Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ivypool’s fur bristled as she padded through the swirling mist of StarClan. Everything felt off. The air was unusually thick, almost suffocating, and the stars above flickered dimly. Something was wrong. Deep in her chest, a growing sense of unease gnawed at her, an instinct she had learned to trust during her time spying in the Dark Forest.

Ahead of her, the faint figures of the original Clan leaders materialized, their eyes gleaming like cold, distant stars. Thunderstar, Shadowstar, Windstar, Riverstar, and Skystar stood together, their powerful forms casting long shadows across the starry clearing. Their expressions were grim, as if burdened by a weight too heavy to bear.

Around Ivypool, other StarClan cats had gathered, their whispers rising like wind through the trees. Murmurs of confusion and fear rippled through the crowd. No one knew why they had been summoned. Ivypool’s heart pounded as she glanced at the familiar faces of fallen warriors. Some she had known in life; others she had only heard about in stories. Yet they all wore the same look of uncertainty.

Thunderstar stepped forward, his gaze hard and unyielding. His voice cut through the hushed murmurs like a sharpened claw. “Cats of StarClan, you have been called here today because a decision must be made.”

Shadowstar’s dark form moved beside him, her eyes gleaming with a cold light. “There are too many of us now. The balance between life and death has tipped. We must act.”

A murmur of disbelief swept through the gathered cats. Ivypool’s claws dug into the ground. Too many of us? What did that mean? Was StarClan in danger of...overflowing?

Windstar flicked her tail, silencing the crowd. “We are bound by the laws of the universe. Death is not infinite, and space in both the living world and the afterlife is limited.”

“Are you suggesting we destroy our own?” a voice growled from the back of the crowd. Several StarClan warriors bristled, their eyes narrowing in disbelief. Ivypool could feel the tension rising like a storm on the horizon.

Riverstar stepped forward, his voice as calm as a river’s current. “Not destroy. Compete. Only the strongest shall remain, and those who fall will make way for the living.”

A cold shiver ran down Ivypool’s spine. Compete? What did that mean? Her heart raced as the realization began to settle in. They weren’t just talking about controlling the population. They were talking about something far worse.

Skystar, his pale eyes glinting with something dark, lifted his head. “We will hold a contest—a battle of survival. Every cat, living or dead, will have a chance to prove their worth. The victor shall be rewarded with life, while the fallen...will no longer exist.”

Ivypool’s blood turned to ice. StarClan cats, competing against the living? It was madness. The crowd erupted into chaos, outraged yowls and desperate protests filling the air.

“You can’t do this!” one cat shouted. “We’re warriors, not murderers!”

Another voice called, “We’ve already given our lives once—why must we fight again?”

The original leaders remained unmoved by the outcry. Thunderstar raised his tail, silencing the assembly with an authoritative flick. His eyes gleamed with an icy resolve. “You will obey. There is no other choice. The time has come to prove your strength, whether in life or death.”

Ivypool’s claws unsheathed as fear and fury surged through her. This was wrong. StarClan had always been a place of peace and guidance, a sanctuary for those who had fallen. Now, it was becoming a battlefield.

Suddenly, Skystar’s voice rang out, colder than ever before. “For those who refuse, there will be no place in the stars. We will end you ourselves.”

A collective gasp echoed through the clearing. The threat was clear. Refusal wasn’t an option. Even StarClan’s immortality had its limits.

Ivypool’s breath caught in her throat. How could they do this? How could they turn StarClan into something so twisted and cruel? But as she looked around, she realized there was no escape. The leaders’ decision was final.

Windstar’s voice softened, but it held a sharp edge. “This is for the survival of our kind. Only the strongest deserve to remain.”

The crowd fell into a heavy, fearful silence. The weight of the leaders’ decree pressed down on them like an unstoppable force. Ivypool glanced around, seeing the resignation in the eyes of her fellow StarClan warriors. They had no choice.

Thunderstar turned his gaze toward the sky. “Let the games begin.”

Chapter Text

Ivypool’s breath came in short, sharp bursts as she stood on the podium, her paws trembling slightly against the cold, hard stone beneath her. Around her, the vast forest stretched out in every direction, a maze of thick undergrowth, towering trees, and the unfamiliar scents of cats she had once known—both from the living and the dead. She swallowed, her mouth dry, as the tension built. She could feel the eyes of StarClan watching from above, waiting for the horn that would signal the beginning of the slaughter.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she forced herself to focus. This wasn’t the first time she’d been thrust into a battle for survival. She had trained in the Dark Forest, fought against the twisted schemes of those who once sought to destroy her clan. But this... this was different. Here, there would be no allies, no hope of retreat. It was kill or be killed.

Ivypool flexed her claws against the stone and forced her gaze toward the center of the clearing. The Cornucopia loomed ahead, filled with supplies—fresh kill, herbs, makeshift weapons—all things that could mean the difference between life and death in the coming hours. Around her, the other tributes shifted restlessly, their eyes darting toward one another.

Firestar, once a legend among the Clans, stood tall near the front. His sharp green eyes gleamed with determination, but even he seemed uneasy. Across from him, Bluestar crouched low, her gaze flickering between the other cats. Nightheart’s dark pelt blended into the shadows of the trees, while Scourge, the deadly rogue leader, stood like a stone, his claws already unsheathed.

Ivypool let out a slow, controlled breath. She couldn’t allow fear to take over. She had a plan. She had to stick to it. Don’t get involved in the initial chaos. Stay back, gather what she could, and keep out of sight.

The horn blared, shattering the tense silence.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to freeze. Then, chaos erupted.

Cats launched themselves forward, racing toward the Cornucopia. The air was filled with the sounds of snarls and yowls as paws thundered against the earth. Bluestar darted into a nearby bush, snatching a sharp branch. Ivypool’s eyes caught a flash of dark fur—Nightheart had already left Stormfur mortally wounded, walking away as the older warrior crumpled to the ground. The scent of blood hit Ivypool’s nose, thick and metallic.

But Ivypool didn’t move. She stayed where she was, her heart hammering in her chest as she surveyed the carnage. Snowtuft and Bristlefrost ran in opposite directions, avoiding the madness at the Cornucopia. Breezepelt dashed past her, snatching a bramble branch sharp enough to use as a weapon. The fighting had already begun.

Firestar and Brightheart tussled over a piece of fresh kill, their claws lashing out with frightening speed. Ivypool winced as Brightheart finally backed away, surrendering the prize with a hiss.

