Disclaimer: I do not own the Warriors series. Names that appear in this work of fanfiction that coincide with those in other works is purely coincidental.

A/N: I haven't finished any works of fanfiction for years. This is actually a second upload; the first didn't go quite the way I had wanted it to. Now, come hell or high water I shall finish! -shakes fist at lack of motivation- Please review, I live on reading comments and criticism!

Prologue - The Fallen Wolf

Under the cover of darkness, they could pass the guards like minnows. Their velvet paws made no sound amidst the soft drumming of rain. Some were heavy and broad-shouldered, others were light and lithe; their physiques differed vastly from one cat to the other, yet for all their differences they moved together as one, with one intent only: terror. By the time thunder boomed and lightning cracked overhead—a revealing flash that illuminated the raiders—it was too late.

The leader of the invaders was unafraid and irresistible. Her dark gray tabby fur was slicked back with blood, her claws filmed in viscera, and her sharp teeth brought death to the helpless cats that stood before her cold, silent wrath. And her amber eyes, flashing with arrogance and murderous triumph. No fight could be won with Wolfshadow on the other side—Wolfshadow, the infamous deputy of GloryClan.

Just as she was about to plunge her fangs into the soft throat of an apprentice, the dream ended with a harsh jerk back to reality. In her dream she was young, swift, powerful, bringing death to the weak with an iron paw. Now she was still young, but disillusioned; still swift, yet broken; still powerful, but with no will to exercise that strength. Oh yes, she was still surrounded by death. It was all around her: in the darkness of that hole, the oozing cuts that lay hidden within her fur, and in her dead yellow eyes. No longer would Wolfshadow lead a host of near-invincible warriors, bringing terror to innocent and guilty alike. No longer would she destroy the hopes and dreams of young cats—and thus the world was better served.

She closed her eyes and willed for that dream to return, but to no avail. It was the price for what she had done to so many innocents, yet she couldn't help but cry out inwardly: I don't deserve this. Death was what she deserved. Not the clammy, lingering stench that clung to her, nor her festering wounds and waning battle skills. She had lived by no law but the law of power; she had lived by the strength of her limbs and her capacity to kill. Surely she deserved a death in the battlefield, locked in the combat she had enjoyed so much. StarClan would not welcome her into their hallowed ranks—yet anything was better than rotting in this prison, watching helplessly as her reflexes waned with every passing day.

How did things go so wrong?

She was the highest ranked official of GloryClan, deputy to Galestar himself. Galestar, who chose her as his own apprentice, teaching her all the skills of a cold-blooded killer. All the other promising cats had dropped out, but not her. She would not flinch before running her claws across a newborn kit's throat. She was not afraid of incurring StarClan's wrath by destroying a Clan's supplies or assassinating a medicine cat. She took no prisoners; all cats were equal in her eyes, and all cats must die—one way or another. Yet here she was, incarcerated for the crimes of weakness and treason. Soon another tormentor, sent by Galestar, would see to her—reopening newly healed wounds, ripping out tufts of her fur while two other cats held her down.

Was this the punishment for loving Foxwind? Foxwind, her first friend and loyal comrade. After he was killed, she had finally told Galestar: she was bearing Foxwind's kits. Her leader had been beyond furious. The slow torture that ensued killed the kits before they could be born. How can a killer fall to such a petty thing as love? roared Galestar, his claws ripping into her fur.

She did not fight back. What was the point of fighting for survival when Foxwind was no longer at her side?

In her prison, she let out a rasping cough, tasting the blood. She was glad for it. Every droplet of blood she shed drew her closer to death, where the physical suffering would end.

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her prison.

She was standing on a moonlit meadow, amidst grass that whispered and swayed in the wind. StarClan surrounded her, their eyes cold and without expression, and she glared back defiantly. It was unexpected, yet she was unsurprised. Did the starry warriors of Silverpelt bring her here, so they could condemn her for her crimes, before flinging her to an afterlife of torment?

But before she would be cast into some dark eternal state of purgatory, she had to see. Had to see his face for the last time, as alive and faithful as he always was. She whirled, searched for that familiar orange muzzle and forest green eyes amongst a sea of unfamiliar silver fur and starlit gazes. Her heart raced as she envisioned him, laughing at her for her pitiful antics. Yet no matter where she looked, only cold strangers looked back.

He was not there.

"Of course he isn't," came another achingly familiar voice. "You know what that means, Wolfshadow."

Of course she did. It was slow at first, but once she grasped it, she staggered with a gasp. Alive? Was that tattered and broken body a lie? "Sableclaw killed him," she rasped, her voice weak with disuse.

"Simply a body. There were many bodies that day," a creamy brown tabby mewed sadly. "My brother killed that cat, him and many others. But StarClan never welcomed Foxwind into its ranks that day. That body was not Foxwind's. Look at yourself, Wolfshadow. Look at what my brother has done to you."

The starry cats parted, and revealed a pool. At first she felt the first flicker of uncertainty—then dismissed it immediately. She was Wolfshadow; she had no experience of fear.

Or was she? The cat that stared at her from back out of the pool was weak and unsightly. Ungroomed fur, matted with crusted blood and marred by wounds. "You weren't a killer, Wolfshadow," the StarClan cat murmured. "Foxwind was amongst the cats you saved from death, and your efforts were not in vain. Help him, Wolfshadow, find him and save yourself."

"Where is he?" she demanded as a cool breeze swept over the plain, enveloping her and ruffling her fur. Could it be true?

"Follow the sun, Wolfshadow…"

The heavenly cats seemed to fade before her eyes, and the earth seemed to spin. Just before she opened her eyes to the waking world, she realized, dumbly: she was responsible for the deaths of every single one of those gathered StarClan cats.