Faded Hope [Skyclan Finale]

Comfort.

It was the very first emotion that Myrtledove felt upon seeing the stars return. He hadn't ever even gotten to speak to them, until it was almost too late. The very cat who had told him to find his own path, all those moons ago, had appeared near his side - Coldheart.

"It's time to go, Myrtledove. Seems you did find your path."
"Yes. Le- Wait."

He had been ready to leave, for his star-constructed body to go to the afterlife, but he watched as Bloodstar came to camp. More specifically, he watched as Lionboar fought for the place of another cat within the clan. His own soul tugged to go to the afterlife, but he fought it as well. His large, fluffy frame moved to stand beside the two toms. A gentle smile was on his maw, but a ferocity behind is starry gaze.

"He's right, you know."

Even if he himself had never truly gotten to know Lionboar or Aether, there was a sense of truth and sincerity exuded from the both of them that he couldn't ignore. "You have missed much, Bloodstar. Muddythorn took me on as his apprentice, and I even earned my full medicine cat name without the stars. I earned it under Morningstar. So as Myrtledove, the now-late medicine cat of this Clan, I also say to listen to Lionboar." It was a quiet challenge. Before the tom had been struck down, Bloodstar had known Myrtledove as Myrtleturtle - a warrior. "Let Lionboar's sacrifice give way to new life. Let my sacrifice even give way to new life. He speaks truth - no cat has passed into that medicine den with pain caused by Aether. He has done nothing but support Skyclan."

Behind him, he felt the starry gaze of his ancestor piercing his pelt. There was a twinge of a smile upon her maw.

Smokefeather offered Bloodstar a sad smile, shaking her head. "It was inevitable. My death was quicker than it otherwise might have been, at least." Beechfang had made sure of that, even if she hadn't wanted to.

---

"Nobody is owed anything, Lionboar. I thank you for your sacrifice, but you don't get to say who we considered an enemy should be let into the clan just because you made the decision to die." Beechfang let out a low snort, "If he wants to stay, I'd rather it be because he wants to genuinely be a part of the clan and live our way of life. Not because he feels like he owes the dead." Her words were blunt and irreverent, as ever, but she spoke honestly. "You told me you wanted out from under his shadow, didn't you? Why join us?" She turned her attention to Aether, tail flicking back and forth, "Are you going to keep living for the dead, or do something with yourself of your own volition?"

Bloodstar wasn't thrilled at all about Aether, it seemed, and the cats that had leapt to defend him weren't being as helpful as Smokefeather thought they intended themselves to be. Beechfang, of course, would join in the argument, and Smokefeather sighed quietly to herself, mentally preparing to intervene.

"Enough." Smokefeather spoke, throwing Bloodstar a long-suffering look. Stubborn idiots, the lot of them. "He stayed behind when Dawnhawk left. He's hunted and fought beside our warriors since, despite some of them being unnecessarily difficult, I'm sure." She didn't glance at Beechfang, but she didn't have to. Confined to camp she might have been in her wandering as a ghost, but Smokefeather wasn't stupid. "I seem to remember a certain someone getting on my tail about judging cats unfairly for their parentage instead of what they were actually doing. Here they are, being a hypocrite." Another jab at Beechfang, who at least had the grace to look somewhat ashamed of herself. "You are right, however. Lionboar, the clan owes you rememberance and respect for your sacrifice. Nothing more." With that rebuke, she turned her gaze back towards Bloodstar, pelt seeming to grow slightly hazy as she did. Another sharp pull, and she knew her time was nearly at an end.

"The decision is yours to make, Bloodstar, and you might consider our words. My perspective might be more limited than some, I've been dead since the night the dark forest took over. But Aether hasn't shown me that he's of the same pelt as Dawnhawk. Myrtledove is right." She mewed, "I'm sure he was raised to think the worst of us all, but he chose to stay and help. You can prove what he's been taught wrong." As she spoke, her form seemed to become less solid. A heavy sigh left Smokefeather.