Around her, the forest descended into a brutal melee. Hollyleaf, fur bristling, hissed and arched her back, scaring Redtail away from the clearing. The old warrior’s eyes widened before he bolted into the undergrowth. Ashfur and Swiftpaw wrestled viciously over another piece of prey. Swiftpaw, faster and more agile, overpowered Ashfur and claimed the prize, leaving Ashfur bloodied and limping.

Ivypool’s paws itched to run, but she forced herself to stay grounded, just as she’d planned. Let them tire themselves out. Let them fight. She would wait, bide her time.

Crowfeather sprinted past, eyes wide with desperation, while Sleekwhisker snatched up some herbs and a dry moss ball before disappearing into the undergrowth. Mapleshade and Violetshine grappled near the edge of the clearing. Mapleshade's eyes gleamed with malice as she pushed Violetshine away with a vicious swipe, and Violetshine retreated with a snarl, her tail lashing angrily.

Ivypool’s eyes flicked toward the Cornucopia, where Graystripe, Onestar, and Mothwing had come together in a deadly clash. Ivypool’s heart clenched as Mothwing, in a swift, brutal move, struck down both Graystripe and Onestar. Their bodies crumpled, lifeless, into the dirt.

Ivypool flinched, but forced herself to look away. She couldn’t dwell on their deaths. If she did, she’d lose focus, and that was the quickest way to join them.

She glanced down at the herbs and small prey she’d managed to gather while the others fought. It wasn’t much, but it would keep her alive for now. She needed to stay away from the open combat until she had a better understanding of who the biggest threats were. From what she could see, Firestar and Mothwing were the ones to watch closely. Both had already claimed lives, and neither showed any signs of slowing down.

The clearing was quickly emptying as the cats either claimed supplies or retreated into the forest. Cinderpelt, Scourge, Jayfeather, Needletail, and Leafpool had all fled into the trees, their figures vanishing into the shadows. Feathertail paused only long enough to snatch up a large leaf, likely for shelter, before disappearing as well.

Ivypool's eyes locked on Hawkfrost as he stalked through the clearing, his gaze cold and calculating. He was another threat—she would have to stay far away from him if she wanted to survive. For now, he seemed content to avoid the carnage, just like her.

Ivypool's muscles tensed as the last few scuffles broke out around her. Tigerstar had retreated, his eyes burning with barely contained fury, while Alderheart raked Brambleclaw's muzzle for a piece of fresh kill. Ferncloud and Leafstar had already bolted, disappearing into the thick foliage.

The bloodbath was coming to an end, but the carnage lingered in the air. Ten cats had fallen within minutes, their lives snuffed out in the blink of an eye. Stormfur lay lifeless not far from her, his once-strong body limp and bloodied. The first of many.

Ivypool swallowed hard and turned her back on the scene. She couldn’t afford to let the horror of it all sink in. Not yet. She had survived the opening battle, and that was what mattered.

Without a sound, she slipped into the shadows of the trees, her heart still racing, her mind churning with thoughts of what lay ahead. This was only the beginning. The blood had already been spilled, and soon, more would follow.

As she disappeared into the forest, Ivypool couldn’t help but wonder: How long could she keep running before the blood caught up with her?

Chapter Text

The scent of blood and fresh kill still lingered in the air as Ivypool moved silently through the thick undergrowth. Her senses were on high alert, her muscles tense beneath her sleek gray-and-white pelt. The chaos of the bloodbath had faded into a heavy silence, but she knew that quiet wouldn’t last. The forest was alive with danger, and every step she took brought her closer to more tributes, each of them as desperate to survive as she was.

Her ears twitched as she caught the faint rustle of leaves nearby. She paused, lowering herself instinctively into a crouch, her heart thudding in her chest. Her blue eyes scanned the surrounding trees for any sign of movement.

She didn’t need to wait long.

Twigbranch darted through the foliage, her paws barely making a sound as she sprinted for higher ground. Ivypool recognized the younger warrior’s determination—Twigbranch wasn’t one to shy away from danger. But in her rush, Twigbranch misjudged her leap onto a tall tree branch. Her claws slipped against the damp bark, and in an instant, she plummeted to the ground with a sickening thud.

Ivypool winced at the sound. She could hear Twigbranch’s faint, desperate gasps for breath, but the fall had been fatal. There was nothing anyone could do now. Ivypool stayed hidden, watching from a distance as Twigbranch’s final moments played out. She could have helped, could have offered comfort—but no. That wasn’t an option here.

Another life claimed by the Games.

The reality of it all weighed heavily on her. The rules were clear: survive or die. There was no room for mercy, no space for hesitation. Ivypool had to remind herself that this was about more than just her life. If she won, she could return to ThunderClan. She could see her family again. But first, she had to outlast them all.

A sudden yowl of fury rang out through the trees, snapping Ivypool’s attention to the direction of the Cornucopia. She crept closer, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. As she approached, the unmistakable scent of blood grew stronger.

Through the dense bushes, she spotted Firestar. His flame-colored pelt was matted with fresh blood, but it wasn’t his. He stood over Barley, the rogue’s head separated from his body by Firestar’s paw, the sharpened stone he’d used still stained red. Ivypool’s stomach churned at the sight, but she swallowed the feeling down. She had known Firestar as a noble leader, a hero to the Clans. Now, he was as much a killer as anyone else in this twisted game.

Barley had been the latest to fall.

Ivypool retreated quietly, grateful Firestar hadn’t noticed her. She needed to stay invisible, at least for now. Let the others fight. Let them tear each other apart while she watched from the shadows. There would be time for battles later. She just needed to survive the early stages.

Moving deeper into the forest, Ivypool kept her senses sharp. The scent of prey filled her nose, but food wasn’t her priority right now. She needed to stay alive long enough to figure out which tributes posed the greatest threat.

Ahead, a thick cloud of dust rose as Hawkfrost’s unmistakable broad shoulders came into view. His icy blue eyes were focused on his next victim—Violetshine. The younger warrior was quick, but not quick enough to evade Hawkfrost’s strike. With a flash of claws, he decapitated her in one swift motion. Her body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Another tribute gone.

Hawkfrost didn’t linger. He wiped his claws clean on the grass and padded away without a second glance at Violetshine’s body.

Ivypool suppressed a shudder. She’d always known Hawkfrost was dangerous, but seeing it firsthand in these circumstances made her blood run cold. There was no room for error with him. He had to be handled carefully, or not at all.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the forest, followed by a yowl of terror. Ivypool’s ears perked up, and she raced toward the sound, her paws barely making a sound against the forest floor.

She arrived at the edge of a deep pit just in time to see Bluestar’s figure, crumpled at the bottom. The once-proud leader had fallen, her body broken and unmoving. Ivypool felt a pang of sorrow—Bluestar had been one of ThunderClan’s greatest leaders. To see her end like this, not in battle but through a fatal misstep, was almost too much to bear.

