The change came slowly at first—so slowly that many mistook it for the ordinary passage of time. The air turned sharp, the skies dimmed faster than usual, and the wind carried with it a howling that wasn't quite natural. It was as if the world itself had begun to hold its breath.
Liam stood on the battlements of Kaer Morhen as the sun dipped low. The distant peaks vanished behind curling frost-mist that clung to the sky like a smothering veil. It wasn't a natural cold—no, this was something else entirely. This was the breath of another realm.
Yennefer appeared beside him, her cloak billowing in the wind as she frowned toward the horizon. Without a word, she opened her hand, revealing two staffs, and Liam did the same as he summoned his own staff.
"They're coming," she said.
"Time to vanish." Liam gave a curt nod.
Together, they raised their hands. The magic from the staffs, intertwining mid-air in a spiral of blue and violet light. A hum of arcane energy rippled through the courtyard. The warriors, who had assembled below—Steve, Natasha, Geralt, Letho, Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel—glanced up as the magic washed over them.
The aurora from the previous night had vanished, swallowed by dark clouds that churned without direction. Snow began to fall—not gently, but like razors, each flake heavy with unnatural frost. The temperature plummeted as though the White Frost itself were reaching through a crack in reality.
One by one, their forms shimmered and began to fade from view. Not fully invisible—but translucent, flickering in the light like mirages. They would be shadows in motion—undetectable until they struck.
"This is a cloak, not a shield," Yennefer reminded them all as her voice carried through the courtyard. "Strike, and you'll be seen. Move, and you'll be hidden. Use your heads."
"Fancy magic," Tony said from a balcony above, adjusting the final settings on a shoulder-mounted cannon now embedded into the stone itself. "Good thing I rigged a bunch of automated toys to stay visible. Might make the ghosts think twice."
Turrets had been installed on every tower, sleek and metallic with rotating heads and glowing lenses. They were linked to a central core Tony had built—an AI-controlled system capable of targeting spectral movement and reacting faster than any man could. The battlements were laced with silver-wire trip lines, enchanted by Yennefer and reinforced with Vibranium threading to disrupt ethereal forms.
The Great Hall had been converted into a command center. Projected maps, communication crystals, and Stark tech displays merged arcane and scientific knowledge seamlessly. JARVIS coordinated with everyone, updating constantly with any shift in the field.
"Multiple temporal fluctuations detected, Sir. Radius: 500 meters and expanding. Estimated four active rifts in the surrounding valley. Recommend immediate engagement."
Geralt stood by the table, eyes narrowing at the glowing points on the map. "Time to split up."
"We'll take the eastern ridge," Vesemir said without hesitation. Beside him, Steve Rogers and Natasha nodded, joined by Eskel. "Plenty of cover. Good place to flank anything that tries to get clever."
"I'll take the southern slope," Geralt said. "There's a portal near the old ruins. Letho, Lambert—you're with me."
"Looks like I'm on backup duty," Tony muttered, watching their markers move across the display. "JARVIS, activate perimeter sync. Any spike in spectral resonance, I want to know."
With no further ceremony, the two teams activated their cloaks and vanished one by one, fading into the haze like whispers.
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Southern Slope – Geralt's Team
"There," Letho said, pointing toward a flickering tear in the air. The rift was jagged, suspended between two half-collapsed stone pillars from long time ago, exuding frost that blackened the bark of nearby trees.
"Yrden, on me." Geralt stepped forward, while still invisible.
He slammed his palm down, the rune erupting beneath their feet. Lambert mirrored the motion, casting his own slightly farther down the path. The signs pulsed in tandem, forming a circle of suppression. This closed the portal, but it also made them visible.
Wild Hunt warriors and hounds that had come from the portal before, attacked them. Letho was the first to act as he cleaved a hound into two.
"Come on, you black bastards," he growled, swinging his blade again.
Geralt and Lambert flanked him, taking down three more. For the first time they saw the power of their new blades. And suffice to say, it gave them immense courage and excitement. A surge of ice magic came from behind to sneak attack them but Letho showed up with Quen and staved the attack off, which came from a hound of the Wild Hunt.
"Damn, the blade. Tell that cheeky Stark that he ain't get this blade back. Ever." Letho replied. He was sure that his Quen sign wasn't as good. And it was because of the magical elements of the blade that it became so powerful.
"We can have this discussion later. Let's move," Geralt said.
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Eastern Ridge – Vesemir's Team
They were slower—Steve and Natasha's caution slowed their advance. But their team moved with precision. Eskel scouted ahead, invisible until he motioned them toward a cleft in the ridge.
"There's one just ahead," he whispered. "It's… big."
The portal here was twice the size of the southern one. Shadows writhed inside, and the cold was unbearable even with magical resistance. Frost coated their weapons. Vesemir didn't waste time.
"Lay down traps. Steve, Natasha—stay on the outer circle. Let us draw them out."
Natasha readied a compact Stark-tech bomb infused with runes. She'd named it the "Ghost Grenade."
"Hope this works," she muttered, lobbing it into the portal.
It detonated mid-air, unleashing a pulse that destabilized the opening. The Wild Hunt hounds screamed. That's when Vesemir struck, sign blazing to life.
Eskel followed up with a perfect Quen shield and steel to the gut of one of the warriors. Steve used his shield to guard Natasha as she helped Vesemir on his attack on the portal while also fighting against the Warriors.
Two Warriors in full black armor appeared with long spears on their hands.
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