sage | a warrior cats fanfiction

epilogue

Light.

It was as if the stars themselves had infused into him. He was the light, he was the very star within the blanket of the sky that everyone looked up to. He was made of stardust and tears, combined in a dark sky. He was flying, racing across fields. He didn't need to wait or limp any longer.

Dark.

It was as though the shadows had infected him. He was the darkness, he was the sky that surrounded the bright and shiny stars. He was made of gloom and smiles, mixed up in a concealed room. He was sneaking, figure slim and moving fluidly. He didn't need to stop and wait any longer.

In between.

Nothing was truly one or the other. He stopped to get tugged to one side and then immediately whipped to the other. He was made of stardust and smiles, an in-between that only a few could reach. He could fly and sneak at the same time. He could run and move like water itself.

Voices were hard to hear.

Everything was underwater and yet he was uncontent. He did not want to be below water. Everything was messy and everything was horrible and yet, he couldn't bring himself to want it in the slightest. He wanted everything crisp and nice. And good. And final and good so he could be happy.

If things ended, then how could he make sure that they were okay?

He could feel it. The familiar pain of old age, accompanied by a gray muzzle and other lighter features. His eyes had dulled over the moons as though tired of watching everything happened. The world continued to turn and he just felt left behind.

Everything continued to slip by him.

Cats died and he could no longer see them. But it didn't matter, not anymore it didn't. Their bodies were long forgotten, and yet, only by him. Cats would be upset and he would have no idea why. The only thing that his mind was stuck on was—

Lyra had died, too. But did she matter if everything was fading for him?

Everything was in a haze, concealed as though he was never meant to know it in the first place. Everything that happened after that one day was hazy, and everything before that one day, save for a few incidents, too was hazy. But he wanted to know. And yet, he couldn't.

Then who would learn the secrets of the world?

That was not for him to know, and he was upset about that.

He craved knowledge, awareness, intelligence. He wanted to know what was going on. Because if something was wrong, then he wanted to fix it. But when everything was speeding past him and memories became blurrier and blurrier, he felt like he was the one who was suffering from the secrets.

It wasn't like he had the secrets. He had access to them, but could not reach them.

Salem became a full member, and so did Wasari — the two toms flashed into his head like a bolt of lightning, like something suddenly unforgotten. The two grew up to be strong and powerful members of the rogue group, and new kits were even born, too.

And yet, they regarded him like a stone.

Almost everyone did. Almost. Tawn's memory popped up in his skull, surrounded by light and warm colors, and Nova was swift to follow. A tall and slim she-cat, whose name he could not recall, walked toward him within his skull, fluidly moving like the water itself.

All the new kits thought he was scary.

"He never talks! And he's so old," they'd exclaim where they think that he couldn't hear him. "He's gotta be super deaf or something. He forgets everything all the time and never bothers to even say hello to his friends! I mean, he doesn't have any. He just sits there!"