But that was the way of the Games.

Ivypool didn’t linger. She knew better than to spend too much time at the scene of a death. Others would be drawn to the sound, and the last thing she needed was to get caught in another fight. She turned and slipped back into the shadows, her heart heavy with the knowledge of how quickly lives were being snuffed out.

The day dragged on, the sun beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows across the forest. The air grew cooler, but Ivypool stayed alert. She had managed to avoid the worst of the carnage so far, but there was no guarantee she would continue to be so lucky.

A movement to her left caught her eye. Shadowsight, the young medicine cat, was moving cautiously through the underbrush. His eyes were wide with fear, and Ivypool couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t a fighter—he was a healer. His skills wouldn’t help him much in this blood-soaked competition.

Before Ivypool could even consider warning him, a flash of sleek fur darted from the bushes. Sleekwhisker, her eyes gleaming with malice, pounced. Her claws sank into Shadowsight’s back before he could even react. He let out a strangled yowl, struggling to shake her off, but it was too late. With one final, brutal swipe, Sleekwhisker ended him.

Ivypool bit back a snarl of frustration. Shadowsight hadn’t deserved that. But then again, none of them deserved to be here. As Sleekwhisker disappeared into the shadows, Ivypool knew that staying hidden wouldn’t protect her forever. Eventually, she would have to face her fellow tributes.

The first cannon shot echoed through the sky, a grim reminder that the Games had truly begun. Then another. And another.

Ten cannon shots in total.

Ivypool closed her eyes, her mind racing with the knowledge that ten lives had already been claimed by the Games. Stormfur, Ashfur, Graystripe, Onestar, Tawnypelt, Twigbranch, Barley, Violetshine, Bluestar, and Shadowsight. Gone. Some had died in battle; others had fallen to accidents or missteps. But all of them had met the same fate.

She opened her eyes, her gaze hardening as she continued deeper into the forest. The bloodbath might have ended, but the real game was just beginning. And Ivypool knew that if she wanted to survive, she would have to be more than just a shadow in the trees.

She would have to be a hunter.

Chapter Text

Night was falling fast. The once vibrant green leaves of the forest now stood as dark silhouettes against the fading light of the sky. Ivypool moved quietly through the shadows, her paw steps silent on the soft forest floor. Her heart still beat heavily from the events of the day, but she forced herself to stay calm, stay focused. The bloodbath was behind her, and now the true test of survival began.

As the darkness deepened, the forest grew eerily silent. The yowls and clashes of the day had faded into nothing more than a chilling memory. Every cat was hiding, nursing their wounds, and waiting for morning.

Ivypool found a dense patch of brambles where she could settle down for the night. She had seen enough of these games to know that nighttime was no safer than the day. She needed rest, but sleep would make her vulnerable. Still, her limbs ached, and her mind buzzed with exhaustion. She had to take what rest she could get.

Curling her tail over her nose, Ivypool forced herself to stay alert, listening to the forest around her. Every crack of a twig or rustle of leaves made her ears twitch. She knew there were others nearby—perhaps only a few tail-lengths away. But for now, it seemed no one dared to make a move. Everyone was too on edge, too cautious.

A soft breeze stirred the air, bringing with it a familiar scent. Ivypool’s eyes flicked open. Dovewing.

For a moment, her heart leaped at the thought of her sister. They had always been so close, despite everything that had happened between them. But no—this was the Hunger Games. That bond didn’t matter here. It couldn’t.

A voice whispered from the nearby bushes. Ivypool tensed, ready to spring, but then recognized the familiar voice. It was Sunbeam. Her temporary ally, for now. “Ivypool, are you awake?” Sunbeam’s soft mew broke the silence.

“Barely,” Ivypool muttered, shifting slightly so she could see Sunbeam’s pale figure emerge from the darkness. Sunbeam’s eyes were wide, filled with unease.

“We should move. This place gives me the creeps,” Sunbeam whispered, glancing around nervously. “Who knows what’s lurking nearby?”

Ivypool sighed. She knew Sunbeam was right. Staying in one place for too long would only make them easy targets. “Alright, but quietly. We don’t know who might be watching.”

Together, the two she-cats crept through the undergrowth, moving carefully to avoid making any noise. The forest was dense here, offering plenty of cover, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Ivypool’s eyes darted around constantly, searching for any sign of movement. She had learned long ago never to trust the quiet—it was often a trap.

Suddenly, a sharp yowl pierced the silence, sending a shiver down Ivypool’s spine. It wasn’t close, but it was unmistakable. Shadowsight.

Without thinking, Ivypool pushed her way through the underbrush, Sunbeam close behind her. She knew she shouldn’t get involved—Shadowsight was not her responsibility. But something about that cry unsettled her. He was no warrior. He had no place in these blood-soaked woods.

They reached the edge of a small clearing just in time to see Sleekwhisker standing over Shadowsight’s limp body, her claws glistening with fresh blood. The scent of death hung thick in the air.

Ivypool froze, her claws unsheathed instinctively. Too late. Shadowsight was already gone. Sleekwhisker looked up, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Too easy,” she murmured before turning and disappearing into the trees like a ghost.

Sunbeam let out a low hiss. “Coward.”

Ivypool said nothing. Her stomach churned at the sight of Shadowsight’s still form. There was nothing they could do now. This was the reality of the Games—brutal and unforgiving. Ivypool glanced at Sunbeam, who looked equally shaken. They had to move on.

They retreated into the trees, the silence between them heavy with the weight of the day’s events. Shadowsight had been a healer, not a fighter. His death had been inevitable, but it still gnawed at Ivypool’s heart.

Eventually, the two of them settled in a hollow beneath the roots of a large oak tree. It was dark, sheltered, and hidden from view—good enough for the night. Ivypool lay down beside Sunbeam, her body tense even as exhaustion threatened to pull her under.

The night stretched on, cold and unnervingly still. Ivypool’s thoughts whirled, each one louder than the last. She thought of Dovewing, of her Clan, of the blood-soaked future that awaited her. Sleep was a distant hope, but her eyes grew heavier with each passing moment. She couldn’t afford to lose herself to it completely, but she could let her mind drift, just for a little while.

Sunbeam’s soft breathing filled the hollow, and Ivypool allowed herself to close her eyes, just for a moment.

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Morning came with the soft light of dawn filtering through the trees. Ivypool stirred, her muscles stiff from a night of restless sleep. Sunbeam was already awake, her eyes scanning the forest for any sign of movement.

