Fireheart panted heavily as he swung his claws at a BloodClan molly. He sent his adversary reeling away with a kick to the face, and as she scrambled away, he paused to survey the battle.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Even the battle in WindClan against TigerClan had not been this terrible, this mindless. The hot scent of blood and the battle-cries of countless cats filled the air. Ravaged bodies littered the ground, and it took all of Fireheart's strength not to examine them closely.

What the BloodClan cats lacked in grace and skill they made up for tenfold with pure viciousness. The small cats piled onto larger warriors in hordes, drowning them in a wave of claws and teeth. Larger, stronger BloodClanners beat small Clan cats into the ground by sheer force. No one was fighting a fair battle.

Fireheart watched as a big black-and-white brute dragged a ShadowClan apprentice by her tail. He called out a warning cry, too late, to a ThunderClan tom, who was set upon by two ragged BloodClan cats.

A flash of white caught his eye. Fireheart tore his gaze away from the death of the ThunderClan cat. The bright blue of her collar was unmistakable.

"Princess!" he roared. He surged forward in pursuit of his sister. Princess stopped in her path and whirled to face him. Her green eyes, which he had once thought of as so warm and friendly, were a blazing inferno of hatred.

She stared at him, her chin raised haughtily, as he raced towards her. "Don't fight me, Fireheart," she meowed, her voice sounding more like she was scolding a naughty kit than warning off a trained warrior. "I'm sick of offering you chances, but I'll do it once more. Join us and stand on the dust of the Clans, or die with them."

Rage churned in Fireheart. "No!" I'm sick of you demanding I join you! He sprang for her, claws outstretched. "Never!"

He never reached her. The air went out of him as another cat intercepted him, slamming into his side and throwing him to the ground. Fireheart recovered and rolled away before he leaped up to his paws to face the attacker.

"Cloud!" he panted. The fight in him died. Fireheart had little desire to fight his nephew.

The soft white tom stared back at him. His mismatched eyes were round, not narrowed. Cloud shifted back and forth on his paws, as though nervous, before he leaped again. Fireheart dodged him.

"Don't make me fight you!" Cloud exclaimed. "Just join us!" His fluffy tail snaked back and forth, but it came off as fearful, not menacing. "You're our kin. Blood must not spill blood!"

Fireheart hesitated. Cloud had told him before that it was against BloodClan law for kin to turn claws against kin. He felt his spine relax. Maybe I can talk him down. "I don't want to fight you, Cloud," he insisted. "But I won't join BloodClan! Can't you see this is wrong?"

Princess's voice came out in a snarl. "You are wrong, brother!" she had not moved an inch, clearly interested to see how her son would fare. "If he will not join us, he is not worthy of his blood, Cloud. Finish him!"

Cloud winced at the command. "I'm sorry, uncle."

"Don't listen to her!" Fireheart hissed. "She's using you, Cloud! I know you hate BloodClan's ways. They would punish you for showing mercy, but the Clans would protect you!"

"Lies!" shrieked Princess. "You are my only son, Cloud! You are my blood! Finish the traitor to our family and you will always have honor with BloodClan."

Cloud turned to face her fully. "You taught me that blood is everything. If he is our kin, he shares our blood, just like we do. Wouldn't it be wrong for me to kill him? Blood must not spill blood!"

The mantra sent a quiver of rage through Princess. "I order you to kill him," she snarled.

Cloud, this time, did not falter, even as caterwauls were ringing out from all around. He stared at his mother, raising his head as he faced her. "I understand it now," he meowed, his voice soft, nearly impossible to hear in the din of the battle. "You aren't strong, mother. You want me to kill him because you can't do it yourself."

It dawned on Fireheart in that moment that he had never seen Princess fight. He looked her up and down. She had no blood on her paws, no fur between her unsheathed claws. Fireheart knew Scourge could fight—it still made him ill to think of how swiftly and easily he had gutted Tigerstar. Scourge had grown on the streets of the town, fighting for scraps until he had risen to power, trained by powerful rogues and by the pain of Tigerstar's claws.

