"Momma Can I have some?”– Diana

Darkness had fallen.

Above the vast landmass and deep, untouched forests, the moon glowed dimly, half-veiled by drifting grey clouds. Its surface shimmered faintly among the scattered stars—silver, ancient, and distant. Far below, thin puffs of smoke curled lazily into the night sky, rising from a clearing deep within the woods. The stillness was broken only by the occasional crackle of a burning campfire, flickering against the surrounding trees like a heartbeat in the dark.

Nestled beneath the dense foliage, where the lunar light barely pierced through, stood a moderately large pink tent, quaint yet sturdy—clearly Elysia's influence. It was large enough to hold two, maybe three, and blended naturally into the thicket around it. Beside it sat a single white Monoblock plastic chair, that looked brand new.

Freya was seated there, her long frame relaxed but ever-watchful. Diana, her small, bubbly daughter, was curled up contentedly in her lap, arms wrapped tightly around Elf Elysia—the autonomous mini version of the infamous pink elf herself—now reduced to a glorified plushie. Diana clutched her like a pillow, cheek smushed into Elysia's soft form with a dreamy smile on her face.

Freya let out a slow, quiet sigh.

Her fingers gently ran through Diana's messy, soft hair, brushing through the strands with delicate care. The warmth of her daughter against her chest, the flickering light of the fire, the silence of the forest—it all felt unreal. Tension bled from her body, like cracks forming in armor too long worn. She began to sink into the chair, her posture slackening like a lazy cat stretching after a long day.

In her other hand, Freya held a thin stick skewered with meat, roasted evenly over the open flame. Its golden-brown surface glistened with rendered fat and seasoning, and the sizzling aroma mingled with the smell of burning wood. The firelight danced in her star-speckled eyes—those cool blue pupils tinged with gentle pink, like distant galaxies held in her gaze.

The smell was too powerful to ignore.

Diana's nose twitched.

Then, her eyes cracked open—groggy at first, unfocused, then sharp. Her small arms squeezed Elf Elysia reflexively, pulling the tiny spirit-turned-doll even closer as if trying to draw comfort and warmth from the plushy elf.

And then came the spark—the gleam in her eye that spelled trouble.

In true Kaslana spirit, food was food, and good food was divine. Diana blinked up at her mother, then glanced at the skewer. Then back to her mother. Then back to the meat. Her lips parted slightly, a string of drool forming before she sniffled and looked up with the sweetest eyes imaginable.

"Momma, can I have some?"

Her voice, light and full of life, cut through the somber stillness of the woods like a ray of sunshine through clouded skies.

Freya's lips and eyebrows twitched.

Not from annoyance—no, this was dread. Pure, maternal dread.

Her stern composure faltered, and her gaze flicked down to Diana's glimmering eyes—so full of hope—and then to the little drool escaping the corner of her daughter's mouth. Diana blinked up at her again, now squeezing Elf Elysia tightly, using her like a bargaining chip of innocence. The pink elf, in her compact form, wore a deadpan expression of defeat, her embroidered eyes seeming to say, Help me.

Freya sighed.

A heavy one.

With a small flick of her wrist, she sprinkled some dried herbs onto the roasting meat, adding a sharper fragrance to the already rich aroma. Then she blew gently on the skewer, watching the steam rise, before offering it to her daughter.

"Fine… You can have some, bu—"

She didn't finish the sentence.

Diana devoured the entire skewer in one gulp. Meat. Stick. All of it. Gone.

Freya blinked.

Even Elf Elysia, now slightly skewed sideways in Diana's iron grip, fell silent.

"…Huh."

She didn't need to eat—Herrscher of Finality, after all—but witnessing that display of pure gluttony did something to her. Something deeply unsettling.

Yet, as she looked at her daughter—lips smeared with meat juices, eyes wide with innocent glee, arms still clutching her pink plushie—Freya felt her heart ache.

A different kind of ache.

Soft. Warm. Protective.

Somewhere between exasperation and affection, she whispered under her breath:

"…You're lucky you're cute."

Freya reached down and gently pinched her daughter's cheeks.

The soft squish of Diana's round face puffed outward like dough under her mother's fingers. Her lips pursed into a tight "o" as she began frantically waving her hands in front of her, pleading for mercy with the same energy a kitten might show when caught stealing snacks.

"Mommaaa, I didn't mean to! It was just really yummy!!"

But Freya's piercing gaze didn't falter. Her blue-and-pink starlit eyes narrowed, digging deep into her daughter's soul. Diana, under the weight of that stare, began to wilt like a flower under the sun. She squirmed in place, shrinking, her face growing redder—not just from the cheek-pinching, but from sheer embarrassment.

In her flustered panic, Diana instinctively clutched the pink elf in her arms tighter. Much tighter.

Elf Elysia's beady, embroidered eyes bulged unnaturally as her soft plush-like body was compressed beyond reason.

In the deepest corners of her consciousness, only one thought bounced around like a broken record:

"Who thought it was a good idea to give autonomous elves nerves?!"

If she could breathe, she'd be screaming. But all she could do was mentally grumble in utter despair. The small elf's situation was made even worse by the cruel reality of being wedged between both Freya and Diana, like the filling in a vice-grip sandwich made of mom and daughter fluff.

"This must be what a pancake feels like," Elysia thought, as the metaphorical walls closed in. "I'm going to die... squished between woman. This is how I envisioned my end but I didn't mean literally!"

Her mind conjured a haunting image of her current state: a completely flattened, pink version of herself with cartoonishly wide eyes and limbs splayed like a crushed bug. If a pufferfish could deflate, it might resemble her.

And still, Diana squeezed tighter.

Elysia's tiny form wriggled helplessly, her spark of pride slowly flickering into despair. If she had her real body, she might have enjoyed this—two soft, beautiful girls pressing into her on either side? That's the dream, isn't it?

…No, no! Focus, Elysia! This wasn't a reward—this is life or death!

Her stubby limbs flailed. Her head-sized body wiggled like a fish out of water. Just as her systems began to prepare for a critical shutdown, fate—or perhaps divine pity—intervened.

Pop!

Like a cork from a shaken bottle, Elf Elysia shot out of Diana's grasp, soaring into the air like a tiny pink projectile. A streak of pink zipped through the campsite, followed by a trail of glitter that definitely wasn't part of her systems—just a side effect of being Elysia.

She landed in the grass with a dramatic fwump, face-down.

Silence.

Then came the muffled voice from the ground:

"I swear on my all the pastries in the world, I'm suing someone when I get back…"