“Nothing yet,” Sunbeam whispered, her voice low. “But we need to stay sharp. The first night is over, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

Ivypool nodded, her mind already calculating her next move. They needed to gather supplies—herbs, prey, anything that would give them an advantage. But they also needed to stay out of sight. The number of tributes had thinned, but not enough to ease the tension.

As they moved through the forest, Ivypool’s thoughts turned to the other tributes. She knew that alliances were fragile in the Hunger Games, and it was only a matter of time before trust dissolved completely. She would need to be ready when that moment came.

The forest was eerily quiet, as if even the birds and prey sensed the danger lurking in every shadow. Ivypool’s ears twitched, alert to every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig. She could feel the tension in the air, like a storm waiting to break.

The day dragged on, and with it came the first signs of betrayal. News spread quickly among the tributes—word of the deaths that had already claimed ten lives. Ivypool overheard a few murmured conversations as she and Sunbeam moved quietly through the trees. Feathertail had managed to fend off multiple attackers during the night, while Bristlefrost had shown no mercy, killing Snowtuft without hesitation.

The rules of the Games were simple: only the strong survive.

Ivypool kept her gaze on the path ahead, her mind racing with thoughts of her next move. She had no illusions about her temporary alliance with Sunbeam. It would last only as long as it served them both. When the time came, she would have to be ready to act. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the forest floor, Ivypool and Sunbeam found themselves at the edge of a small stream. The water glistened in the fading light, a rare moment of beauty in the midst of the bloodshed.

Sunbeam dipped her paw into the water, taking a cautious sip. “We should rest here for a bit,” she suggested, her voice quiet. “We’ll need our strength for whatever comes next.”

Ivypool nodded, though her mind remained restless. She could never truly relax in a place like this. Not with so many eyes watching, so many dangers lurking in every corner of the forest.

As they settled by the stream, Ivypool’s thoughts drifted to the cats she had known before the Games—the friends, the enemies, the family. She had fought alongside many of them, and now, she was forced to fight against them.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Not when survival was the only thing that mattered.

The day was far from over, and Ivypool knew that more blood would be spilled before the sun set on the second day. She could only hope that it wouldn’t be hers.

Chapter Text

The second night had come and gone, and the forest was now bathed in the cool light of dawn. The air felt thick with tension, and Ivypool could sense that something had shifted. The fragile alliances that had formed during the early hours of the Games were beginning to crack. Trust was an illusion in this place, and Ivypool knew it wouldn’t be long before the first betrayals began.

She and Sunbeam had spent the night by the stream, hidden beneath the shelter of an old fallen tree. It had been a restless night for both of them, their ears twitching at every sound, every distant yowl. The Games were wearing them down, physically and mentally. Ivypool’s muscles ached, but her mind refused to rest. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Not now.

“Do you think it’s safe to move?” Sunbeam asked, her voice low and uncertain. She crouched next to Ivypool, her yellow eyes scanning the surrounding forest. The peaceful sound of the stream was deceptive—danger was always just a few paw steps away.

“Safe is relative,” Ivypool replied, keeping her voice equally soft. “But we need to keep moving. Staying in one place for too long makes us easy targets.”

Sunbeam gave a small nod of agreement, though Ivypool could sense the doubt in her companion’s gaze. Sunbeam had been a good ally so far, but Ivypool knew that trust between them had a fragile expiration date. The moment survival outweighed loyalty, even the best of alliances would crumble.

As they moved through the forest, the heavy silence was broken only by the occasional snap of twigs beneath their paws. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension, and Ivypool could feel that something was brewing in the shadows.

They were nearing the edge of a small clearing when Ivypool’s ears pricked at the sound of distant voices. She flicked her tail to signal for Sunbeam to stop, and the two of them crouched low in the underbrush. Carefully, Ivypool peered through the bushes, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the source of the voices.

In the clearing, she saw a group of tributes—Brambleclaw, Sleekwhisker, Ravenpaw, and Needletail. They had formed a hunting group, their bodies tense and alert as they scouted for others. But Ivypool could see the cracks in their alliance, the thin threads of trust fraying with each passing moment.

Sleekwhisker’s eyes darted around suspiciously, her claws flexing into the dirt as she glanced at the others. Brambleclaw, ever the strategist, was focused on scanning the area for movement, but Ivypool could tell that even he was wary. Needletail, meanwhile, looked restless, her tail twitching with impatience. And Ravenpaw… well, Ravenpaw was always the outsider, never fully part of any group.

Ivypool’s eyes narrowed as she watched them. This group wouldn’t last much longer. Someone was going to break the tenuous peace soon, and when that happened, there would be blood.

Without warning, a loud hiss erupted from Sleekwhisker. She whipped around, her eyes blazing with accusation. “You’ve been holding out on us!” she snarled, her gaze fixed on Brambleclaw. “I saw you stashing extra fresh kill earlier. You think I didn’t notice?”

Brambleclaw’s fur bristled in response, his amber eyes flashing with anger. “You’re imagining things, Sleekwhisker. Don’t make accusations you can’t back up.”

Ivypool felt her pulse quicken. This was it—their alliance was starting to fracture.

Needletail stepped between them, her eyes flicking between Sleekwhisker and Brambleclaw. “We don’t have time for this,” she growled. “The others are out there, and we need to stay focused if we want to survive. Fighting amongst ourselves will get us all killed.”

But Sleekwhisker wasn’t backing down. Her claws dug into the earth as she glared at Brambleclaw. “I don’t trust him. We need to look out for ourselves.”

Ravenpaw, who had been watching silently from the sidelines, finally spoke up. “Sleekwhisker’s right. Trust is dangerous here. We all know that.”

Ivypool tensed, her instincts screaming at her to stay hidden, to stay far away from the brewing conflict. But part of her couldn’t look away. This was exactly what she had expected—the beginning of the end for alliances.

Brambleclaw’s eyes flicked to Ravenpaw, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “So, what now? You all want to turn on me?”

Before anyone could respond, Sleekwhisker leaped at Brambleclaw with a furious yowl. The two warriors collided in a flurry of claws and teeth, their bodies slamming into the dirt with a sickening thud. Brambleclaw retaliated, his powerful muscles rippling as he clawed at Sleekwhisker’s side.

Needletail hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking between the two fighting cats, before she made her choice. With a snarl, she lunged at Sleekwhisker, pinning her down with brutal force. Ravenpaw stepped back, watching the scene unfold, his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

Ivypool’s claws dug into the earth as she watched from the shadows. She had seen this before—the way desperation turned cats against each other, the way trust shattered in the blink of an eye. Sleekwhisker’s alliance with Brambleclaw and the others had been doomed from the start.

