Chapter 63: Leadership Ceremony
A decent amount of time had passed since I'd given a soul entry to Starclan and created my own sign. Quietstep, the ever observant, had taken it upon himself to watch the cats below. His powers suited him well. With his keen hearing, he could spy on any of the living cats of the clans with little issue. Even Starclan couldn't detect his intrusion to the living world. His most recent report caught my attention. Riverclan's leader was dead. Crookedjaw was on his way to the Moonstone.
I rushed for the barrier, intent on giving my own gift. I may not be able to give lives like Starclan can, but I can give my own gifts. Crookedjaw had been my dear kit and a participant in our counter plan to the prophecy. He deserved something truly special. He needed something only I could give. It was a sinful gift in the eyes of Starclan, but it was a gift that would serve him well as a leader. It was a gift in theme with his crooked jaw.
I watched silently from the edge of the barrier for Crookedjaw's leadership ceremony. A once hallowed tradition of Starclan's concealed to maintain its sacredness, would be laid bare before my powerful eyes. I doubted even the members partaking in the ceremony even understood what they were really doing. The power of nine lives was something more powerful and ritualistic than every other aspect of Starclan. Even the obelisk fully powered could not restore a life. This ritual was something ancient. Its power drew from somewhere beyond even the stars.
I watched in in petrified fascination as from beyond the furthest skies came a power washing into all nine Starclan warriors in attendance. Their souls, once slightly dimmed and faded by the obelisks power, became brilliant, beyond the limits of a mere cat. Their souls shifted, conglomerated into a pure aspect. Each bore a different aspect.
I watched as they approached Crookedjaw one by one. Their aspects, bound tight, drew up into their faces. As they touched Crookedjaw, the aspect leeched into the new leader, forcing more soul into him than before. The aspects did not diffuse into Crookedjaw. Instead they became sealed, their ball of soul bound in threads attached to his own life force. If Crookedjaw were to be mortally wounded, a thread would snap releasing one of the aspects. My guess would be the aspect would burn itself out trying to maintain the soul, in the process healing the body. If I was analyzing what was happening correctly, this ritual looked somewhat incomplete, like there was purpose in the aspects beyond living beyond a death. The balls of aspects seemed bound too tightly. It almost looked uncomfortable.
My guess was that this ritual was from something older. The aspects were likely supposed to leak instead of be bound into solid balls. It wouldn't give nine lives the original way, but it would guarantee that the receiver of the ritual uphold the aspects given to them during the ritual.
Starclan gave Crookedstar one last parting gift. I saw his eyes go milky as they drew upon the power of the obelisk. Starclan's light dimmed as they began to bestow a prophecy. The brilliant coats of the nine Starclan warriors faded as their own souls were used as fodder for the obelisk. I knew not what Crookedstar saw, but I knew it was in lines with Starclan's grand prophecy. It was likely harmful.
I let Crookedstar's soul begin to descend before pulling it to myself to conceal my involvement.
"Mother! It is good to see you! I didn't think we'd get a chance to speak again. Did you come to wish me well?" Asked my dear kit Crookedstar.
"I bring more than just my congratulations. I bring with me two gifts. Only one of which will be useful in the world of the living. I also bring with me a warning and revelation. It pertains to the aura that hangs off you and your kin. Which do you wish to hear first?" I asked calmly.
"I'll take the warning first. Might as well get it out of the way." He responded with a slight tremor in his voice.
"That aura that cloaks you and your kin, it was meant as a blessing by one of your ancestors, one I knew well. Unfortunately, the blessing also functions as a curse. The best I can describe it as is Martyrdom. It is an inherited and somewhat infectious blessing and curse. It is why I knew your birth mother was going to die. Your family, via blood or mating, will die heroes, trading their lives for another. They will all go to Starclan and be seen as such, but Martyrdom means they will never have a calm death. They will die to impossible choices and bring pain to your heart. I cannot stop it. The only escape is death, of which you will survive. The aura will not cling to you after your first death. That is the only mercy you'll see. I am truly sorry."
Crookedstar was shocked to silence by my revelation. It took a few moments for him to compose himself before responding, "I… Thank you for your honesty. I do not wish to see my family die more than any cat, but this curse sounds inevitable. I'll have to get used to it."
"No!" I hissed fiercely. "Do not grow used to it! Be angry with it! Love harder for you do not know when they'll be lost. Love each passing moment. Cherish their lives fore Starclan will not. It will hurt. It will sting eternally in the deepest depths of your soul, but it will be worth it. Do not foster apathy because apathy is cowardice. Let them know that, despite their coming fates, you'll cherish every moment. I know loss well, but I'd rather know love and loss than to never have felt either."
Crookedstar's eyes filled with tears as he pressed into my fur. "Thank you, mother." He choked out.
"My precious little tom. You aren't so little anymore. I fear we may not see each other for a long while. Even if I do not walk with you or speak with you, know that I'll always love you. Now, sit up straight and wipe away those tears."
Crookedstar composed himself as he prepared himself for what was to come.
"My first gift to you is one I give all my stars. I gift you the power of creation. Know these powers are limited to dreams and the realms of the dead. Keep it concealed, but do not be afraid to use them if you need to protect yourself." I mewed while conjuring a ball of light to diffuse into his being.
"The second gift needs a bit of explaining. I gift you a liar's tongue. Your words will be honeyed and your actions misconstrued. A good leader knows that sometimes things are more complex than needing just the truth. You will lie to reassure. You will lie to give strength. You will lie about your weaknesses. This tongue will make your lies seem more truthful than before. The best lie is the one spoken in truth. That does not mean they are foolproof. That is on you. I hope it serves you well."
His tongue faintly glowed before fading back to its usual color. He gave me one last cuddle before stepping away.
"Now go my son. You've got a clan to lead." I mewed with tears in my own eyes. He vanished just as quickly as he came. A feeling of pride and loss clung to me. This is what it meant for a mother to let their kits leave them behind. It was a comfortable pain, one I'd grow more familiar with as time went on.