Medallion in the Bog

Gwynbleidd… White Wolf… The stones of Kaer Morhen remember my name, but not my warmth Vesemir’s fire is ash; the Path feels hollow and long Steel for men, silver for monsters—grief cuts deeper than both Quen cracks, Igni fades, and sparks drown in the fog Axii can’t charm the past to stay, Yrden can’t snare the clock Your swallow flew to a door beyond Undvik’s sky You faced the Frost so our world could breathe, and you paid the price I taught you to read the reeds and moonlit tracks But doubt was the beast I failed to hack Hold! I should’ve let you lead that night Instead I held too tight White Frost never claimed this world—your courage did the claiming The swallow’s song went silent so the rest could keep singing Crookback night answers with a crow and a fog‑blind dog A wolf grips a medallion, kneeling in the bog Zireael… I carry what you left me to carry Eredin’s crown fell to brine and steel on Skellige spray But victory tastes of iron when you’re far away I followed the stench of rot to the Crones’ reed‑bound lair Weavess bled shadows; I took back the wolf that you wore there Whispess, Brewess—your thorns I sever Bring out the hearts you hoarded; I’m done being clever If fate is a tapestry, then cut me from its skein I’ll pay with my own skin to buy her name again The hut breathes rot; drowners ring the door like bells My medallion hums—every tooth in the dark compels Aard cracks timber; Igni spits, but the night drinks the flame What witcher sign turns back blame? None—only the name White Frost never claimed this world The swallow’s song fell quiet so the Path could keep ringing Crookback night answers with a crow as the claws press on A wolf grips a medallion in the bog till the dawn If destiny is a blade, let it break on me and be gone If  destiny is a blade, let it break on me and be gone White Wolf walks where the cattails bow, and no one knows Only a medallion… and the mire that holds our oaths