Oh my god, I am so sorry for the long wait. I don't even have a good excuse. Let's just say that severe depression and atrocious grades don't mix. I've been trying to work on this, as it is literally my top priority, but things have happened.

By the way, I am a beta reader now! I'm open to a lot of different types of works, so check out my profile for more info!

And now, the chapter you've all been waiting for:

"Centuries passed, and still the same! War in our blood; some things never change."

-Lost, Avenged Sevenfold

Chapter 17:: Somewhat of a Prophecy

Trickpaw stared across the ThunderPath unmovingly.

Hawkstripe of ThunderClan stared back at him.

The roar of an approaching monster reached Trickpaw's ears, and he backed off the path as his instincts kicked in. He didn't break eye contact with Hawkstripe until the monster tore into his line of sight.

When Trickpaw looked again, Hawkstripe was gone.

What the hell? Did he only imagine the tabby warrior?

He began to turn around, and came face-to-face with fiery, reddish-grey eyes.

Stumbling backwards, he yelped in surprise. "What the fuck?!"

When he dared to look again, he saw that he was not, in fact, imagining things. Hawkstripe of ThunderClan really was standing directly in front of him. "What? You're fucking dead!" Trickpaw shouted.

Hawkstripe bared his teeth and let out a harsh laughter. "Oh, I fucking wish."

Trickpaw took yet another step backwards, and Hawkstripe took yet another step forwards.

"Wh-what the hell do you want?!" What in hell was even going on? Was what he was seeing even real? Or just a trick of the Dark?

"Simple," Hawkstripe replied. His voice was somewhat hoarse. "I want you to take me to your father."

"Why? So you can kill him?"

"No, although I don't suspect you'd be too broken up about it if I did."

Trickpaw shrugged. He supposed that was rather true.

Hawkstripe smiled a little. Whether it was a smile of amusement or a smirk of malice, Trickpaw wasn't sure.

"Trust me, Trickpaw, Jaunestar will want to see me," he said.

"Well, I think he'll enjoy the chance to kil you... um, again."

This made Hawkstripe laugh in genuine, a low, psychotic sound. "He can try."

Trickpaw cocked his head to the side. Well, if nothing else, this would certainly be interesting.

"Come," he said, his golden eyes glittering. "I'll take you to my father."

Everyone in the camp looked up at once, sensing the odd presence. Hawkstripe made eye contact with each of them one at a time, seeming to savor the bewildering effect he had. The only cat that seemed unperturbed was Viperswipe, who only looked mildly curious. Trickpaw had always that thought that Viperswipe was a much better choice for a mentor compared to Scarletfire, but the grey tom had certain ideals that Jaunestar didn't agree with.

Deerstep, a skinny, skittish tom, scurried into Jaunestar's den as Trickpaw watched. This was where Trickpaw decided to slink away, before Jaunestar could see another reason to hate him.

Hawkstripe padded to the center of the camp with all of his old arrogance and more. There was a bit of a smirk in his face, and his eyes glinted an unsettling color.

The cats of ShadowClan stared with blank eyes. They remembered the words Jaunestar had said to them just two nights before:

"Hawkstripe of ThunderClan is dead. Mourn, if you must, but quickly and quietly. We have things to do."

Jaunestar came out of his den first, the new scars that Dominique had given him making him a rather gruesome sight. Gruesome, but still brilliant. Calixte followed, his long claws digging into the ground. Deerstep scurried out behind them, quickly disappearing into the crowd as he tended to do.

"Hawkstripe." There was question in his voice. "I was told you were dead."

"I was," Hawkstripe replied, "quite dead."

"Oh." Jaunestar kind of grimaced. "Well, congratulations. And, you'll have to forgive me. I was planning on visiting your grave, but it seems I've lost my chance."

Hawkstripe dipped his head slightly. "Thank you...?"

Jaunestar laughed a little, and took a light step forward. Hawkstripe's eyes followed him as he started to slowly circle the warrior.

"So, you've escaped the worlds of the dead, crawled out of the dirt, and... you've come here, to the ShadowClan camp. For what purpose, exactly?"

"I have a deal to propose," said Hawkstripe, looking straight ahead instead of craning his neck to look behind him at the ShadowClan leader.

"A deal?" Jaunestar sounded intrigued.

Hawkstripe nodded. "I can help you kill Dominique."

Jaunestar laughed out loud. "Yes, I can see how that would be in your interest. But why would you think it's in mine?"

Hawkstripe shrugged. "Well, it is, isn't it?"

Jaunestar also shrugged. "I dunno. Could be."

Hawkstripe rolled his eyes, which would have been a death sentence for him if Jaunestar had seen. "So, are you willing or not?"