The fight was over in a matter of heartbeats.

Sleekwhisker’s body lay motionless on the ground, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. Brambleclaw stood over her, his fur matted with blood, his eyes filled with fury. Needletail backed away, her expression unreadable, while Ravenpaw remained frozen, his gaze locked on the scene before him.

Ivypool held her breath, waiting for the final blow. But Brambleclaw didn’t deliver it. Instead, he stepped back, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to regain control of his emotions.

“Get out of here, Sleekwhisker,” Brambleclaw growled, his voice low and dangerous. “If I see you again, I won’t show mercy.”

Sleekwhisker staggered to her paws, her body trembling with pain and exhaustion. She shot Brambleclaw a venomous look before turning and limping away into the trees, her tail dragging in the dirt behind her.

Ivypool let out a slow breath, her muscles still tense with the adrenaline of watching the fight unfold. This is just the beginning, she thought. Alliances will crumble, and when they do, cats will die.

She turned to Sunbeam, who had been watching in stunned silence. “We need to go. Now.”

Sunbeam nodded, and the two of them slipped away into the underbrush, leaving the clearing behind. As they moved through the forest, Ivypool couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the start of something much darker. The real battle was just beginning, and soon enough, she would be forced to choose—ally or enemy.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows across the forest floor. Ivypool’s mind raced with thoughts of what had just happened. Sleekwhisker had been betrayed by those she thought she could trust, and Brambleclaw’s group had barely held together after the fight.

The Hunger Games didn’t just test your strength. They tested your loyalty, your morality, and your ability to survive the worst in yourself.

As Ivypool and Sunbeam continued on their path, the sound of cannon fire echoed through the sky—five loud, thunderous shots that sent chills down Ivypool’s spine.

Five tributes dead.

Jayfeather. Breezepelt. Alderheart. Crowfeather. Cloudtail. Their deaths marked the beginning of the true bloodshed.

And now, more would follow.

Chapter Text

The air was thick with tension, each breath Ivypool took filled with the weight of the battles yet to come. The forest was darkening, and Ivypool knew that the remaining tributes were growing more desperate. She moved cautiously through the undergrowth, her paws light against the earth, trying to shake the growing feeling of unease that gnawed at her belly.

Sunbeam padded quietly beside her, her amber eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement. They had survived the Bloodbath together, had watched alliances crumble and cats fall, but now Ivypool knew something was shifting. The Games were nearing their end, and it wouldn’t be long before even this fragile alliance broke apart.

“We’re running out of time,” Sunbeam whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. “The others must be close.”

Ivypool nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. She had seen it time and time again—alliances could only last so long in these brutal Games. Eventually, it would come down to survival. And survival meant sacrifice.

As they continued through the forest, the faint scent of fresh kill hit Ivypool’s nose. Her stomach clenched—neither of them had eaten properly in days, and the need for food was becoming a dangerous distraction. Sunbeam’s ears perked up as she, too, caught the scent.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Sunbeam asked, her voice low and cautious.

Ivypool hesitated. The scent was strong, which meant someone nearby had already claimed the fresh kill. They were walking into someone’s territory. But hunger gnawed at her, and she knew they couldn’t afford to wait much longer.

“We’ll be careful,” Ivypool replied, her blue eyes narrowing as she scanned the shadows. “If we’re quick, we can grab it and go before anyone notices.”

They moved closer, their steps silent as they approached the source of the scent. A small clearing lay ahead, and in the center of it, a pile of fresh kill. It was unguarded, but Ivypool knew better than to believe it had been left unattended by mistake.

Suddenly, a sharp yowl broke through the silence, and Ivypool’s heart leaped into her throat. She whipped around just in time to see Firestar leaping from the shadows, his flame-colored pelt gleaming in the dim light.

“Get back!” Ivypool snarled, instinctively stepping in front of Sunbeam, but Firestar was faster. His eyes burned with hunger and determination, and before either of them could react, he lunged straight for Sunbeam.

Ivypool froze, her paws rooted to the ground as Firestar’s claws raked across Sunbeam’s chest. Sunbeam let out a pained yowl, struggling to fight back, but Firestar’s strength overwhelmed her. Ivypool watched, her body trembling with shock and fear, unable to move as her only ally crumpled beneath Firestar’s onslaught.

“Sunbeam!” Ivypool’s voice cracked as she tried to call out, but her throat tightened with fear and guilt. Her muscles wouldn’t respond, as if the weight of Sunbeam’s imminent death had paralyzed her.

Firestar delivered the final blow with cold precision, his claws sinking deep into Sunbeam’s throat. Her body stiffened, her amber eyes widening in shock, before her chest heaved one last time. Then, she lay still.

Ivypool’s world went silent.

Firestar, his body heaving with exertion, turned to her, his green eyes gleaming with satisfaction. But Ivypool wasn’t ready to face him. Not now. Not with Sunbeam’s lifeless body lying just a tail-length away.

With a growl, Firestar grabbed the fresh kill and vanished back into the forest, leaving Ivypool standing alone in the clearing, her heart pounding in her ears.

She couldn’t move. Her paws felt like lead as she stared at Sunbeam’s still form, her mind reeling. Sunbeam had been the only cat Ivypool could rely on, the only companion she had left in this nightmare of blood and death. And now, she was gone.

Ivypool finally forced herself to step forward, her legs shaking as she knelt beside Sunbeam’s body. Guilt washed over her like a wave, suffocating her. She should have done something. She should have fought harder, should have saved her.

But it was too late.

“I’m sorry,” Ivypool whispered, her voice cracking as she pressed her nose against Sunbeam’s fur. “I’m so sorry.”

For a long moment, Ivypool stayed there, her grief weighing her down like a stone. The sound of a cannon shot echoed through the sky, signaling Sunbeam’s death, and Ivypool’s heart twisted painfully. She had known the Games would take everything from her, but she hadn’t been prepared for this.

She had no time to mourn. Firestar was still out there, and so were the other tributes. Ivypool knew she had to keep moving, had to survive. But the hollow ache in her chest made it hard to breathe, let alone think clearly.

She stood slowly, her paws trembling as she backed away from Sunbeam’s body. Her mind was numb, her heart heavy with the weight of her loss. But even as she turned and walked away from the clearing, leaving Sunbeam behind, Ivypool felt a cold determination settle over her.

She would survive. She would win the Games.

And she would do it in Sunbeam’s memory.

Ivypool moved through the forest like a shadow, her grief a constant weight pressing down on her chest. The loss of Sunbeam gnawed at her with every step, but Ivypool forced herself to push the pain aside. She had no choice. If she allowed herself to drown in her sorrow, she would never make it through the final battles.

