The witchers breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that Geralt was out of danger.
Vesemir was about to thank the aloof queen when Essena's gaze fell upon the serene Tyche.
After a long silence, Essena spoke, "Respected Maiya, I have no intention of prying into the purpose of your visit, but we have grown accustomed to our life here and no longer harbor illusions of returning to the Continent."
Tyche was not surprised. These dryads were no longer the same ones born on the Continent; they had been assimilated by this world. The dryads under the Blue Mountains covered themselves with fallen leaves and would absolutely not tolerate any harm to trees, their homes even being woven from vines.
The dryads here, however, wore linen dresses, not to mention their treetop dwellings. Looking at the treatment Queen Essena received, it was clear that the world's consciousness had invested heavily in her.
"This is your choice, and I have no intention of interfering."
Tyche never believed that assuming the identity of Maiya would allow her to arbitrarily demand things from the dryads. Time could erode many things, and as a deity, Tyche felt this deeply. It was enough to surprise Tyche that the old dryads still held firm to their belief in returning home. How much attachment could these dryads, who had never seen the Continent, have for a homeland that existed only in stories?
"Do the elves of the Valley of a Hundred Flowers feel the same?"
Essena nodded slightly, offering no further explanation.
Upon opening the portal again and returning to Kaer Morhen, they found an unconscious Geralt and the sorceress Triss.
Geralt's injuries were no longer critical; he only needed time to recover. Triss, on the other hand, sought out Tyche, who had nothing pressing to do, to discuss magic.
It wasn't the first time the sorceress had visited Kaer Morhen, and she couldn't overlook such obvious changes. Upon learning that Tyche was responsible for all of it, she immediately set Geralt aside and asked Tyche to teach her how to perform such powerful shapeshifting magic.
Tyche also had the idea of spreading the faith of the magic goddess in this world. The two hit it off immediately, and Tyche, in the name of Mysriel, introduced Triss to the existence of the magic network and spell slots.
The methods used by sorcerers in this world were not particularly advanced. Apart from the elven sages who possessed nearly eternal life, other races' spellcasters, despite having significantly longer lifespans due to the erosion of magical energy, ultimately succumbed to the ravages of aging and death. Although they could transform into monsters like specters after death, these spellcasters were unwilling to accept the loss of their self-awareness or other side effects. Therefore, most sorcerers clung to power and sensory pleasures, serving the nobility.
The bodies of sorcerers were not much different from ordinary people, not even comparable to a trained soldier. Diseases, infected wounds, or even a stray arrow could threaten their lives.
Triss, soaking in the hot spring, spoke with a hint of dejection, "My potions are considered top-tier among sorceresses, yet I am allergic to magic. I can barely use any potions or most amulets."
"The fire element is particularly fond of you; they are expressing their displeasure in this way."
Tyche stirred the water, smiling as she comforted the dejected Triss.
Sorceresses were truly suitable conversation partners. The gentle Triss did not possess the arrogance common to most spellcasters. She was genuinely kind, and in Tyche's opinion, she deserved to meet someone better than getting entangled between Geralt and Yennefer, bearing a disreputable reputation.
"Can you contact the others from the Conclave of Sorceresses?"
Tyche thought that since one sheep was as good as another, she might as well make the magic network public. As long as someone used a spell slot, a portion of their mental energy would connect to the core of the magic network, Mysriel, thus aiding her awakening and saving Tyche time.
Triss's long brown hair floated in the water as she looked at Tyche with some surprise.
"I can contact some of them, but they might not be in the mood to communicate with you."
The coup on Thanedd Island had destroyed the sorcerers' credibility, and most sorcerers had become fugitives, leading to an unprecedented surge in the activities of witch hunters. With the support of the lords, they hunted down the once-lofty sorcerers.
Upon arriving at Triss's residence, the sorceress began setting up the scrying mirror to contact her peers. Most of the proud sorceresses responded to Triss's call, but they lacked sufficient trust in Tyche, whom they had never met.
Philippa Eilhart directly shut off the scrying mirror. This sorceress was extremely proud and did not believe the novel and powerful magic that Triss spoke of. The sorceresses then departed one by one, leaving only Keira Metz, Ida Emean, and Francesca to embrace the new magic.
The latter two were curious due to Tyche Maiya's identity. They had the blood of the Continent flowing through them and were somewhat intrigued by the spellcasting system from a distant world. As for the former, it was entirely due to Triss's personal credibility.
There was one sorceress who could not be contacted – Yennefer, who was reportedly searching for her adopted daughter, Ciri, and was temporarily unavailable.
Tyche wasted no words and summoned the four sorceresses together through a dream.
The connection through the scrying mirror could not be maintained for too long, and there were discrepancies between the projected and real images, making it unsuitable for teaching.
In the bright underwater temple, the sorceresses appeared one after another. Triss, looking at the schools of fish swimming before her, couldn't help but reach out to touch the separating water curtain. The agile fish turned and swam away, quickly disappearing from Triss's sight.
The magic network connected with the four sorceresses, and some spell models were captured by their already extraordinary mental power, which they were attempting to fill with magic and release.
Tyche sat quietly, a gentle breeze brushing past her hair, the grass beneath her rustling. The water curtain receded, and the scene shifted to the grassy ground. The clouds in the sky began to move rapidly, and the projections under the sunlight flickered.
The sounds of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of insects, and a heavy heartbeat merged together, forming a beautiful melody, as if telling of some kind of order.
In an instant, the sorceresses felt a strange sense of joy. They were all powerful sorcerers with naturally keen senses. The colorful energy flows were almost visible, weaving through trees, water, and wind, circulating and converging into a large net.
The chaotic and violent magical energy became docile. The sorceresses felt as if even the air had become clearer. They stopped trying to probe the essence of this great net and savored the peace in this long-lost comfort.