#ugh i miss turtlestar so much . sooooo much she was so epic

[oflgtfol]

"Why do you visit us alone, Turtlestar?"

Turtlestar recognizes the she-cat in front of her from the last time she had visited the Moonstream. On that fateful night, only twelve moons ago, the river had been blazing with the light of the waning gibbous as it gleamed off the current. Silversong had greeted her with stars sparkling in her eyes and moonlight weaving through her fur. Now, tonight, the moon is just a thin crescent setting on the horizon, and the Moonstream is dark. Silversong is but a pale apparition floating over the water.

Turtlestar bows her head. “I come before StarClan tonight to ask that… that you may rescind my nine lives, and give them to my deputy, Fawnspot. Name them Fawnstar in my stead.”

A moment of tense silence, and then, “Why should we do that?”

“I'm not fit to be SpruceClan's leader," Turtlestar replies. "It is… destroying me, and I’m afraid that it may destroy my Clan in the process."

A murmur rises up before her. She lifts her head to see more spirits have joined them, staring at her from behind Silversong. In the darkness, their forms blend together, faces bleeding into more faces until they're unrecognizable. She can't make out any eyes, but she can feel the weight of their stares, their disapproval heavy on her exhausted shoulders. She feels pinned down, small, cowering there alone on the river stone.

“It is not every day that a cat receives eight additional lives from StarClan,” Silversong says. “Do you doubt the gifts we gave you?”

“No, I just — I’m not worthy of them,” Turtlestar chokes out. She hangs her head in defeat. “Please. I’m trying to do what’s best for my Clan. And what’s best for my Clan is not me.”

Her pelt burns: with shame, with guilt, with humiliation. Only twelve moons, and she has come crawling back, knelt down and begging to be relieved of the duty that any other cat would be honored to have. As painful as this is, she knows that withstanding a single more day of this burden would be more than she could bear.

"Very well," Silversong says. She looks down at Turtlestar, eyes glinting like ice. "Let the ceremony commence."

A new cat emerges from the formless mass of ghosts. Rainstar, the leader of SpruceClan before her, steps towards Turtlestar and dips his head. Her mentor, her friend, and her predecessor — he had believed in her when even she herself didn't. His eyes are downturned and somber as he says, "There is no coming back from this. Are you sure you would like to begin, Turtlestar?"

She nods wordlessly, and he sighs. "For your ninth life, I gave you the gift of judgment. Now, I will revoke it.”

Rainstar leans forward and touches his nose to her forehead, and a terrible hollowing sensation pangs through her chest. It feels like the life is being sucked out of her, leaving her empty, shaking and weak. She feels a piece of herself missing, somewhere nestled next to her heart, where now nothing but a small, gaping hole resides, and she knows that hole will only get punched bigger and bigger over the course of the night. He pulls away and watches her, green eyes shadowed in the darkness, before he melts back into the crowd.

The press of the water-slick stone beneath her paws is grounding, now. She digs her claws in and pants, chest heaving, as she regains her bearings, head spinning and heart racing. The ghostly mass of StarClan cats hovers over the water, silent and watchful. Like the loss of her ninth life was an actual death, and this is her final judgment. But she still has seven more lives to lose tonight, and seven more final judgments to endure.

Another cat approaches. Sageleaf, a former SpruceClan medicine cat who had died when Turtlestar was still a kit, too young to remember them, but old enough to hear their stories. The cat eyes her flatly, face too stoic to betray any emotions. “I gave you your eighth life in honor of making difficult choices. I see it has been put to good use. Now, I will remove it.”

The cats come and go, and matter less and less each time. In between the terrible, bone-deep ache of each life lost, their words somehow still reach her, penetrating through the fog.

“I gave you your seventh life for loyalty.”

“Your sixth life was given for integrity.”

“Forgiveness.”

“Duty.”

“Confidence.”

Finally, as Turtlestar stands hunched over and trembling with exhaustion, Silversong steps to the front once more. She eyes Turtlestar coldly. “For your second life, I had given you perseverance. Now, I will take it back." She presses her nose to Turtlestar's forehead, hard, unforgiving, and it feels as though the warmth is leaving her limbs.

Silversong pulls back, but doesn’t retreat. “You will remain known as Turtlestar, as a reminder of the lives you once had. You may not be leader of SpruceClan any longer, but may your experiences forever remain in your memories and guide you for the rest of your days.” Now, she steps back. “Have a good life, Turtlestar.”

Turtlestar watches as the thin crescent moon finally slips below the horizon, and StarClan fades away. She is left standing alone on the stepping stones, a shivering wreck in the darkness with only the rushing of water for company.