TW: Mentions of death, blood, & gore.

 

Black.

It is all she can see now.

Black.

It is all she will ever see now.

No mind to the sting of pain. No heed to the spinning in her head and the blood dripping from her face, her maw, her… eyes? No attention spared for the dead bodies cooling at her guilty paws.

Her fault. This was her fault.

All the feline can do is stand there, frozen in horror at what she had caused to happen.

It flashes now, at the front of her mind, the memory so accurate and detailed that it seems to be mocking her newfound lack of vision. And reliving this memory..? Oh, that in itself will surely shatter her beyond repair.

 

Legend:
* - Shadow Fiend
Tross - Albatrossflicker

Starrywisp had been bounding around ShadowClan’s camp the entire day, her energy limitless. After all, she’d finally gotten her warrior name.

It was in this exuberant state that Larkfire found her (or, honestly, Starrywisp was the one to find Larkfire), and after a couple of minutes of decidedly one-sided chatter, Starrywisp all but dragged the queen out on a hunt, or a patrol, or whatever words were required to trick Larkfire into celebrating with her accompanying her on a stroll.

The moment that starts the descent into imminent downfall is unclear, but if one had to guess — it would be now.

Somewhere along the way, the pair had gotten separated. Larkfire, after having caught a sparrow and burying it to pick up later, traced Starrywisp’s scent to a border. ThunderClan’s border. As the Medicine Cat watched her Clanmate inspect a mushroom on the forest floor with apparent awe, the young queen’s coat cloaked in shadow*, she considered turning around and leaving the hyper new warrior be with her own shenanigans. Larkfire had almost left, too, but there was a flash of movement that caught her attention.

A ThunderClanner, on ShadowClan’s side of the border, his coat as white as the light dusting of snow on the ground, his focus completely on Starrywisp’s unprotected back as he snuck up behind her.

Larkfire didn’t even pause to think. Despite her pregnant body, her additional weight, Larkfire moved as fast as a striking viper in that moment, lunging towards the enemy warrior the same second he lunged towards Starrywisp. Grey and white collided in a crash of power, the latter snarling and the former startled beyond belief before he registered he was being attacked, and his claws slid out, seeking purchase.

“Larkfire?” Oh, how innocent Starrywisp’s soft question sounded as the newly-made warrior pivoted to look at the fighting, snarling mess of a pair. And oh, how round those innocent eyes grew, widening with horror as the lanky female let out a petrified gasp. . .

. . .And in that moment, it was quite amusing that Larkfire had assumed Starrywisp terror to be about the almost-assault on her person. ‘Ah,’ Larkfire had thought. ‘The lass has finally noticed she was about to be attacked.’ That was Larkfire’s first mistake. To so blindly trust her own Clanmate.

Heaven forbid she let down her guard so foolishly.

Because Starrywisp’s next panicked yell; a screeching of “Tross!” had Larkfire so stunned of their familiar relation that her paws slipped on the male rival warrior with surprise, accidentally releasing her hold on him and unfortunately allowing the ThunderClanner beneath her to swing his paw so harshly against the side of her head that - fittingly, caused Larkfire to see stars - and made her stumble sideways from the force of the blow, mind reeling.

“Stop!” Starrywisp’s yell somewhere in the background was both frantic and pathetic, as it served to do nothing except add to the ringing in Larkfire’s ears as she and Albatrossflicker went tumbling to the ground once more, the former’s unforgiving claws shredding at his chest, and ultimately, his throat. Larkfire was blinded by the need to spill this intruder’s blood, to see him bleed out, to witness his death, in that moment.

ThunderClan had taken, and taken, and were still taking.

It needed to end.

Oh, but how the mighty fall, because by the end of this, ThunderClan would take one more thing – this time from Larkfire herself.

And never again would Larkfire overlook it. There was only so much even she could forgive and forget.

“Stop! Stop!” Starrywisp’s cries were practically screeches now, wails of pleading, but neither warrior paid the damsel any heed – they had long since entered a blood-induced haze, and Larkfire would not relent, even as Albatrossflicker choked on his own blood.

“He was about to attack you,” The Medicine Cat hissed, blood splattering across her face, and then jerked her head around in surprise when claws started shredding her back.

Starrywisp… was attacking her?

“Sta–”

“You’re killing him!” It was a sob, a plea, an accusation all in one as Albatrossflicker gurgled for the air he was running out of.

Fiery orange hues flared with incredulity and rage alike. “He was going to atta–” A pity, that Larkfire never got to finish her sentence.

 

Legend:
Feather - Starrywisp

The next few moments were too jumbled for these three to recall, as one was one the verge of death, another was reeling from possible concussion, and the third... the third was living in the throes of heartbreak.

But I can tell you what I saw that day. Oh yes, I was there.

Once upon a December, I was a gleeful onlooker to this chaos.

So sit a while, and let me tell you about the day Starrywisp’s green eyes went wide with absolute horror, about the day the black-and-white molly yelled “Tross, no!” as her dying lover swung a paw, claws unsheathed, with all of his remaining strength towards Larkfire’s face, still thinking that he was the one protecting his beloved from this rogue.

Funny, what a simple misunderstanding can chalk up to.

Allow me to educate you on what happened next. It’s simple, really; All three of their lives were sent into upheaval.

Larkfire had crashed to the ground from the intent behind that blow — to hit her where she was weakest, to crush her ego and injure her where she would never recover from. Ruby-red blood oozed from the gashes on her face, seeping down her face like gory tears, but the world had long-since gone dark; Larkfire had fainted. The wounds on her flank and on her face, the blow to her head, added to the exhaustion of being a heavily pregnant queen, had caught up to her.

Abatrossflicker…well, he was on the verge of passing on to the starry meadows of the afterlife, his once-white fur splattered with an artistic red, the contrast jarring. A teary-eyed Starrywisp loomed over him, begging him to stay, pleading that she could not live in a world without him. But such was the way of life; all things had to die one day. So it is after giving four measly words to his beloved that Albatrossflicker parts – “I love you, Feather.”

. . .

. . . .

. .Ah, still here are you? I reckon you’re wondering what happened to Starrywisp? Ah, I wouldn’t worry about her too much, pal. Why, you ask? Silly, silly. Why, because she’s dead, of course! How did she die? Oh golly, do you really not know? Someone’s feeling very nosy today. Fine, I shall answer your question, short and simple:

Tell me, my dear; can a heart still break once it’s stopped beating?

You see, Albatrossflicker was Starrywisp’s heart… and no one can live without their most vital organ. Tragic, I say, that grief works so fast in some cases… but not in this one! Despite what you believe, Starrywisp met her death at the jaws of a vampire.

. . .You’re really clueless, aren’t you, wondering who the vampire is? A pity, but that is not my secret to share, not yet.

Now stop being a bore and gossiping about the dead… Not when we can be talking about…

Ah, yes, perfect, she’s waking up. Quiet now, please, and don’t you make a peep over there!, because nothing is ever going to be the same.

Signed Yours Truly,
..ah, what’s the fun in telling you my name just yet? you will learn soon enough, and then you will never forget.

 

When Larkfire wakes from her state of unconsciousness, there are two things that now haunt her reality:
1. She had been the cause of Starrywisp’s death, even if indirectly.
2. She would never see again, for she was blind.

Where once stood one of ShadowClan’s most capable cats, now was a mere ruined reflection.

The Wraith;
embodiment of death and incarnate of shadows.

Larkfire’s pride had been reduced to ash, crushed under the merciless paw of fate and ground into the grass below. And nearby, shriveled and unhappy, the once-brown mushroom sat abandoned, now bathed in red.

end of production.
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