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redux-iterum · 2 months ago

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Charred Legacy: Chapter Fifty-Five

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“Ready?”

Fireheart said nothing. He just stood still, gazing at the Titan of gods in front of him. Her legs stretched out on either of his sides, caked in mud and grass, the very slightest hint of stone claws peeking from beneath the layers of earth. Spikes like sharp boulders stood tall and rigid on her back—her spine, perhaps, or an armored shell. And still, no sight of a proper head, unless it was buried like her claws were, only leaving a wide, tall mouth that cold air drifted out of, even with the lack of a breeze. Not for the first time, he felt like he was an ant staring down a fox’s hungry maw.

Perhaps a dog’s, rather.

“Fireheart?”

He blinked back to reality and refocused. Cinderpaw was standing a little ahead of him and to his right, head turned back to him and cocked with humorous curiosity. Her tail, for once groomed clean of burrs and grass, curled over her back, waving a little at the crooked tip. One little fang was poking out of her mouth, a faint echo of her mentor’s broken-toothed grin.

“Are you back?” she asked playfully.

Fireheart lowered his ears. “Sorry. Just… got to thinking.” His eyes returned to the mouth of the Mother. “I forgot how intimidating she is.”

“Oh, she’s terrifying,” Cinderpaw said with a cheeriness that reminded Fireheart of Spottedleaf. “That’s the point. Even I’m nervous right now.”

Fireheart’s thoughts drifted again, this time leading him to look up at the sky, dark with a nearly half-moon floating high among the stars. They had been walking since dawn, to the sleepy (and still somewhat-anxious) farewells of their Clanmates. The journey through the forest, past the neutral grounds and up the moorlands of WindClan territory had been entirely silent. Cinderpaw had kept darting looks back at Fireheart, but her mouth stayed closed, tightened into a grimace of anxiety. Fireheart had been busy letting himself feel every sense and texture of the world—the growing grass under his paws, the slightly warm breeze brushing against his ears, the more impressive and welcome warmth of daylight and the sun—in an attempt at meditation. Something to prepare mentally him for the ceremony ahead.

He did not feel remotely prepared. He itched more to turn around and flee the instant Cinderpaw looked away. Even going so long without sleep, he thought he could sprint across the world to escape.

“I’m sorry I’m doing this as an apprentice,” she said, startling him into focusing again. “Yellowfang should be here, and I should be watching her perform the ceremony in person, so I’d be ready in the far future for when it was my turn.” Her eyes sank to the ground and her usual mirth almost entirely disappeared. “It’s absurd, isn’t it? ThunderClan having an apprentice as their only seer.”

Fireheart took a few steps to reach her and gently rested his tail on her haunch. “And they have two very young cats with no experience as leader and deputy. At least you were about to get your name; you count, as far as I’m concerned.”

Cinderpaw huffed a bleak attempt at a chuff, but her expression lightened. “Then let’s work together to not lead the Clan into disaster.” Her own tail thwapped his back leg. “Starting with your ceremony. Come on.”

She limped forward, somehow looking more dignified even with her odd steps. Fireheart silently followed her, resisting tucking his tail between his legs. He gulped as the Mother’s mouth drew closer and closer, stretching wide and swallowing him whole as the pair left the remnants of light behind.

He hadn’t forgotten how bitingly cold it was in her throat. Even so, his steps were ginger on the vaguely damp ground that was more akin to ice than soil, if it was soil. He didn’t really want to know what it actually was.

As before, the black of her innards kept him from being able to “see” Cinderpaw by anything but hearing her breath. He was careful to keep her tail close to his whiskers, just in case she turned suddenly. Thankfully, this time he didn’t need to sneeze from it.

“Are you able to find it on your own?” Fireheart whispered.

He could practically hear Cinderpaw’s amused face. “She would never lead us wrong. Just keep quiet. We’ll get there soon.”

Fireheart shut his mouth tight, winced when he stepped in something wet, and kept walking.

Turns, stretches of nothing, more turns, and then, abruptly, Fireheart had to squint his eyes as the walls flew open and the massive, milk-white Moon Stone greeted them. He stopped in place, staring at it as well as he could until his eyes recovered from the shine the moon, hovering above, blessed this massive rock with.

“Alright,” Cinderpaw sighed out, bouncing a bit like she was trying to psyche herself up. “Fireheart, sit right here.”

He obeyed quickly, coming to stand a few body-lengths across from the Moon Stone and sitting down, attempting to ease his own nerves. Cinderpaw, meanwhile, approached the stone and placed her paw on it.

“StarClan, the Three, and Mirra,” she began. “I bring you a warrior who has proven that he’s ready to be named as the leader of ThunderClan. I ask that you take a moment to come to him, his mind and soul, and hear his words of worry and doubt. I ask that you reach for him and touch his heart, and bless him with the spirit and confidence he needs to become the leader that this Clan deserves.” She paused. “And I ask that you forgive me for performing this ceremony without my name. We’ve been in kind of an emergency state for a bit. It’s been crazy. Yellowfang can tell you all about it.”