Princess had not. She had lived a soft life of nobility, leading beside her brother with comfort. She had been taken in by Scourge since the moment her humans abandoned her. Deep down, she was still a kittypet—and that was the difference between her and Fireheart.

The realization emboldened Fireheart. "You don't even know how to fight, do you?" he hissed. "You've never had to. Scourge let you be pampered and soft."

Princess's eyes widened. She bristled and took a step back. "How dare you," she snarled. "I am Princess, leader of BloodClan—"

"You're a kittypet," Fireheart meowed. "I gave up that life—but you never did. Not really."

Cloud prowled closer to his mother. Any hesitation seemed to have vanished from the tom. "Give up, mother. Go home and don't come back. I don't want to fight you."

"You cannot kill me!" Princess spat. She looked upon her son with disgust. "You are bonded to me by blood and by law!"

"I am bonded by nothing," Cloud growled. He no longer seemed soft and innocent, either, but there was grief mixed with the aggression in his voice. "I want nothing to do with you or BloodClan anymore. I deny your blood."

Princess snarled wordlessly, but she only continued to back away.

"Leave us," Cloud hissed, with a glance to Fireheart.

Fireheart felt a chill run through him. Should I stop him? His sister had become twisted by the cult she had grown to lead—but could she be saved?

Cloud stalked towards her. Princess turned on her paws and ran. Before Fireheart could decide what to say, Cloud raced after her like a hunter pursuing prey.

Fireheart tore his gaze away. He felt his heart crack. He had wanted so dearly to know his kin like Clan cats did—but all it had done was cause hurt. He scanned the clearing, trying to make sense of the chaos. His eyes settled briefly on some of the bodies. There was Weaselfoot—and Flintfang—and Addertail—Fireheart swallowed thickly, sinking his claws into the soil. How many lives had this battle claimed?

Fireheart turned around, still trying to pick a fight. He saw Dawnwhisker and Leopardstar fighting back-to-back, but they were each facing two cats a piece. He nearly started towards them when something else caught his eye.

It was Silverthorn. Fireheart had lost sight of him early in the battle, but now he saw the silver tabby fighting like a dog against three small BloodClan cats. They were like a swarm of rats—he would send one rolling away, and another would dart forward to land a scratch or nip at his haunches. Silverthorn spun round and round, trying to fight each of them, but he was clearly growing slower. More were on the way, too—a fourth quickly joined, and Fireheart could see two more darting towards them.

They're going to overwhelm him! Fireheart was frozen for a moment by fear. He had already seen cats go down in these mass attacks—and Silverthorn was far across the Fourtrees. His heart pounded in his chest.

"I'm in love with you."

He had been too stunned to say anything back—not that Silverthorn had given him the opportunity before he had run off. Fireheart hadn't been able to respond. Was he going to lose the chance? He had tried so hard to avoid thinking about if he felt anything—what he felt—but now, the thought of Silverthorn being slaughtered by the rogues made claws pierce through his heart.

No! Fury burned in his chest, and he raced forward.

Six cats leaped upon Silverthorn. The RiverClan warrior let out a desperate howl as he crumpled to the ground under their weight.

Fireheart ran as fast as he could. He called upon all his strength and speed. Memories flooded him—fleeing from Thistlestar, running in the assessment, hunting with WindClan. The memories drove him on, fueling him with adrenaline. Go! He leaped clear over a pair of fighting cats, not stopping for a moment to see who they were.

A silver paw struck out from the writhing pile of cats, then vanished again.

"Silverthorn!" Fireheart roared with the ferocity of a LionClan warrior. He leaped once more, throwing himself carelessly into the mass of cats. One was sent rolling away as he barrelled into them. He snatched another by the scruff and hurled her as hard as he could. Fireheart raked his claws down the side of a third, and the cat shrieked before racing away.

