DISCLAIMER: I do not own Warriors. That's Erin Hunter.
The sky was black, with only a few starry pinpricks in the stretched ebony hide. Four cats huddled around a pool atop a tall, squat pillar. The pillar was the size of two saplings perched upon one another.
The water was beautiful. Stars were reflected in the water, though when one looked up, there was nothing there. The four cats stared into its cold, dark depths. A young gray she-cat, with a twisted leg, looked up at the mangy old queen across from her. "Yellowfang," mewed the cat solemnly, "must he truly die?"
"It must be this way, Cinderpelt," Yellowfang replied. "It is the prophecy."
A beautiful tortoiseshell gave a yowl of horror and nearly toppled in. A blue-gray queen darted forward and grabbed her scruff. "Spottedleaf!" the blue queen scolded. "Although you care for him, you mustn't break the waters! Not a ripple! You know this upon entering StarClan!"
"I am sorry, Bluestar," Spottedleaf apologized. "But…if it is for the greater good of the Clans, so be it." Her eyes became glassy and her head lifted from the water. Her heartbroken voice became smooth and silky as she spoke the prophecy: "When the fire dies, spark and flint alone can harness the power to bring it back to life." The gloss faded from her eyes and the crack returned to her voice.
"But Bluestar!" protested Cinderpelt. "This cannot be so. It is a joke. When a cat dies, it cannot be reborn!"
"Ah, you'd be surprised, Cinderpelt," said Yellowfang, giving a croaking laugh. "For you see, look at what happened in ThunderClan." The waters churned and boiled, then began to settle.
Two pictures rippled across the pool. One was of an apprentice Cinderpelt, bouncing along with Firestar, at the time Fireheart. The other was of a little gray fur-ball, almost exactly like Cinderpelt. "What…how…"
"That is Cinderpaw. She was born shortly after you died," explained Yellowfang.
"The nerve of some StarClan members!" Cinderpelt gasped, shaking her head.
