heaven wont take me [closed]

'Dawnhawk... Dawnhawk... Dawnhawk'

The whispering seemed to carry across the whispering wind - a call from another world. It sought to call the tom from his nest, calling him by a name that had yet to be forgotten by both this world and the next. With each moment, the song grew more insistent, relentless, in an effort to jostle the loner from his slumber.

Something was calling to the golden-pelted tom to follow, beckoning him to follow. Despite the otherworldly cadence, it was more a demand than anything. A stirring of snowflakes comprised the path that lead towards highstones. However, unlike the well trod path upwards in pursuit of the moonstone, this one veered a sharp and unpleasant direction. Sharp stones poked through the blanket of freshly-fallen snow. It was not an easy path to follow, nor an inviting one, but the air of the place spoke that perhaps it was not meant to be.

A ways down the rocky ridge there was a gaping opening. The mouth tilted sharply downwards, the outline looking threatening like surreal fangs. Crumbling stone and jagged edges faced the skies in a menacing manner. At their largest, it was easily twice the height of a cat, worried and embedded into the lower face of the landmark. Inside the entrance, there was an inky blackness, shadows that threatened to rake the pelt of any cat who dared enter. There was no glowing light at the end, no hope for any creature that fell in.

This was the place that Dawnhawk had been called to follow; this was the place he would meet his destiny.

The golden tom twitched in his nest, herbs covering his body and some still over his one wounded eye. His lips peeled back, revealing pointed fangs and his ears flattened against his skull. There was something inside of him... that same thing that had reared it's ugly head when he attacked Rainstrike, killed Featherkit and killed Ivystar. That voice calling to him from the darkness made it stir, whatever it was.

In the dream, Dawnhawk... no... Klaus watched. A pathway towards Highstones... but then not? A nasty, rocky road lay before him. He was pulled unwillingly forward into the darkness of the gap in the ground. Despite the absolute blackness, he could see. He could see the sharp rocks all around and again listened to the voice calling to him. Was this a real place? Was he meant to go there? Were the herbs making his dreams loopy?

An alien feeling writhing in his chest as if it were hungrily trying to escape told him otherwise. When he woke... when he eventually did... he would be awake to ponder what he had just seen. Starclan had never been kind to him before. Maybe it was them. Maybe they were telling him in their own idiotic mystical way that the road he walked was painful and there was no light at the end.

As if he didn't already know that and had embraced this path long ago. The fools...

He woke with his eye wide open and his heart hammered in his chest. It hadn't been a normal dream. That voice still called to him. The pale tom got to his feet, wincing at the wounds that stung and protested his movements. He looked briefly around their makeshift medicine den, wondering if he ought to wake someone to go with him, but in the end he decided to let them sleep. Klaus left the den quietly and left camp as well. The cold in the air wasn't an issue so long as it wasn't windy. As he looked around, he was becoming more and more aware of how limited his vision was now with the leafy patch over his eye. Hopefully it wouldn't be permanent, but Klaus had fought long enough to know what a permanent injury looked like, felt like and even sounded like when it happened. His hopes were not high.

With cobwebs and herbs stuck to his fur, the ivory and gold tom set out toward highstones, the image in his head more clear than any dream had ever been. Maybe it was the poppy seeds, maybe it was his injuries, maybe it was because he was still tired, but as Klaus approached the mothermouth, he felt almost zombie-like. Any other time, he would have cringed away from any source of Starclan's power. Yet right now, he felt nothing. He moved inside as he was instructed to do, curious to finally see if this journey had been all for nothing and that he was an absolute fool for coming.

But his eye settled on the pathway... the pathway full of sharp rocks that lead down into a tunnel. He froze. He had been to the moonstone before in his life... as had many other cats. How had this gone unnoticed? Or was it fresh? Did something recently create this new tunnel, or had it been so obscured by darkness in the past that unsuspecting apprentices and leaders to be just never saw it? Now fairly rattled, Dawnhawk hesitated before he took a careful step forward. One careful step after careful step. The ground was not kind. He grit his teeth and winced as he moved forward, the sharp stones biting his paws.

Suddenly his paws angled sharply downward. He stopped. This was the part that fell into... what looked like fangs. Highstones had fangs under it.... who knew. He judged the distance between the ground that he could see as well as the ledge where he was. His Skyclan strength shouldn't fail him now... he should be able to jump out of it. There was a part of him that wanted to turn back and go get the others in case something happened to him... but what had called him here? It wasn't... it wasn't Starclan. It couldn't be. They would have just spoken to him at the moonstone. Dawnhawk had a feeling... an eerie feeling... that he now knew and had put the pieces together.

I'm probably blind in this eye now anyway... He thought bitterly. If he couldn't live his life completely whole, what did it matter if this adventure killed him? His family would miss him, but they were well off. They would be fine... all of them. Even the ones in Thunderclan. Steeling his nerves with a breath, Dawnhawk allowed himself to slip down the sharp slope. Hard stones that he couldn't quite see sliced at his legs and reopened some of his wounds on the way down. He hissed in retort once he hit the bottom, ears flattening and his teeth bared.

