That One Time I Married A Crazy Goddess

The battlefield was silent for a moment, save for the faint hum of the magical barrier encasing the area. The translucent dome shimmered faintly in the light, keeping the bloodthirsty chaos contained within while civilians outside pressed against it, their faces a mixture of fear, excitement, and morbid fascination. The nobles, in their gilded robes and polished jewelry, leaned forward eagerly, shouting bets over the din, their voices greedy with anticipation.

Inside the barrier, Uzellken stood hunched, his grotesque form heaving with every breath. His massive, mutated muscles bulged unnaturally, veins throbbing black as tar beneath his cracked, gray skin. His claws twitched, dripping with black blood, and his jagged grin stretched across his monstrous face, revealing rows of broken, uneven teeth. His glowing red eyes flickered with deranged fury, locked on the automatons. The gashes across his chest and sides, inflicted earlier by their relentless attacks, leaked thick black ichor, but he didn't falter. If anything, the sight of his own blood seemed to fuel his rage.

The lead automaton stepped forward, its glowing eyes burning brighter than the others. Its voice, flat and emotionless, echoed across the barrier. "UZELLKEN OF THE WESTERN LANDS. YOU HAVE BEEN SENTENCED TO FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE BY ORDER OF KING ALARIC. YOUR ACTIONS HAVE BROKEN THE SACRED LAWS OF NOBILITY. SURVIVAL IS YOUR ONLY PATH."

Nobles on the side began to dish gold coins around, betting money on whether Uzellken would live or die. 

"Bet 700 gold coins he dies."

"Ah. He's suffered from that cursed crystal in his head. He's like the last guy. He might survive. I bet 900 gold coins he will survive."

One more noble popped up, "Aye! 1000 gold coins he dies in 10 seconds!"

More and more bets came up, people passing around gold coins and trying to gamble on the fate of Uzellken. 

Kivorn and Draeven arrived. 

"They're really betting..? U-unbelievable.." Draeven said.

Kivorn learned on his staff, "This must be…a part of the way the dragon god…receives worship. You would expect everyone to…be panicking and sad for this man. That's not the case here…"

Draeven thought, 'I've never seen this before. People gambling on his life? And what's with that crystal..? Seems people are confused about it but they've seen it before.'

Uzellken snarled, his claws digging deep into the stone beneath him, cracking it as his hulking frame tensed. "You dare?" he growled, his voice deep and layered, twisting with a demonic undertone that made the air feel heavier. "You think some soulless tin men can judge me? And you think I'll kneel to a king?!" He slammed a clawed fist into his chest, the impact echoing like a war drum. "I AM UZELLKEN! I AM—"

Before he could finish, the automatons moved.

They attacked as one, blurring forward with blinding speed, their metal bodies a blur of motion. Their arms shifted mid-charge, morphing seamlessly into weapons—swords, maces, spears, and serrated claws. The first automaton lunged directly at Uzellken, its blade gleaming as it aimed for his throat. Uzellken ducked low, his massive body twisting unnaturally fast for his size. The blade missed by a hair, and his clawed hand shot upward, grabbing the automaton by the head. With a guttural roar, he slammed it into the ground so hard the stone shattered beneath it, sending cracks rippling outward.

Another automaton appeared behind him in an instant, its mace-like arm swinging toward the back of his skull. Uzellken turned just in time, raising his forearm to block. The mace collided with his arm, the impact sending a shockwave through the air, but Uzellken didn't flinch. Instead, he grinned through the pain and grabbed the automaton's arm, twisting it violently until the metal screeched and snapped. He used the severed arm as a blunt weapon, swinging it into the automaton's face with enough force to dent its head.

Two more automatons attacked from the sides, their movements perfectly coordinated. One drove a spear toward his ribs, while the other slashed at his legs with twin blades. Uzellken jumped into the air, his hulking frame crashing back down between them, his claws slashing outward in a brutal arc. The automaton with the spear managed to twist away, the tip of its weapon grazing his shoulder and carving a deep gash that sprayed black blood. The other wasn't so lucky—Uzellken's claws tore through its chest, ripping out glowing gears and wires that sparked and sputtered as the automaton collapsed.

The crowd outside the barrier gasped in awe as the fight escalated. 

"Did you see that?!" someone shouted. 

"He's tearing them apart!" 

