The Witcher 3 Wild Hunt -nsp--eua--jogo Base-.p... Page

The sky of Tir ná Lia was a bruised purple. Eredin stood atop a obsidian dais, his great sword, Caranthir, pulsing with cold magic.

Geralt of Rivia tightened his silver sword’s grip. The wind howled through the swamps of Velen, carrying the stench of rotting flesh and wet dog. He wasn’t hunting a drowners or a grave hag tonight. He was hunting a ghost. The Witcher 3 Wild Hunt -NSP--EUA--Jogo Base-.p...

He pulled the sword free. Eredin crumbled into ice dust. The sky of Tir ná Lia was a bruised purple