Geralt could feel something wasn't right about this isle. And he was pretty sure it had more to do than the amount of drowners, necrophages, and wraiths he'd killed since arriving. Using the lamp Kiera had given him, he was able to find several harmless spirits that seemed to be reliving the day they died. Turned out the villagers hadn't come to beg for food as Kiera had been told, but to murder their lord. Geralt went through the abandoned village that nature was well on its way to reclaiming, and headed to the tower at the center of the isle.

Inside, he saw the place was crawling with rats.

"Where's that noble?"

Geralt turned the lamp towards the voice, seeing the ghosts of a couple of the villagers.

"Lying here, quiet as a mouse, head split open like a rotten pumpkin."

"More like a peasant, sloshin' around in his own blood and shite. Be nothin' noble 'bout him. Too quick a death they gave him. Should've made him suffer."

"He's not the end of it. Sons can suffer for 'im. And the daughter! To the top!" They disappeared and Geralt headed up the stairs, where he found the ghosts of Vserad and his daughter.

"Don't start, Anabelle," he said. "Back to your crafts! Always bending my ear about fool peasants! I'll not hear of them again! That simpleton turned your head! But one Graham hardly makes the rest courtly, one and all."

Another ghost ran in. "My lord! Peasants! They're through the door, in the tower!" They, too, disappeared.

As he continued to climb the tower, he noticed the torches, candles, and fireplaces seemed to be lighting themselves.

"Gooooold!" a voice cried, excitedly. "Piles of it! Won't do the dead any good, will it?" A ghost was going through chests in a room. "Strange it's still here. The noble died a time ago."

Geralt realized this was the ghost of a scavenger.

The ghost turned, looking around. "Who's that? Show yourself! Anyone there? Who... who are you?" Then he suddenly screamed and disappeared.

Setting the lamp on the table, Geralt crouched next to the body on the floor. While every other body looked like it had been here a while, the one looked fresher, maybe a week or two old.

"Wonder what killed him," Geralt muttered.

Geralt finally reached the top of the tower, cursing himself for agreeing to this. Kiera's voice came from the xenovox, a contraption that allowed her to speak to Geralt across the distance, breaking the silence.

"Where are you? Have you got to the laboratory at the top of the tower yet?"

"I'm at the top. Nothing here that looks like a laboratory."

"Then you have not reached the highest level. Look for a passage."

Using his Witcher senses, he soon found evidence of the passageway, before finding the mechanism to open the door. He walked up the stairs and found the laboratory Kiera spoke of. He was amazed at how well equipped it was. Across the room was another ghost, who looked to be crying.

"Why did you leave?" she asked. "I thought you loved me. I'm cold. Why has no one come for me? I cannot leave this place, I see no way out." She looked over at Geralt. "Who are you? Do you seek to hurt me as well?" She walked over to him.

Geralt could sense something was different about her, not just for the fact that she seemed to be aware that he was there, but for the fact his medallion was vibrating on his chest.

"I'm a Witcher," he said. "I wanna lift the curse that grips this place. Your turn to tell me who you are. The other ghosts couldn't see me."

"I'm special. Always was. The rare beauty. The lord's daughter. These lands, as far as the eye can see, were ours. My family and I, we hid in the mage's tower, to await the war's end, the end of hard times. It was not to be forever!"

"The mage who lived here? Who was he?"

"Alexander. I hardly knew him. He spent most of his time locked away in this tower. He's dead, too, you know! They're all dead! Mountains of corpses! Yet I stand here alone! All alone! They've all abandoned me! Even he who promised me everlasting love. You will abandon me as well!"

"If I can lift the curse, you yourself will be free to leave. Tell me what happened here. Peasants sailed to the island to ask for food. Is that true?"

"No, they came to rob and kill. They thought us rich, believed we'd stowed ourselves away here to laugh at their misery. Yet we had little food as well. Too little to share with those who came. They slaughtered everyone. I heard my father cry out, but the mage told me not to reveal myself or let anyone in." Anabelle hugged herself. "He gave me a potion. If I was discovered, I was to drink it. He said everything would be all right."

"What kind of potion? Remember its smell, what it looked like?"

Anabelle shook her head. "I remember only I feared to drink it."

"Didn't trust the mage?"

"In the village, they claimed he meddled in disease. Not curing it, but causing it. They said he lured the rats into the tower, infected them with the Catriona."

The Catriona was a plague that had been running rampant on the Continent before Geralt's deadly encounter with a peasant mob in Rivia.

"Only rumors, surely. But I was afraid, so horribly afraid." Anabelle started to cry again. "Then I heard him," she sobbed. "My beloved Graham. He called to me. I opened the door for him, but others rushed in. They lunged at me and... and." She gave a ragged breath.

"Your beloved failed to save you. Why?"

"There were too many. 'Leave her be,' he cried. He grabbed them, tried to stop them. They just laughed."

"Did they hurt you?"

"They gripped my arms, tore my dress. I managed to free myself and drink the potion, then... nothing."

"Poisoned? That how you died?"

"No, for later I awoke. I was alone. It was dark. Only there were rats... everywhere. Dozens. Hundreds. And I couldn't move."

