As time passed, she found herself becoming accustomed to their treatment; learning how to please them and make their cruelty bearable. She even began to anticipate their arrival at night, her body craving the release that only their rough attentions could provide. It was a twisted sort of survival instinct, but it kept her going when all else seemed lost.

One morning, as she lay curled up on the dusty floor, too exhausted even to cry anymore, she heard footsteps approaching from outside. Her heart skipped a beat;

she whispered. They stopped in front of her, grinning down at her like predators about to pounce on their prey. "What's that?" one of them asked mockingly. "Cat got your tongue, little princess slut?" She swallowed hard, forcing herself not to look away from their hungry gazes.

"I am not your princess slut," she said through gritted teeth. "And I will never beg for anything from you or any other monster."

The pain was almost unbearable as they took her again; using her like some sort of animal, treating her like she was worth nothing. As the men came one after another inside her mouth and on her face, she forced herself to think about home; about everything that had been taken from her and all that she would have to work for if she ever hoped to get it back.

Finally, when they were done with her, they left her there on the floor, curled up into a ball and sobbing silent tears of rage and frustration.

The next morning, she was awoken by the sound of men arguing outside her door. "She's not here," one of them said, his voice trembling with fear. "We should go back and tell the soldiers."

"Are you sure?" another man asked, his voice equally shaky.

With a groan, she pushed herself up onto all fours, her body aching from head to toe. As she made her way slowly toward the door, she heard one of the men outside say, "We should search the village."

Her breath came in ragged gasps as he continued to pound into her. She tried not to think about what he was saying; the memories were too painful. Instead, she focused on the sensations he was creating within her body, reveling in the pleasure even as it brought back unwanted memories and feelings.

With a sudden thrust, he came inside her, filling her with his seed once more. She lay there, panting heavily, feeling drained but oddly satisfied despite everything.

Her body ached from the relentless pounding; every muscle protesting as he used her for his own pleasure. But she couldn't bring herself to stop him. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist and arched into each thrust, meeting his rhythm with a moan of encouragement.

As they moved together, the pain began to fade, replaced by a dull throbbing that was almost... enjoyable.

But Geralt merely shook his head. "Ciri," he began, his voice firm but gentle, "you don't understand. The Wild Hunt is getting closer with each passing day. They're going to find you eventually, and when they do..." He trailed off, not wanting to dwell on the horrors that were sure to follow.

"I can't let that happen," she insisted, her voice growing more determined. "Not again."

I know it's not easy to understand, but I have to try and face them on my own terms. The Wild Hunt took everything from me once, and I won't let them do it again. I can't just sit back and wait for the next time they come for me. It has to end with me.

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history and the uncertain future that lay ahead.