That One Time I Married A Crazy Goddess

In the sky, riding on the back of Salazar, Yuuna (clinching onto Xyenn's back with her arms and legs around him) mentioned, "I don't know The Sun-Drake too well, actually. But he was always the one who wanted to avoid the Cycle Of Rebirth. These lands weren't always like this, he got desperate. Remember, Xyenn? How I told you how these dragon gods will go as to causing genocide so they won't die. The people years ago hated worshipping him, went as far as blocking off Gabriel's Ladder and ports to keep people from leaving."

Xyenn replied, "Damn…"

Gorran asked, "Who Informed him about the Cycle of Rebirth?"

Yuuna answered, "Most Likely, the elder dragon gods. Such as Haldrek and Kragvyr. Those are the main ones trying to take my heart. And once a new dragon god dies and is reborn, they let them know about it, showing them proof, and possibly ways to avoid it. It's sickening."

Mertha grumbled, "He needs to die.."

Yuuna chuckled, "It's crazy. He wasn't really sinister when I first saw him with the First Dragon. But those elder dragon gods…"

Xyenn added, "Haldrek has to die still, we all know that right?"

"In due time, darling. Right when he's done using us and we're done using him. And I know Mertha can't wait to get his head."

Mertha nodded, "You're damn right."

Yuuna continued, still latched onto Xyenn, "Based on everything I've picked up with my hundreds of years in Kyrrin avoiding death,  I'll make an observation. Here's what I think: The key to the Sun-Drake's plan probably lies in the Mark of the Eternal Flame, a curse passed down through the bloodline of an ancient, forgotten royal family. The Mark is not a mere symbol; it is a fragment of the Sun-Drake's essence, a shard of its divinity that was embedded into the bloodline many years ago during one of its earlier cycles. This act was not intentional—it was a byproduct of its fiery death during a long-forgotten rebellion. As the Sun-Drake's body burned to ash, a piece of its soul latched onto the blood of the royal family who had led the uprising. Sometime later, the Mark of the Eternal Flame has manifested in Quinara, a woman who carries within her the embryo of the Sun-Drake's rebirth. The embryo is no ordinary child. While it may appear to be a natural pregnancy, it is, in truth, the culmination of the Sun-Drake's fragmented essence embedded within the Mark. Over generations, the Mark has gathered enough of the Sun-Drake's latent power to create a vessel, and Quinara's unborn child is that vessel. This child is not a traditional reincarnation of the Sun-Drake; it is a fusion of its fragmented essence and a mortal form, a hybrid that will allow the Sun-Drake to return to the world with its full memories and power intact."

Xyenn replied nervously, "That's a…VERY detailed observation."

"WELL IF YOU MUST KNOW, I'm not completely ignorant to this. I've been around for a while."

Mertha stated, "Maybe the elder gods helped him with this."

Xyenn added onto that, "I doubt Haldrek did. All he cares about is getting rid of war. That crazy bastard wouldn't waste his time with another dragon god. Trust me."

Gorran replied to Xyenn, "For once I agree with your deductions."

Yuuna added, "If anything, The child is the Sun-Drake's solution to the Cycle of Rebirth. By transferring its essence into a mortal vessel, the Sun-Drake will bypass the curse entirely. No longer bound to the divine framework that forces dragon gods to die and be reborn, the Sun-Drake will achieve a permanent, unbroken existence. However, the child is not merely a vessel—it is a new form of existence, one that the Sun-Drake can control. By merging its divine essence with mortal flesh, it will gain the ability to grow stronger over time, unbound by the limitations of its former godhood. It might also gain immunity to the Cycle of Rebirth, as the curse applies only to full-blooded dragon gods, not hybrids. Gabriel, the First Dragon, never created hybrids. I was the first one who he poured his own essence in."

Xyenn, with a curious gesture, suggested, "That explains why you, a dragon…demon…human… hybrid, don't suffer from the Cycle of Rebirth like you mentioned before."

'It's still surprising Yuuna is a hybrid, with her mother being a human. How did that even happen? Was Yuuna ever gonna tell me about this if not for the ritual?'

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Exactly! See how smart we are?" Yuuna smiled.

"And If the dragon gods are finding ways to avoid the Cycle of Rebirth…that'll be good for you, ain't it?"