"Don't do anything rash. That's all I ask." And with that, the pale-furred tortoiseshell was gone, like so much dust in the wind.

Holly shivered, but then stepped forward. Her pelt was matted with blood, but it wasn’t anything new. She’d lost and been beaten up more times than she could count now. But Bloodstar was awake! He’s alive! It felt like such a relief; in her heart, she’d always associated Bloodstar with strength. (With safety.) He’s strong enough to kill anything.

And he was furious. (Like — like he should be!) But as she limped toward her family, Holly’s eyes widened. Her eyes flickered to her raccoon cousin. They want to know what to do with him! Instinctively, she flinched. Her cousin — Aether, she reminded herself, ‘cause she did know his name — wasn’t evil. Not… well. Like some of them. She shivered. But he does love his dad. Or… or did?

The tom didn’t seem to have any love for his Murder-Dad anymore. Not for a while.

A confusing rush of feelings hit her, sticky and contradicting. She wanted things to go back to the way they were — I want them all gone! — but… and she glanced around at their torn camp, remembering Aunt Ashstorm’s eyes… Things won’t ever be the same… will they?

It hurt. But it was a good hurt, maybe — that had her walking up beside her cousin. Her cousin who might be a little messed up in the head, and had terrible puffy fur like a raccoon. Her cousin who might be a coward. But then, I’m kind of a coward too. It made sense, in her head. He was family — and that was what was most disconcerting about being with the murder-side of her family. They didn’t seem to get that, not at all.

So — determined now — she casually leaned into Aether’s fluff, slumping against him and probably sharing terrible diseases through their gross blood. (Muddy would hate it.) Then, simply— almost like a kitten’s pout— she said, looking into her Aunt Beechfang’s eyes, “I think he should stay.”

Then her eyes went down.

Tarot watched silently as the tormented souls returned to their isolation in the Dark Forest, idly wondering if Morningstar would find a way to take advantage of his new world, would climb above even those considered the lowest of the low... he wouldn't put it past the tom.

Still, the loner found peace knowing that his old friend still existed somewhere, someplace he even preferred over the abyss of true death or the land of endless prey. He supposed the rogue would find far more comfort stalking the shadows than anywhere else, away from his accursed past surrounded by monsters he could finally belong with. Or, at least, he hoped the other monsters that roamed that forest had some sort of kinship. The pale tom hardly deserved to be driven to insanity in solitude.

His eyes shifted to Aether, the offspring of his friend, one who would likely never be a fellow monster. Of course, the tomcat hardly held it against the young feline. The child seemed to be expecting the loner to lash out at him, going by that wince. It almost made the older tom laugh. He may have been friends with someone everyone considered to be 'evil', but that didn't change the fact that he didn't care what moral paths these felines followed, as long as they didn't try to lord it over everyone they saw as 'different'. Besides, while he had made the Forgotten Order alongside Klaus, he hardly felt a strong connection to it without his old friend being there any longer. He'd guide it if they asked, but nothing more, it wasn't his... it was theirs.

Perhaps the deceased tom would prefer he try to sustain their legacy, but Tarot was a loner at heart, inexperienced in upkeeping large groups of cats. He doubted he'd be able to do that for the rogue... Still, he would try to care for his old friend's true legacy, his blood, his kin. It was the least he could do.

As quickly as the phantoms were sent back to the shadows, a particular tom rose from the dead like the abomination Starclan had made him into. Mutely the loner watched him, impassively examining his scars. He wondered if the tomcat ever felt weary from it all, from never getting rest or retirement or rest, if he actually felt comfortable being alive in his state... he doubted it, but he supposed the clanner's indoctrinated 'loyalty' is what kept him going.

