Prologue
Far, far away from the borders of Thunderclan, millions of miles past Windclan thousands of oceans distant from Riverclan, and many, many decrepit forests forth Shadowclan, lay a lone Clan all of it's own. This Clan was like none before it, and hundreds of generations would pass before there would be a Clan like it. This ranking of cats, this small army, was made of but three. Three idealistic, futuristic thinking felines who took it upon themselves to give up their rogue lives and grasp every single thing they'd ever admired into their claws and make it theirs; all of it. Anything and everything they could, and that is to say the feral mammal world in it's entirety. And they did.
The trio of cats called themselves Arsenic Clan, the poison toxin after which they called themselves living up to the title until the very last letter. They were poison; were corrupt; a bacteria on the face of this planet that no exterminator could make extinct. They breathed infections. They're aim was to maim, to contaminate, to eliminate. But more than any of theses goals they wished to conquer. Small in numbers though they were, their mere influence polluted the mind into thinking – and worse – believing the thoughts they whispered into their ears. Three male cats; three malignant cancers.
One by one, their numbers grew, slowly but surely. Each cat to enter into the veiled dungeons of their legion were tainted with the same acrid point-of-view. The same goals, the same thoughts, the same power hungry motivation to be apart of a conquest; to own, to have the power to give life and to take it away. Arsenic Clan was a wayward group of cats, one whose intentions spread like the plague. Soon, all of undomesticated life of this isolated wilderness in a secret part of the world was defiled.
And Acidstar reigned supreme.
* * *
The night was raw with the fresh, breath taking bitter frost of Winter's first bite. A million silver stars spotted the inky black sky. A bleak, openly staring, cloudless sky, filled with the gleaming yellow tinged circle that was pitted with craters. . . and that hung just right, floating unhindered in the raven expanse. Skeletal trees were placed unevenly over the horizon, offering no protection but in it's stead a haunted aurora that crept over the land like a poisonous mist. The paling brown branches creaked in the vexing wind, raking through the beige blades of dead and dying grass. Wave after wave swept over the rolling hills, one melting into the other until it looked like the foamy crests of the ocean crashing one against another. In the midst of this auspicious storm, three solid colored mammals glided across the terrain. One onyx, blacker than the blackest shadows that were hidden in the depths of hell; the second a dirty brown and auburn red, like the clay pits in the smoldering afternoon sun; the last a stark, colorless, lifeless white, so white it scolded the eyes to look upon. They floated together down the watery slopes, making a slow, deliberate process seem wholly illegal; transgressive, even. They walked an even number of feet apart, each step falling into place with the others. Their tails hung low, just millimeters above the flailing grass, curved at the tip, but completely still. All three bodies rippled with muscles, mimicking the jaunty game both ground and sky were playing. All three had sharp features and strong jaws; piercing eyes with an intelligence unknown to mankind. All three dwindled at the foot of the slope, hesitating before they dove together down the worn mud trail, now overgrown with thorns and a paraphernalia of weeds and debris. Twin towering white and gray gnarled trees bent their heads together, hovering over the unwelcoming entrance to the tainted haven of the three cats.
Their tails were swallowed, and the night howled in distress.