"Mmmmm, can't be too sure. Some have a grudge against me. A lot of them do. But I'm not surprised the dragon gods use their essence to complete what they want, like how Gabriel did, it's the reason the dragon gods are able to fish out power to their worshippers."

Gorran added, "The elders are probably watching the non elders, implanting their own rugged plans in them to see if they work before doing anything risky."

Mertha looked at Gorran, "Manipulation at its finest."

Yuuna smiled, "AND THAT'S WHY WE CAN'T LET THEM GET AWAY WITH THINGS. Even if they'd find a way, it will cost the people of your world! So, Xyenn, since Draven taught you how to read enchanted maps, where are we going?"

Xyenn read the map from the note, squinting his eyes, seeing the moving enchanted map figures and markers.

"Uhhh, uhhhh—-."

Yuuna mocked with a smile, "Uhhhh UHHHH—!"

Xyenn exclaimed with flustered cheeks, "Stop that!"

"Hahaha! I like when you're mad at me."

Xyenn read the map more, and smiled, "We have to pass by a town called the Bard's Grove."

Mertha stood up, and stretched her body, "A town? Sounds unbelievable especially in this hot ass place!"

Gorran held his blade Xenith, saying "We still have to watch out. Enemies will be on that pregnant woman's tail. Cultists..the note said? And some subordinate warriors of the Sun-Drake?"

"Yep! I'll crush all their heads if we come across them. No big deal." Mertha grinned. "But back to that pregnant woman, she must be expecting us, right? If so, she's probably good at hiding herself if the cultists are after her. What do those cultists even want with her?"

Xyenn shrugged, "I figure she is. And about those cultista, I hope they don't want to dissect her and take the baby. You'd be surprised what cults can do. I've heard of so many. But those cultists could be trying to win favor from the Sun-Drake, trying to secure her along with the Sun-Drake's warriors."

Yuuna became excited, waving her fist, "Then we have no time to waste! I wanna get this done because I hate being in Soulcaris!"

Xyenn read the map even more, and stated, "Oh! Wait. We might have to pass through the Bard's Grove. To get to where she is. It might be under it, it looks like."

'If this woman has been avoiding being secured, she's gotta be strong..'

Yuuna crossed her arms, her legs still wrapped around Xyenn, "Oh no..I don't wanna walk through a town full of annoying singing and dancing Bards. I'll wait on the crow!"

Gorran nodded, "I guess it can't be helped. I'll wait as well." He held his blade Xenith out, his eyes getting big. "I'll make sure nothing takes us by surprise—."

Xyenn stepped in, "No no. I'M staying with Yuuna. We have a child together."

"Oh? Don't start with me again, brat. I've always wanted a rematch with you, wanna do it now?"

"Yes! I mean, No. My dragon arm takes double damage, remember? I'm not ready. Let it cool down some. You were in the witches hut too."

"So? You started it."

"I didn't."

Mertha laughed, "Okay! Seems like the town is down there! We're ALL going. We're already split up as it is. No more splitting up."

'Look at me, giving orders. I get so obsessed with taking control and taking the lead. Wanting to be involved and useful. I hope Yuuna doesn't claw my lungs out for it, knowing she's technically the boss of me—!'

Yuuna smiled, "Okay. Fine. Let's do it then. I wanna get this whole thing situated fast!" She hugged onto Xyenn, making him nervous again.

Indeed she was clingy, but Xyenn didn't mind. 

(Vördrheim)

(Malgorn village)

The forge of the Ironbeard Clan was a sight to behold—a vast, sprawling labyrinth of molten fire and clanging steel, where the air shimmered with heat and magic. The heart of the forge, known as *The Embermaw*, was a massive, enchanted furnace that roared like a living beast. Its flames weren't ordinary fire; they danced with hues of blue, green, and violet, the result of ancient dwarven enchantments that infused the metal with unique properties. Thick pipes and chimneys snaked upward into the icy skies of Vördrheim, vomiting plumes of black smoke that mingled with the perpetual snowstorm above.  

