The grand cathedral of Vaelthia's Sanctuary was alive with celebration.
Banners of white and gold draped every pillar, and soft music floated through the air like the scent of fresh spring flowers. Dragons in human form mingled with villagers, nobles, and even some former demons — now living peaceful lives.
At the heart of it all stood the bride and groom.
Dravenith, the once-sullen dragon prince, fidgeted awkwardly at the altar, his black hair neatly tied back.
Beside him, in a flowing silver dress, Sylvaris glowed — quite literally, her body shimmering faintly with magic in her excitement.
Today was their wedding day.
And somehow, Ryle had been roped into the chaos.
He shifted uneasily in his formal jacket, cradling a squirming toddler in his arms. His daughter, with messy red hair and pouting cheeks, wriggled like a tiny dragon, kicking his ribs.
"Thea," Ryle hissed, "help me."
Thea, looking breathtaking in a simple white dress, only laughed as she chased after their son, who darted between the guests like a mischievous pixie.
"This was your idea," she teased, tossing her hair.
Ryle groaned, shifting the girl to his other arm.
The ceremony was about to begin — and their kids were absolute menaces.
But then—
A shadow loomed above them.
Vaelthia, towering, radiant, and slightly terrifying, swooped down in her priestess robes, her eyes glowing warmly.
"Come here, little one," she crooned.
Instantly, Ryle's daughter stopped fussing.
She blinked up at Vaelthia...and snuggled into her arms like a docile kitten.
Across the room, their son, too, suddenly sat down cross-legged, behaving as if he had been a perfect angel his entire life.
Ryle and Thea stared at each other.
Deadpan.
"...We're failures as parents," Thea said first.
"Completely hopeless," Ryle agreed, sighing.
They both laughed helplessly.
The ceremony began.
Soft music played as Sylvaris floated gracefully down the aisle, her dark blue hair shining under the light.
Dravenith — poor, awkward Dravenith — looked like he might pass out just from seeing her.
As the two exchanged vows in the old Draconic tongue, Ryle was called up — the official Best Man, but also, more importantly, Dravenith's brother.
He walked to the front, adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, and cleared his throat.
"Today," Ryle began, voice steady, "isn't just a wedding between two dragons — it's a bridge between two worlds."
He glanced at Sylvaris and smiled warmly.
"You're stubborn, dramatic, and...undeniably weird, but you make Dravenith happier than I've ever seen him. And honestly, anyone who can deal with his sulking deserves a lifetime medal."
The crowd chuckled.
Ryle turned to Dravenith.
"And you — you finally found someone who understands your dark poetry phase."
More laughter.
"But in all seriousness," Ryle said, voice softening, "you've proven that even in a world broken by war and darkness, love can grow strong. Congratulations, brother."
He raised his glass.
"To Dravenith and Sylvaris!"
A roar of cheers and applause shook the hall.
Dravenith's face turned beet red.
Sylvaris simply gave Ryle a wink as she twirled happily in her wedding dress.
Later, during the feast, Thea wandered over to Sylvaris, sipping a glass of fruit wine.
She tapped Sylvaris on the shoulder and, without warning, asked bluntly:
"So...you're undead, right?
Can you even get pregnant?"
Sylvaris choked on her drink, coughing violently.
Her blue eyes went wide.
"Damn," she muttered. "I just realized."
Panic broke across her beautiful face.
She immediately sprinted across the room, nearly knocking over a table, searching desperately for Dravenith.
When she found him near the dessert table, she noticed something odd —
Dravenith's left side was faintly glowing, a soft, golden hue.
Sylvaris froze.
Before she could speak, a stern voice thundered behind her:
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, IGNILTH'S BRAT?!"
Vaelthia, still carrying Ryle's peacefully sleeping daughter, scolded Dravenith with the fury of an ancient dragon queen.
Dravenith immediately shrank back, stammering apologies.
Sylvaris gaped, speechless.
Behind her, Ryle leaned in casually, resting his elbow on her shoulder.
"Oh yeah," he said nonchalantly.
"I forgot to mention...a part of Ignilth's soul is still inside Dravenith."
Sylvaris turned to him, her face frozen in horror.
"You what?!"
"Relax," Ryle said with a sly grin. "It's just the good part. Mostly."
As Sylvaris spun back toward Dravenith, shouting, the festivities continued around them — laughter, music, and warmth filling the hall.
Ryle walked back to Thea, slipping his hand into hers.
Their kids played peacefully at their feet, guarded carefully by Vaelthia's glowing presence.
Together, under the shimmering auroras outside the cathedral's glass roof, the world felt whole again.
No demons.
No gods.
No more battles to fight.
Just love, chaos, and family — exactly as it should be.