Chapter Six

"Where were you that night?"

"I was out in the forest, hunting."

"And you didn't scent or hear anything that could have alerted you to an intruder?"

"No, I started heading for Owl's Crest, then caught the scent of a squirrel which turned me back towards Shaded Creek."

"LightClan, we are gathered here today to honour the hard work of two dedicated apprentices. Even through tragedy they have persevered and demonstrated loyalty to their Clan. In them we see a brighter future, and a stronger LightClan."

"So you're saying you followed the scent of a squirrel which just so happened to lead right to Goldenpaw's body?"

"I hadn't finished. As I was following another scent began to grow stronger. Death's stench. For it to smell that I knew it had to be something bigger than just carrion, so I left the squirrel's trail to investigate. That's….that's when I found her."

"Lilypaw, step forward." Under the light of the sun it was easy to see the strain in every movement she made as she crossed the few rabbitleaps to her mother. "I, Lionstar, leader of LightClan, call upon our warrior ancestors to look down upon this apprentice. She has trained hard to learn the ways of our Code and what it means to be a warrior, and I present her to you as a warrior in her turn. Lilypaw, do you promise to follow and uphold the laws of the Code, to do all you can to defend your Clan even at the cost of your life?"

Her voice trembled as she replied. "I do."

"Then," Lionstar said with a slight, proud smile, "by the power of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Lilyfur, StarClan honours your faith and your bravery, and we welcome you as a full warrior of LightClan."

The Clan shouted her name loudly, all of them, because who did not feel a pinch of pride that the shy Lilypaw who had endured such a tragedy so young had made it so far as to become Lilyfur? The proudest of them all was her father and he, with a rumbling purr, licked her cheek. Amongst the pride glittering in his eyes lay a smudge of dark grief; there should have been another standing in the sun, receiving a name to match their growth.

He swallowed the light with his pitch black pelt, made even darker by the shadows he hid on himself. There was no trace of the bumbling little kit that had stumbled up to his mentor for the first time. Now he held himself like a King, a leader, a God. Blood that only he could see stained his paws, tainted his heart. Ghosts lurked in the corners of his vision. But he let the Clan see none of that. They only saw a proud apprentice about to be rewarded for his hard work. It did not escape his attention that there were some Clanmates that turned their gazes to the ground when Lionstar faced him. It did not hurt him anymore. One day they'd understand.

His mother's words slipped by, his focus more on where she stood than what she said. The gold of her fur lit like a flame, beating like the sun. A golden queen of a golden land. He wondered what they'd say of him when he stood there, when he dragged LightClan back to its glory days.

"Blackpaw, do you promise to follow and uphold the laws of the Code, to do all you can to defend your Clan even at the cost of your life?" There seemed to be more of an emphasis on swearing his life. Did she really expect, after everything that had happened, that he was not more than ready to die for his Clan?

So he straightened his spine, flicked his ears to attention, and replied with nothing but strength: "I do."

"Then by the power of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Blackstorm, StarClan honours your dedication and loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of LightClan." Amongst the shouts of his new name, he caught what slipped from his mother's mouth. "May you follow the light." The look of pride on his own face attempted to slip into something like hurt. It wasn't because he hadn't done those things some suspected he had, because he had. It was more like he hadn't anticipated that suspicion to come from his own mother. Surely she looked at him and saw only the best?

"And what was the first thing you did when you found Goldenpaw?"

"I...I don't know. I just went kind of blank. Like I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. It felt like the world had slipped out from under me. Earlier that day I'd seen her so happy and full of life. Then...then I saw that."

"You came back to camp, do you remember that? You were silent, asking for Lionstar."

"I don't, no."

"So you have no idea what could have happened to her? I'm sure you noticed yourself that there was no blood, no sign of a struggle. Just her."

"No. I don't know what happened. I was just out hunting. I wish I'd come across her sooner, maybe I could have saved her from whatever happened."

"That'll be all, Blackpaw. You can go."

He supposed the suspicion was well earned.

After all more than one did not survive that night.

Rainpaw's death was bloodier, apparently. It had wound him up in intrigue and confusion; what in the world did Owlpaw have to gain from the murder of Rainpaw? She was practically already chosen for future leader with it in her blood and bones. Aside from that DarkClan was more than chatty about how talented she was, how hardworking and determined. For almost a whole moon he'd been left with no answers. Some nights he even sent a little shadow bird out to see if she was prowling the border; she never was.

"Blackstorm. That's a strong name, suits you well." His grandfather was a grizzled old cat with a touch of elderly softness about him. In his glory days, Ashfoot had been a fearsome warrior, the pride of LightClan. He'd given that mantle to Falconheart, and then to Goldenpaw. Shame she was no longer around to carry it.