Immediately the brute began calling out orders and trying to get his bearings, and soon enough his attention fell on Aether and him. The loner was uncowed by his scathing words, merely looking at him detachedly. "I merely came to grieve the death of someone I considered a brother, not to fight." He huffed, "I am trespassing now though, I suppose. Hence, I will leave, let me say farewell to my brother's son first at the least." He rose a brow, honestly, clanners, always so uptight and treating themselves as 'higher beings'. Pathetic, really, having to reaffirm your own existence by spitting on the existence of others. No wonder there were so few that actually treated outsiders as normal cats.

Standing and rolling his shoulder to disperse the stiffness he had gained from the silent vigil he had imposed on himself during the battle, he walked over to Aether. His posture was far from hostile as he smiled lightly at the young tom. Pausing in front of him, he dipped his head and lowered his muzzle down to his ear to try and speak in, at least a show, of privacy. "Your father never stopped caring for his kits, Aether, this I am certain of, he said it himself. At the very least he tried his best to not let harm befall any of you, from the inside or outside." His words were gentle, level "He stayed true to caring about his own blood, even with Beechfang, not that she cared in return." He huffed in light amusement, then grew serious, "But I will tell you this, that leader, your father's mother? The former let harm befall him, and the latter was the one who enacted that harm. She took her anger out on him, and beat him while he was a mere apprentice. To throw salt in the wound, she got sent to Starclan despite such a disgusting crime... keep that in mind while you try to dwell in their ranks, while you try to follow the leadership of his father. In the end, they've likely done things befitting of being called monsters as well. They just cover it up better." He stepped back, taking a moment after murmuring all that to the young tom. Once more, there was a light smile on his muzzel. "If you ever have no one left to turn to, Aether, then you are always welcome to turn to me. I'm hardly your kin, but I have no intention of letting Morningstar's offspring suffer alone if I can prevent it... I wish you well on the path you've chosen."

With that, the eloquent loner dipped his head and turned to leave the camp behind him without any further interaction. After slipping from the camp he dashed into the underbrush, wanting to leave that place swiftly. It made his skin crawl, knowing what had happened there to his old friend. He knew most of the present generation had nothing to do with it, but they still acted rather self-righteous despite their past likely being steeped in the very crimes they preach against.

Tarot disliked the clans, how far and how deep that dislike ran though? Well, he wasn't quite certain about it. He hadn't really seen what all the clans were like, and Skyclan was likey an absolutely terrible measuring stick to use on the other clans. Riverclan seemed a bit neglectful towards their important members, and like all clans, they were ignorant enough to only listen to one side of Morningstar's story and it was the side of his tormentors. Ignorance isn't exactly a crime, much less to him. Sure, they turned on him after he actually assisted them during a hard time, but they didn't have direct claws in his turmoil.

Well, he wasn't certain of his stance on the other four clans. One thing he was certain of though is that if any clanners were cast out of their homes, he'd be there to pick up after them, to grow his knowledge. He wasn't infamous, not as of now, so he still had a chance to continue learning about the ways of this Starclan-blighted little forest, the felines trapped in their little cycle of self-imposed suffering. Perhaps his outside perspectives would impact a few of them, break them out of this broken rhythm they marched to, perhaps not.

He didn't have many stakes in this forest, so if he ever had to leave it behind, he'd have no strings tied to it holding him back... other than perhaps one. The downcast, bitter rogue he had come across once so many moons ago and had grown to genuinely care about.

And as he crossed the border of the corrupted little Starclan-worshippers, all he could think was that the forest would never really matter to him, not entirely. He was an outsider that had stepped into the fringes of their lives, he could leave it behind without guilt if need be.

Perhaps, though, he'd leave enough of an impact behind to join his brother in the shadows.

