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A tiny dark figure lays motionless on a pool of carmine -- the teeth in his collar gleaming against the pale moonlight. Blood streams from his throat, dyeing the soft grass with deep red, scarred with marks made by the cat's still unsheathed claws, as if the instinct of violence and death still burned bright in him even as he let out a last breath, the last thing he could see being a tall flame-colored tom towering over him, face invisible, before darkness took him.
In all of Squirrelflight's life, she had believed in Starclan: you are born, you live, and when you die you either go there or, if your soul is wicked, you're condemned to the Dark Forest. But even then, all her life, she had been haunted by something that broke this simple sequence of rules, a presence that manifested around her in the deadliest silences and in the coldest nights, a shadow that followed her every movement, a silhouette that watched her from afar with a vivid blue gaze that pierced right through her soul. She'd blink and it would be gone, and then she'd look down at her paws and be surprised to find her own fur black, the vision only lasting a second before she blinked again and everything was back to normal.
Leafpool had been the only cat she ever confined this secret to, and her sister had took it very seriously, asking Cinderpelt if cats could be born again, and getting the simplest and most direct 'no'. Shortly after, the shadow had disappeared, and Squirrelflight figured it must have been her imagination and the subject was never brought up again. But a year later, it began reappearing; sitting beside Squirrelflight in gatherings, laying next to her in her nest but never touching, padding beside her in the woods. All in complete and utter silence, never taking its blue eyes off of her. The presence felt cold and distant and yet, at the same time, comforting and reassuring, like the presence of a father who's watching over her and making sure she's safe. She never told anyone again.
She found herself growing fond of the figure over time, even with the silence and lack of emotion, things seemed to turn more peaceful when it was around. But in those gentle moments, it would reveal its voice, cold and unfriendly yet faint and barely audible. It would whisper things in her ear, ideas and thoughts, suggestions and considerations, that were so cruel and absurd that Squirrelflight would scoff and shake her head at how ridiculous they were. The shadow would criticize other cats harshly, even cats she liked, and would suggest extremely violent methods to solve situations. That caused Squirrelflight to begin to resent this shadow, and yet, as conflicting as it was, the feeling of safety whenever it was present never went away.
Until now.
As Bramblestar -- Not Bramblestar, but someone else, hiding behind the depths of his amber eyes and stealing his form -- glared at her and growled, she found that his words were turning muffled, and the outside of the den had become blurred. She felt dizzy, frozen, paralyzed, and the bristling of Bramblestar's fur made her tail lower, for he looked as if he was about to pounce on her, all her veins screaming at her to turn around and run. She felt as if she stared at Tigerstar himself, could imagine herself in her father's place as he faced the cruel tom who had terrorized the forest so long ago and now had his face reflected in his son's. And with this thought, she felt the air turn comfortingly cold, as the figure stepped out of the shadows and went to stay beside her.
It didn't whisper, this time. Instead, it planted a thought inside her head, a single phrase that, before, Squirrelflight would have brushed off or even scowled at it for. A phrase that was chilling, unreasonable, absurd, cruel, and yet didn't feel like any of these things at all right now, not in this moment. A phrase that was pronounced softly, like a gust of wind cooling you down from Greenleaf's excruciating heat.
Kill him.
Kill him, the shadow said. A shadow has followed Squirrelflight all her life, protecting her and whispering things she refused to hear. This day, she actually gives in and listens.
She blinks and the air changes, for half a second she can smell the scent of the old forest, mixed in with blood and several unknown scents. It all feels old-fashioned, homely, as if she for a split second was brought back to the past. As if she, for a split second, was someone else.
In the next second, her paw is in the air, claws unsheathed, the shadow's paw mimicking her movement and almost holding hers from behind, as a splash of blood flies across Squirrelflight's face, Bramblestar's belly torn open, a pool quickly beginning to form around his frail figure. He stares at her, wide-eyed, his eyes flashing blue for a moment, and his face does a million things, flashes of surprise, shock, fear, disappointment and amusement crossing his features as he begins to jolt, lives being taken one by one. It feels faster than it is, as if she was skipping time. Her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear.
She suddenly was aware of the wetness in her cheeks as tears streamed down, and flinched as pawsteps approached the den. Bristlefrost stared at the scene as her jaw dropped, wordlessly looking from Bramblestar's corpse then to her. She held her gaze firmly and when she spoke, her voice was only slightly cracked. The shadow sat beside her, still holding her blood-soaked paw in the air with an odd gentleness.
"He was going to do something to me," she said. "Something worse than what he has already been doing for all the years we've been together."
Bristlefrost was standing still with terror, and for a moment Squirrelflight's heart twisted with panic as she realized what she had just done.
As if it could sense her feelings, the shadow gently placed her paw back down and walked over to Bristlefrost, brushed past her silently. The warrior didn't see it, but her expression of shock began to cease, being replaced with something like empathy, or perhaps just pity.
"I see." She managed to reply, her voice unstable and frail.
"I didn't mean to take all his lives," Squirrelflight blurted out, breaking down into tears. Bristlefrost approached her hesitantly. The shadow was already standing by her side, looking down at her. "I was just-- I didn't--"
"It's okay," Bristlefrost said, yet her expression betrayed her tone, the shock still visible in all her features despite whatever influence the shadow put on her. Squirrelflight could feel the figure's tail resting on her shoulders. "They'll understand."
At that, Squirrelflight looked up at the shadow. Blue eyes met hers, and, for the first time in years, she saw the figure smile, a faint curve on the corner of its lips.
They will, it told her.
She nodded. The shadow's smile increased, a wickedness straight from hell. And yet its voice was sweet.
Welcome, Squirrelstar.