The cave was filled with golden light, filtered through roots and crystal-veined stone. The air carried a quiet reverence as the Children of the Forest gathered, forming a wide circle around Gojo. Snowylocks nestled at his left side, her small hand clutched tightly in his, while Ash—a young male with bark-brown hair and gentle, silver eyes—hugged Gojo’s right arm, his gaze soft with devotion.

  Gojo looked at them both. Snowylocks’ stomach had begun to swell—his child growing within her. So had several others he recognized now by face and feeling. The realization struck him like a quiet bell—he was no longer just a visitor in this world. He was becoming part of its fabric.

  He stepped forward, letting his cursed energy subtly radiate—not in threat, but as warmth, like sunlight after a long winter.

  “I have an announcement to make,” he said.

  The murmurs died instantly.

  “No more blood sacrifices,” Gojo declared, his voice firm, yet kind. “The time of offering blood and pain to the moon is over. I will protect you now—with my strength, with everything I am.”

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  A silence followed, deep and trembling. Then came the cheers—soft at first, like wind in the trees, but growing louder and louder until the entire cavern shook with the joy of a people freed from a millennia-old burden.

  They gave him a name, long and unpronounceable in the tongue of men. It flowed like poetry, recounting every one of Gojo’s deeds—from his celestial rebirth, to the fall of the Moon Shard, to his protection of their kin. When they finished chanting, some wept.

  Gojo bowed low to them.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For Leaf. For Black Knife. For the others I fought before I understood. I can’t undo what I did... but I can carry it. I will carry it with honor.”

  A quiet weeping filled the chamber. Snowylocks wiped her tears. Ash pressed closer to Gojo’s side.

  Then, with great reverence, Snowylocks stepped forward and placed a cloth-wrapped bundle into Gojo’s hands.

  Inside were three dragon eggs—dark, reddish-gold, and bronze. Ancient. Pulsing with dormant fire.

  “These belonged to Sheepstealer,” Snowylocks whispered. “Once bonded to Leaf… who you might have known as Nettles.”

  Gojo’s hands tightened around the bundle. “I didn’t know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

  Snowylocks reached up, touching his face. “She would have forgiven you too. We all must change to survive.”

  Ash leaned in and kissed Gojo on the cheek, a blessing and a promise. Snowylocks did the same, her touch feather-light. In that moment, surrounded by warmth, forgiveness, and the future growing within the Children, Gojo felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

  Hope.