"Sleeping potion. Effects hadn't worn off yet and you were paralyzed."

Anabelle nodded. "They were everywhere, all over me. My face, my hands. I felt them rip into me. They tore me apart and I could not even scream." She hugged herself again and gave a strangled sob. "Have I not suffered enough?!" she screamed. "Why can't I leave this place?!"

"Can you talk to the other specters?"

"No, they flee when they see me. I don't know why." Anabelle then looked at Geralt curiously. "You do not fear me, do you?"

"No. I'm used to dealing with ghosts. Though... gotta admit, there's something different about you. You're different. Found a fresh corpse on the way up here. What monster hunts here?"

"There are no monsters here. Just ghosts."

"No ghost did that to him. Ghosts don't leave marks like that."

"Why do you keep asking me questions? I thought you were to be my savior!"

Geralt sighed. "What can I do to help you?"

"A curse born of hatred binds me to this place. Only love's power can hope to lift it, but who would love a wraith?"

"And your beloved? He dead, too?"

"Graham? No, he lives. I would know if he died. But he fled and abandoned me! Left me here all alone!"

"Maybe you could strip the curse yourself by forgiving him. You might cleanse the island."

"Oh, Graham. I miss him so. He was a fisherman's son and my father strongly objected. Each night I walk to the island's shore to gaze upon the village. Does he remember me still?"

Suspicion crept into Geralt's mind, an idea on why Anabelle's ghost was so different from the others. "You said earlier you can't leave the tower."

"Did I? You must have misheard."

"Would be the first time."

"I... I don't know anymore. It's all a nightmare to me."

"As I see it, you're the curse's focus. The other ghosts, their auras aren't nearly as strong as yours. My medallion started pulsating as soon as we started talking."

"I don't know what you mean, but you seem to know some things. You could be right," she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "My fate is tied to this isle, I feel that. Perhaps because I'm heiress to these lands?"

"It could be your blood ties to the land, the base of the curse, that is. If so, forgiving Graham, laying your resentment to rest, should lift it."

Anabelle paused. "I... I loved him. I'm prepared to forgive him. But I must know that he regrets what he did. Take my bones to him." She pointed to the nearby skeleton, Geralt assuming it was Anabelle's remains. "He must bury them. This will be our farewell. Will you speak to him? Will you do this for me?"

As much as Geralt wanted to give Anabelle peace and lift the curse on Fyke Isle, his instincts were telling him not to take anything from the island. "Sad story, but something isn't right. Got a feeling..."

"What is it?"

"You know the island is dangerous, but refuse to tell me about the monster that lives here."

"There is no monster!"

"I think you're lying. Question is, why? To protect the beast, or is it that —"

"Stop!" Annabelle interrupted before he could tell her his conclusion, having guessed why she was so different. "I will not hear this!"

"I can't help you then. Taking anything off this cursed island, or any cursed place, is just too dangerous. And a dead woman's bones? That's just asking for trouble."

"They said Witchers are heartless beasts. Will you bring Graham then? I so long to say goodbye."

"Annabelle, listen..."

"You never wished to help me! And here I hoped somebody would finally take pity on me." Annabelle's ghost started to take a more solid form and Geralt stepped back, reaching for his silver sword. "Stupid woman that I am!"

Geralt's instinct and guess had been correct. Annabelle was a pesta, a type of wraith commonly known as a plague maiden, despite their general rarity. Disease and death followed in their wake and were normally the spirits of women who died of disease. Geralt felt that Annabelle's transformation into one was from whatever curse that held the island, coupled with her death by being eaten alive by rats.

Anabelle lunged at him and he dodged, casting Yrden and trapping her in place. Geralt was unprepared to fight her, as his sword had no oils on it to counter her, but hoped the magical trap would aid him as he attacked. When the magic of the trap faded, the pesta darted past him and out the door behind him. Geralt gave chase, trying not to fall down the many flights of stairs in his pursuit. Once outside, she tried to blindside him, but having anticipated it, rolled out of the way. He cast Yrden again, but the wraith dodged the trap.

"You cannot kill me. You know this," Annabelle said before disappearing.

Geralt growled, knowing she was right.

"What was that?" Kiera asked through the xenovox, her tone worried. "It sounded for a moment like you'd joined the wraiths yourself."

"Had to fight a pesta."

"A pesta? Did you learn how to lift the curse before you lunged at her, sword in hand?"

"Hey, she did the lunging first. But yeah, we talked a bit. Looks like I need to get her beloved to the island. Fisherman named Graham."

"I know the man. Lives in Oreton, village on the lakeshore. Find him immediately. We're close to unraveling this. I can feel it."

Geralt only rolled his eyes before heading to the spot where he'd left the boat.

Geralt was directed to Graham's hut, but warned that he barely spoke to his neighbors, let alone strangers. The Witcher went anyway to speak to the fisherman.

"I told you to leave me be!" came the shout when Geralt knocked on the door.

"I wanna talk," Geralt answered.

"Who are ye?"

"I'm a Witcher."

"What of it? Why should I care?"

"I've been to the island. I know what happened."