He dipped his head in thanks and respect. "I hope I can live up to it."

Ashfoot scoffed. "You'll do fine, you've got my blood in your veins, and you have to make your sister proud too." His usually hard eyes softened. "She should have been beside you two - StarClan, she had the makings of a leader."

"Do you think I have the makings of a leader?" Blackstorm wouldn't lie to himself that he still didn't feel the sting of guilt when Goldenpaw was mentioned. It was something that he had buried so deep and so dark in his mind in the hopes that it wouldn't torment him. Still, the nights he did not visit his shadow friend, Goldenpaw came to him dripping in scarlet.

"I'd keep those ambitions quiet if I were you," Ashfoot replied. "But yes, I think you do. All you have to do," he said as he turned away, "is convince the rest of the Clan."

He preened under the attention of the Clan while they congratulated him on his name and new title. Some of them anyway. Gorsewhisker, even after moons of being his mentor, stayed away. His dislike was clear; their training sessions had always been cold and to the point. He'd done his job though Blackstorm supposed, given an apprentice the knowledge necessary to survive.

"We did it!" Lilyfur purred once the Clan went back to their duties. "Warriors, finally."

Blackstorm couldn't help but smile. "No more picking ticks off the elders, no more collecting moss. Just protecting and feeding the Clan."

When there was no reply he looked over at her. It was a mistake. The guilt threatened to drown him once more at the mere sight of Lilyfur's grief. He never meant to hurt her. Never her. She was the youngest, the smallest, the kindest. "Is it wrong for us to feel so happy when Goldenpaw isn't here with us?" she murmured.

"No," he said softly, resting his head atop hers. "No it's not wrong, she'd want us to be happy." Her terrified face flickered across his eyes, then the resignation as she realised death waited: hungry. "What do you think her name would have been?" It was a poor attempt at a distraction.

A soft purr buzzed against his chin. "I think she would have been Goldenheart."

It almost made him flinch. He'd done the right thing, but that didn't mean it didn't haunt him. "Yeah," he answered, "I think that would have suited her."

"Don't dwell on it." Falconheart's voice made them both jump. He and Lionstar always looked like such polar opposites; her the shining sun breaking through the nighttime gloom, and he the creeping shadow waiting for evening's embrace. Blackstorm had seen first paw that despite their differences their love for each other was ferocious. "You'll have plenty of time to think about the past during your vigil later."

"And about your future," Lionstar added.

The future. By the Stars did he have plans for the future; plans that rippled the shadows clinging to his very being. Blackstorm had come to the understanding that peace needed to be set in blood. It was the only way to save them all, to bring their shining glory back. StarClan had shown him that. Goldenpaw had shown him that. He traced the lines of his mother's regal stance and knew that one day he would stand in her place blessed with nine lives - given StarClan's highest honour.

Perhaps Lilyfur would be at his side as his deputy. If anyone could understand his reasoning it would be her. He'd place his whole world in her paws for safekeeping.

Under a watchful moon, Blackstorm fought against the desire to fall asleep. Patches of white light shone through the trees, softly illuminating the forest around camp. Night's sharp chill filled his nose, as did the soft scents of his sleeping Clanmates. Somewhere behind him he knew his sister sat. It was much more difficult that he'd imagined to stay awake; really only the humiliation of being found snoozing was keeping his eyes from closing.

He turned his head to the grass by the nursery, and in his head, he watched that fox saunter out of it with Snowstep gripped in its teeth. It felt like seasons ago he'd watched his mentor bleed to death since the world showed its true, vicious colours. He was glad, sometimes, of the change that bloody incident thrust upon him. Would Snowstep have accepted his power as a blessing, or would he have feared it like Goldenpaw?

The darkness swelled, pitched to a darker shade of ebony. Blackstorm curled his lip. It no longer mattered what anyone - living or dead - thought of his power. He was going to use it to drag LightClan into a starlit future, and one day they would be grateful.

"Blackstorm."

His ears pricked and he swung his head to the squished down grass of the camp mouth. Leon's flickering form waited there, smiling ever so softly. In his chest, his heart began to beat a strange rhythm; a strange mix of foreboding and anticipation. If it hadn't been for Leon showing him the truth Goldenpaw might still be alive, flaunting the rules. So he gave this spectre his full attention, looked him right in his blue-green eyes; cocked his head and mouthed, "what do you have to show me?"

