Gojo stood before the mouth of the ancient cavern, once humming with layered spells and cursed protections. Now—silence. The magic was gone. Either dispelled by the death of the Moon Shard or surrendered willingly.
“Smart choice,” Gojo murmured.
His voice echoed off the icy stone walls.
The binding vow still pulsed faintly in his chest, tying his fate to the Children of the Forest. He couldn't harm them now, even if he wanted to. Not without forfeiting everything.
But Brynden Rivers… that cursed puppet master the Moon Shard had spoken of, the one who toyed with the threads of fate like a raven weaving winter, he still needed to answer a few questions—if he was still alive.
Gojo stepped inside.
The air was thick with old magic and fresh panic. He heard the commotion before he saw them.
Voices. Fearful. Furious. Whispers laced with hatred and awe.
The Children of the Forest were arguing. About him.
As Gojo entered the cavern, the murmur grew into chaos.
Eyes snapped toward him—huge, golden, glowing.
Some of the Children dropped to their knees, trembling, whispering apologies and begging for their lives.
Others gripped obsidian blades, their small frames taut with anger and hatred.
And a few… flushed and wide-eyed… blushed as they gazed at him.
Gojo blinked. “Huh.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt anyone. Not after the vow.”
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He stepped further into the cave. The leaf-etched walls closed behind him like a ribcage of memory.
“But I need to know where Brynden Rivers is,” he continued. “And, uh… also, some clothes would be nice.”
That was when one of them screamed.
A younger child, wild-eyed and trembling with fury, leapt forward with an obsidian spear.
“You murdered Leaf!” he shouted. “You killed our kin!”
Gojo caught the attack mid-swing without even flinching. The cursed energy in the child’s body crackled against his hand. He didn’t strike. He didn’t maim.
Instead, he converted.
With a pulse of his technique, Gojo turned the boy’s cursed energy into inert mass, draining him of power. The child collapsed, exhausted and defeated, but alive.
The others froze, watching with terror as their bravest had been disarmed with no more effort than a breath.
Gojo sighed again.
A few minutes later, one of them approached—small, silver-haired, with flowers woven through her cloak. Her cheeks were tinted pink as she walked, holding a bundle in her hands.
“Clothes?” Gojo asked.
She nodded, eyes flickering upward. Gojo gave her a lopsided grin.
“I’ll call you Snowylocks,” he said with mock charm. Her blush deepened.
She handed him a tunic made of stitched leaves, bark-thread leggings, and a belt of flowering vines. It was… a look. Gojo shrugged into it with a grin.
“Cozy,” he joked.
Wordlessly, she beckoned him deeper into the cave.
They reached a hollow, lit only by the dim glow of moss. And there, against a root-covered stone, lay the body of Brynden Rivers.
Stab wounds marked his chest and sides. The weapons used were unmistakable—obsidian daggers, crafted by the Children.
Gojo knelt beside the corpse.
“You didn’t go out like a sorcerer,” he muttered. “You went out like a threat.”
He turned to Snowylocks.
“Why?”
Her voice was soft. “He was… too close. He was unraveling the lies we created. The Last Hero. The Prince That Was Promised. All of it… stories we made to keep men looking the other way.”
She looked down. “The Moon Shard’s existence was at the heart of it all. If Brynden had found the truth, he would’ve destroyed us.”
Gojo was quiet for a long time.
Finally, Snowylocks reached out. Her small hand grasped his.
“What will happen to us now?” she asked, voice trembling.
Gojo looked at her, remembering the Moon Shard's final smile. Its request. Its love for these strange, cursed creatures.
He spoke slowly.
“I made a promise. To protect your kind. I’ll keep it.”
Snowylocks’ eyes filled with something more than gratitude.
She stepped forward.
And then, without warning, she kissed him—softly, briefly, reverently.
Gojo blinked in surprise. Then he kissed her back.
It was fleeting. Bittersweet. A moment borrowed from a world where things might have been different.
He didn’t know what the future held. But he knew this:
Before he left this cursed land for Asshai, before he followed the dark road east to face whatever else the Moon Shard had warned him about—
He wanted to leave something behind.