The drawing room remained quiet after the memory faded. The last traces of mountain wind and distant pine forests vanished from the air, leaving only the warm summer sunlight filtering through the tall windows of Silverthorne Manor. Theron Rowan's diary lay open on the table, its worn pages filled with the life of a man who had belonged to two worlds and never fully fit into either. The Witcher medallion resting against Mira's Silverthorne Constellation Choker seemed unusually still now, as though satisfied that its owner had witnessed that particular memory. Around the room, everyone remained thoughtful. Even Caelum had stopped turning pages in the creature journals. There was something sobering about seeing Theron as a person rather than merely a historical figure. He had not been a legend in that memory. He had simply been a tired man carrying grief that never fully left him.
Draco's attention eventually returned to the medallion itself. Throughout the entire memory, he had found himself watching it almost as much as the people within the echo. It looked deceptively simple at first glance. Just a silver wolf's head hanging from a chain. Yet every time they learned something new about Theron, the object seemed to gain another layer of meaning. It was no longer merely a piece of jewelry or a family heirloom. It had been worn through battles, hunts, losses, and decades of survival. It had witnessed seventy years of another world.
Draco leaned slightly forward in his chair and looked at Mira, "So what exactly does it do?"
The question immediately drew everyone's attention back toward the medallion.
Mira gently touched the wolf's head resting against her collarbone. The metal felt cool beneath her fingertips. She opened Theron's diary and found one of the entries she had marked earlier. Several pages had been dedicated entirely to explaining the purpose of Witcher medallions. Theron had apparently written them with future readers in mind. Almost as though he had expected someone unfamiliar with Witchers to discover his journals one day.
Mira glanced down at the page before speaking, "According to Theron, the medallion is both a symbol and a tool."
Draco nodded slowly, "A tool how?"
Mira carefully turned the diary toward him, "It was given to Witcher candidates after they survived something called the Trial of the Grasses."
Several people in the room visibly grimaced.
After learning what that trial involved, nobody liked hearing its name.
Mira continued, "The medallion acted as proof that they survived." Her voice softened slightly, "Which was apparently considered an achievement in itself."
Alaric frowned, "Surviving a process that kills children should never be considered an achievement."
Nobody disagreed.
Not even Lucius.
The room fell quiet for a moment before Mira continued reading, "The first purpose was detection."
Draco tilted his head, "Detection?"
Mira nodded, "The medallions react to magic."
Now everyone seemed interested.
She traced a finger along one of Theron's notes.
"They vibrate."
The room blinked.
"They what?"
"They vibrate," Mira repeated, "They can pull against their chains." She tapped another line, "And sometimes hum."
Nyx looked intrigued, "What causes it?"
"Active magic." Mira began counting on her fingers, "Spells, curses, illusions, magical creatures, monster magic and the presence of supernatural phenomena."
The room grew thoughtful.
Draco looked down at the medallion, "So it's basically a magical alarm."
Mira nodded, "More or less."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly, "A remarkably practical enchantment."
"It saved Witchers' lives." Mira smiled faintly, "Theron mentions that several times."
The old Headmaster nodded thoughtfully.
That made perfect sense.
A monster hunter who could sense danger before seeing it would naturally survive longer than one who couldn't.
The medallion suddenly seemed less decorative and considerably more useful.
Mira continued, "The second purpose was an early-warning system."
Draco immediately noticed the distinction, "That's different from detecting magic?"
"A little." She nodded, "The first purpose tells them something magical is nearby. The second warns them when something dangerous is nearby."
Alaric crossed his arms, "Even if they haven't identified the threat yet."
She smiled, "Exactly."
Theron had apparently considered this one of the medallion's greatest strengths.
A Witcher could walk into a village and immediately know something felt wrong before anyone explained the situation.
The medallion would react first.
Then the Witcher would investigate.
However—
Mira flipped another page, "There were exceptions."
Draco frowned, "What kind of exceptions?"
Mira read directly from the diary, "Certain highly evolved monsters."
Everyone listened.
"Higher vampires, dopplers, and other creatures capable of hiding their true nature." Mira glanced up, "Theron specifically notes that medallions couldn't always detect them."
Lucius looked mildly disturbed, "So the most dangerous creatures were the hardest to identify."
"Apparently." Mira confirmed.
The room became thoughtful again.
Because that sounded unpleasantly familiar.
Many dangerous things throughout history had relied upon appearing harmless.
Theron's world seemed no different.
Draco's gaze eventually drifted back to the wolf-shaped design, "You said there were three purposes."
Mira smiled, "The third was symbolic."
Now even Isolde looked interested.
Mira carefully lifted the medallion so everyone could see it clearly.
"The shape represented which Witcher School someone belonged to."