"No way he survives this. The automatons always adapt. They're going to dice him up like meat." 

The automatons regrouped, their glowing eyes flickering in perfect synchronization. They moved faster now, their bodies shifting and adjusting as they adapted to Uzellken's ferocity. One of them extended a serrated chain from its arm, the blade spinning violently as it lashed toward Uzellken's throat. He dodged, the chain grazing his cheek and tearing away a chunk of flesh, leaving black ichor oozing down his face. He roared in pain and rage, grabbing the chain mid-swing and yanking the automaton toward him. As it stumbled forward, Uzellken drove his fist into its torso, the impact ripping through steel and sending shards of metal flying.

Another automaton vaulted over him, its arms morphing into twin spears that stabbed downward. Uzellken twisted at the last moment, one of the spears piercing his shoulder while the other missed entirely. He grabbed the automaton's leg mid-air and slammed it into the ground repeatedly, each impact sending chunks of stone flying and leaving bloody dents in its frame.

But the automatons didn't relent. Three of them attacked simultaneously, their weapons aimed for fatal points. One drove a blade into his side while another slashed across his abdomen, spilling more of his black blood onto the ground. The third automaton leapt onto his back, its serrated claws digging deep into his flesh as it attempted to rip him apart. Uzellken staggered under the relentless assault, his monstrous frame trembling as the crowd outside the barrier grew silent.

"That's it," someone whispered. "They've got him." 

But Uzellken wasn't done.

With an ear-splitting roar, he reached over his shoulder, grabbing the automaton on his back and hurling it into another. The two collided in a shower of sparks and metal. He ripped the blade from his side, black ichor spraying as he swung it wildly, decapitating one of the automatons in a single, brutal motion. His breathing was ragged now, blood pouring from countless wounds, but his glowing red eyes burned brighter, and his grin widened.

"You think this is enough to stop me?" he growled, his voice deeper, darker, almost unrecognizable. "You'll have to do better than that!"

The automatons shifted tactics. Four of them surrounded Uzellken, their weapons morphing into long, curved scythes. They moved in perfect unison, their attacks coming from every direction. Uzellken dodged and twisted, his massive claws deflecting some of the strikes while others found their mark. A scythe sliced into his thigh, nearly severing the muscle, while another carved a deep wound across his chest. Uzellken roared in pain but retaliated with equal ferocity, his claws slashing through one automaton's midsection, spilling its mechanical innards onto the ground.

One of the automatons lunged low, its blade aiming for his neck. Uzellken caught it mid-strike, his monstrous hand crushing the blade like paper. He pulled the automaton closer, his jagged teeth sinking into its head, ripping wires and gears apart in a gruesome display of savagery. He spat the remains onto the ground, his bloodied mouth stretching into a demonic grin.

The destruction within the barrier was absolute. The ground was littered with the remains of shattered automatons, glowing cores sputtering weakly amid pools of oil and Uzellken's black blood. The stone beneath them was cracked and broken, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and smoke. 

Uzellken stood amidst the carnage, his body a torn, bleeding mass of muscle and rage. His chest heaved as he glared at the last remaining automatons, his voice a deep, guttural growl. "Is that all you've got? Come on! I'm not done yet!" 

The automatons moved in unison, their glowing eyes locking onto him one final time. They blurred forward, their blades aimed for his neck. Uzellken grinned, his bloody teeth glinting as he whispered through his ragged breaths, "It's good to be back…"

The lead automaton's blade struck true, slicing clean through his neck in one smooth motion. His grin remained frozen on his face as his head tumbled to the ground, black blood spraying in an arc. His massive body collapsed moments later, shaking the ground as it fell. 

The crowd erupted into shocked silence, their eyes wide as the magical barrier dissolved. The automatons retracted their blades, their glowing eyes flickering briefly before they turned and marched away, leaving only the broken remains of Uzellken behind. 

The magical barrier shimmered faintly as it began to dissolve, the faint hum of its energy fading into nothingness. The crowd stood still, their murmurs of excitement and fear dying away as the atmosphere shifted. The tension in the air was palpable. The automatons stood motionless, their glowing eyes fixed on the remains of Uzellken, awaiting further orders. His massive, bloodied corpse lay sprawled on the cracked stone, black ichor pooling beneath him like an ominous shadow.

