KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess

The gates of Hearthome were like twin monoliths carved from volcanic stone, their surfaces gleaming with embedded crystals that caught and reflected the eternal flame burning somewhere within the city. Steam drifted from vents along the massive walls, creating curtains of vapor that made the guards seem like phantoms until Xavier and his companions drew close enough to see their faces clearly.

Xavier felt like death warmed over. Three days of hard riding had left him hollow-eyed and gaunt, his black hair matted with sweat and snow. The clothes Olga had sold them in Vykengard were torn and stained with blood—some his own, most from the creatures they'd killed along the way. Beside him, Naomi swayed slightly in her saddle, exhaustion written in the tight lines around her golden eyes. Ashley sat straighter despite her injuries, but the faint golden fractures along her jawline caught the firelight from the city walls, marking her as someone who'd pushed her abilities too far.

They looked exactly like what they were: survivors who'd crawled out of the northern wastes carrying their dead.

"Halt!" The command came from a guard whose armor bore the flame-and-mountain sigil of Hearthome. He was young, maybe twenty, with nervous brown eyes that kept darting between Xavier's face and the dried blood on his clothes. "State your business in the city."

Xavier dismounted slowly, his legs protesting after hours in the saddle. "We're travelers from Vykengard. Seeking shelter and healing."

"Vykengard?"Another guard stepped forward, older. His gray beard was neatly trimmed, but it was his eyes that held authority—blue and still, they held the patience of a man who'd seen a thousand winters at this gate and wasn't impressed by this one. "That's a hard journey in winter. You come alone?"

"We were part of Dalen's caravan." Xavier's voice came out rougher than he intended. "We're all that's left."

The guards exchanged glances. The older one—a sergeant by his insignia—studied Xavier's face more carefully. "Dalen's caravan was expected days ago. What happened?"

Naomi answered before Xavier could. "Thornbeasts. Vorthaks. Worse things." Her tone was flat, factual. "Most didn't make it."

"Thornbeasts?" The young guard's voice cracked slightly. "How many?"

"Enough." Xavier touched his dagger's hilt reflexively. "We dealt with them."

The sergeant's eyes tracked the movement, then fixed on Xavier's face with new interest. "You wouldn't happen to be the one they're calling Thornslayer, would you?"

Xavier felt Naomi tense beside him. They'd hoped to enter the city quietly, blend into the population while they searched for Calypso. Fame was the last thing he needed.

"Depends who's asking."

"Name's Korren. And if you're really the man who killed three Thornbeasts with a dagger..." He shook his head slowly. "Well, that changes things."

"Changes them how?" Ashley's voice carried a dangerous edge despite her weakened state.

Korren stepped back and gestured to the young guard. "Joran, run to the barracks. Tell Lord Commander Alaric we have visitors. Important ones."

Joran sprinted through the gates without hesitation. Xavier watched him disappear into the maze of steam-shrouded streets beyond.

"That wasn't necessary," Xavier said carefully.

"Maybe not. But Lord Commander's been tracking reports from the northern passes. Strange creatures, unusual attacks, caravans going missing." Korren's weathered face was serious now. "If you really fought your way through what's out there, he'll want to hear about it."

"And if we'd rather just find an inn and some hot food?"

Korren's smile was sympathetic but firm. "I'm afraid that's not how things work when you're a legend, son. Stories about the Thornslayer have been filtering in for days. Half the city's heard them by now."

"How long until this Lord Commander arrives?" Naomi asked.

"Soon enough. He doesn't like to keep heroes waiting."

Ashley made a soft sound that might have been laughter or disgust. "Heroes. Right."

The gates remained open, but more guards had appeared. Not threatening, exactly, but clearly ensuring Xavier's group wouldn't simply melt into the city's anonymity. Steam continued to rise from the volcanic vents, carrying the scents of sulfur and warm stone.

Calypso was close. So close he could almost taste her presence on the sulfur-tinged air.

"Thornslayer!" The voice boomed across the courtyard as a new figure emerged from the gates. This man moved with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to command, his armor polished to a mirror shine despite the harsh conditions. Dark hair was shot through with silver at the temples, and sharp green eyes took in every detail of Xavier's appearance in a single glance.

"Lord Commander Alaric," Sergeant Korren said, snapping to attention.

Alaric waved the formality aside, his focus entirely on Xavier. "So you're the man who's been terrorizing the Winter Court's pets." His voice carried genuine amusement. "I have to say, the reports didn't do justice to how thoroughly you've been mauled."