But even as she tried to focus on the task ahead, Sunbeam’s face lingered in her mind. Her friend’s death had shaken her to the core, and the guilt of watching her fall without helping haunted her.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the forest floor. Ivypool knew she had to find shelter for the night. The tributes were fewer now, but each one was a dangerous threat. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment.

As she curled up beneath a thick bramble bush, Ivypool’s thoughts drifted back to Sunbeam. She closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day pull her into a fitful sleep, but even in her dreams, the image of Sunbeam’s lifeless body haunted her.

The night was long, and Ivypool’s sleep was filled with nightmares of battles lost and friends taken too soon. When she finally awoke, the sky was streaked with the soft light of dawn, but the grief in her heart remained as heavy as ever.

Ivypool stood slowly, her muscles aching from the night’s rest. She didn’t have time to grieve properly—there were still battles to fight, and she knew that the remaining tributes wouldn’t wait for her to mourn.

As she padded through the forest, her mind sharp despite the weight of her sorrow, Ivypool made a silent vow.

She would make it to the end. For Sunbeam.

Chapter Text

The clearing surrounding the Cornucopia was eerily quiet, the tension hanging thick in the air as Ivypool crept through the shadows. Her heart raced with a mixture of determination and grief, each pawstep heavier than the last. Sunbeam’s death still weighed on her like a stone in her chest, but Ivypool knew she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Not now.

The Feast was here, and she needed to survive.

Ahead, the Cornucopia glistened in the early morning light, filled with supplies—fresh kill, bundles of herbs, sharpened stones. Everything Ivypool needed was within reach, but she knew it would come at a price. The Feast was always a battleground. Cats fought for the supplies, and often only one—or none—made it out alive.

Ivypool crouched low behind a thick patch of brambles, her blue eyes scanning the clearing for any sign of movement. She had been moving alone since Sunbeam’s death, the familiar comfort of companionship replaced by an unsettling quiet. Without Sunbeam by her side, the Games felt even more isolating, more dangerous.

Her gaze flicked to the supplies at the Cornucopia, and for a moment, she hesitated. She could almost hear Sunbeam’s voice urging her to fight, to take what she needed. But now there was no one to share the burden with, no one to watch her back.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves around her, and Ivypool tensed, her ears pricking at the faint sound of pawsteps nearby. She wasn’t alone.

Ivypool’s claws unsheathed as she waited, every muscle in her body coiled and ready to spring. The forest around the Cornucopia had grown eerily still, and the air was thick with anticipation. Somewhere in the shadows, the remaining tributes were waiting, just like her.

Suddenly, a flash of sleek fur darted into the clearing. Hawkfrost.

Ivypool’s heart raced as she watched the powerful tom make his move. Hawkfrost, with his icy blue eyes and calculating mind, wasted no time. He darted toward the supplies, grabbing what he could. But Ivypool knew better than to think this would be easy. Hawkfrost wasn’t the only threat.

From the opposite side of the clearing, Firestar appeared, his flame-colored pelt gleaming in the sunlight. His movements were slow, deliberate. Ivypool could see the determination in his eyes as he too made his way toward the Cornucopia.

Ivypool’s claws dug into the ground beneath her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the two toms circle each other, each one waiting for the other to make a move. The tension was almost unbearable, but Ivypool stayed hidden, waiting for the right moment.

Hawkfrost was the first to act.

With a vicious snarl, he lunged at Firestar, his claws outstretched and ready to strike. The two toms collided in a blur of fur and claws, their yowls filling the air as they fought for control of the clearing.

Ivypool watched, her body trembling with the urge to join the fight, but she held back. Let them weaken each other. She couldn’t afford to be reckless now, not with everything at stake.

The battle between Firestar and Hawkfrost was brutal, each strike landing with deadly precision. Firestar fought with the skill of a seasoned warrior, but Hawkfrost’s raw power made him a formidable opponent. The clearing echoed with their snarls as they clawed at each other, their bodies slamming into the ground in a vicious struggle for dominance.

Ivypool’s breath quickened as she realized this was her chance. With both toms focused on each other, she could slip in, grab the supplies, and disappear before they even noticed. She had to move quickly.

Keeping low to the ground, Ivypool darted toward the Cornucopia, her paws light against the earth. Her heart raced as she reached the pile of supplies, her claws quickly snatching up a bundle of fresh kill and a sharp stone. But before she could turn to flee, a sharp hiss pierced the air.

Hawkfrost had seen her.

Ivypool’s blood ran cold as Hawkfrost’s icy blue eyes locked onto her. His lips curled into a snarl, his muscles tensing as he prepared to attack. But before he could make his move, Firestar struck again, his claws raking across Hawkfrost’s side and sending him stumbling back.

Ivypool didn’t waste a second.

With the supplies clutched tightly in her jaws, she bolted into the forest, her paws pounding against the earth as she fled from the clearing. Behind her, she could still hear the sounds of battle as Firestar and Hawkfrost continued their deadly fight, but she didn’t dare look back.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she weaved through the trees, the weight of the supplies slowing her down but not enough to stop her. She had what she needed. She had survived the Feast.

But the victory felt hollow.

As Ivypool slowed, finally putting enough distance between herself and the Cornucopia, she felt the familiar ache of grief settle in her chest once again. Sunbeam had always been the more optimistic of the two, always ready to push Ivypool to keep fighting. And now, without her, every victory felt like a reminder of what had been lost.

Ivypool paused at the edge of a stream, her body trembling from exhaustion as she dropped the supplies at her paws. Her blue eyes stared at the bundle of fresh kill, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Not yet.

The sound of the cannon shot echoed through the sky, signaling the death of yet another tribute. Ivypool’s ears twitched, but she didn’t move. She didn’t need to know who had fallen. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that she was still here.

She had survived. For Sunbeam. For herself.

But as Ivypool sat by the stream, her reflection rippling in the water, she couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that had taken root deep inside her. The Games were cruel, stripping everything away until there was nothing left but survival. But survival wasn’t enough.

Ivypool closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over her, and made a silent vow.

I’ll win this. I’ll make it out.

She opened her eyes, her gaze hardening as she stood. With the supplies now secured, she picked up the fresh kill and began to move again, her paws steady and her mind clear.

The Feast was over, and the final battles were drawing closer. Hawkfrost and Firestar were still out there, but Ivypool was ready. She had faced loss, faced the darkness of the Games, and now she would face whatever came next.

The Games had taken so much from her—Sunbeam, her Clanmates, and her innocence. But they hadn’t taken her will to survive.