And then, from above, a roar split the sky. 

All at once, the crowd turned their eyes upward, gasping as a monstrous chimera descended from the clouds. The beast was a terrifying amalgamation of elements—its body was leonine, with a thick mane that shimmered like molten gold, its fur rippling as if it were made of liquid fire. Its wings were colossal and feathered, but the feathers glimmered like crystalline ice, refracting the sunlight into dazzling, prismatic colors. Its tail was reptilian, covered in jagged black scales, ending in a barb that oozed faint wisps of green poison. The head of the chimera was even more unnerving—three faces melded into one. A snarling lion's visage sat in the middle, flanked by the elongated, sharp-snouted head of a dragon on the left and a goat's twisted, horned head on the right. Its eyes burned with an unnatural light, each of its three heads scanning the crowd below with predatory authority.

Standing atop the chimera's back was King Alaric. 

The king's face was obscured by a steel mask, a perfectly smooth, emotionless visage engraved into the surface. The engraved face bore no human expression—just an unfeeling, stoic glare that seemed to watch everyone and no one at once. His attire was regal yet practical, a long, flowing black and crimson cloak embroidered with gold trim and arcane symbols of power. The cloak billowed in the wind as the chimera descended. Beneath it, he wore a suit of segmented black armor, adorned with intricate carvings of dragons, flames, and swords. The armor's edges glinted faintly, as if enchanted to radiate power. Around his shoulders rested a heavy chain of office, each link made of pure obsidian, glowing faintly with an inner light.

Flanking the king were his royal automatons, a dozen of them standing in perfect formation atop the chimera's massive wings. These automatons were larger and far more imposing than the ones that had fought Uzellken. Their metallic plating shimmered with an almost organic fluidity, and their glowing eyes burned brighter, like miniature suns. They carried massive halberds that crackled faintly with steel magic energy, their forms exuding an aura of menace and dominance.

As the chimera landed with a deafening thud, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their fear of the automaton carnage subsumed by their awe of King Alaric. Nobles and commoners alike dropped to their knees, bowing low as they chanted his name. 

"All hail King Alaric!" 

"Hail the King of Jörvaldr!" 

But amidst the sea of reverence, Kivorn and Draeven remained standing. 

Draeven's smoke curled tightly around him, as if shielding him from the moment. His voice was quiet but firm as he muttered, "We bow to no one else. Not even one who rides... that thing."

Kivorn, leaning lazily on his staff, didn't even glance at the king. "Not a man," he said in his usual slow, deliberate tone. "Not a god. Not a dragon. Only Yuuna." 

The king stepped off the chimera's back with a graceful motion, his heavy boots barely making a sound as they touched the cracked stone. His movements were deliberate, almost sorrowful, as though the weight of his office pressed down on him. He stood silently for a moment, his steel mask turning toward Uzellken's broken body. Slowly, he raised a gauntleted hand and rested it on the hilt of a ceremonial sword at his side. The crowd fell silent, waiting for their king to speak. 

Kivorn thought, 'The king of Jörvaldr…the vessel of the dragon god of wealth and gold. Father to Sethrak and Zyphira…that damn pervert..'

When his voice came, it was a deep, guttural dragon dialect, a language ancient and harsh, spoken in tones that reverberated in the chest and soul of everyone who heard it. 

"ʀᴇᴢᴋᴀ ᴛʜᴀʀᴜᴍɪ. ᴋᴀʀᴀᴄʜ ɢᴏᴛʜᴀ ꜰᴀᴇʀᴀᴅ. ᴢʏᴇɴ ᴅᴀʟ ᴍᴀʟᴋᴀʀᴀᴠ." 

The words hung in the air like a stormcloud, incomprehensible to most. Then, with a subtle shift in tone, the king translated the words into the common tongue, his voice now clearer but still laced with authority. 

"Money is earned. Survival is earned. Riches and wealth are the only true worship to the god of Jörvaldr. And survival, too, is a form of tribute." 

The crowd murmured in agreement, nodding at the wisdom of their king. But as the king's voice lowered, his words became quieter, almost a whisper meant only for himself. 

"The black crystals…" he murmured, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. "The cursed region brought them forth. They spread like a plague. I fear we do not have much time…" 

He shook his head slightly, brushing away his thoughts, and gestured toward Uzellken's corpse. "Bring me his head," he commanded flatly. "It will serve as a reminder to all who defy the laws of Jörvaldr." 