Inside, the forge was alive with activity. Dozens upon dozens of dwarves toiled tirelessly, their faces ruddy from the heat, their beards singed and sweat-soaked. The rhythmic clang of hammers on anvils created a symphony of industry, a chaotic yet oddly satisfying melody. The walls were lined with racks of weapons and armor, each piece uniquely crafted, gleaming with enchantments.  

A dwarf near the entrance was hard at work on a massive battleaxe, the blade etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. Another dwarf hammered away at a breastplate, its surface shimmering like liquid silver. A group of apprentices worked on smaller weapons—daggers that dripped with venomous enchantments and crossbow bolts tipped with blackened steel that could pierce dragon scales.  

"Hey!!" one dwarf bellowed over the din. He was hefting a hammer the size of a small boulder.  

"What is it, Thrain?" the other dwarf growled, his voice gruff.  

"Ya call that a blade? Looks more like a mother's butter knife!"  

Thrain barked out a laugh, his thick fingers holding up a sharpened longsword. "Better than that oversized club ye're hammerin' on! What's that for, a troll's toothpick?"  

The dwarves broke into laughter, their banter light despite the grueling work. Nearby, a younger dwarf struggled to enchant a pair of gauntlets that kept sparking wildly. "Careful, lad!" an older dwarf warned. "Ya want to blow yer beard off?"  

A massive stone table in the center of the forge served as the planning station, where sketches of weapons and armor were sprawled out, pinned down with heavy ingots. Beside it, a dwarf was working on a shield imbued with frost magic, the surface of which shimmered like ice, exhaling a cold mist.  

"Oi, don't forget the shipment for the northern villages by the waters, eh!" a foreman shouted, pointing at a pile of finished weapons near the door. "They're expectin' it by sundown, they've been dealing with a lot of nosey bandits and those humans don't have magic to defend themselves. Refuses to worship Kragvyr for it. I don't blame them."

"I'm on it, don't rush!!" another dwarf grumbled.  We're the best damn smiths this side of Kyrrin!"  

"Aye," the first dwarf replied, smirking. "And don't ye forget it!"  

Above this cacophony of fire and steel stood Gridd, the leader of the Ironbeard Clan. He towered (by dwarven standards) on a raised platform overlooking the forge. In his arms, he cradled the human-dragon hybrid baby of Xyenn and Yuuna.  

The baby squirmed slightly, its tiny wings fluttering as faint wisps of smoke curled from its nostrils. Gridd looked down at the child with a mixture of sternness and fondness.  

"Ye don't even have a name yet," he muttered, his thick dwarven accent rolling like gravel. "Odd, that is. A wee lad like yerself, no name... but I suppose yer parents are out savin' the world or whatever nonsense they're up to."  

The baby gurgled in response, its bright eyes blinking up at him.  

Gridd sighed, shifting the child slightly in his arms. "The Ironbeard Clan, lad, we're not like the rest. We don't just sit on our arses hoardin' gold or fightin' over scraps like some other dwarves. No, we help those in need. We craft weapons and armor for the villages, keep 'em safe from the beasts and the cold. That's what we stand for—duty, loyalty, and a good pint of ale at the end of the day. These villagers, most villages of Vördrheim don't worship Kragvyr, therefore leaving them powerless and vulnerable for bandits and beasts to raid em'. Sad honestly. Why am I tellin' a baby this?"

'Maybe I'm trying to implant some good deed in this brats head. If he's like his parents, he'll be straight. I should've done this with my firstborn…after seeing how he turned out. He's the reason I now help humans and others as much as I do now.'

The baby let out a tiny burp, and a jet of flame shot out, engulfing Gridd's beard in fire.  

"AGH!" Gridd bellowed, his voice echoing through the forge as he ran in circles, frantically patting his beard. The other dwarves stopped what they were doing, watching with wide eyes as their leader, now a fiery blur, darted around the room.  

"Boss is on fire again!" one dwarf shouted, dropping his hammer.  

"Someone get the water barrel!" another yelled.  

Gridd finally found a large crate of water and dove in headfirst, the flames hissing as they were extinguished. He emerged moments later, his beard thoroughly soaked and slightly singed.  

The baby, meanwhile, had flown out the door using its tiny dragon wings, laughing gleefully as it pushed the heavy door open with surprising strength.  

Gridd wiped water from his face, his eyes narrowing as he heard the baby's stomach gurgle ominously. His expression turned from annoyance to alarm.  