Silverthorn, despite all odds and all Fireheart's fears, rose. He kicked out with his hind legs and sent one of the BloodClan cats flying. Trembling, the silver tabby regained his footing and pounced on one of the BloodClan cats. He sank his teeth into their throat without hesitation.

In a normal battle, Fireheart would have been chilled. But this was for the fate of all Clans, and BloodClan had already taken the lives of so many.

Two of the cats had retreated, and the third was being dispatched by Silverthorn, leaving three still to fight. They all came for Fireheart, but he was ready, his blood boiling. He swiped for the nearest one and tore his claws across her cheek. She spat at him furiously and leaped high in the air. Fireheart ducked and slashed his claws upwards; they tore through her belly with a startling ease.

The BloodClan cat landed to the ground and spasmed violently as blood poured from her belly. Her companions shrieked and fled at the sight. Fireheart watched her throes of death, transfixed by the horror of it, until she lay still, her blood still flowing from the wound. He had never taken the life of another cat before. The feeling was sour in his belly, like he had taken a bite of rotting prey. Ugly feelings bubbled in his chest—guilt, disgust, anger—but he remained still as he stared at the body.

"Fireheart," Silverthorn rasped.

It was enough to pull his gaze away from the dead molly. He met Silverthorn's gaze. The tabby tom bore many wounds, but they were small, thankfully. Silverthorn regarded him quietly before he nodded his thanks and turned away.

Fireheart's throat tightened. What if I don't see him again? Waves of worry rolled through him with so much power that he nearly drowned in it. "Wait!" he called.

Silverthorn stopped and glanced over his shoulder. His blue eyes lacked their usual spark. He was tiring—but who wasn't? The battle had raged on for far too long. Fireheart took a step forward. His throat was so tight that he could've choked. "I love you, too."

Silverthorn's eyes widened. Without a word, he bounded towards Fireheart and pressed his forehead to Fireheart's, nearly pushing him over entirely. Warm affection burned in Fireheart's chest, and he pressed as hard as he could against the tabby. His heart swelled as he heard a rusty purr rumble in Silverthorn's throat.

"Will you fight with me?" Fireheart asked.

"Always," Silverthorn swore. Fireheart knew without a doubt that he meant it. Together, they stood back to back, ready to fight on.

Fireheart's hopes sank as soon as he saw fresh BloodClan warriors streaming into the clearing, replacing the many that had fled. They were an endless stream of rats. How long before they drowned the Clans entirely?

Scourge, Fireheart realized. I have to finish this. They fight for him. Maybe they won't keep fighting if he's defeated. Fireheart glanced over his shoulder at Silverthorn. "I need to find Scourge!" he shouted. "I have to end this!"

Silverthorn nodded firmly. "Come on!" He charged, barrelling through the nearest enemies without stopping to fight. Fireheart followed, and together they ducked and wove through the storm of battle, searching for the black-furred leader.

Fireheart felt himself bristle as he finally found him. Scourge was crouched near the Great Rock, pinning a ShadowClan tom to the ground. His deadly claws held him fast by the throat. Fireheart's belly lurched, but a blazing determination seized him, refueling his drive again. He would not watch another cat die. No more.

He flew across the grass. "Scourge!" he yowled.

The BloodClan leader drew back his lips in a snarl. "Fireheart!"

Fireheart threw himself forward, claws outstretched. Scourge rolled nimbly to the side, claws flashing. But they did not rake his side, and Fireheart landed safely on all fours. He whipped around to come face to face with the tom—his kin—and met Scourge's icy gaze.

"What are you doing?" Scourge hissed. The ShadowClanner slunk away, bleeding but alive, his eyes flashing with relief.

"I'm here to finish this," Fireheart snarled. "I won't let you destroy the Clans."

Silverthorn hung back, bracing himself. He seemed to know this was Fireheart's fight—but Fireheart was glad he didn't turn away entirely. In truth, Fireheart had no idea if he was any match for Scourge… but he couldn't let this battle drag on longer if there was any way to end it.