The largest of the royal automatons stepped forward, its massive frame casting a shadow over the bloodied body. Its arm shifted seamlessly into a massive blade as it raised it high, preparing to sever Uzellken's head in one swift motion. 

But before the blade could fall, a deafening KATHOOM shook the ground, and a cloud of dust and debris erupted from the automaton's position. The sheer force of the impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, and the crowd gasped in unison, shielding their faces from the blast. Even the king took a step back, his steel mask tilting slightly as if in surprise. 

When the dust cleared, the automaton lay crushed beneath the weight of two figures sprawled out on the ground. 

"What..an entrance..," Kivorn muttered.

Draeven sighed in relief, "It's them..!"

The crowd stared in stunned silence as the two figures bickered loudly, completely oblivious to the chaos around them. 

"THIS IS THE WRONG PLACE!" one of them shouted, slamming their fists into the ground in frustration. 

"NO, IT'S NOT!" the other replied, their voice high-pitched and defensive. "THIS IS EXACTLY WHERE WE NEED TO BE!" 

"What the hell did we even land in?!" 

The second figure turned their head, spotting Kivorn and Draeven standing nearby. Their face lit up, and they waved manically. "Hiiii! Funny to see you two here! Xyenn messed up our landing! And nice masks!"

"FOOL! I DIDN'T!" the first figure—Xyenn—snapped, his voice dripping with indignation. 

"YOU DID!" the second—Yuuna—shot back, jabbing a finger at him. 

The two immediately started wrestling on the bloodied ground, rolling over Uzellken's corpse as they bantered back and forth. 

"Your fault!" 

"No, YOUR fault!" 

The crowd stared in confusion, their earlier fear now replaced with complete bewilderment. 

"What… is happening?" someone muttered. 

"Are they… playing?" 

"They just crushed an automaton, and now they're rolling around like children?" 

The chaos escalated when one of the royal automatons, seeing the threat, dashed forward, its blade aimed for Xyenn's neck. The automaton moved with blinding speed, its feet barely skimming the ground. 

But Xyenn vanished faster. 

In a blur of motion, he reappeared crouching on the automaton's sword mid-air, balancing effortlessly as the crowd gasped in awe. His posture was relaxed, one knee bent as he rested his forearm lazily on his thigh. The automaton's glowing eyes flickered in confusion, but before it could react, Xyenn twisted his body sharply, spinning on the blade. His legs snapped out in a fluid, almost dance-like motion, and the momentum wrenched the sword free from the automaton's arm. The blade arced through the air, and with one final spin, Xyenn used it to slice the automaton clean in half. 

The two halves of the automaton clattered to the ground, sparks flying as its core sputtered and died. Xyenn landed gracefully, his feet skimming the blood-soaked ground. 

The crowd erupted into a mixture of gasps and cheers. 

From his position, the king stood tall, watching the scene unfold with an air of bemused authority. "Ah," he said, his voice calm but edged with something darker. "If it isn't Yuuna… and her vessel. They told me you would arrive." 

Yuuna, still brushing dirt off her clothes, grinned wide and slapped her fists together. "Ready to fight or what?!" she shouted. "I've been wanting to kill you for so long after what you did to Sethrak and Zyphira!" 

Before anything else could happen, another crash resounded from above. Three more figures plummeted from the sky, landing hard on the ground with muffled grunts of pain. 

"Damn it, Gorran!" one of them growled. It was Mertha.

"That wasn't me!" Gorran replied.

The third figure groaned, standing up and dusting themselves off. "I don't even know why I hang out with you two." It was Quinara.

Kivorn tilted his head slightly, glancing at Quinara, the third member of the new arrivals. "Who's…the red woman?" he asked flatly. 

Draeven shrugged, his smoke curling nervously. "I-I wonder…but it's good to see everyone here, I feel a lot b-better now."

The chimera growled low, its three heads scanning the gathered crowd, the tension in the air heavy enough to crush the whispers of the onlookers. The automaton guards, still flanking King Alaric, stood motionless, their glowing eyes trained on the group now assembled at the center of the bloodied battlefield. Yuuna, Xyenn, Kivorn, and Draeven stood together, their presence a stark contrast to the king's regal stature. Behind them, Gorran, Mertha, and Quinara lingered in confusion, brushing themselves off from their graceless landing, the tension palpable in their stances. 

