"General."
The Goblin Shaman's voice trembled as he addressed the towering figure before him. The Goblin General stood with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The Shaman hesitated, his words catching in his throat before he finally spoke.
"In the face of a creature like that... one that attacks its own kind the moment it's born... shouldn't we just kill him?"
The General turned slowly, his gaze piercing through the Shaman like a blade. The smaller goblin flinched, his hands fidgeting nervously. After a long silence, the General finally replied, his voice low and measured.
"I see potential in that boy."
"Potential?" The Shaman's brow furrowed, his confusion evident.
"That's right," the General said, his eyes narrowing as he stared toward the dense forest. "The potential to become a king."
"A king?!" The Shaman's face twisted in shock, his voice rising an octave.
The *King's Seed.*
It was a legend whispered among the goblin tribes, a rare and coveted trait that marked the birth of a leader capable of uniting the scattered hordes and leading them to greatness. Only those born with the seed could ascend to such heights, and now, it existed within a newborn cub — a creature born of an elf and a goblin.
"If the other generals learn of this," the Shaman muttered, his voice trembling, "the bloodshed won't end. And if the humans find out... they'll come for him."
"Exactly," the Goblin General replied grimly. "A race with a king is no longer just a threat... it's a force that can shake the continent."
"So... what should we do with the elf?" the Shaman asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
By tradition, if Kaito was to become king, his biological mother should have been honored and protected. But goblins had no concept of family — to them, women were only tools for breeding, disposable once their purpose was served.
"Hmph," the General scoffed. "A king has no need for weakness."
"But," the Shaman added cautiously, "the boy seems... attached to her."
"Then we can't keep her," the General said coldly. "Weakness has no place in a king's heart."
He paused, his expression darkening as he considered the implications. "But not yet. Until the boy leaves infancy, he'll need her. Keep her alive — for now."
"Yes, General," the Shaman bowed, masking his unease as he retreated into the shadows.
---
Meanwhile, in the dim confines of the longhouse, the elf woman cradled Kaito in her arms. The air was thick with the stench of damp earth and rotting wood, and the faint glow of a single torch cast flickering shadows on the walls. Iron bars divided the space into cramped cells, each housing a woman and her goblin cub. The guards patrolled the perimeter, their beady eyes watching for any sign of disobedience.
Yet, despite the bleakness of their surroundings, the elf woman found solace in the small moments she shared with Kaito. She had named him quietly in her heart, a secret she kept from the goblins who saw him as nothing more than a tool for their ambitions.
Kaito had grown quickly in the three months since his birth. His once frail body had strengthened, his limbs filling out with muscle, and his eyes, once clouded with confusion, now gleamed with a sharp intelligence. But beneath his growing strength, there was a softness — a vulnerability that only his mother could see.
---
"Come... call me 'Mom,'" the elf whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Mother..." Kaito repeated awkwardly, his voice still rough and unpracticed.
"Yes... that's right..." The elf smiled through her tears, her hand brushing gently over his hair. Her fingers were cold, far colder than they should have been, and Kaito could feel the faint tremble in her touch.
He looked up at her, his small face scrunched in concern. Though he was still young, he could sense her fading strength. The curse that bound her to this place was slowly draining her life, and the exhaustion of caring for him was taking its toll.
"Mom... I'm scared..."
Kaito slid from her arms and sat beside her, pressing his small body close to hers. He didn't have the words to express his fear, but his actions spoke volumes. He wanted to protect her, to shield her from the darkness that surrounded them.
The elf woman let out a soft sigh, her hand resting weakly on his head. "You're such a good boy," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "So strong... so kind..."
Kaito said nothing, only leaning into her touch. He didn't understand why the world was so cruel, why they were trapped in this cold, dark place. But in these quiet moments, when it was just the two of them, he felt a warmth that made everything else bearable.
---
One evening, as the torchlight flickered and the guards' footsteps echoed in the distance, the elf woman began to hum a soft melody. It was a song from her homeland, a lullaby she had heard as a child. Her voice was shaky at first, but as she continued, it grew stronger, filling the small space with a gentle, soothing rhythm.
Kaito listened intently, his eyes wide with wonder. He had never heard anything so beautiful. The melody wrapped around him like a blanket, chasing away the cold and the fear. He curled up beside her, his head resting on her lap as she stroked his hair.
"Do you like it?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with sadness.
Kaito nodded, his small hand clutching the fabric of her tattered dress. He didn't want the song to end. He wanted to stay like this forever, safe and warm in her embrace.
The elf woman smiled, though her eyes were filled with tears. "I'll sing it for you every night," she promised. "Until you're strong enough to face the world on your own."
Kaito didn't understand what she meant, but he clung to her words, storing them away in his heart. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain — he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
---
As the days passed, their bond grew stronger. The elf woman taught Kaito small things — how to braid strands of straw into tiny figures, how to mimic the calls of birds, how to find comfort in the simplest of joys. In return, Kaito brought her moments of laughter, his clumsy attempts at play bringing a rare lightness to her weary heart.
But even as they found happiness in each other, the shadow of their reality loomed ever closer. The Goblin General's words echoed in the elf woman's mind, a constant reminder that their time together was fleeting.
*Weakness has no place in a king's heart.*
She knew what it meant. She knew that one day, they would come for her. But until that day arrived, she would cherish every moment, every smile, every whispered "Mother."
And Kaito, though still too young to understand the weight of their circumstances, felt the same. For him, she was his world — the only light in the darkness. And he would hold onto that light, no matter what the future held.