Scourge's eyes sparked, and to Fireheart's surprise, he tried to turn and flee into the midst of the battle. But Silverthorn was faster, and the tabby tom leaped in his way, snarling.

"Coward!" Fireheart spat, charging his brother again. "Fight me!"

Scourge turned to face him again, but he did not lift a paw. His gaze was impossible to read. "I will not," he growled. "I cannot."

Is this a joke? Fireheart arched his back. "What are you talking about?"

"You may be my enemy now," Scourge slowly meowed. "But you are my kin. Blood must not spill blood. It is BloodClan law."

Fireheart's jaws parted slightly. He was certain this was a ploy—Princess had tried and failed to convince him to join them with it, and as soon as he had refused, she tried to have him killed. There was no way that Scourge would uphold the law now. Fireheart curled his lip and darted forward, swinging a paw.

Scourge did not move a muscle. He remained entirely still as Fireheart's paw slammed against the side of his head, claws scratching his cheek. His eyes glittered with fury, but he did not retaliate. "Do what you will," he spat. "I won't fight."

What?! Fireheart felt strangely indignant. Scourge had brought the force that was BloodClan to exterminate the Clans utterly—how could he dare to refuse a fight now? With a frustrated snarl, Fireheart leaped forward, crashing into Scourge. He knocked the sleek tom to the ground and pinned him, sinking his claws into his shoulders. Scourge hissed in pain, but he did not try to rise.

Scourge looked up at him, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Do it," he hissed. "Finish this, then. You can kill me, but I can never kill you. Not while I lead BloodClan."

Fireheart stared down at him, still holding him in place. Scourge's neck was lined with the yellowed teeth and claws that were embedded in his collar, but all it would take was a swing of his paw to cleave open the exposed part of his throat. He lifted a paw off of Scourge's shoulder, and his brother did not flinch. Instead, Scourge closed his eyes quietly, awaiting the death blow.

Fireheart was frozen. It would be so easy to end this.

Too easy.

Fireheart swallowed. How can I kill him when he won't even resist? Doubt flooded him. Scourge was a kit when he was warped to lead the strange BloodClan. Even in his thirst for battle and glory for his Clan, he still held some twisted sense of honor.

He could have been standing there for moons. Fireheart placed the paw on the side of Scourge's head, holding him down. I will end this, he thought. But not like that.

Instead, Fireheart sank his jaws into the collar. He growled as he felt teeth and claws stab into his mouth and tongue, and Scourge stiffened, expecting to have his throat torn. Fireheart bit down as hard as he could, suffering through the pain, and with all his might, he jerked his head back.

The frayed collar, weakened by countless trophies, split apart with surprisingly little effort. Claws littered the ground from the break, and Scourge let out a great gasp, like his breathing had long been cut off by the foul thing. Fireheart dropped it for a moment, then lifted his head in a yowl.

"BloodClan!" he yowled. "Your leader is defeated!"

Cats nearest to him grew still, whirling around to face him. Fireheart snatched the torn collar up, thrusting it high in the air. He felt a jolt of fear, worrying it would only incentivize them to attack him.

Instead, BloodClan cats shrieked in terror.

"No!"

"Scourge!"

"Scourge is defeated!"

The cry of horror was taken up throughout the clearing. All around, skirmishes began to end, and the fighting drew still. Those closest to Fireheart and Scourge turned to flee, pushing past their Clanmates, wailing. More and more began to see the destroyed collar, and with each passing heartbeat, more BloodClan cats tore themselves free from the battle, fleeing for the slope. Fireheart watched them go, and to his dazed eyes, they seemed to have shrunk, no longer the fearsome menaces they had been. They were simply ordinary cats who had no place here: slower than WindClan, scrawnier than ShadowClan, clumsier than RiverClan, more cowardly than ThunderClan. All their menace was gone, and with cries of triumph, the Clans took to their paws and surged after them, chasing them from the hollow once and for all.

Numb with exhaustion, Fireheart staggered briefly. We did it, he thought. We won.