Graham grew quiet before the door opened. He looked Geralt over before turning and heading back into his hut. Geralt took a quick look around, immediately noticing the painting of a young woman with candles and flowers around it.

"What do you want?"

"Wanna talk to you about Annabelle."

A look of sorrow passed over Graham's face. "Anabelle," he whispered. "What can you know about her?"

"I met her. Talked to her."

Graham looked down. "Annabelle's dead. Drank poison. And I... I couldn't save her." His shoulders slumped as he remembered that failure.

"You loved her."

"Aye. Something mad. Loved her so deep I believed we'd come through, believed we'd be together. Course, 'twas not to her father's liking, his daughter and a plain lout."

"What happened on Fyke Isle? Tell me your side."

"'Twere Millie, Finch, and Faulkner, they rallied the men, all roughs, to go to the isle, take back what was ours from the noble. They knew I was known at the tower, that the lord's servants would open the gate for me seein' I sold them fish."

"They force you to go with them?"

Graham shook his head as he sat on a stool next to the shrine of Anabelle. "No, I... I saw my chance in it. For Anabelle and me to flee. But... it all spun into chaos. Our boys from the village, they started killin' everyone. Anabelle, they wanted to rape!" Graham looked over at the shrine, tears in his eyes. "'Twere then she drank the poison. Mage must've gave it to her. I ran out of the tower, hollerin' that I wanted to die, cursin' them all to hell." He put his head in his hands. "Don't force me to speak of it. No more, please."

"Said you were hollering as you fled. What exactly did you say?"

"I... I don't remember. I wanted them to pay, for what they'd done to her!"

"Might've cursed them. There's a powerful magical aura on Fyke Isle. Passions, evil intent, strong emotions of any kind can trigger it. Your words could be the curse's source."

"She took poison, because of them." Graham's voice was full of anger and grief.

"It wasn't poison, Graham. Anabelle drank a strong sleeping potion. Mage wanted to protect her, make it look like she was dead. Convinced everyone."

Graham finally looked up. "But... that means..." He stood. "Is she...? You said you spoke to her."

"Spoke to her ghost." Graham deflated again. "By the time she awoke, tower was full of cold corpses. And rats. She was warm meat. Rats ate her alive."

Graham looked horrified. "You mean... she was alive the whole time? But... can't be! She was cold all through. Like a corpse. I shook her, begged her to open her eyes. I never thought..." He placed his head in his hands.

Geralt placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. No guilt in not knowing. And you couldn't have known it wasn't poison she drank."

Geralt's words seemed to have no effect on the fisherman. "Gods! What have I done?! If I'd stayed behind to bury her...I'd a noticed she was still alive. It might've ended different, ended well."

"If you'd stayed on the island, I doubt you would have survived."

"I'd take death to leaving her to the rats like that! But there's naught I can do about that now!"

"Wrong."

"What?"

"Anabelle needs you. You can still help her."

"Is she still there? In the tower? Can I... see her?"

"Yeah. One thing you should know, though. In death, Anabelle turned into a pesta."

"A pester? What's that?"

"More than a restless ghost. A plague maiden, a powerful wraith filled with grief and hatred that drives her, gives her the power to sow disease and death."

"She suffers... How am I to help her? Gods know I'm willin'."

"Anabelle thinks you abandoned her."

"Gods! She... hates me! All this time, she's thought I ran, abandoned her?"

"Yes. Go to the tower, talk to her. Maybe you can convince her that's not how it was."

"I thought she died!" Graham was distraught. "I'd never have left her there otherwise!"

"The curse has imprisoned Anabelle and the other spirits on the island. Love can shatter its power, free her and them."

"Just as in the legends."

"If you know the legends, you know one kiss is enough to break an evil spell. On one condition: that the kiss comes from someone whose love is true."

"I told you, I said I love her with all my heart. Take me to her! Please!"

"It's dangerous, there are risks involved. Understand that, don't you."

"Course. I'm no coward." He walked past Geralt and toward the door. "I'll not run this time."

They returned to the island and the tower. Geralt didn't see Annabelle at first, although his medallion was trembling. Graham was looking around, taking in the room and no doubt remembering the last time he saw his beloved.

"You have not forgotten," Anabelle suddenly said. "You've returned for me."

Graham's eyes widened when Anabelle appeared. "I-is-is that...?"

"Don't you recognize me? It's me, Anabelle. The one you abandoned, remember?"

"Annabelle, I was sure you were dead. If I'd known otherwise, I'd never have left you! I'd do anything for you! You know that. Believe me, I beg you!"

"Prove it. Kiss me."

"Graham, careful," Geralt warned.

Graham looked over his shoulder at Geralt before walking over to Annabelle's pesta form and stroking her face. As he leaned in close, her form changed into a beautiful young woman. He held her close, kissing her deeply. Then he gave a grunt of pain before collapsing. Annabelle remained in that form as she knelt next to Graham, placing a hand on his cheek before taking him into her arms.

"At last," she said before she disappeared.

Geralt could feel the magic in the place dissipate. "The curse has been lifted and Anabelle and Graham are reunited," he said.

He turned and headed out of the tower to return to Kiera.