a witcher story

Author's Note: This chapter will include a small time skip to when Aelric is six years old. As you may have gathered from chapters one and two, the orphanage is not as it seems. Throughout the story, I will provide warnings should you wish to skip a chapter or not read the story at all. Now, let's begin.

Aelric was not like the other children at the orphanage. While they spent their days shouting and playing with one another, he remained in his room, immersed in books. The yellowed pages of old tomes and journals were his sanctuary, offering an escape from the noise and chaos that filled the halls.

He rarely spoke unless necessary, and even then, his words were carefully chosen. For someone his age, he was incredibly intelligent, his curiosity boundless and his questions pointed. It was this intellect that kept the younger children at arm's length. They didn't understand him, and children often feared what they couldn't understand. To them, Aelric was an outcast, the strange boy with too many questions and too few answers.

You might wonder if the older children treated Aelric the same way as the younger ones. That's a good question, and the answer is rather strange. You see, the older children did not treat him as an outcast. However, there was a peculiar reason for this, there were no older children.

At least, none past the age of thirteen ever stayed.

Once the children turned fourteen, they vanished without a trace.

Aelric had noticed this pattern. He was always watching and listening. When a child reached fourteen, there was no celebration, no farewell. One day they were there, and the next, they were gone.

All the children had questions; they weren't stupid just incredibly naive. They knew that the disappearances were extremely suspicious, so they all asked the caretakers and nuns one question, What happened to the children when they turned fourteen?

The answer they received was always the same: once they turned fourteen, they were all adopted.

But Aelric wasn't convinced.

Adoption sounded like a convenient answer, but it didn't add up. He had never seen anyone come to adopt a child no visitors, no families looking for sons or daughters to take home. The other children seemed to accept the explanation, clinging to it as a source of hope. After all, what other fate could they dream of? But Aelric's sharp mind refused to let it go.

If they were being adopted, why did it happen in silence? Why were there no goodbyes, no smiles or laughter as they left?

He spent his nights staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with questions that had no answers. The orphanage was too quiet at night, the kind of quiet that made his skin crawl. And then there were the rules, strict, absolute, and never to be broken.

The biggest rule of all, no one was allowed outside after dark.

It was an unspoken law, drilled into the children from the moment they arrived. The heavy iron gates were locked every evening, and the nuns would patrol the halls, their lanterns casting long, flickering shadows. Aelric had heard stories of what happened to those who broke the rule.

No one had ever seen them again.

One evening, as Aelric sat in his usual spot by the window, the faint glow of the setting sun casting golden light across the room, Clara walked in. She was twelve now, her small frame thinner than it had been the year before, and her bright eyes had grown duller.

"Do you think it's true?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aelric turned to her, his book resting on his lap. "What's true?"

"That they all get adopted."

He hesitated. Clara had always been one of the few children who didn't treat him like an outsider. She had a quiet strength about her, the kind that made him feel a little less alone. He didn't want to upset her, but he also couldn't lie.

"No, I don't think so," he said finally which made Clara stare at him in a mixture of fear and Curiosity.

"So what happens to us once we turn fourteen then?" she asked sitting near him holding her knees close to her chest.

"That's what I want to find out," Aelric said, his voice steady.

"How?" she asked, her voice trembling, though her eyes were filled with determination.

Aelric hesitated, looking at her sadly. He didn't want to say it, but deep down, they both knew there was no other way.

"You're twelve already," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You're the eldest of all of us. That means you have two years before you turn fourteen."

Clara's face fell, the weight of his words sinking in. She stared at him, her lips parting as realization dawned. "You want me to be the bait, don't you?"

Aelric's silence was answer enough.

"And if I do get… adopted, you want me to come back for you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aelric nodded, guilt etched across his face. "If they take you, you'll have a chance to see what's going on. And maybe just maybe you can find a way to help us. To help everyone and if you do get adopted then it's a happy end for us after all.

Clara clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "And what if I can't come back? What if—"

"I'll find you," Aelric interrupted, his voice firm. "No matter what, I'll find you."

Clara looked at him for a long moment, her emotions swirling between fear, anger, and reluctant acceptance. "You're asking a lot of me, Aelric," she said finally. "But… I'll do it. For all of us."

Aelric reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I promise, Clara. I won't let you face this alone."

Clara nodded, though tears glistened in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, unwilling to let him see her cry. "Just promise me one thing, Aelric. Promise me you'll keep looking for answers until then."

"I promise," he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty that gnawed at his heart.

Neither of them spoke after that. The weight of their plan hung heavy in the air, unspoken but understood. They were just children, yet the burden they carried was far beyond their years.

As Clara slipped away into the shadows of the orphanage, Aelric returned to his spot by the window, staring out at the moonlit grounds.

Two years. That's all they had. Two years to prepare for whatever lay ahead