Kaer Morhen was a place of ghosts.
Even in the daylight, its walls seemed to hold the echo of screams, steel clashing, and spells whispered in forgotten tongues. The wind here didn't howl—it remembered.
Cain followed Geralt through the training yard's stone arch. The other boys had paused their sparring to glance over. Most looked away after a few seconds, but one boy kept watching.
Red hair like autumn fire. Green eyes that burned like spring.
He stood with relaxed posture, arms folded over a sleeveless tunic, a wooden sword tucked casually into a belt loop. The cold didn't seem to bother him. A small smile curved his lips—not mocking, but genuinely... friendly.
Geralt didn't speak. He simply gave Cain a small push toward the group and walked off toward the keep.
Cain swallowed, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward.
"You the new one?" the red-haired boy asked, voice calm and clear.
"Yeah," Cain replied. "Name's Cain."
The boy extended a hand without hesitation. "Callum."
Cain took it. The grip was firm.
"Don't mind the others," Callum said, gesturing to the trainees now pretending they hadn't been watching. "They'll be too sore to talk tomorrow anyway."
Cain blinked. "Why?"
Callum grinned. "Coën starts pain drills at sunrise."
They both laughed softly. That was when Cain felt it—the connection. The moment two boys, from two entirely different worlds, understood each other without saying much at all.
🔹 Later That Day – In the Training Yard
The sun dipped behind the mountains, casting the fortress in a curtain of shadow. Cain and Callum stood at the edge of the stone yard, sweat drying on their skin, tunics sticking to their backs.
The day's exercises had been grueling—balance drills, sword form correction, reflex challenges with blunted sticks—and Callum was the only one still standing beside Cain at the end.
No one else had kept pace.
Not the loud-mouthed dagger-flipper. Not the silent boy with the hawk-nose. Only Callum.
He was graceful in combat, but never showy. Every swing was calculated, precise. Every feint done with an instinct that couldn't be taught. But it was the way he helped the others up after beating them that stood out.
Cain watched as Callum handed a canteen to a winded boy and offered him a half-smile.
"You're strong," Cain finally said.
Callum looked over. "So are you."
"No—I mean really strong. Smart, too. You don't miss anything."
Callum chuckled. "Neither do you."
Cain tilted his head. "Where'd you come from?"
Callum hesitated, then shrugged. "My mother was a maid. My father was a lord who forgot he had a bastard until the mage came asking if he had any 'talented' children. Turns out he had two."
Cain raised an eyebrow.
Callum's eyes softened. "My twin sister—Calanthe. She was born with magic. Fire affinity, they think. She's training to be a sorceress under the Brotherhood of Sorcerers or something east of here."
Cain's mind raced. Fire affinity… Calanthe. If she survives that life, she'll be powerful. He made a mental note: never forget the names of sorceresses. Ever.
Callum leaned back on a stone post. "I was given a choice. Be a squire to a knight who didn't want me... or come here and make something of myself."
"You chose the path of monsters," Cain said, smirking.
Callum smirked back. "Weird, right? But here... I'm not a bastard. Just a boy with a sword. That's enough for me."
Cain went quiet.
Then he said, "I think we're gonna get each other killed."
Callum laughed. "Probably. But at least it'll be interesting."
[Quest Complete – "Bonds of Blood"]
You have formed a true connection with Callum.
Reward Unlocked:
– Trait Gained: "Brothers on the Path (Passive – Rare)"
When training, sparring, or fighting near Callum, you both gain:
+10% learning rate
+2% evasion and parry chance
"Some roads are too long to walk alone."
Cain didn't know it yet, but Callum wouldn't just be his training partner.
He would be his shield, his mirror, and eventually—his brother.
And when the Trial of the Grasses came?
They would walk into it together.
And one of them would scream for the other to live.