Bloodstar turned a scathing eye to Lionboar's ghost and a growl rumbled in his throat. Before he could say anything, others had to chime in... all with attitudes they shouldn't have towards their leader who had only just returned. He spat and released a low growl to get their attention. "Lionboar, you swore an oath to lay down your life for you clan, as did you, Myrtledove. You did your duty and upheld your oaths, but do not make the mistake of thinking I owe you for that. Your sacrifices were not in vain, as the Dark Forest is gone and here I stand as well as the rest of Skyclan. That does not give you the right to demand sanctuary for an enemy. Driftcloud, when I want your opinion I will ask for it. Until then, hold your tongue." Then finally.... Smokefeather spoke. She always knew how to speak to him. She had a way of quelling the fire that constantly burned inside him. She also knew how to make a good point without directly challenging him, a tom that never backed down from a fight in his entire life.

He looked like he wanted to say more... but he couldn't. Even if he had found words, Smokefeather vanished before his eyes. His expression turned to something akin to horror. He reached out a paw as if catching her before she faded would make her stay... but she of course did not. No... And just like that, his fire was gone again. He sighed deeply and loudly, everything Aether said after her disappearance was shut out after that. He didn't need this right now. Too much had happened. The last thing any of these cats needed to be asking him was to accept a traitor.

The brown tabby finally spoke and Bloodstar looked at him with eyes that were far more tired than they were murderous. He listened to what he told Aether... and visibly winced at the mention of Smokefeather abusing Dawnhawk. She had. That was something she admitted herself. He pushed that memory away, refusing to think of her like that. Her loss was still too fresh. Dawnhawk had forced Beechfang to kill Smokefeather??? Or was it Ashstorm or Ravenclaw? Things to be asked later...

Bloodstar finally turned his attention back to Aether, fully expecting him to answer the brown rogue before he left. Once he had, Bloodstar's jaw clenched and his claws buried themselves into the ground once more. His eyes hardened as he stared at the red tom and for several heartbeats he said nothing.

"One paw," He began, his voice returning to a low growl. "One paw out of line and I will shred you into oblivion. There will be no trial for you before and there will be no tears for you after, son of a traitor... a traitor yourself. My hopes are not high. You can thank Smokefeather for this. Maybe you'll be a fine addition to Skyclan... or you'll make a fine lining for my nest. I don't care which."

Bloodstar then turned away from him dismissively. He was done here. He wanted to speak with only one other cat, and if anyone else dared to follow, they could go find somewhere else to live. "Muddythorn, see to Hollyshine's wounds. Don't let Dawnhawk's son touch her. Beechfang, come with me. I want to talk to you away from everyone else."

He didn't look back, sure that she would follow despite her injuries. She was enough like him that he was confident she could tough it out for the time being. He was hardly feeling sympathetic at the moment.

Lionboar seethed nwith anger at Bloodstar's words. He hated him. He hated this clan. He regretted saying any oath, to this stupid, ungrateful clan. He regretted every moment he spent his entire life trying to gain the respect of that despicable creature. "You're just as much of a monster as Morningstar, Bloodstar." He spat at the scarred Tom's back as he turned. "I hope you rot in the Dark Forest with all of the other monsters." Starry fur bristling, he turned to Beechfang, one he considered a friend. "I hope you one day realize on your final moments, that you were never truly respected. Or liked. You're just as much of a menace and murderer yourself. You rather live then uphold your oath." His tail lashed in fury for a few seconds. Trying to calm his rage, Lionboar turned to Aether. His fur still bristled, his eyes still shown with rage, but he pressed his head against his.

"I'm sorry Raccoonface. You were right. I shouldn't have done this. We should have left together, or, something... Do what makes you happy. But I'll always be watching, and maybe we'll be together some day, again, in the stars. Until then, don't forget me. Good luck." He took a step back, and took one look around the camp in a sweeping motion. His home. All that he had ever known. A place of torment, hatred. A place of loneliness, outcast. The large Tom sighed, shaking his head and grumbling in sadness.

"Good luck to you all, with that monster leading you. I fear for this clan." With a final glance at Aether and a small sigh, Lionboar finally sighed, and began walking. Giving into the tug, he slowly ascended to the stars. His last moments, disappointing and hurtful. Hopefully he will find solace in StarClan, but tormented souls never get rest. Soon enough, Lionboar was just a glint in the sky, a small sparkle against the many.

