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Tears of Fallen Stars
She/Her | The Boneteller

The dream is uneasy. Filled with sneers and jibes and unfriendly whispers. The hiss of conspiring snakes as she is forced to watch them slither. Out of the depths. Out of the deep, and onto land. Into The Tribe of Scattered Winds' home, their safe haven, their refuge. Each one larger than the last, scaled bodies thick and muscled, beady unblinking eyes glowing eerily in the dimness. They coil, one by one, around her Tribemates. The kits are first to go, then the To-Be's, the Den Defenders, the Cave Commoners, the Sky Seekers.

The most eerie part of all is that none of them wake as they die. They die peacefully, each letting out a single breath they don't even know is their last. The Boneteller is forced to watch it all, the fate of her Tribe. Her vision darkens, the dream fading to nothingness. A void. But she feels it, a link severing, life draining, the intimate slide of claws across throat. A life, ended. A secret flower unfurling, blooming.

And not so far away, deep in the Boneteller's lair, an icy blue eye snaps open, a rough exhale escaping the brittle-boned feline who shoves to her paws and out of her nest, intuition nagging her. Warning her. YELLING at her. SCREAMING. SOMETHING WAS WRONG. There was no time to wake The Messenger.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. SOMEONE IS WRONG. GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT.

"SNAKES IN THE DRINKING POOL! SNAKES!" Her voice was a hoarse screech, her too-thin flank heaving. Never had Tear yelled so loud. Slender paws skidded to a stop in the midst of the Tribe clearing, and the Boneteller's already white face pales further with dawning horror as chaos unfolds. Snakes. Everywhere. Of all shapes and sizes, slithering out of the murky water, hisses permeating the air.

Her Tribemates are like glowing stars in the darkness, the bioluminescence on their fur pinpointing their locations - but the shadowed lumps? Gliding through the darkness? She doesn't like them. They are not biting, only wrapping, wrapping, wrapping. Holding her Tribe hostage. Waiting, waiting, waiting. For something. For someone. For her?

One unfurls before her, the largest of them all, slithering out of the Drinking Pool, eyes beady and aglow. It rises, neck stretching above her, and Tear has to tip her head back to meet that stare. That stare which sees through her. Sees her heart and mind and soul. Her thoughts, unveiled. What is this? She realizes now it cannot be a normal occurrence. No, this has been fated by the stars, mapped out by the Gods. With a voice as old as time itself, it speaks, the ground rumbling beneath her paws, chips of dirt and the like falling from the cave ceiling.

But it speaks. In her mind. 'We have waited long for you, Ice Heart. Our bodies turned to bones, to dust, yet we waited. Here you are now, so we rise anew, sinew and bone and flesh and blood once more. Listen close, and listen well, for our premonition only comes once.'

---

Beware the calm before the storm,
the monsters on your distant shores.
Long erased from history,
stories of import gone untold.

The haunted will hunt you down,
slaughter you in your homes.
Turn to your Gods or turn to your bones,
before your claws are turned against your own.

Do what you must,
or die where you stand.
But dwindle too much or dally too long,
and fate will bring ruination upon your beloved land.

---

And then every snake is thudding to the ground, bodies falling limp, letting her Tribemates free, but they breathing. They are seeing, creepy eyes unblinking but following her movements. They are dead, and they are alive. They are corpses, and they are flesh. Tears of Fallen Stars steps away from the largest snake, heart hammering behind frail, easily-breakable ribs. Ice-blue eyes turn to her hushed Tribemates, multiple eyes of distrust, of fear, of confusion, of concern trained on her.

It was not often Tear made appearances in the midst of her Tribe, sightings of her were a rarity, but when the time called for it, she would be here.

“Cut off their tails, we're ending this now.” She calls to those of the Tribe who are able to respond to her command, ice-blue eyes turning towards the two Guardians that come striding out of the darkness, free of their confinement. She already knows that the third will not be joining them. He Who Will Live Long is now dead. A new time was upon them. “Throw their heads back into the water, let them drown.”

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Tears of Fallen Stars
She/Her | The Boneteller

The pawsteps at her doorstep are familiar and heavy. The Boneteller knew that gait. It was a waking embodiment of death. She wondered, sometimes, what had happened to the original Torvo. Had their gift taken control of them so fully they no longer identified as anything. They had not always been the harbinger of infinite slumber.

But these things were not for Tears of Fallen Stars to question. Ice-blue eyes turned to the approaching paw steps, the bioluminescence in her fur working to pinpoint her location. “Guardian.” Tear greeted, melodious voice carrying. “You are here to ask about when He Who Lives Long’s Guide will be promoted, I figure.”

The cat felt as if they had been falling.

They didn’t know why, or how, but the feeling had been mutual. Beach had been standing near the entrance of where the tunnels lie, their fur basking in the sun’s rays and their nose twitching at every smell that came their way. The Guardian’s death hadn’t been something they came to terms fretting about, only feeling their emotion scuttle the moment they took a moment to process it. Maybe that was why they felt like they were falling. They had been around long enough to know the cruel adversaries of death, and yet, it still struck them like an old tale as old as time.

A deep exhale escaped their maw, forcing them to swallow every ounce of thought that enclosed their mind. Maybe a hunt would allow them to be at ease; a small dip in the water to get themselves away from all the problems within the Tribe. It was better than nothing, they suspected. The tribe could go for some extra prey and enlightened activity.

Maybe it was for the best.