The Divine Hunter

you’re an interesting boy.”

Then Lytta extended the back of her hand to Roy.
Her skin was delicate, and her fingernails were polished with purple.
Roy wondered what she was getting at, then he realized she wanted him to kiss her hand.
He obliged.
It was only for a split second, but the sensation of her hand made his heart pound. Why’d she do that? Do I know her?

“That’s a good start.” Lytta looked satisfied.
“You may call me Coral.
Only my friends, close acquaintances, and those I like are allowed to call me that.
I think we will be working together quite happily for some time.”

“Working together?” Roy thought she phrased that weirdly, and he felt a chill when she looked at him.
It were as if she saw him as a test subject.
And a good one at that.

“Yes.
Didn’t Mother Nenneke tell you about it? I’ll aid you in your trial, while you will work with me on my research.
I need every detail of your body.” Her eyes gleamed, and she looked up in indulgence, as if she were imagining something grandiose.
“I have your scummy mentor and Mother Nenneke to thank for this.
Now, I have the chance to witness something not even sorcerers have — the Trial of the Grasses, hormonal control, undisclosed secrets about virus cultivation, and the famous secret recipe.”

She made it sound like a romantic story every woman longed to have, though Roy thought it was the crazy dream of a researcher.
“This is the dream of all sorcerers in the world.”

Roy gulped.
He had a feeling he’d unknowingly stepped foot into a trap.
He looked at Letho for help, but Letho looked surprised as well.
“Ahem, Miss Coral — ”

“You dare call my name, you savage?”

“Very well then, Miss Lytta Neyd.
I have to remind you that Roy has to pass the Trial before you can conduct any… experiments on him.”

“Well, that was unnecessary.” Lytta looked at Roy with great interest, then she went ahead, her chest bouncing.
Roy could feel the heat coming from her.

“I’ve read something about this.
In an era long past, a rogue sorcerer managed to cook up a potion that could cause mutations in the human body.
His successor improvised on that formula, and many years since then, it was that successor who controlled the mutation process with magic.
But somewhere in the middle, the legacy was lost, all that knowledge about magic and strength.
The witchers were left with the recipe and the trial.
They have the lab, and they do conduct the trial, but alas, they have no sorcerer to help them with it, and thus, the trial is equated to a death sentence.” She paused for a moment.
“But now that I am here, I shall not allow such transgression to happen.
I cannot allow a disciple to take in that half-baked decoction, for it means certain death.”

Letho turned away, as if remembering a painful past.

“I shall control the process with my magic, ensuring its precision.
Once again, I shall recreate the miracle Alzur and Cosimo performed in history.
I will make sure Roy does not suffer the ramifications of the mutations.
He shall be the perfect witcher.”

Alzur and Cosimo were the sorcerers who created witchers.
Legends had it they knew how to create the perfect witcher.

Roy’s indignance toward Coral was whittled down a bit when he realized she was serious about helping him.
“Um, Miss Lytta — ”

“Coral!”

“Right.
Miss Coral.
Do I have a chance to survive if I accept your help?”

“No questions.
You need my help.
You can’t reject me.” The sorceress was being pushy, but Roy couldn’t refuse her, not when she had a couple of big reasons.
He tried to look away, but Roy noticed he was locked in place by something.
All he could do was look into her eyes and fall for her temptation.

“Your chances of survival are greatly increased with my help.”

“Greatly increased, huh?” Roy stared down, his mind wandering back to that ever-important entrance exam.
His heart pounded furiously, as if it would burst out of his chest at any given moment.

He might have been confident about the trial before that, but when the time actually came, Roy actually felt nervous and panicky.
Roy looked at Letho solemnly.
“If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll go to Novigrad and take care of my parents for me.
Gwyhyr’s yours.”

“Boy.” Letho pressed down on his shoulder.
“You won’t die right at the beginning.
It’s a long process.”

“The witcher is right for once.
The trial is split into a few sections, and there are still a few potions you’ll need for it,” Coral said.
“You have enough time to write your will, so don’t worry.” Then she covered her mouth and giggled.
“Just kidding.
I’m not letting you die.”

Roy took a deep breath.
“Will I lose the ability to feel then? My emotions, I mean.
Will I go bald? Or will my hair turn white?”

“You’ll have to ask your mentor about that, but the recipe’s fine.
And with a pro like me by your side, you should be fine.
None of this will happen.
Probably.” She winked at him and crossed her arms.
“Enough talk.” She laughed.
“Now I need to check your body.”