"Mom, you can't just-" Beechfang stepped forward as Smokefeather disappeared just as Bloodstar did, but it was useless. They had lost her. Again. Beechfang clenched her jaw so hard it hurt, claws digging into the earth the only thing holding her upright. She flinched at the mention of what she'd had to do to Smokefeather, staring down at her bloody paws for a moment. It could've easily still been Smokefeather's that she saw rather than the nameless, faceless dark forest cat she'd just fought alongside Ashstorm. She would have to tell Bloodstar about that too... And wasn't looking forward to speaking about it, nor what his reaction might be.

A sharp, bark of laughter escaped Beechfang as she overheard the rogue's words, devoid of humor and filled with a vicious bitterness. "Oh yes. He cared so much when he raised his claws against me as an apprentice. And when I tried to defend a helpless kit. How many times has he tried to kill me, four, five? And far more threats of the same. I've lost count. Your view is beyond twisted, rogue. Even after we stopped going after him, he needed to attack innocents. All because of his obsession with what, two cats? How is mistreatment and petty words even comparable to what he's done in return? If his own son is saying he'd have him attacked, I believe him over you. You are blind to not see the monster Dawnhawk was, but he has his claws in deep with you, I understand." At least Aether recognized that what Dawnhawk was, wasn't a good thing. Beechfang wished she could've been surprised by some of what he'd said, but it had tracked with the golden tom she'd always known.

Lionboar spoke up once more, and Beechfang's lips twisted in a sneer as she regarded him, "Murderer? Of whom, exactly? A cat that had attacked me, a medicine cat at the time, first? Perhaps you would prefer none of us defend ourselves at all, then? Please, tell me more about events you weren't even alive for. Or perhaps you mean the she-cat who begged me to end her suffering because she wanted to spare the clan a worse fate, when I tried to refuse? You know, when Dawnhawk would have absolutely made good on the threat to kill us all instead had I done so? Maybe I should've refused anyways, you'd still be dead today, right? You know nothing of what she or this clan has suffered through, Lionboar." She continued, taking a dangerous step towards the now-starry tom while the low snarl never left her voice, the anger she'd been fighting bubbling over. How dare Lionboar? "I see death has made you judgmental and preachy on matters you know nothing about already. I speak from experience, kit. So does Bloodstar. We are owed nothing for our time as medicine cats, or our time spent fighting for our clan's survival. I am certainly not owed being liked or respected for either, and quite frankly, I don't give a rat's tail if I am or not. You're no leader, no medicine cat, and you have no right to make demands. You are dead. You can't fight for us anymore and have left the clan short a skilled warrior by your own choice, and you demand respect and to let your friend into our ranks? You died young, idealistic and foolish. Go among the stars and demand worship, pass your judgement on the living while doing absolutely nothing. We'll be down here, making sure Skyclan survives while you remain holier than thou and obliviously arrogant to the fact that we do not need or want a martyr." She thought she had rather liked Lionboar once, but it was clear that he wasn't happy about not being treated as the martyr he wanted to be. Too bad for him, the dead were of no use for the living and never had been.

Bloodstar, it seemed, had had quite enough. Not that Beechfang could disagree. At being called to follow, she forced her tired paws to move. Her injuries hurt and she was honestly a little dizzy from the blood loss and the blows to the head, but she could take care of herself later. Muddythorn would have his paws full tending to the rest of their clanmates, especially now that he was without an apprentice.

"I'll help Muddythorn after we speak. I know he's short on paws with Myrtledove's passing. Aether seems to have some knowledge, but I'd rather our clanmates be looked after properly." She muttered quietly, so only Bloodstar could hear. "Some foxdung you get to wake up to, huh?" Her tone lacked humor, however. She didn't have the energy for any of this.