**Chapter 2: Shadows of Doubt**

The soft melody of Jaskier's lute danced in the air, a gentle breeze that soothed Geralt's frazzled nerves. As he gazed into his friend's eyes, he felt a spark of recognition, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this struggle. Jaskier's music wove a calming spell around them, and Geralt's breathing slowly steadied, his heart rate returning to normal. As the last notes of the melody faded away, Geralt let out a shuddering sigh, his shoulders sagging in relief. Jaskier set his lute aside and grasped Geralt's arm, his grip firm but gentle. "You're going to be all right, Geralt," Jaskier said, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll get through this together." Geralt nodded, still feeling the aftershocks of his panic attack. He rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the lingering tension. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he muttered, frustration etched on his face. "I've never been one to let doubt get the better of me." Jaskier's expression turned sympathetic. "You're not just any Witcher, Geralt. You're one of the best. And you're not alone. I'm here for you, and we'll face whatever comes next together." Geralt smiled wryly, a faint glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "You're a good friend, Jaskier." As they sat in silence, the fire crackling in the hearth, Geralt's thoughts turned to the contracts he so desperately needed. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, that unseen eyes were trained on him, waiting for him to slip up. A sudden knock at the door broke the silence, making Geralt's head snap up. Jaskier rose to answer it, revealing a young, nervous-looking messenger. "Excuse me, sirs," the messenger said, his eyes darting between Geralt and Jaskier. "I have a message for Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher." Geralt's ears pricked up, his interest piqued. "What is it?" The messenger swallowed hard, producing a sealed parchment from his pocket. "This was delivered to me by the village elder. He requests your presence at the old windmill on the outskirts of town. He says it's... urgent." Geralt's eyes narrowed as he took the parchment, his mind racing with possibilities. What could the village elder want with him? And what did it have to do with the contracts he so desperately needed? With a sense of trepidation, Geralt broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The message was brief, scrawled in hasty handwriting: "Meet me at the old windmill at midnight. I have information about a contract. Come alone." Geralt's eyes met Jaskier's, a spark of hope kindling within him. Could this be the break he needed? He nodded to Jaskier, a plan forming in his mind. "I'll go," Geralt said, his voice low and determined. "You stay here, Jaskier. I'll be back soon." Jaskier's expression turned skeptical, but he nodded. "Be careful, Geralt. We don't know what's waiting for you out there." Geralt smiled grimly, a hint of steel in his eyes. "I'll be fine. I've dealt with worse odds before." As the clock struck midnight, Geralt made his way to the old windmill, the darkness and shadows his only companions. What lay ahead, he could only guess, but he was ready to face whatever challenges came his way.