Take the Oath

TW: pain, screaming, generally disturbing imagery

Happy New Year

The Prophet is left standing alone, shaking until the still-covered sun, an eclipse weighing down the sky with grief and pain. Ahead of them lie two cats, quaking and writhing in agony as their skulls split with the burden of stars. The Sun and Moon and screaming on the ground. Hail wants to scream with them. Hail wants to end their suffering. Hail wishes it never came to this. Hail is still considering forgetting about it all.

Hail will never be able to forget what they’ve done.

So the Prophet creeps forward slowly, their eyes wetting with tears that will fall until their fur becomes sodden. Their paws become heavy with blood that will soak the earth until every seed of grief and regret has sprouted. Hail stalks forward until they are slotted between the two twitching cats, quivering tail and shaking paws drawing them close, a hesitant muzzle leaning forward to groom their disturbed fur in hopes that the screams might be soothed. The Prophet will never know this pain, and they can only hope it ends soon.

The eclipse released its hold on the sky by the time the two of them stopped in their agony, the sun dipping past the horizon before they could sleep, tired by their thrashing and shrieking, voices rubbed raw, pelts stained with grass and dirt. The first stars began to prick at the sky, and Hail cast their gaze downwards, feeling repulsed by what had caused their companions so much pain.

“Hello, miss!” A young, ticked brown tabby kit strutted forward out of the brush, tail held high in confidence as he approached the three cats lying in the clearing. Hail’s eyes felt misty when greeting him, and their ears twitched as they listened to the soft, and perhaps pained snores surrounding them. The tom’s eyes were gray, but they shone silver like the moon.

A larger tabby emerged from the forest, swiftly charging forward to scoop the kit backwards and out of the way, a soft hiss a warning for the small tom. His eyes flicked to the cats before them, his ears shifting. “Sorry, ma’am. My cousin is a wander’r.”

“That’s okay.” Hail murmured, their tail tucking tighter around Burnet’s side. “As long as he keeps his voice down.” The tom nodded, the kit tangled between his paws now leaning closer.

“What’re two she-cats and a tom doin’ sleepin’ out ‘neath the stars?” The kit asked excitedly, his older cousin swatting at his ears.

“One she-cat.” Hail’s ears flicked, glancing to Burnet as the brown she-cats whiskers ruffled in turn with her snores.

The older of the two tensed, his nose turning a deep pink as his paws clamped the kit’s jaws shut. “Great Whiskers, sorry!” He mewed hastily. “Knew I should’ve asked.” He murmured, the younger tom actively clawing his way out of his cousin's grasp.

“Y’mean you’re not a she-cat!” The kit announced brazenly, his tail lashing in the air as he raced toward Hail, skidding to a stop as his cousin lunged after him, Hail reeling back at the sudden closeness. “How does that work?”

The older tom flicked the kit with his tail, dragging him away. “You’re bein’ rude, Fickle! This’ why you never keep any frien’s, learn to ‘old your own tongue.” The tom hissed, his ears downturned upon his head as he turned back towards Hail. “I’m so sorry. He’s got clouds-for-brains and I been tryin’ to put a couple smarts in ‘im since he could walk.” The kit, Fickle, opened his muzzle in protest before his cousin fixed him a fierce glare. “What's your name?”

“My name is Hail.” They introduced themself. The kit leaned closer.

“Why d’they ‘ave marks on the backs of their ‘eads?” Fickle reached out a small paw towards Stoat. Hail’s eyes widened, suddenly twitching towards the young tom, jaws snapping at thin air where the kits paw was held a moment before. The tom hissed as Fickle fell backwards, the older of the two unsheathing his claws, fur bushing up at Hail’s reaction.

“Don't touch him!” They snarled. “They've been through enough.” Hail’s green eyes wildly dart around, their scent soaked in fear. “We watched the sun disappear just to get mauled by the stars! We've done horrible things that would fill you with nightmares. We thought we could reach salvation but all we received were ghosts and tortured memories.” They spit, unaware as the two toms retreat.

“Sure sounds like a lot to me.” The older tom nods, ushering his cousin backwards with his paw. Fickle watches Hail with wide eyes, staring at them with confusion and fear. “Sorry to bother you, miss, or uh, sorry.” He winces before ducking to grasp Fickle in his jaws and darting into the forest.

Hail watches as the leaves rustle and shift for a few moments before the clearing settles back into silence, and all they can hear is soft, pained snoring. The night continues to drag onwards, leaving the Prophet as the watcher of those who have been scarred, of those who can never forget, of those with their sins burned into eyes and seared into their fur.

But when they listen closer, when they look more intensely, they can see something crawling through the forest, dragging itself on broken and twisted bones.

And it reminds them.

Are we allowed to grieve?

TW: pain, screaming, vomit, generally disturbing imagery Enjoy.

A group of three cats stand under a darkening day. Clouds shroud what has been made of the sky, a dull reminder of what they wish to forget, but what they never will. Their paws stain the grass where they each stand, red like clay and smelling of iron. Dew slicks the fur upon their legs and belly to their skin, and they each shiver in the absence of cold.

A white tom lifts his head, eyes staring unblinking at the sky above. He feels as the clouds shudder in his wake, in fear of his past, and dreading what is still to come. “I take this Oath, so we may never forget our sacrifices.” Beside him, a brown she-cat closes her eyes. Pausing with a bow before speaking.

