I’m diving into the wild, tangled mess that is The Witcher 3—straight-up chaos for an 18-year-old fantasy RPG enthusiast like me. The game hit like a freight train, thanks to that dynamic world and characters so real they might as well have lived in my house. Choices actually mattered—something I both loved and loathed, because, let’s face it, they bit me in the rear more than a few times.
Anyway, I loved these fantasy games with chunky decision-making, like Dragon Age: Origins, but went in pretty clueless about Witcher lore. Hadn’t played the first two games—nope, I just jumped in because, uh, fantasy? Magic? Monsters? That was enough. I was Geralt, a basilisk-slaying dude on a quest for my sorta-daughter Ciri, while my lover Yennefer somehow found me annoyingly kissable. Makes no sense, right? Well, my less-than-encyclopedic knowledge dumped me in the arms of Keira Metz. Whoops.
[Heads-up: Spoilers incoming for Keira Metz’s storyline in The Witcher 3—don’t say I didn’t warn you.]
Keira’s part of this Sorceress club—kinda like a magical VIP lounge. By Witcher 3, she’s ditched the royal scene for a witchy gig in Velen. Not by choice, mind you. She got kicked out after losing King Foltest’s favor. Now she’s all about hopping back into luxury, whatever it takes.
Let me paint you a picture—a desperate Keira nabs notes for a plague cure, twists ‘em into a weapon, and hands it to King Radovid, Mr. Magic-Hater of the Century. Her idea? Impress him enough to overlook his zealotry. Sounds dramatic, right? But, oddly enough, I kinda got where she was coming from—the whole “ousted from your home” deal hits hard. Sacrifice thousands of lives for it? Ehh, questionable call.
So, I made a choice. A really bad one, as it turned out. I trusted Keira. Figured if anyone could sway Radovid, it’d be her. Then I wandered off, racking up 30+ hours exploring the game, my brain tossing the whole Keira thing into the “forget about it” bin.
Then—plot twist!—I waltzed back to Novigrad during the quest Final Preparations and—boom—the gravity of my blunder hit. Triss told me Keira’s gamble with Radovid? Yeah, bombed harder than my last chemistry test. She got burned at the stake. Ouch.
I had this hollow, Keira-shaped void in my heart, and it only deepened as Triss and I sneaked her remains out of Novigrad. It’s a gut-punch moment, underscoring why The Witcher 3 nails even the smallest details, making it a top game in my books.
Learned something valuable, too: Trust that gorgeous people usually know their stuff, but for crying out loud, learn to save! Virtual lives might depend on it.