And she wasn’t going to stop now.

Chapter Text

The forest had grown darker, its usual rustling leaves and soft wind replaced by an eerie silence. Ivypool’s muscles were sore, her legs aching from the constant running, but her mind was sharp, focused. She moved with deliberate caution, knowing that the final confrontation was close. Only three tributes remained: Hawkfrost, Firestar, and herself.

Ivypool’s heart weighed heavily in her chest as she pressed forward through the undergrowth, her thoughts drifting back to Sunbeam. The pain of losing her ally had never fully left, a dull ache that lingered beneath the surface. Sunbeam’s optimistic voice had once been a constant in her ear, urging her to keep going, to fight, to survive. But now, the forest felt empty without her.

Ivypool swallowed down her grief, knowing there was no time for it. Grief couldn’t protect her now. She had to stay focused, had to remember why she was still fighting. For Sunbeam.

The sun had long set, casting long shadows across the ground as Ivypool crouched low beneath a thicket of brambles. She needed to rest, if only for a few moments, but her ears remained pricked for any sound. Every crack of a twig, every rustle of leaves sent a spike of adrenaline through her veins.

Somewhere out there, Hawkfrost and Firestar were lurking, each waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Ivypool knew that the Games wouldn’t last much longer—soon, one of them would claim victory, and the others would fall.

As she lay hidden beneath the brambles, Ivypool’s thoughts drifted to the fallen tributes. Sunbeam’s death had hit her the hardest, but there were others too—cats she had fought alongside, cats she had once called her friends. The Games had stripped everything away until only survival mattered.

But survival had its price.

Ivypool’s blue eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the faint light of dawn was beginning to break through the trees. The night had passed without incident, but Ivypool knew that couldn’t last. The final battle was approaching, and she had to be ready.

She stood slowly, her muscles protesting as she stretched. Her claws dug into the soft earth as she glanced around, making sure the area was clear before she moved. Every instinct told her to be careful, to stay hidden, but Ivypool knew that wouldn’t be enough. If she wanted to win, she would have to face her enemies head-on.

Her heart pounded as she moved deeper into the forest, her paws silent against the ground. Hawkfrost and Firestar had to be nearby. They had likely spent the night preparing, waiting for the moment when the last three would clash. Ivypool didn’t know what to expect, but she knew one thing for certain—she wasn’t going to stop until she made it out of the Games.

She came upon a small stream, its waters trickling softly over smooth stones. Ivypool paused, crouching down to take a quick drink, her ears alert for any sounds of movement. The cool water soothed her dry throat, but the tension in the air remained.

As she rose to continue, a faint rustle in the bushes made her freeze.

Her muscles tensed, her heart hammering in her chest as she turned toward the sound. Her breath caught in her throat as a figure emerged from the shadows, their sleek form moving with deadly grace.

Hawkfrost.

Ivypool’s eyes narrowed as she watched him approach. His icy blue eyes gleamed with ruthless intent, and his powerful frame moved with the confidence of a cat who had survived countless battles. Ivypool knew she had to act fast—Hawkfrost wouldn’t hesitate to strike.

Without waiting for him to make the first move, Ivypool darted forward, her claws outstretched. The element of surprise was her only advantage. She struck at Hawkfrost with all her strength, her claws raking across his side. He let out a furious snarl, twisting to face her with blazing eyes.

The two cats clashed in a blur of fur and claws, their bodies slamming into the ground as they fought for dominance. Hawkfrost was powerful, his strikes calculated and brutal, but Ivypool fought with a fierceness born from grief and determination. She couldn’t let Sunbeam’s death be in vain.

With each blow she landed, Ivypool thought of her fallen friend. Sunbeam had fought so hard to survive, and now Ivypool would carry that fight forward. Her grief fueled her, pushing her to fight harder, faster.

But Hawkfrost was relentless. His claws struck her side with a force that sent her staggering back, her breath knocked from her lungs. Ivypool gritted her teeth, refusing to let the pain slow her down. She couldn’t afford to lose—not now.

Hawkfrost lunged at her again, his claws aimed for her throat, but Ivypool was ready. She ducked beneath his strike, her paws moving with lightning speed as she lashed out at his legs, knocking him off balance.

For a moment, Hawkfrost stumbled, his icy blue eyes widening in surprise. Ivypool seized the opportunity, launching herself at him with all the strength she had left. Her claws sank into his flank, tearing through his fur and muscle. Hawkfrost let out a roar of pain, but Ivypool didn’t stop.

She fought like a cat possessed, every strike fueled by her grief for Sunbeam, by her desire to end the Games once and for all. And finally, with one final blow, Hawkfrost crumpled to the ground, his body twitching as the life drained from him.

The sound of the cannon shot echoed through the forest, marking Hawkfrost’s death.

Ivypool stood over his lifeless body, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her legs trembled beneath her, the exhaustion of the battle catching up to her all at once. But there was no time to rest. One more cat remained.

Firestar.

Ivypool knew he was close. He had to be. She glanced around, her heart still pounding in her chest as she scanned the trees for any sign of movement.

And then, from the shadows, he appeared.

Firestar’s flame-colored pelt glistened in the early morning light as he stepped into the clearing. His green eyes were sharp, calculating, but there was something else there too—something Ivypool hadn’t expected.

Regret.

For a brief moment, Firestar and Ivypool locked eyes, and in that instant, she saw the weight of the Games reflected in his gaze. He had once been the noble leader of ThunderClan, a hero to so many, but the Games had changed him. Just as they had changed her.

But there was no turning back now.

Ivypool’s muscles tensed as Firestar padded toward her, his steps slow and deliberate. This was it. The final battle. One of them would leave the arena alive, and the other would fall.

Without a word, Firestar lunged at her, his claws outstretched. Ivypool met him head-on, her body moving on instinct as they clashed in a blur of fur and claws. Each strike was faster, more vicious than the last, as they fought for control of the clearing.

Ivypool’s mind raced as she dodged Firestar’s attacks, her heart pounding with the weight of everything she had lost. Sunbeam, her Clanmates, her innocence—everything had been stripped away by the Games. But she wouldn’t let it be for nothing. She couldn’t.

Firestar was strong, but Ivypool fought with a desperation that outweighed his strength. She moved with lightning speed, her claws slashing at his side with brutal precision. Firestar stumbled, his flame-colored fur matted with blood as he struggled to keep up.

Ivypool didn’t let up. With one final burst of strength, she lunged at him, her claws sinking into his throat.

Firestar let out a sharp gasp, his green eyes widening with shock as he crumpled to the ground beneath her. His body twitched once, then lay still.