Fireheart had to hold back a snort.

“Anyway…” Cinderpaw’s bushy tail raised. “Horoa, Endless Watcher, gift him with honesty and bravery. Suriin, Pathcarver, gift him with knowledge and cleverness. Rokhar, Lord of Twilight, gift him with clarity and focus. StarClan, watch over him and guide his steps as he walks the path of his lifetime.” Her voice faintly echoed. “And Mirra, our Mother, grant him his name and protect his soul as your blood protects all of us.”

There was a small pause before Cinderpaw’s dark fur flared, the light of the Moon Stone catching the tips of her hairs. Fireheart thought he heard the wind, though there was none in this cavern. Before he could say anything, Cinderpaw turned back to him, silhouetted by white, and stepped up to him, almost touching noses.

“Now, Fireheart of ThunderClan,” she said, her voice still faintly echoing, almost sounding like it wasn’t hers. “It is your time to speak. Take your burdens—your fears, worries, doubts, all of your troubles—and give them to the spirits and gods above. Let them be taken from you, and when your soul is cleansed, touch your nose to the Moon Stone and sleep.”

Her nose now touched his forehead, and the cold of the Moon Stone rushed through his body in one complete shiver. When she stepped back, her fur no longer caught the light like it had and a cautiously eager beam graced her face.

“I’m going to leave you here overnight,” she said. “You do as I said, and I’ll come back for you when the moon sinks.” Fireheart blinked in surprise and opened his mouth, but she held up a paw. “You only speak to them tonight. Wait until you can’t hear me anymore, and then you say what you need to.”

Before he could say anything, she set off at an ungainly trot, tail high again, and disappeared around the corner of the entrance of this cavern.

Obediently, Fireheart waited, listening closely as the very faint pawsteps faded. Once he was sure she was gone, he looked at the Moon Stone. He had no idea if anyone was here with him, listening, like Cinderpaw had requested, but he opened his mouth anyway.

“So,” he said, “here I am.”

Silence.

“I’m… sorry, if this is a waste of your time.” His front paws shifted self-consciously. “I know you must get tired of all the ceremonies and blessings and all that. I don’t mean to cause any annoyance with… with what I’ve got to say. Just…”

Another pause, and silence still. Anxiety bubbled from his chest up to his throat, then it burst out of his mouth before he could restrain it.

“I just don’t think I’m supposed to be here,” he blurted. “Dustpelt should, or– or Whitecloud. One of them should be getting their leader name right now. A– and I should be back at home, hoping everything’s going okay, just being a regular warrior.” His throat tightened. “I don’t know if any of you are here, and I’m almost certain you aren’t, because I shouldn’t be the one getting this blessing. I mean, I-I’m barely about to turn two, and I haven’t even finished training Cloudpaw, and I’m just some dumb softheart they allowed in, and—”

The light of the Moon Stone suddenly flared white, illuminating the cavern so much that Fireheart had to force himself to open his eyes back up and face the painful light. Along the walls, tall shadows danced in barely-distinct shapes, touching the open ceiling in arches and points.

Above even this, a blazing warmth, almost searing, swelled in Fireheart’s body, starting from his chest and sweeping through the rest of him, down to the tip of his tail and the ends of his whiskers. He gasped as he felt the heat roaring behind his eyes and gripping around his heart, pouring into its core.

Then the Moon Stone’s glow faded, and the shadows with it. The warmth sank down his body and dissipated through his toes and claws. He was standing in a freezing cavern again, the only mortal in this hollow in the earth. Still, eyes were on him, an invisible presence bigger than anything he’d ever seen circled around him.

Loud and clear.

Barely able to speak, completely unable to fight a beam at the weight lifted out of his body, he breathed out, “Okay.”

The intensity of the air settled down again. Walking like he was on a cloud, he approached the Moon Stone and touched his nose to it. It was still cold, but the echo of heat in every hair on his body kept him from really feeling it. He stepped back, laid down and curled up, shutting his eyes.

The first thing he saw when he opened them was a huge, empty sky, vibrant blue in the center and paler at the edges of the horizon. He looked down to see endless, softly rolling hills of gold and ginger grass, dotted with the occasional tree that he had never seen before: somewhat like an oak, but leaning more to one side and with a smoother, flatter canopy of leaves. It was warm, even with the wind blowing around him.

On instinct, he looked to his right. A cloud of petals in a calico rainbow of colors danced erratically towards him, swirling and spinning on the wind. He twisted his head to watch it whirl around him, the wind taking on a sound like a trill of amusement. It flew further into the air, and he stared up at it, mesmerized.

