We were friends as apprentices. He was a great cat, full of courage, but smart. Humorous, but not overly so. I still to this day do not know what changed in him. It was as if he became an entirely different person overnight. Cold, calculating, and ambitious, oh, so ambitious. As we grew older, we grew further and further apart until, finally, he became deputy, and refused to acknowledge I even existed. Any warriors that opposed him quickly disappeared, and I only then began to realise the true intensity of his plans. I wanted to stop him, I truly did.
But it was too late.
Everything else happened in a blur.
Our leader was killed. He became dark.
The war came. We fell to his claws.
The impossible happened. Everything ended.
After a blood-soaked moon that seemed like mere days, I stood alone at the lake. Or what was left of it after the disaster. The endless battles and roaring forest fires had made our Clan uninhabitable, so the survivors left. I followed their stale scent trail, and arrived only days after them in the new territories picked out by StarClan themselves. Oh, yes, cats still had hope in their warrior ancestors, even after everything that happened. Stupid, if you ask me.
I believed it was my fault he changed, so I did not rejoin the cats I grew up with. Instead, I lived alone, in a forest near their own. I watched as they started anew, naming themselves after the very thing that destroyed them. MoonClan. Which later became NightClan and SongClan as their numbers grew. Their belief in StarClan replenished, and they truly believed He was gone. After a while. Most even forgot about him.
But just because there is no remaining trace of him, does not mean that he isn't here.
I still recall the whisper-song that echoed as our world fell apart around us.
He will come, born from blood.
Dark will rise, sin formed anew.
Unless the Order of Seven,
Preserve the Chaos of Eight,
Then all shall be lost again.
But it was too late.
Everything else happened in a blur.
Our leader was killed. He became dark.
The war came. We fell to his claws.
The impossible happened. Everything ended.
After a blood-soaked moon that seemed like mere days, I stood alone at the lake. Or what was left of it after the disaster. The endless battles and roaring forest fires had made our Clan uninhabitable, so the survivors left. I followed their stale scent trail, and arrived only days after them in the new territories picked out by StarClan themselves. Oh, yes, cats still had hope in their warrior ancestors, even after everything that happened. Stupid, if you ask me.
I believed it was my fault he changed, so I did not rejoin the cats I grew up with. Instead, I lived alone, in a forest near their own. I watched as they started anew, naming themselves after the very thing that destroyed them. MoonClan. Which later became NightClan and SongClan as their numbers grew. Their belief in StarClan replenished, and they truly believed He was gone. After a while. Most even forgot about him.
But just because there is no remaining trace of him, does not mean that he isn't here.
I still recall the whisper-song that echoed as our world fell apart around us.
He will come, born from blood.
Dark will rise, sin formed anew.
Unless the Order of Seven,
Preserve the Chaos of Eight,
Then all shall be lost again.
Kurai | Any