Xyenn said, "Who's this?" He asked, pointing at the king.

Yuuna snarled, "That bastard is the vessel of the dragon god of wealth and gold, the worst person ever. He's the reason Sethrak and Zyphira are my Tyrants. He's the reason why they are how they are."

"That guy…?"

'Hiding behind a steel mask? Maybe he's connected to Kassius…? Other than that…he probably hides behind the mask because of Sethrak and Zyphira. Or maybe other things? Guilt of something? I don't feel any bloodlust from him. Concealing it? Am I that nervous? Analyzing this guy before even talking to him? I do this with every person I'm about to meet.'

Yuuna held Xyenn's hand as she kept looking at King Alaric.

'Her smile went away…she's used to doing this. Smiling before a serious moment, then immediately getting serious. Why?'

The crowd outside the barrier buzzed with confusion, their voices rising in murmurs. To them, the king's arrival had been a spectacle, a rare glimpse of divinity and authority descending amidst chaos. But now, they could only watch, perplexed, as the king stepped down from his chimeric mount and began walking toward the group. His approach was slow and deliberate, his steel mask betraying no expression, his crimson cloak trailing behind him and brushing the blood-stained ground. 

The nobles, who only moments ago had been shouting bets and cheers, were now silent, their faces pale with uncertainty. The commoners muttered nervously, wondering why the king was moving toward what appeared to be a band of rogue adventurers. 

But none of the crowd could hear what was about to unfold. 

Alaric stopped just a few paces from Yuuna and her group. For a moment, he stood still, his steel mask tilting slightly as if studying them. His presence was immense, his aura radiating authority, but there was something else beneath it—something fragile, something broken. Slowly, he raised a gauntleted hand to his chest, his fingers curling into a fist over his heart.

And then, shocking everyone, he bowed.

The king of Jörvaldr, ruler of the land, bowed deeply before Yuuna. 

Gasps rippled through the crowd like a wave, their disbelief palpable. 

"Is he… bowing?" 

"To them?!" 

"What in the gods' names is happening?" 

Even Gorran, Mertha, and Quinara exchanged confused glances, unsure of how to react. 

Kivorn and Draeven, however, remained stoic. Draeven's smoke coiled tightly around him, his nervous energy barely contained. Kivorn, as always, leaned lazily on his staff, his tired gaze fixed on the king but giving nothing away. 

Yuuna's claws flexed at her sides, her golden eyes narrowing as she watched Alaric's every move. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous. 

The king didn't answer immediately. Instead, he straightened, placing both hands on his chest. With a sharp, deliberate motion, he unsheathed a ceremonial dagger from his belt. The crowd gasped again, the sound of the blade scraping against its scabbard like a whisper of death. 

And then, without hesitation, he plunged the dagger into his own chest.

The crowd screamed in horror, some shielding their eyes, others craning their necks to see. Blood seeped through the cracks in Alaric's black armor, staining his crimson cloak as he staggered slightly, his hand clutching the hilt of the dagger embedded deep in his chest. 

Xyenn was startled, saying, "The hell are you—."

Yuuna's eyes widened in shock, her claws twitching. "What the hell are you doing?!" she snapped, her voice laced with anger and confusion. 

The king's voice trembled as he spoke, though it was quiet enough that only those closest to him could hear. "I… I need your help," he said, his tone heavy with desperation. His steel mask turned toward Yuuna, as if pleading with her. "I know… I know you despise me. I know you want to kill me. But I have no other choice." 

Yuuna's lip curled into a snarl, her claws flexing again. "You're damn right I want to kill you. After what you did to Sethrak and Zyphira, you deserve to be destroyed. Don't think stabbing yourself is going to stop me." 

Alaric's shoulders trembled, a faint sob escaping him as blood dripped from his armor. "I know. I know what I've done. And I will accept whatever judgment you decide to bring upon me. But first… you must listen." 

The king stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. His words were for Yuuna and her group alone, hidden from the ears of the crowd and the nobles. 