"Alright... now what? What do you want?" He called softly, listening to his own echo in the eerie blackness. Would this thing answer back?

The air was thick with an unsettling sensation. A weaker cat might have turned tail and fled, leaving this place behind to reside only in their most haunting of nightmares. As Dawnhawk pressed deeper, the tension became more welcoming, as if greeting him. Something otherworldly had called him here and invited him into these dark pits. Breathing was laborious and near suffocating. It was easy to fall asleep, and feel one's eyelids closing, greeting the darkness and accepting its grip. This thing - it waited for him in his dreams.

Once the tom had given in to the subconscious world, one that he had not been far from in his delirious state, he was greeted by the scenery of a rotting forest. The air was similar to that of the sharp-toothed cavern. Before Dawnhawk sat a tom. Their frames were not to different from one another, the newcomer's oddly mixed origins giving him a look strangely akin to that of a Skyclan cat, lacking only in the powerful hindlegs. His coat dripped, soaked through, and wounds along his underbelly and side could be seen at just the right angle. Across his maw was a devilish grin.

"I see power doesn't call to you, it consumes you. Admittedly, I was hoping this would be the case." The strange cat's pelt was mostly grey, with a splash of white on his chest and paws. Green eyes seemed to rake over Dawnhawk's coat. The pair was oddly similar, however, Slatethroat's life had been cut short far before he ever reached glory. But it was time, he could almost feel it underneath his pads, "My name is Slatethroat, and something tells me that we share common goals. Tell me, Dawnhawk, how much pleasure would it bring you to see the clans suffer underneath your claws?"

A rush of darkness overcame him. His legs buckled beneath his weight and an intense need for sleep forced him to close his eyes. He didn't stand a chance of fighting it. When his eyes woke up in the dream world, a scene of darkness and despair was all around him. A forest that was dying... apparently from too much water. That wasn't a concept Klaus was familiar with. For several heartbeats it entranced him... until he realized there was another tom in front of him. He was soaked... somehow dripping water from his pelt continuously despite the fact that there was no rain. His eyes traveled more... only to land on a mortal wound on his stomach.

For the first time in a long time... Klaus was unnerved. His claws tensed in his paws and his fur bristled, but he forced himself to remain calm. Slatethroat began to speak to him... and Klaus's eyes narrowed. He wasn't quick to answer, as caution seemed to be the way to go here. When he finally did speak, his tone was calm and controlled.

"You speak as if I haven't done that already. If you called me here..." He gestured to the dying forest with his tail. "I think I understand... I'm not disappointed, don't interpret me incorrectly, but why now? I've been praying to the Dark Forest for moons and, while you have been far more helpful to me than Starclan, never has one of you physically spoke to me as you are now. I can't help but wonder why."

Klaus was no fool. The Dark Forest was known to only help themselves. The fact that he had been lucky so far he had attributed to them... but for one to finally talk to him? Something was going on, and while he was willing to be a servant for the time being, he wanted it very clear that he would be getting a piece of their victory for himself.

"Oh, no, I've seen the work you've done, Dawnhawk. Or is it Klaus these days, hm? Either way, that is the reason I brought you here in the first place. I figured you'd be interested in leaving a lasting impact on all of the clans. Make them truly remember your name - which ever one you desire them to remember." Slatethroat often found himself in the company of cats that he viewed as lesser than himself. In life, he had made few acquaintances who helped to further his goals or shared similar ideals. Rotting in this prison had stripped him of any reservations. There was no such thing as connections, only pawns in this game he was growing more equip to play. Time had done something for the late tom after all.

"For season's Starclan's power has condemned us to this filthy residence and stripped us of any abilities. They say we belong here, for whatever reason, and have separated from cats that are our kin as well. Self-righteous beasts..." Anger flickered behind his eyes and the tom prevented himself from spitting into the dirt. He stared at his claws, slowly sliding them in and out, finding some joy in the soft glint with each motion. Slatethroat glanced back up to Dawnhawk. It seemed like he was in no rush and relished in this time, this newfound power, "Something is shift. I'm not sure what it is but the Dark Forest can feel it. And this power, it's invigorating. Whatever this thing is, I will be prepared. I need allies in the forest and cats who are willing to do what it takes to stand above everyone else. You seem like just the cat I'm looking for."

Klaus didn't answer at first, letting Slatethroat do all of the talking. He was quick and to the point, something that was rare in the forest. A lasting impression on the forest? More than what he'd done already? Klaus couldn't help but feel interested regardless. Of course he wanted more power. Of course he wanted those who had hurt him to hurt even worse. Who wouldn't?

"If you are willing to give me such power, Slatethroat, I will agree to be your ally in the forest. Just tell me what you need me to do, but I want my reward. If you've seen the work I have done, then you know what happens to those that I consider enemies." How would he kill a Dark Forest cat? He had no idea... but if getting back at an enemy meant doing a few undesirable missions for Starclan to do so... so be it. He was not to be trifled with; Not from other cats, not from predators and neither gods nor devils.

He was Dawnhawk. He was Klaus. He was... someone. He was more than just another forest cat... and he'd be stars-cursed if he hadn't proved that already.

"Well... let's hear this plan of yours. What do you want me to do?"