“I take this Oath, so that we may see a better future.” Her voice shudders as she speaks, her claws digging into the softened soil beneath her, clogging between her pads. Her paws twitch, as if begging to bury her misery.

The third, and last, a black tabby, rose on all their paws, tail held low as their voice tried to reach up to that in the sky which had damned them. “I take this Oath of Stars, in hopes that one day we might be forgiven.”

The tabby takes a sharp breath through their clenched teeth, muscles taut in anticipation. Their eyes flicker around, searching for a sign, for anything that might indicate that they accomplished their tasks, that what they did is actually worth something, that it would mean what they were told it would, that it wasn’t for nothing.

They don’t find what they’re searching for, and the tabby feels as three hearts collectively stop beating. The gathered cats look at each other in shame and regret as the entirety of their grief comes crashing down. That was when the sun disappeared.

It made no noise, but if it did, the tabby would think their ears would have started to bleed. All three cats drop to the floor, fur spiking in fear as their ears flatten against their skulls. The tabby’s tail tucks under their legs, bushed fur prickling at their skin as their eyes look to the sky, only to look back at the ground, pupils burning with an intensity unlike fire, black spots floating around their vision as rapid blinking tries to ward off the damage. Out of their peripherals, the tabby sees their companions doing the same.

“What does it mean?” The brown she-cat wails. “Did we kill the sun?”

No one responds, and the tabby listens to the she-cats broken sobs as their eyes water against the pain and blinding. Silence permeates the forest, until the only sound is their ragged breathing and mournful cries.

A soft shimmer begins to take shape between the three of them as a familiar young tom whisks his tail excitedly, despite the cool expression upon his muzzle. He purrs in greeting, his silky gray tabby coat glistening in the darkness. “I can only begin to express my gratitude to you, my vessels.” His smooth voice echoes around the trees. “I would say that your part is over, but there is still more to come. However, for now, it is my turn to grant you what you have been promised.”

The dark tabby thinks the tears they’ve shed will stain tracks in their fur until their flesh has rotted, but relief floods through their body, boiling in their veins as it shifts throughout their skin, roaring in their blood. The light tabby ahead of them turns to meet their green eyes, shining with fear. “Hail, Prophet Hail. The dreamer, the seer, the one who sees beyond the veil. Yes, I will be speaking to you again, guiding your paws.” Hail sucked in a breath, feeling their eyes flutter as they absorbed their new power through their pores.

The tabby turned to Hail’s companions. The white tom stiffens in response, meanwhile the younger she-cat cowers under the spirit’s gracious gaze. “Above you, you have witnessed the sun and moon collide within the same sky, combining in the same day. And much like those above, you must work in tandem with the other to provide for those under your care. Sun Stoat and Moon Burnet, I shall grant you each four lives, so that you may care for your disciples, and protect them with every fiber in your body. Every drop of blood you spill will have been for them, every scar you gain a testament to your devotion, every life you take proof of the oath you have made.”

“Lives?” Burnet breathes, her eyes widening. Beside her, Stoat remains unchanged despite the subtle flick of his tail betraying his ambition.

“How does it work? Having four lives?” Stoat inquires, his emerald eyes flashing under the darkness of the eclipse.

The tabby smiles, his ears twitching before he steps forward. Hail observes as he presses his nose into Stoat’s temple, his breath ruffling the white tom’s whiskers. “Sun Stoat, I grant you these lives for strength.” The air around them shudders, tousling Stoat’s fur as the tom’s claws extend, digging into the earth as he collapses in a fit of gasps, his muscles twitching beneath his speckled pelt, as if in pain. Four bright pinpricks of light emerge from the air, blinding stars that circle his head before diving into his temple and shifting beneath his skin, glowing in his eyes. Hail’s jaw drops at the horrific sight, watching as Stoat’s skin shifts and bulges with the placement of the stars, an awful, earsplitting shriek peeling from his throat at the agony of it all.

Hail’s eyes glance to the shimmering tom before Stoat, expecting the spirit to be horrified, or at the very least shocked. But the tom just stands there, tail twitching silently, a sly smile upon his muzzle as he shifts to face Burnet. The she-cat ducks backwards, paws tripping over the grass as the tom frowns. “Do you want it to all have been for nothing?” He pouts, Stoat still screaming in anguish beside him, but the tom acts as if he’s not even there. And while Burnet’s focus has shifted to her companion, the spirit steps forward to press his nose against the cowering she-cats temple. “Moon Burnet, I grant you these lives for fearlessness.” Instantaneously, four stars materialize around her skull, pressing in as the she-cat yowls, scrambling backwards to no effect as the stars hunt her down, slicing into the sides of her head and her eyes, forming in her sockets. Her pupils glow with the intensity of the light, and she screams. Hail listens as she screams until she vomits, until Hail’s own body aches, until their head throbs just from watching the two of them writhing on the ground, shrieking until their voices crack.

The glowing tom turns to Hail, seemingly satisfied with his work. Hail flinches backwards, afraid that whatever he did to them, he might do to Hail. But the tom just stands there, unmoving even as the two cats twitch in pain, lashing out in agony, howling at the torture.

“I would say sorry,” He begins, and Hail starts to feel a semblance of relief. “But I was hoping it would hurt.” Hail’s heart lurches in their chest. “This is only the beginning of your suffering, Prophet. This is only a fraction of what you deserve.”

“You are the first Prophet of Oathclan. If all goes well, you will be the last. Run while you still can.”