"It's the cursed region," he began, his voice trembling. "It's spreading. The lands are rotting, the air is poison, and the earth itself is rotting. The crops die, the rivers run dry, and the sky… the sky burns red." He paused, clutching his chest as blood dripped through his fingers. "It wasn't always this way. It began when the dragon god of war stirred. His influence… his power… he has cursed the land with his **abominations of war." 

Yuuna's eyes narrowed, her expression growing darker. "Abominations of war…"

Xyenn thought, 'Ezrael is targeting this place for war..this entire damn continent…'

"They are his creations," Alaric said, his voice barely audible. "Twisted creatures, forged from the suffering of the land. They destroy everything in their path, leaving nothing but ruin. Adventurers… heroes… I've sent hundreds into the cursed region, hoping to find a cure, a way to stop the spread. But they never return the same." His steel mask tilted slightly, as if gesturing toward Uzellken's mutilated corpse. "They come back like him. Twisted. Broken. Cursed." 

Draeven's smoke coiled tighter around him as he muttered under his breath, "Wars co-coming…"

Quinara said, "Abominations of war? I've heard of them from my people. I always wanted to see one up close."

Kivorn looked at Quinara, asking, "Who…are you again?"

"Quinara! I'm a Quen! Nice to meet ya."

"Ah. Why..are you here?"

"To kill gods, same as you."

Gorran raised an eyebrow, glancing at Yuuna. "What do you think? This bastard doesn't deserve our help."

Yuuna didn't answer immediately, her claws twitching as she listened to Alaric. 

The king's voice grew more desperate. "I know the dragon god of war is coming," he whispered. "And I know I cannot stop him. My only hope… my trump card… was lost in the cursed region long ago. Without it, my kingdom will fall. And it won't stop there. He will consume everything. Your lands. Your people. Everything you hold dear." 

Yuuna's claws twitched violently at her sides, her mind racing. She thought of Sethrak and Zyphira, the bond they'd shared, the battles they'd fought together. She thought of the people she had saved in Soulcaris, the warmth she'd felt knowing she had done something good, something meaningful. But then her anger surged, her memories flashing back to the pain Alaric had caused to Zyphira and Sethrak.

"You think I care about your kingdom?" she hissed, her voice venomous. "You think I care about your people? After what you've done? I should kill you right here, right now. I should kill you and your god—no. I meant to say you, I don't care about you or your feelings.."

'I care about the safety of people now, I can't say things like that..no matter how angry I get.'

Alaric's steel mask tilted downward as if in shame. "Then do it," he said softly. "But if you do, innocents will die. The abominations will destroy them all. And every death will make the dragon god of war stronger. He feeds on destruction, on chaos, on the suffering of the weak. If you let him, he will burn this world to ash." 

Yuuna froze, her chest tightening. She thought of the people she had saved before, the gratitude in their eyes, the way it had made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time. She thought of Sethrak and Zyphira. What would they do? Would they let Alaric live now, knowing the stakes? Or would they kill him, fulfilling their vengeance? 

Her claws flexed again, her eyes burning with conflict. 

'If I was still a monster…would I kill him for fun? Or on Zyphira and Sethrak's behalf..'

The crowd outside the barrier was growing restless, their murmurs growing louder as they watched the tense exchange. 

"Why aren't they doing anything?" 

"What's going on? Why isn't the king speaking to us?" 

"Are they going to fight?" 

The automatons around the king shifted uneasily, their glowing eyes flickering as they struggled to process his silence. One of them took a step forward, its blade beginning to morph, but Alaric raised a gauntleted hand. 

"STAND DOWN!" he roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. 

The automatons hesitated, their movements jerky and uncertain as they processed the conflicting order. 

Yuuna raised her clawed hand, her group readying themselves for a fight. Xyenn said, "Yuuna…"

Quinara grinned, "Oh shit, my first real fight!"

Mertha clenched her fists, adding, "Let's bust some heads!"

But the king stepped forward, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Please," he whispered. "Forgive me for what I've done. I know I deserve death, but I need your help. I need you to... save us." 

Yuuna's golden eyes bore into him, her anger and hesitation warring within her. Finally, she asked the question that had been clawing at her mind. 

"Who told you we were coming?" 

Alaric tilted his steel mask upward slightly, his voice heavy with foreboding. 

"The Prophets," he said. 

Mertha asked Alaric, "Who is your trump card?"

"Kassius Velmire."