A warm misty breeze streamed through the halls of the keep. The weaving tendrils of frosty dew sang with a distant chorus of birds and flutes. It danced and weaved through the tendrils of time, hugging the side of stone statues as it wove through the opulent pearl marble of ancient halls.

“Eredin, what troubles you?” said a voice, as a black cloaked figure walked out of the concealing fog. He was tall and slender. Beautiful by the standards of lesser races. Wise in the way he held himself. Every movement was calculated and practiced as if commonly plotting. It is how he came to be known as The Fox.

“I'm becoming bored with Aen Seidhe.” said the other. Noble and proud, a warrior. His eyes carried the sight of a millenia worth of war but had not seen defeat, only the fulfillment of his will.

“I would not imagine you could get bored.” chuckled the other as he walked alongside his counterpart, clad in bristling armor of steel.

“It is possible, Crevan.” Eredin replied, rolling his eyes, “To think the difference of years between our world and theirs they might become more interesting after an afternoon's feast. But they as a whole haven't. Maybe Nilfgard does something of note and the Northern Kings butcher a few thousand dwarves of elves. But they are powerless moths dying by the dozens to the flame of my eternal candle. I merely visit, and they begin to war and riot.”

“Superstitious folk do superstitious things.” smiled Avallac'h, “But what of the Witcher Geralt?”

“It's been too long a repreive since he's done anything. And Ciri needs more time yet before the plot progresses. Nothing will happen until it's ready. It is destiny, you know it well. Auberon's body needs to cool more.”

“Then how about one ventures to a new one? If for a while” Avallac'h tempted, “You only need reach out to touch it.”

“This time you will not be involved?” asked Eredin.

“Why would I get in the way of the King of the Wild Hunt.” his partner smiled wryly, “Go on, and see who is out there.”

Eredin sighed, he stared into the depths of the cunning Crevan before letting out a long drawn sigh. “Very well.” he said, turning. “Let's see.” he added, reaching out through The Spheres.

--------------

The whisking magic of parting through the sea between the world snapped open, casting out into the warm salty air the ephemeral projection of Eredin. The towering skeletal rider sat atop his ghostly crimson steed, hands wrapped in tight leathery sinew around its reigns. His body dripped with the loose remains of flesh and muscle. His armor battered and worn. His crown twisted and pointed as it rose from his long skeletal face. At his side the jagged, broken sword of his trade hung.

From his perch in the clouds he gazed down at an island below, wrapped in the bosom of a sapphire ocean. Oceans of emerald green where stood forests lay nested in the golden trim of a long unbroken beach. Jagged stoney hills punctured the heart of the island. All seemed calm.

At first glance the island seemed empty. No buildings stood and no ships set sail from a port. He felt a tinge of doubt this is where he wanted to be. But other things said otherwise. There was life here, and he only needed to find it.

With a crack, he snapped the reigns against the side of his phantom steed and the horse shot into a fiery gallop across the sapphire sky. Its hooves cracking as it trailed the phantom remains of its own magic behind it, forming a tail of bloodied fire in it wake.

The hunt was on.