A caw sounded off, and out of the corner of his left eye, a massive crow dove through the cluster of petals and flew upwards, a few petals caught in its black beak. It looked down at the little tom below, winked and sailed off into the distance.

Then there was heat—overwhelming like the fire, but not unwelcome.

He blinked and almost jumped backwards in alarm as a massive, mountainous creature suddenly stood before him. He stared at it, this thing vaguely cat-shaped, gold as the grass around them, muscular and long-bodied. A long, thin tail swished back and forth, a flare of dark smoke drifting off at the tip. When he looked up at their face, only a large, bold nose and round muzzle were visible; black smoke drifted around the neck and covered where the eyes should be.

It couldn’t be.

“Horoa?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

He got no response beyond a twitch of long, white whiskers. The giant head lowered, the small cat trembling in awe and fear, and the broad nose rested against his forehead. Another wave of heat flowed through him; with it came a blazing thrill, a joyous urge to run as fast as he could, as far as he could, and chase the largest, most dangerous thing he could find. For an instant, he thought tall warriors formed a ring around him, and—

He opened his eyes.

The Moon Stone no longer shone in front of him, simply sitting as a dull white-grey rock. The visible mote of sky was growing pale, and the stars were gone.

He raised his head with some difficulty, blinking in confusion and sleepiness. The thrill inside him was gone. He was on a cold, hard floor that sucked the warmth from his body. His energy was shot.

“Welcome back.”

He blinked again, more alert, and looked over to his left. Cinderpaw was sitting close to him, her tail curled around her paws and her eyes creased in merriment.

“I saw you,” she said. “Your aura burned. I thought you were on fire for a moment. You must’ve seen something great.”

He braced his front feet on the ground and slowly hauled himself up into a sitting position. “I did. I saw—”

“Ahp.” Cinderpaw shook her head. “Don’t tell me. What you saw and what you said are for you and the stars to know. Nobody else.”

“Oh,” he said, admittedly a little disappointed.

Cinderpaw stood. “Well, Yellowfang told me I could do this part however I wanted, so long as I got the right point across. With that…” She limped up to the leader, lifted a paw and placed it on his chest.

He looked down in mild surprise, then back at her curiously.

“With the blessings of the Three, the Mother, and StarClan…” Her eyes twinkled. “Welcome to leadership, Firestar. You’re gonna be great.”

Firestar.

He was Firestar now. Leader of ThunderClan. Responsible for more lives than he could count. Tasked with serving until the death of his body or his mind.

Cinderpaw lifted away her paw. “How do you feel?”

Firestar opened his mouth and paused, trying to sort out exactly what the answer was. The faintest echo of the thrill of the chase flickered in his heart, the warm gaze of an eye he couldn’t see prickled his fur, and the weight of all of his fears and doubts had been lifted away, leaving his body lighter than it had been in a long time.

He’d been asked this before, though, hadn’t he? And the answer was still the same.

“Like a ThunderClan cat,” he said. “Like a leader.”

Cinderpaw straightened up, beaming. “Awesome. You ready to get out of here?”

Firestar chuffed softly. “Yes. Please. Can we stop by the Barn for prey?”

“Hey, I’m not the one in charge.” Cinderpaw thwapped him with her tail again and started off back into the dark tunnels. Firestar, following, marveled at how the light from outside was so suddenly cut off into blackness.

It wasn’t until they were back outside that Cinderpaw spoke again, vibrating with excitement. “Ohhh, boy, this is awesome. I got to help you get your name! I did it!”

“And you’re still an apprentice.” Firestar caught up to her with a purr. “The next time you come here, you ought to get your own.”

“Oh, I will. The half-moon meeting’s tomorrow, and Fognose already agreed to do the ceremony for me.” Cinderpaw sighed, a little dampened. “I just wish it was Yellowfang instead. She’d be so happy to lace in insults all through the rites. Oh well. Guess I’ll have to be treated nicely instead.”

“What a shame,” Firestar said. He started forward. “Come on, let’s get some food.” He paused, then looked at her again. “Actually, do you want to stay in the Barn tonight? Since you’re coming back here anyway.”

“Oh, good idea.” Cinderpaw tilted her head thoughtfully. “Then again… hm. Will the Clan be okay without me? Will you be okay to travel without me?”

Firestar nodded. “And Barley can keep you fed until tomorrow.” His ears went back sheepishly. “And, if I’m being honest, I think I’d like to journey back alone. Just to think, and feel.”

“That sounds appropriate.” Cinderpaw caught up to him and they started walking again. “First things first, though, let’s make sure you don’t starve to death on the way home.” She looked at him, the sun shining through her expression. “And I mean it. You’re going to do great, Firestar. Don’t let yourself ever doubt that.”

Firestar purred, tail high over his back. “No promises.”

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #charred legacy #book three #arc one #chapter #chapter fifty five

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