AN: My first real story! Yay! I've had the idea for this for a while but kept writing and rewriting the prologue, hence not updating Starkit's Prophecy. Sorry, guys. Regular updates will resume soon. But meanwhile, read this! I hope y'all like it!
Full Description:
Rainkit has always been in the shadow of her older sister. Featherkit was pretty and popular. Featherkit is known for her beauty, but nothing else. She'd rather be smart and kind, like Rainkit. Their differences drive a rift between them, and they try to be as different from each other as possible. Rainkit gets terrifying dreams of a shadowy cat that haunts her in sleep. Featherkit is troubled by very different struggles in the waking world, but they are just as important to the future of the Clans. The sisters are tempted by an offer almost too good to be true when Featherkit joins Rainkit in the spirit world, but the threat in the real world is growing more and more powerful. When the horrors of Rainkit's nightmares threaten everyone close to the sisters, they have to join together to save everyone they love before the Clans are thrown into chaos.
The moon hung low in the sky, a tiny sliver of light. The stars of Silverpelt were faintly scattered in the blanket of night. Each of the nights had been like this, cold and mysterious. That was how she could tell that she would be going to the Empty Sector for the last time. She closed her eyes, welcoming the darkness that enveloped her.
The Empty Sector greeted her when she opened her blue eyes. It was the bridge between StarClan and the Dark Forest, neither good nor bad, but nothingness. The fog and cold, ever-present, surrounded her, the vapor dampening her fur and then freezing in the harsh temperatures. Her sister was there too, a faint outline through the mist. A section of the fog began to swirl before them, darkening and solidifying until it became the body of a cat. Amunet. The cat greeted them with a simple dip of her head, opening her empty black eyes.
"Greetings, young ones." Her voice was cold and monotone, devoid of emotion. "Are you ready?" Her muzzle curled into a cruel smirk, defining her misty features. She gulped and glanced at her sister, who she saw had the same deep fear etched across her face. Amunet lifted her ghostly tail, and the chilling wind picked up. She remembered her father's words from when she was a kit. No matter how pretty, how, ugly, or even how different you are from everyone else, I will always love you, to StarClan and back. Are you clear?
His strong yet gentle meow rang in her head, bringing with them memories of why she was making this gamble in the first place. Two moons old, watching her sister play with the other kits. Six moons old, listening to her sister's name getting chanted, obscuring the voices of her few friends who still stood by her side. Her mentor yelling at her, the other apprentices humiliating her in front of the Clan. Her Clanmate nearly killing her the day she became a warrior. And finally, Amunet telling her it could all be fixed with a simple trade of personality with her perfect sister.
That's all it was, right? Just a simple trade? Something to get over with and then move on? Insignificant, trivial. After all, they were already sisters. How much harm could it do? A lot. The tiny voice in her head answered her question, bringing with it the ugly fact that she had gone against her father's wise words. Her legs buckled, as she strove to overcome the wave of nausea and pain that had come over her. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself again, feeling the cold wind whip around her. She wasn't entirely sure what she had gotten herself into. Bracing herself against what was to come, she saw two tendrils of black fog lift off of Amunet's pelt. The smoky substance snaked around her and her sister, gradually disappearing. It seemed like it was seeping into her very essence. She suddenly realized what was happening to her and her sister. Amunet said she would make us who we wanted to be, if we promised to make a trade. But this isn't just a simple swap, is it? The cold inside her started to ache, like her very being was being torn from her, and the vapor-filled Empty Sector seemed to get very distant as it faded to black. Somewhere in her frozen mind, a thought formed from the dark abyss of what used to be her being. It was an exchange of souls.
Kind of a creepy prologue, I know. But review, review, review for a Amunet plushie! Also, I'd really appreciate if you gave me some feedback!
-Phoenix