"Don't let them eat it all!"

"Leave some for us!"

"I want the one that smells sweet!"

"No, I want the spicy one!"

"I saw the shiny piece first!"

"You liar, you didn't!"

"Get out of my way before I throw you in that thing!"

Over a hundred elves from every direction sprinted toward the tables, trampling over bushes and roots, their elegant grace abandoned completely.

Some leapt down from tree platforms, others shoved through the crowd, their eyes raging with hunger.

Selma reached the table first and she snatched the nearest piece—a large, golden thigh dripping with thick, glossy sauce.

She held it up for half a second, admiring it like a sacred relic—

Then she saw the horde behind her.

"Oh no, no, no!" She panicked. "If I wait, they'll steal it all!"

In a flash, she took one deep sniff and shoved it into her mouth.

Bite!

There was a crunch.

Then silence...before she fell to her knees, staring blankly at the sky.

Her expression was one of pure bliss, like she had just achieved enlightenment itself.

Her lips trembled, her cheeks flushed, and her entire body went limp with joy.

"It's...It's good." She murmured. "It's so good. Why is it so good? Why does it taste like this? This is...this is the best thing I've ever had in my life…"

She fell onto her back, eyes glassy, her expression one of pure nirvana.

That was all the encouragement the rest needed.

"Move!" Alia yelled, diving forward and snatching up a spicy red wing.

Ivy lunged beside her, grabbing one glazed piece that shimmered like amber.

"Hey, you don't have to push!" Alia yelled.

"Shut up, bitch!" Ivy snapped back and bit into it.

But their arguments stopped instantly when the flavor hit them.

Alia's entire body stiffened, her toes curling as she let out a moan of disbelief.

"By the spirits...what is this?!" She gasped. "This...this can't be food—it's divine!"

Ivy fell to her knees, clutching the bowl she'd grabbed, shaking like she'd been electrocuted.

"This...This must be what heaven tastes like…" She said, half-laughing, half-crying. "It's crispy and soft at the same time...it's warm...it's love!"

Her voice broke into a laugh of sheer delirium.

Behind them, the rest of the elves lost all discipline.

"Out of my way!"

"I want that red one!"

"No, no, I want the red one!"

"Don't you dare take that wing, I saw it first!"

"Too late! It's mine now—aaah!"

"Let go of my ear!"

"Then let go of my chicken!"

They crashed into one another, grabbing, tripping, and shouting.

It was complete, glorious chaos that came beautiful reactions.

One elf, shoved an entire wing into her mouth without even chewing first—then immediately choked, eyes watering, but kept chewing anyway.

An older elf woman—prim and proper just minutes ago grabbed a breast piece, took one bite, and collapsed backward onto the grass, staring up at the sky with tears streaming down her face.

"This is peak of life." She whispered reverently. "This is what two centuries of my life led up to."

Beside her, another elf, a gaurd who was usually stoic—took one bite of a saucy piece and immediately started sobbing.

"I think…" She choked out between bites. "…this is what my mother's milk tasted like when I was a baby. I don't remember it—but it must have been like this. So good. So good."

She cried harder, while a little girl, no older than eight snatched a tiny wing piece from the pile.

She took the smallest, most cautious bite.

Her eyes went huge.

She squealed, high and delighted and started jumping up and down.

"It's crunchy! And juicy! And spicy! And sweet! And—everything!"

Her mother, standing right behind her snatched the next piece before anyone else could grab it.

She took one bite and stiffened up.

She then dropped to her knees beside her daughter, hugging her tightly while still chewing.

"I-I'm sorry, baby." She mumbled through tears and chicken. "I'm so sorry we never tried this before. I'm sorry I never let you taste this glorious dish for so long."

More elves kept coming and more elves stuffed the chicken into their mouth.

"Bless the Hero!" Someone shouted.

"No—bless the chicken!" another corrected.

"Bless both of them!"

"I can't stop eating! Help me!" Cried another, happily shoving another piece into her mouth.

Meanwhile, Luna stood there in the middle of the chaos, turning in circles as she took it all in.

Everywhere she looked, there were elves lost in pure, unfiltered joy.

Some were sitting together in small groups, laughing and giggling as they shared pieces of chicken, comparing flavors and holding up wings and drumsticks like trophies.

"Oh, try the orange one! It's spicy but sweet at the same time!"

"No, no, the golden one's better—it's so crunchy!"

"You're both wrong, this one with the white dust—what did he call it? Sour cream? It's amazing!"

Others, however, had chosen a far less civilized approach.

She saw a few sitting all by themselves, clutching chicken pieces to their chests and greedily devouring them as if afraid someone might steal it from them.

They tore into it like hungry animals, eyes darting suspiciously to the sides, guarding their food with the ferocity of dragons protecting treasure.

Even the elders, the ones who were supposed to set an example, were utterly shameless.

Some of them sat in neat little circles, politely insisting they'd only have a single bite for curiosity's sake.

But within moments, their hands moved faster than their words, tearing apart wings and thighs, licking their fingers, their faces glowing with bliss.

Then there were those who were simply gone.

Luna spotted one elf lying on her back, giggling uncontrollably, a half-eaten drumstick still clutched in her hand.

Another was rolling around in the grass, moaning.

"It's too good! It's too good, I can't handle it!"

Even the little girls were caught up in the joy.

They sat together in small groups, faces smeared with crumbs and sauce, laughing as they shared pieces and compared which ones they liked best.

"I like the shiny one!"

"No, the red one tastes like fire! It's fun!"

"You're weird! I like the sweet one!"

The same villagers who had once called the idea of eating meat a sin were now devouring it with abandon, their laughter ringing through the trees.

It felt like a dream come true.

She then turned to look at Luca and sure enough, he stood there at the edge of the table, arms folded, a proud, smug grin resting comfortably on his face.

And seeing him, Luna couldn't help but smile softly.

He was right all along.

He hadn't needed to persuade them, hadn't needed to preach or beg or lecture.

He had just said, "Let the food speak for itself."

And it did.

It sang.

It conquered.

It spoke to them in a way no words ever could—melting their fears, shattering their traditions, and replacing them with pure bliss.

And unable to hold herself back, Luna walked over quietly, her steps light, her heart full.

She leaned a little closer to him, tilting her head so that it rested gently against his arm.

"Luca…" She murmured softly, her voice trembling with happiness. "You really are a miracle worker, you know."

He chuckled under his breath but didn't respond—just smiled that same infuriating, confident smile that somehow made her heart flutter every single time.

Just a few steps away, Nyx was sitting on a tree stump, a chicken wing in her hand and an entertained grin on her face.

She watched the crowd of elves dancing, cheering, and fighting over the remaining pieces with pure delight.

Taking another bite of her chicken, she shook her head with a satisfied sigh.

"Well...looks like we won't be needing vegetables for a while."

Then, glancing at Luca and Luna leaning close together, she smirked.

"Hmph. Cute."

She then took another bite, before her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Still." She added under her breath. "I kind of miss those chickens running around near my house. They were fun to chase."

Then she licked her fingers and smirked.

"Guess I'll just have to start raising more for myself..."

"...A girl's got to have her own buffet, after all."

She took another huge bite, humming in satisfaction as around her, the forest of elves echoed with laughter, crunches, and cries of delight...

...an entire race reborn under the scent of fried chicken.

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