Emma's earlier comment about how long it had taken me to realize her true identity still stung. I wasn’t sure why, but it left me feeling emotionally off-balance, as if I had failed somehow. I stared at her and, in my usual deflective manner, quipped, “Hey! Don’t act like you’re perfect. Remember when you first learned to shapeshift? You gave yourself C-cup boobs even though you looked like a ten-year-old. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the sudden… upgrade?”

  Emma’s face flushed a deep purple, and she stammered, struggling to find a retort. Her embarrassed reaction was adorable, and I found myself fighting to slow my heart rate. It was a panic attack. Definitely a panic attack… right?

  I shifted awkwardly, trying to change the tone. “Just tell me one thing. Why me? I’m… a heavily flawed loser.”

  Her expression softened, and she gave me a smile so warm it could melt steel. “A diamond doesn’t see its worth. A gem pulled from the earth is worth more than one created in a lab. Its flaws make it unique, beautiful even. You’re the gem I chose, and I’ll be your light. Together, we’ll shine.”

  It was the most eloquent, heartfelt thing I had ever heard. I could feel the depth of her affection, and it scared me. But being me, I couldn’t leave such a sincere moment untainted. “You should write Hallmark cards,” I muttered.

  She chuckled, and we shared a laugh that was awkward yet strangely comforting. Despite her words, I wasn’t sure how I felt. When it came to other people’s emotions, I was clueless, but when it came to my own, it was as if my heart were an enigma locked in an iron box.

  Emma seemed to sense my inner turmoil. “It’s okay,” she said gently. “We don’t have to figure it all out now. Let’s just take it slow—one step at a time.” She turned and walked away to help the green children, her hips swaying with what I could only describe as a victorious rhythm.

  Grillo’s low chuckle snapped me out of my daze. I hadn’t even realized he was standing nearby. “Damn, lad, you just got played.”

  I blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean, Pops?”

  The dwarf smirked knowingly. “When she said ‘one step at a time,’ what she really meant was: congratulations, you’re in a relationship now.”

  I glanced back at Emma, still swaying triumphantly, and sighed in defeat. “Well played.”

  The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity. Naming and clothing the children, finding them homes—it was a logistical nightmare, but not as difficult as I had expected. Grillo’s provisions ensured we had enough food and cloth, and many of the villagers eagerly took in a child, grateful for the opportunity to raise one. My parents, to my surprise, took in the baby girl Emma had saved when we first found the green children. They named her Shelly, and just like that, I had a baby sister.

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  As we cared for the children, we learned more about what had happened to the goblins. After the curse was broken, the regular goblins had grown sick and died. Without the curse sustaining them, they couldn’t survive. Yet, even in their final moments, they had tried to protect the high goblins. It was a sobering realization: even beasts cursed to soullessness had shown nobility in their dying moments. Their sacrifice stirred something in me—a deep anger toward the dark god responsible for their suffering.

  The day wasn’t without its lighter moments, though. One of the boys, Stanley, had caused quite the stir. While helping the older boys bathe at the river, I noticed Stanley staring at me with a mix of admiration and uncertainty. He seemed nervous and clumsy, dropping his soap repeatedly and muttering apologies as he avoided my gaze.

  After using [Soul Speak] to reassure Stanley that there was nothing to be nervous about, I learned he was self-conscious about fitting in with the other boys. Elves weren’t bothered by nudity, but his nervousness made him stand out, and it had been interpreted as shyness. The misunderstanding caused some laughter among the group, and while I felt a little awkward at first, I reassured him again that he had nothing to worry about. Even Emma joined in with some lighthearted teasing, though her humor was aimed more at me than at Stanley.

  By evening, the commotion had finally died down, and we turned our attention to the second group I had detected earlier. Our scouts returned with grim news: slavers.

  The slavers had set up camp on the far side of the mountain, holding several captives in cages. Among them were high goblins, as well as elven men and women—survivors from Luna’s original group. She confirmed that they had likely been captured using the spy I had unknowingly killed.

  The slavers were numerous—fifty heavily armed men, to be exact. While we could wipe them out in a frontal assault, the hostages would likely die in the crossfire. We needed a plan to separate the slavers from their prisoners.

  The solution came to me in a flash of inspiration. My golden eyes, which had been a curse in so many ways, could now be a weapon. To the slavers, my eyes made me a prize worth more than ten thousand elves combined.

  “I’ll lure them away,” I announced.

  The plan was simple: I would reveal myself to the slavers, drawing the majority of them away from their camp. My father would then lead an assault to free the captives. Once I had led the slavers far enough, Emma and Luna would spring an ambush, taking them down.

  It was a risky plan, but it was the best chance we had to save the hostages. As we finalized the details, I glanced at Emma. She gave me a reassuring nod, her confidence unshakable.

  For the first time, I felt something I hadn’t in years: hope. Not just for the mission ahead, but for all of us. Maybe, just maybe, we were building something here. A future. A home.

  Perhaps it was time to start thinking about that castle after all.