"Well, what do you want in return for helping to kill Dominique?"

Hawkstripe couldn't help the grin that twitched onto his face. "Well, that's the fun part, my friend."

(POV: Weststar)

Weststar gazed into the flowing waters of his river and grimaced.

What the hell had Red Ash done this time?

It's like they never learn. For years he's been watching the reflection in the water, looking into the lives of the clan cats below him. After all this time, you'd think they would have learned to keep their fucking claws sheathed. It's like the instinct to kill was hardwired into their blood. Some things never change...

Weststar had heard today that Fallowstar was returning to WindClan with a band of rougues. It seemed that Dominique had started a movement.

"Weststar?" A tentative voice from his left.

"Hm?" He turned slightly and saw a young, dark grey she-cat padding apprehensively to him.

"I have something to tell you; a message from an old friend," the she-cat said.

"And who's that?"

The she-cat smiled. There was something different about her than from the other cats around here. Weststar thought he recognized what, but by god, he couldn't name it.

"You'll find out soon enough," she said. "He's giving you a friendly warning. You better get your cats under control, gets your battle formations ready, because a brand new hell is ascending." Her words broke off into a low laughter. "And you aren't going to like it."

Now Weststar realized what she was. There was ash in her eyes and the dust of a thousand years in her fur. Her mission completed, she turned around and started to run off into the trees.

"Wait!" Weststar called, and she stopped, looking behind her unexpectedly. "You... You're a Dark Forest cat."

The she-cat smiled and shrugged. "All I did was kill one little kit, and they sentenced me to eternal suffering. Absolutely disgraceful, don't you think?"

Weststar was at a loss for words, and the she-cat grinned as she bounded away.

He gazed back into the river, resigned to its entrancing flow. He saw fire in the rapids, fire and blood. And the smoky ash was suffocating.

And suddenly, he understood.

(POV: Fallpaw)

Fallpaw hurried into Jaunestar's den. Calixte's gaze burned into his fur before he entered the darkness.

In the den, Mintwillow and Jaunestar sat with a tabby cat who had his back to Fallpaw. Fallpaw had left the camp with Cedarweb and Stilled Water, and when they'd came back, there was a hush over the clan. And then Calixte called Fallpaw over.

"Fallpaw," Jaunestar said.

The tabby cat turned his head and Fallpaw couldn't help but stare.

"I'm sure you recognize Hawkstripe."

Fallpaw nodded, his eyes not straying from Hawkstripe's face. He could tell that the tom was amused by him, but he couldn't help but stare. Rockpaw had said that Hawkstripe was dead. Was he lying? Had Kinkstar been correct in thinking that Rockpaw was a spy, sent by his father?

No, that wasn't possible. There was some kind of misunderstanding here, Fallpaw knew. He just had to be tactful about figuring this out. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Rockpaw said you were dead," he blurted, then sighed at himself. Yes, very tactful.

The slightly amused look on Hawkstripe's face turned into a genuine smile. A scary smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Yeah, well, a slit throat tends to do that to you," the warrior said.

Fallpaw's eyes widened.

"Fallpaw," Jaunestar said, and Fallpaw's gaze snapped to him.

"Sir?"

"Hawkstripe is here to help us defeat Dominique, not to chat with. Understand?" Fallpaw nodded. "Good. But first, we need to get Rockpaw back from RiverClan, and you're going to help us do that. You know how?"

"You're going to get me back to RiverClan in return for Rockpaw?" Fallpaw asked hopefully.

Jaunestar laughed. "Uh, no. But you will be going back to the RiverClan camp with Wolfclaw, Justess and Calixte. You will retrieve Rockpaw and choose one other apprentice to take with you. The only reason that you're going is to help convince RiverClan that this is the right course of action. They'll be too tired for a fight even if they disagree. Does that sound good to you?"

Fallpaw nodded. Go to RiverClan and with the help of the warriors there, kill three of ShadowClan's best warriors. Easy enough.

"Good. You'll leave in the morning." The leader eyed the badly dressed scratches on the apprentice's flank. "Before you leave, go to Cedarweb and tell her I said for your wounds to be properly tended to."

Fallpaw nodded and left, recognizing the flick of his tail as a dismissal.

He wondered what was more probable: that Rockpaw was a liar, or Hawkstripe had come back from the dead. He looked to the sky, although it was midday and there wasn't a star in sight.

Please, StarClan, can you do me this one favor, and tell me what the fuck is going on?