"If his burp set me on fire, what in the nine hells happens when he shits?!"  

He turned to the nearest group of dwarves. "I want two squads o' ye to intercept that wee beast before he burns the whole bloody village down! Move!"  

The dwarves scattered, forming two squads as they barreled out of the forge. The baby was already soaring through the snowy streets of Malgorn, its wings flapping furiously as it giggled with delight.  

"Cut him off at the market square!" one dwarf shouted, leading his group down a side street.  

"I'll set up a net at the southern gate!" another yelled.  

The dwarves tried everything—nets, traps, even a makeshift catapult to launch one of their own into the air—but the baby was too quick, darting and weaving through the air with surprising agility.  

"Oi, he's headin' for the tavern!"  

"Not the tavern, for the love o' ale!"  

The villagers of Malgorn watched the chaos unfold with bemusement. "What in the frostbitten hell are they chasin' now?" one man asked, leaning on his shovel.  

"Looks like a baby with wings," another replied.  

"How do you guys not notice? That's that kid Xyenn's son, and the goddess with him. One of dwarves told us."

"What do ya know? A human and a dragon goddess having a baby ? Never heard of that one before."

"Times really are changing, aren't they?"

As the baby soared over the village square, Gridd climbed onto the roof of a nearby building, his singed beard still dripping water. He waited for the perfect moment, his eyes locked on the flying infant.  

"Come on, ye little terror..." he muttered.  

When the baby swooped low, Gridd leapt from the roof with a ferocious battle cry, tackling the child mid-air. The two of them crashed to the ground in a snowdrift, the baby landing on Gridd's chest, unharmed and laughing.  

Gridd groaned, holding the baby up above him. "Damn adorable brat," he muttered, a grudging smile tugging at his lips. "Reminds me of my firstborn. Ye're gonna be trouble, aren't ya? Better not be. I'll be the one to kick yer arse myself if you turn out bad, understand?"

The baby laughed in his face.

Before he could catch his breath, a voice spoke from behind him.  

"Still harboring the monster baby, hmm?"  

Gridd turned his head, scowling as he saw Valen of the Velmire noble family standing there, his expression one of distaste.  

Gridd stood, cradling the baby protectively. His dwarves gathered behind him, their faces hard as stone.  

"Fuck off, will ye?" Gridd said, his tone flat.  "He's not a monster."

Valen sighed, clearly unimpressed. "As much as I hate to be in a rundown town like this dump, King Haldrek has need of you and two of your trustees. You are to accompany me and my family in a meeting with the king."  

Gridd's scowl deepened. "And what if I refuse?"  

Valen's smirk was cold. "I wouldn't recommend it. Haldrek demands this."  

Gridd grumbled under his breath but finally relented. "Fine. But I'm takin' the baby with me. I won't let him outta my sight."  

Valen waved dismissively. "Do what you wish. Come."  

Gridd turned to two of his most trusted allies: an older dwarf with a thick, braided beard streaked with silver named Durvold and a wise older dwarven woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor named Thaldrin.  

Durvold grunted. "A meeting with the king, eh? Sounds like a waste of time. But it's smart to just go and not waste time, knowing how Haldrek is."

Thaldrin smirked. "And yet, here we are, being dragged into it anyway. What could he possibly want with us?"

Gridd nodded. "Aye, but we've got no choice. The rest of ye," he barked, turning to the other dwarves, "keep things runnin'. The villages depend on us, so make sure the shipments go out on time. No slackin'."  

The dwarves saluted, and with that, Gridd and his trustees prepared to leave, the baby still squirming in his arms.  

…

The air in the throne room was heavy, not with the weight of grandeur but with unspoken tension. Haldrek sat at the head of the room, his presence radiating raw power. Around him, his clergy and knights stood silent and unmoving, clad in gleaming snow armor that seemed to radiate a cold, ethereal light. Their weapons glimmered faintly, enchanted with frost runes that whispered with icy winds. Flanking the room were the Velmire nobles, their presence overwhelming.  

