[ Dangerous is an understatement. He'd not be surprised to learn that consequences have been lurking. Slipping by unnoticed until it was too late. Unnoticed or ignored by those unwilling to acknowledge the risks.

He rests his hand on the table. His gaze is careful. Sometimes, he wonders why Istredd was not selected by the acolytes for their ritual. As far as he's aware, Istredd was the only one. Was it incidental? Or was there something they sensed in his magic? Of those captured, only Istredd had touched the Singularity before. Seen it up close, in person.

It's difficult to say.

A silence stretches onward before he finally answers. ] When you bleed because you tore a scab, it's not a question of character. And it won't serve to heal you any faster.

[ If Istredd did not find the peace he sought...that's simply how it is. Some things are best left undisturbed. At least until the scars have faded with the years. He knows what it's like to wander amongst those living memories. Through the horrors that await through the halls and rooms. The labs at Kaer Morhen, the dark dungeons that held every Witcher, the corpses outside—they were never dismantled, never removed. He grew up facing them with each passing day, and the truth is, he isn't sure if that's a choice he'd have made had he been given one. If it had not been the only home he had. The only home he knew.

Perhaps he'd have made his peace more easily had he been allowed to walk away and not look back. ]