Welcome to Kaer Morhen

A stable full of wolves and echoes

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"Some scars don't fade. They grow quiet."
— Dried ink on old stable walls

This is the old keep — rebuilt from frost and dust.
No banners, no fanfare. Just wind, wood, and horses.
You may find names you recognize here:
Ciri runs wild. Geralt never rests.
Yennefer doesn't answer to anyone. Triss leaves no hoofprints.

I've returned after many winters.
The world is not as it was.
Back then, we raced for apples, not divine potions.
We traded foals, not fragments of some celestial Pegasus.
Now I stare at buttons I do not know the names of.

But I remember.
I remember the still nights of breeding charts,
the calm thrill of a freshly born colt.
I remember the game before it knew what it would become.
And somehow, I still ride.

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