Leon smiled sharply, and though Blackstorm would hardly call himself a master of this little cat's smiles it did not seem quite right. But all his caution leaked away when Leon flicked his tail, beckoning him in such a coy manner that he could hardly resist. In an instant, he tossed up a shadow cat that resembled himself in everything but corporal being, and then he closed his eyes and sunk his consciousness into the darkness waiting.

His body would sit vigil while his mind wandered.

It felt rather freeing to slip through the forest at night in a body made from shadow. Above, peeking between the leaves, the sky was cloudless and brimming with stars. Half a moon hung lazily - and a soft midnight breeze played with his shadow body. Such an atmosphere of peace made him purr, a gentle rumbled passed along by his real, and now empty, shell.

A heavy creaking announced the Old Willow before the towering tree spilled into sight. Bleached pale by the moon it looked otherworldly and mildly unsettling. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Somewhere," Leon replied. "Do you not trust me?"

Without hesitation Blackstorm replied, "I trust you."

That same sharp yet somehow wrong smile sent a flutter through him, and he missed the way Leon's phantom form seemed to briefly change shape. "You'll see soon, we're almost there."

Beyond the Old Willow, through some dense forest, was the Unknown. It sprawled out before them both, a broad expanse of rolling grasslands, small pockets of trees, and a mammoth river that split the land in two. Out there Blackstorm was a stranger. No Clan owned that land, and no Clan cat dared to brave it alone. Fortunately, he wasn't alone. Leon led the way with a sure-fire step almost like he had walked this path before.

"Did you live here?" Blackstorm blurted.

"No. My home is far from here; a different place and a different time. But I am beginning to grow fond of your territories."

He quickened his pace to walk side-by-side with him. "Before I saw you for the first time I had a dream. You were in it, walking towards this huge stone wall. There was someone else with you. Cyrith, I think?"

There was no missing the way Leon flinched, or the way his eyes became the sea stirred up by a vicious storm. "Memories," he murmured, "of a time long ago. My life."

"Will you tell me about it?" Blackstorm asked softly.

"Not now; one day." He must have looked disappointed because Leon added quickly, "it's a long, quite sad story, not something I'd like to tell on a night as important as your vigil."

Blackstorm pricked his ears. "Do you know much about the Clans?"

"Only what I've picked up from you and your life," Leon replied.

They waded slowly through chest high grass, disturbing sleeping birds that burst into the sky in a racket of cries and wings, and unsettling insects that chirped and buzzed. Over the soft sound rustling, he could hear the river grow louder. "Why do you visit me?"

Leon stopped then - where the river's song was a lullaby and the grass began to thin. He looked truly beautiful in the moonlight, and Blackstorm's heart ached for an answer. Why did Leon come to him? A secondborn, often passed over, warrior in a Clan where hardly anything happened? Day in, day out he followed the same dull routine. It wasn't exactly exciting. Maybe he was only interested in their shared Shadowstalker heritage.

"You interest me," was all he said.

Its waters were mixed pitch black and glinting silver, and it flowed gently against its banks. Blackstorm didn't doubt, however, that those calm waters would drown him with little hesitation. The river had no name to him but he wondered briefly if there were strangers that knew it fondly. It stretched far and long, snaking into the shadowed distance. Leon sat by the edge, eyes on the opposite bank.

"Watch."

Perplexed, Blackstorm sat beside him and squinted into the dark. The other side was only just visible, but slowly he began to pick up on a mist spilling from a thick forest. It was ice white and spreading fast, bubbling onto the river. A creaking sound echoed, and the river began to freeze solid. Something deep, deep inside him snapped awake; an instinct that demanded he both stand his ground, and run away. The fur along his spine bristled with energy he'd never felt before.

Like a spider's web, the ice grew.

Blackstorm inhaled the scent of fire, and in an instant, he was elsewhere. His camp burned; vicious flames devouring everything. There was screaming all around him, such bloodcurdling, terrifying screaming that it made him yearn for his mother's safety. Beneath his paws the ground buckled and heaved, threatening to rip the dirt out from beneath his paws and plunge him into nothing. Overhead the sky howled.

A sharp gust of wind blew away the smoke, and surrounding him were his family, his friends, his Clan. Dead. Blackened by ash. Scorched by fire.

Something moved; a shape distorted by the heat and the chaos. It prowled around him, a predator taunting its prey. "Hello again," they whispered, and it was as if they'd stood beside him and spoken straight into his ear. "Old friend."

He slammed back into reality so harshly that it chased the air from his lungs. "What was that?" he gasped, heart thundering against his ribs. Never had he known such visceral terror - even Snowstep's bloody death paled in comparison. "Leon, what was that!?"

"Your end."