"The creatures didn't fare better," Xavier replied.

"I should hope not. Three Thornbeasts, they say? With nothing but steel?" Alaric circled Xavier slowly, his assessment clinical but not hostile. "Either you're the luckiest man in Frostfall, or there's more to you than meets the eye."

"Maybe both."

"HAHA! I like honest men. Rare quality in my line of work." His expression grew more serious as he studied Ashley and Naomi. "Your companions look like they've been through hell."

"They have." Xavier stepped slightly forward, positioning himself between the Lord Commander and the women. "Efler needs healing. Her abilities... there was feedback. She's been fighting it for days."

Alaric's green eyes sharpened as he noticed the faint golden lines along Ashley's jaw. "Mana shock. Nasty business. We have healers who specialize in such things." He gestured toward the city. "The Temple of the Eternal Flame maintains the best medical facilities this side of the capital."

"And Nessa?" Xavier asked.

"Exhaustion, from the look of her. Rest and hot food will cure that." Alaric's tone became brisk, businesslike. "Here's what's going to happen. Your companions will be escorted to the temple for proper care. You and I are going to have a conversation about exactly what's been happening in the northern passes."

Xavier felt his jaw tighten. "We stay together."

"No. Your companions need medical attention they won't get standing in this courtyard. You need to provide intelligence that could save lives. We do this efficiently, or people die."

Naomi touched Xavier's arm, her fingers cold even through his coat. "He's right. Ashley needs real healing, not whatever field medicine we can provide."

"I'll be fine," Ashley added, though her voice was strained.

Xavier looked between them, every instinct screaming against separation. They'd survived by staying together, by watching each other's backs. But Ashley's condition was getting worse, and they all knew it.

"One hour," he said finally. "Then I want to see them."

"When I'm satisfied with your story, you'll see them." Alaric signaled to the older guard. "Sergeant Korren, escort the ladies to the temple. Tell the priestess they're to receive our best care. Bring Margot if you must."

As the guards moved to flank Naomi and Ashley, Xavier caught Naomi's eyes. Her golden gaze was steady, reassuring. Trust me, that look said. I'll take care of Ashley.

Ashley managed a weak smile. "Try not to start any wars while we're gone."

"No promises."

Xavier watched them disappear into the maze of streets beyond the gate, Ashley leaning heavily on Naomi's arm despite her attempts to walk straight. Their hooves faded into the city's industrial heartbeat, leaving him alone with Lord Commander Alaric. The man turned not toward the main thoroughfare, but to a small, unassuming side door in the fortress wall. It wasn't an entrance for heroes; it was an entrance for interrogations. The trap had sprung.

"Come," Alaric said, turning toward a different entrance. "Let's discuss what brings legends to my doorstep."

===

The chamber Alaric led him to was carved directly from the volcanic stone, its walls smooth and warm to the touch. Crystals embedded in the ceiling provided steady light, while a small vent in the corner released a gentle stream of heated air. A simple table dominated the room's center, flanked by two chairs that had seen better days.

Xavier took the offered seat, grateful to be off his feet. The Soul Mark between his shoulder blades pulsed with cold fire, a constant reminder of the Knight's attention. But beneath that alien presence, something else stirred—a warmth that had nothing to do with Hearthome's volcanic heat.

"Water?" Alaric offered, pouring from a crystal pitcher.

Xavier accepted the cup gratefully. The water was warm and tasted faintly of minerals, but it was the first clean drink he'd had in days. "Thank you."

Alaric settled into the opposite chair, his green eyes never leaving Xavier's face. "Now then. Tell me about Dalen's caravan."

Xavier chose his words carefully. "We left Vykengard with twenty-five people. Twelve wagons. Full guard complement."

"And arrived with three people, no wagons, and a reputation for killing things that shouldn't be killable by normal men." Alaric leaned back in his chair. "What happened to the other twenty-two?"

"Couldn't save everyone."

Alaric stopped pacing. "Your story is... unbelievable. We'll need to verify every detail. Cross-reference with other reports, check timelines, confirm—"

Xavier's heart exploded.

Not pain this time, but something far more overwhelming. Joy crashed into Xavier's consciousness, followed by relief so intense it left him gasping. Emotions that weren't his own flooded through the connection he shared with Calypso—elation, gratitude, love, and beneath it all, the bone-deep satisfaction of a reunion long awaited.

He's here, her voice whispered in his mind, clear as crystal despite the impossible distance.

My Xavier is here.