The room immediately leaned in.
Because this was something Theron had described extensively.
"There wasn't only one school." Mira explained.
Draco blinked, "There were more?"
"Oh yes." Mira turned several pages, "Quite a few."
She began reading.
"The School of the Wolf."
The medallion glimmered softly in her hand.
"They were considered adaptable."
Theron's notes described them as generalists.
Capable of handling almost anything.
Monsters.
Bandits.
Politics.
Chaos.
Unexpected situations.
"They were trained to survive whatever they walked into."
Alaric smiled slightly, "Practical."
Mira nodded, "Theron seemed proud of that." She turned another page, "The School of the Cat."
Several illustrations accompanied this section.
Sleek armor.
Light weapons.
Fast movements.
"They were known for agility and ruthlessness."
Snape raised an eyebrow, "An unfortunate combination."
The room chuckled quietly.
Mira continued, "The School of the Griffin."
Now Dumbledore looked particularly interested.
"They focused heavily on magic." She pointed toward one illustration, "Signs."
"What are Signs?" Draco asked.
"Small magical techniques. Not full spells. More like magical combat tools."
The explanation earned several thoughtful nods.
"The School of the Bear."
Caelum immediately liked those.
The illustrations showed enormous warriors wrapped in heavy armor.
"They specialized in endurance, defense and surviving impossible situations."
Caelum grinned, "I like them."
Nobody looked surprised.
The giant-sized young man looked as though he belonged among them.
Mira turned another page, "The School of the Viper."
Immediately the illustrations became sharper.
Deadlier.
More dangerous.
"They specialized in assassinations, dual-blade combat and stealth."
Nyx quietly smiled.
Korrin laughed, "That sounds like you."
The vampire hybrid did not deny it.
Finally Mira reached the last school Theron described in detail.
"The School of the Manticore."
The accompanying sketches looked distinctly different.
Foreign.
Elegant.
Unfamiliar.
"They were associated with far-eastern combat styles." She glanced toward Oathbreaker and Gravebright's sketches, "And advanced alchemy."
The room absorbed the information quietly.
Each school felt like an entirely different philosophy.
Different approaches to the same purpose.
Different paths through the same dangerous world.
Eventually Draco's attention shifted toward the swords.
Or rather—
toward the absence of them.
Because both currently rested inside Mira's Vaelori Conduit.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Alright."
He pointed toward her bracelet.
"What about the swords?"
Mira laughed softly.
She had expected that question.
"The answer is actually simpler."
Draco looked relieved.
Finally.
Something straightforward.
Mira opened another section of the diary, "Witchers carried two swords." She paused, "For two different kinds of enemies."
Draco frowned, "Why not use one?"
Mira smiled, "Because monsters aren't humans."
That immediately captured everyone's attention.
She continued, "The steel sword was for people."
Draco blinked, "People?"
"Bandits, soldiers, animals and normal creatures." She pointed toward one of Theron's diagrams, "Steel handles armor and weapon impacts better. It doesn't damage as easily."
Alaric nodded.
That made sense.
Simple practicality.
Then Mira turned the page.
"The silver sword was for monsters."
The room quieted.
Even now, the silver blade felt different somehow.
Gravebright carried a presence that Oathbreaker did not.
Mira's voice softened, "Silver was toxic to many supernatural creatures."
She traced the old notes carefully.
"It disrupted magical biology. Damaged unnatural creatures. Made it easier to fight things that ordinary weapons couldn't hurt."
Draco absorbed the explanation, "Vampires?"
Mira nodded, "Some. Werewolves, specters, curses and various monsters."
The room fell silent again.
Then Mira smiled faintly.
"There is one thing Theron mentions repeatedly, though."
Everyone looked toward her.
"He didn't enjoy killing."
That surprised no one after seeing the memory.
She glanced toward the diary.
"Whenever a creature was cursed rather than truly monstrous..."
Her fingers lingered on the page.
"He tried to save them."
The room grew quiet.
Alaric smiled.
Elarisse's expression softened.
Even Snape looked less severe.
Because somehow—
that sounded exactly like a Silverthorne.
Not a monster hunter seeking glory.
Not a killer seeking violence.
A healer.
Someone trying to save what could still be saved.
Mira looked down at the wolf medallion resting against her choker.
For a brief moment, she imagined Theron standing beneath the memorial tree.
Remembering names.
Remembering faces.
Refusing to stop caring despite everything he had endured.
And somehow she found herself smiling.
Because after seventy years in another world, through monsters and battles and tragedy, Theron Rowan had apparently never forgotten the same lesson the Silverthornes lived by.
Protect when you can.
Heal when you're able.
And never stop seeing the person behind the curse.
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