Baby Dark Ember lay sprawled on a velvet pillow, tail twitching with lazy satisfaction. Her oversized ears flicked at passing soundwaves, and her tiny claws flexed like she was always half a second from pouncing on something—even if that something was a snack crumb.

A finger slowly reached down…

Boop.

Nose tapped. Tongue: out. Ears: perked straight up.

A spark of playful menace flickered in her eyes.

She didn’t move right away. She just blinked, registering the audacity. Then her grin widened like a mischievous flame licking up dry wood.

A hand reached out again, this time to give gentle headpats.

Eyelids drooped. Ears lowered into a soft, relaxed fold. Her whole body melted into the pillow, letting out a barely audible purr that could almost be mistaken for an electric hum. Her tail gave a slow, happy swish.

Then the petting stopped.

Everything froze.

She sat up.

Eyes narrowed.

Without warning—

CHOMP.

Tiny teeth sank into the hand that had dared to walk away from its sacred duty. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind the world: you don’t stop petting the Ember.

With a satisfied little huff, she released her grip, climbed higher, and flopped in a tight curl like a smug cat claiming her throne.

Her message was clear: Once you start, you never stop. Or else.