Syrus, Lady Verana, Lord Tyros, and Lord Valen stood tall, their commanding presence a stark contrast to the fidgety Gorvhan, who shifted uncomfortably, his beady eyes darting nervously. Behind them, a horde of Velmire family members filled the room, a battalion of assassins, spies, warriors, clerics, rogues, and alchemists. Their sheer numbers surrounded the space, their expressions unreadable but their loyalty to the Velmire name palpable.  

The Ironbeard dwarves arrived just as the silence was becoming unbearable. Gridd strode into the room first, his trustees Durvold and Thaldrin close behind him. Gridd carried the dragon-baby in his arms, its tiny wings tucked against its sides. The child was calm for now, its bright eyes darting curiously around the imposing assembly.  

'Full house. What could I possibly have to do with this? Unless…' Gridd thought.

Haldrek didn't waste time with pleasantries. The second the dwarves entered, he began.  

"I have summoned you here," Haldrek began, his voice a cold, commanding rumble, "to address a matter of grave importance. The Land of Conquest lies to the south, the seat of Ezrael, It is time for the Velmires to move. I will once again be utilizing your full abilities for my sake, and the sake of a peaceful world without War."

The Velmires stirred slightly. Even Syrus, who carried himself with calm authority, seemed uneasy. Valen's jaw clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides, but he said nothing. Gorvhan, meanwhile, looked like he was about to faint.  

Haldrek continued, his tone steady but with an undercurrent of menace. "Ezrael has been on a campaign. Three continents have fallen already, each of their gods slain by his hand. He will not stop until all of Kyrrin bows before him."  

The Velmires exchanged glances, and Lady Verana raised a brow. "Which continents?" she asked, her voice sharp and cutting.  

Haldrek leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "The first to fall was Jorrvek, the land of storms. Its god, Thranis the Thunder Maw, was a serpent of lightning and tempest. Ezrael struck him down in open skies, tearing him apart with his vessel's blade. Jorrvek's people now worship Ezrael, their storms silenced, their skies blackened with ash."  

The room was silent.  

"The second was Völnir, the land of windswept sands, home to Rynaka the Golden Shade. A goddess of shadows and shifting dunes, she ruled from her ephemeral palace of mirages. Ezrael's armies burned her realm to glass, dragging her from the sands and cutting her down."  

"And the third?" pressed Syrus, his voice tense.  

Haldrek's eyes narrowed. "Eidr, the land of eternal dusk. Its god, Reinven the Twilight Warden, was a dragon of twilight and dusk, ruling from his floating citadel. Ezrael ripped the skies apart with his armies, brought the citadel crashing down, and slew him amidst the ruins."  

The Velmires were quiet, their disbelief giving way to grim acceptance.  

Haldrek's tone darkened. "Ezrael hasn't been around for long, and has possibly been informed of the Cycle of Rebirth. But not by me, an elder vessel of a dragon god. Someone like me. A vessel of a god. But unlike the others, he does not await the Cycle of Rebirth. I believe he seeks to escape it entirely, to grow stronger with each god he slays, with each continent he conquers. He is drawing the conquered peoples to his lands, forcing them to worship him, to feed his power. He thrives on war itself, drawing strength from the endless bloodshed. He gains strength from demanded war, war commanded and overseen by him in his territory or radius. That's another way he gains worship from the people. When he commands war."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "It is not unlike the Sun-Drake of Soulcaris, who draws power from the souls of the dead through his Berserks of the Flame to feed the sun. Ezrael's methods are different, but the principle is the same. He is building an empire of war and death."  

Haldrek turned his gaze to the Velmires. "I want you to send your agents into the Land of Conquest. Spies, assassins, warriors—whatever you deem necessary. Scout the land. Learn Ezrael's movements. His armies. His tactics. His vessel. I have not set foot in those lands for centuries, and I do not know how the landscape has changed. But I need answers. And if your men die, then it would've been a waste. My trump card, Xyenn and Yuuna, aren't present…I would've sent them. But as soon as they return, we'll use whatever intel you all have gained on the Lands and invade."

The Velmires were silent for a long moment. Finally, Syrus nodded. "We will do as you ask, though it will take time to prepare. The Land of Conquest is vast, and Ezrael's forces will not take kindly to intrusions."  

Haldrek nodded curtly. "Good. You have your orders. Go."  