(POV: Poisontongue)

The shivering apprentice under the roots of the broken tree tugged at Poisontongue's conscience. Until then, he wasn't even aware he had one left. He thought it'd gone with his ability to love. Of course, lovemaking was quite different from actual love, and his frequency of it was something he prided himself on. His brother, Bloodeye, was both jealous and disapproving of Poisontongue on that matter. Good old, slightly-less-than-traditional Bloodeye.

But of course, the odd-eyed tom had no pity for the forgein, broken half-warrior. To Bloodeye, Sphinxface's word was law, the leader was every bit of a god as he said he was. Poisontongue respected Sphinxface, of course, but by no means did he revere him. He didn't revere anything, to be honest. The only thing that mattered to him was in front of his eyes. He had little time for anything else.

Today he'd had an excess amount of time for hunting. He'd been fortunate to have found three squirrels and a single mouse in the snow, skinny as they may be, they'd be a blessing from StarClan if StarClan existed.

As he passed the apprentice's tree, guarded by Prideclaw at the moment, he caught a whiff of the his sickness over the fresh-kill scent. Coming into the camp, he'd had every intention of passing it by and ordering an apprentice to take a couple mice to the queens like always, but catching sight of the bony pile of fur, he stopped.

Prideclaw looked at him expectantly, ginger fur as fluffed as the snow.

Poisontongue dropped his prey and leaned over to Prideclaw. "Sphixface's orders were to not let him eat for how many days?"

"Six," Prideclaw responded.

Poisontongue winced. "And he's supposed to survive that in the state he's in?"

"If the angels are willing," said Prideclaw, with all the emotion of the sociopathic warrior he was while on-duty.

Poisontongue sighed and looked around the camp. It was almost completely empty, just Thrallclaw, Vilesoul, and their kit by the nursery. Jestpaw, Winterpaw, and Wishpaw were mock-fighting, and Sinclaw was sitting outside of the medicine den with his eyes closed. Nobody was paying attention to them.

"Prideclaw, you know that's not right." Poisontongue was all but whispering now, his face inches from the warrior's ear. Prideclaw sat stoic, not even acknowledging his clanmate.

"It's Sphinxface's order. Don't matter if it's right or wrong."

"C'mon, Prideclaw..." Poisontongue sighed. He just needed him to "look the other way" while he slipped Rockpaw some food.

"No, Poisontongue. Now, get, before someone decides to see you and wonder what you're saying." Prideclaw flicked his left ear and jerked his head to the side a few times.

Poisontongue sighed. "Okay, what will it take for you to look the other way?"

This caught Poisontongue's attention. "What do you mean?"

Poisontongue flicked his tail in annoyance and nervousness. "What do you want me to do?"

Prideclaw flicked his head to the side to hide the smug look on his face. "Well, now that you ask, I suppose there is something."

"Yes, what is it?" His claws twitched in agitation.

"Let me have Shadowflame tonight."

"Shadowflame? But she and I had an agreement for tonight..." Poisontongue almost reconsidered his entire position on the situation, but the foreign apprentice made a small whimpering noise that tugged at his (admittedly lifeless) heart, and just maybe reminded him of something...

"Fine," he sighed. "Just give the kid some food."

It wasn't like he couldn't get another she-cat to spend the night with, but there was something about Shadowflame that made the others seem almost undesirable, "almost" being the key word. Poisontongue was always in the know about who wanted company, and he so immediately began seeking them out.

After discreetly kicking that piece of fresh-kill to the half-warrior underneath the bush, that is.

(POV: Weststar)

There wasn't much that a dead cat could do to change destiny, but Weststar was determined to do something.

When he heard the RiverClan cat praying to StarClan, it only caught his attention because it sounded so far from home.

StarClan, could you please do me this one favor, and tell me what the fuck is going on? I don't know what to do. I have no friends in this place, and Jaunestar'd trade my life in one instant if it could benefit him even slightly. I need to get back home, to Stingpaw, to Rockpaw, to Mousewhisker, but I need to stay there. You've never spoken to me before, not even at the MoonStone, but with Dominique here, and dead cats coming back to fucking life, I guess... I just need... A Prophecy. Please.

Weststar froze. This must be Fallpaw, the captured apprentice. Nobody ever knew why he wasn't able to enter StarClan in his MoonSleep, and that was pretty much everything Weststar knew about him.

But something about this lost, scared kit in enemy territory broke his heart. It reminded him of his own son. After he'd died, Stingpaw was left alone. So, even though he didn't know what the fuck was going on any more than Fallpaw did, he reached out. And if what he said didn't make any kind of sense whatsoever, how could he be blamed?

Those who starve in the ashes have only themselves to blame for burning their forests down. Beware the Darkness that has taken them over, and maybe one day the light will shine once more.