experiences; a damaged child on the verge of a nervous breakdown. And more than that, you’re sick with a craving for revenge! Blinded by a lust for retribution! Don’t you understand that?”

“And so it’s an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth? Blood for blood? And for that blood, more blood? A sea of blood? Do you want to drown the world in blood? O naive, damaged girl! Is that how you mean to fight evil, little witcher?”

“I’m just a legend,” she said bitterly. “Have been since my birth. Zireael, the Swallow, the Unexpected Child. The Chosen One. The Child of Destiny. The Child of the Elder Blood.

“If you do exist, protect the witcher girl on the road!”

Rience, naturally, could not answer.