As the Velmires began to file out, Valen lingered for a moment, his eyes narrowing at Haldrek. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to speak, but he stopped himself. The weight of his family's reputation kept him silent. With a frustrated glare, he followed the others out.  

'That bastard../making me look low in front of my family. But I'm too fearful to say anything, fuck.' Valen thought.

Syria thought, 'Can't believe we're actually doing this. Everyone knows not to go to the Land Of Conquest. I've heard stories of that place. Damn Gorvhan, getting us into this! We're really risking us…bastard is making us do this..even if we say no, he'll find a way to get what he wants. It's no use.'

Gorvhan watched from a distance, looking away as his family looked at him.

'Don't stare at me! If they think about it, it's all of your faults for helping this family be so great, then Haldrek wouldn't have anything to do with us!'

When the Velmires were gone, Haldrek turned his attention to Gridd. "Now, to you."  

Gridd crossed his arms, his expression defiant. "What do ye want from me, Haldrek? I don't have time for yer madness."  

Haldrek's voice remained calm, but his words carried a dangerous edge. "I want weapons, Gridd. Armor. Over one hundred thousand pieces, forged by the finest smiths in Kyrrin. I will provide the enchanted materials. The Velmires will assist in the logistics."  

Gridd's eyes widened slightly, and he let out a bitter laugh. "Are ye out o' yer mind? What in the bloody hell do ye need that many weapons for?"  

Haldrek's expression darkened. "I will force them into the hands of every man, woman, and child who can wield them. This is a time of war. There is no room for innocence. No room for weakness. The strong will rise, and the weak will be forged into strength. This is the path to equality."  

Gridd stared at him in disbelief. "Equality? Ye're talkin' about slaughterin' innocents, forcing children to fight yer wars! Ye've lost yer damn mind!"  

Haldrek's tone grew colder. "There are no innocents, Gridd. Everyone is complicit in their own way. I was mocked, pushed, and ridiculed as a child. I have seen the depths of human cruelty. Equality is the only way to end it. My daughter, Espen, will grow up in a world where everyone is equal, where no one will suffer as I did."  

Gridd shook his head, his voice trembling with anger. "Ye think yer noble? Ye're a bloody tyrant. I've spent my life helpin' people, even when I didn't want to. The situation with my son…it taught me to look past my hate for humans in general, to be better. I'll not be a part of this madness!"

"Are you testing me?"

"You won't do anything to us. You need Xyenn and Yuuna."

Haldrek's aura grew more oppressive with every word. The room seemed to darken, the air growing heavy. His knights and clergy stood silent, their faces unreadable, as Haldrek's bloodlust began to seep into the room.  

Gridd glanced down at the baby in his arms, its tiny face oblivious to the danger. He thought to himself, Why am I such a bloody fool? Arguin' with this maniac, knowin' he could kill me and the lad in an instant. I vowed to never be foolish again… and here I am, slippin'. Sorry little one.'

Before Gridd could say another word, the ceiling above them exploded. A figure crashed through, landing heavily on the ground. Dust and debris filled the air as the man straightened, his fists clenched.  

The figure was a filthy, grizzled man, his beard wild and unkempt, his clothes little more than a sackcloth robe. His hair hung in dirty strands over his face, obscuring his eyes. He stood tall, his presence incongruously commanding despite his ragged appearance.  

"I have come with fate-changing news," the Prophet declared, his voice booming through the shattered throne room.  

Gridd gasped, his trustees stepping back in shock. "That Prophet…?"  

'What's he doing here?!'

Haldrek's bloodlust surged. Without warning, he darted toward the Prophet, his fist flying with enough force to shatter stone. The Prophet twisted at the last moment, narrowly dodging the blow. Haldrek's fist connected with the wall behind him, obliterating it in a deafening explosion of stone and ice.  

'He dodged it? A punch from me?'

The room was left in ruins, the cold wind howling through the gaping holes in the walls.  

Haldrek stated, "I knew you were no ordinary rugged grizzly man. What are you?"

The Prophet said, "Violence is not necessary. I can hear...Death himself in your head, telling you I am the Prophet who's come to him. Kragvyr isn't even in your head anymore…odd. You've made a deal with the devil."

"You will fight me. And you will be mine. You will help me erase war from the aspect of life. Even if I have to force you."

"You cannot force fate."