The final cannon shot rang out through the sky, marking the end of the Games.

Ivypool stood over Firestar’s lifeless body, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her chest heaved with exhaustion, her mind swirling with the weight of what had just happened. It was over. She had won.

But as Ivypool looked around the clearing, her gaze lingering on the fallen bodies of Hawkfrost and Firestar, she felt no triumph. Only grief. Only loss.

The Games had taken so much from her. More than she could ever regain.

Ivypool closed her eyes, letting the weight of it all wash over her. She had won, but what had she truly gained? The forest was silent now, the final battle over, but Ivypool knew the scars of the Games would never fade.

For Sunbeam. For herself.

She had survived. But survival had come at a cost.

Chapter Text

The clearing was still, and for the first time in days, the air was free of the scent of battle. Firestar’s body lay motionless at Ivypool’s paws, his flame-colored pelt no longer gleaming with the life and determination that had once defined him. The final cannon shot had already echoed through the sky, signaling his death and marking the end of the Games.

Ivypool had won.

But as she stood there, her chest heaving with exhaustion and her fur matted with blood, she felt no sense of victory. No rush of triumph. Instead, a hollow ache spread through her, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

She had survived.

But what did that even mean?

The silence pressed down on her like a suffocating weight, and all around her, the ghosts of the fallen seemed to watch. Every life taken, every friend lost—it all haunted her now. The forest, once so alive with the sounds of battle and survival, had fallen eerily silent, as if it, too, was grieving.

Ivypool’s legs trembled beneath her as she took a step back from Firestar’s body. Her heart pounded in her chest, but not from the thrill of battle—it was the weight of grief, guilt, and a profound emptiness. She had fought so hard to survive, but now, standing alone in the aftermath, she felt like a hollow shell.

Her thoughts drifted to Sunbeam. The memory of her friend’s final moments played on a loop in her mind—Firestar’s claws slashing across her throat, the shock in Sunbeam’s eyes as her life drained away. Ivypool had watched it happen, frozen, unable to save her.

“I should’ve saved her,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her ragged breathing.

But it was too late. Sunbeam was gone, and no amount of victory could bring her back. No matter how many tributes Ivypool had outlasted, the empty space where Sunbeam should have been was a void that victory couldn’t fill.

Ivypool clenched her jaw, her blue eyes staring at the ground beneath her paws. The dirt was stained with blood—Firestar’s blood, Hawkfrost’s blood, Sunbeam’s blood. It all mixed together in a grotesque reminder of the horrors she had endured. But even worse than the blood and violence was the feeling that she didn’t deserve to be here.

Why her?

Why was she the one left standing, while Sunbeam and the others lay dead?

The faces of the fallen flickered through her mind like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Twigbranch, Violetshine, Bluestar, Hawkfrost, Sunbeam—all of them, gone. Ivypool had seen their last moments, had heard their dying breaths. And now, in the quiet of the forest, their absence was unbearable.

Survivor’s guilt clawed at her, tearing at her heart with every passing moment. What had she done to deserve to live, when so many better cats had died? Sunbeam had been full of hope, always pushing Ivypool to keep going. And now, Ivypool was left to carry the weight of that hope alone.

She had survived, but the cost had been too high.

The world felt distant, like she was drifting through a nightmare. Her paws felt numb, her thoughts slow and heavy. She tried to focus on her breathing, tried to tell herself that this was what she had fought for—survival. But it didn’t feel like enough. The victory, if it could even be called that, felt meaningless.

Ivypool’s claws scraped against the ground as she took another step away from Firestar’s body. She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, couldn’t bear the sight of another fallen cat. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw their faces—Sunbeam’s especially. The guilt of surviving weighed on her like a crushing stone, and no amount of fighting could lift it.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she muttered under her breath, her voice shaky. “I shouldn’t have made it. Not without them.”

But she had made it. And now, she was alone.

The forest, once so alive with danger and chaos, was now eerily quiet. There was no one left to fight, no one left to save. Just her, standing in the wreckage of the Games, weighed down by the ghosts of those she had lost.

As the morning sun rose higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing, Ivypool felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she sank to the ground, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

She had won. She had survived. But at what cost?

The faces of her fallen friends haunted her still, their voices echoing in her mind, reminding her of everything she had lost. And as she sat there, alone in the aftermath, Ivypool couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t deserve to be alive.

Why her?

Why had she been the one to survive, when so many others had fallen?

The victory felt meaningless, hollow. The Games were over, but the scars they had left behind would never fade. The weight of survival pressed down on her, suffocating her under the burden of what she had done—and what she had failed to do.

Ivypool closed her eyes, her body trembling with exhaustion and grief. The silence of the forest was deafening, the ghosts of the fallen watching her from the shadows.

She had survived. But survival had come at a cost she could never repay.

Chapter Text

Ivypool stood at the edge of a cliff, the cold wind biting at her fur as she gazed out at the endless stretch of land below. The forest, once so familiar, felt foreign to her now. Everything felt distant, like a world she no longer belonged to.

She was the victor. That’s what they had told her.

Her claws sank into the cold stone beneath her paws as the words echoed in her mind. Victor. A hollow title, one that carried the weight of lives lost and battles fought. But what had she really won? She had survived, but at what cost?

The weight of it all bore down on her now, more heavily than ever before. She had returned from the Games, but nothing felt right. Nothing felt real. The faces of the fallen haunted her, every moment of the day and night. Sunbeam, Hawkfrost, Bluestar, all of them, gone. The ghosts of the tributes whispered in the wind, their voices calling out to her, reminding her of what she had done.

She closed her eyes, feeling the cold wind whip through her fur, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it would be easier to let go. To step forward, to fall, to end the ache that clawed at her heart. The thought lingered in her mind, a dark temptation that flickered in the back of her thoughts.

What if?

Would it be so wrong to join them? To stop fighting this endless battle in her head? She could see them now, waiting for her in the mist, their eyes full of understanding. Sunbeam’s face, so vivid in her memory, looked at her with that same gentle smile. You don’t have to do this alone, Ivypool.

Her paws shuffled forward, the edge of the cliff just beneath her. Her heart pounded, a mix of fear and longing pulling her in opposite directions. But something held her back—something deep inside her that refused to give in, even now.

Just as she took a shaky step back, the mist before her began to swirl, the air shifting around her. She blinked, her breath catching in her throat as five figures emerged from the fog, their shapes growing clearer as they approached.

Thunderstar. Shadowstar. Riverstar. Windstar. Skystar.

The original leaders of the Clans.

Ivypool’s breath hitched as she recognized their forms, regal and imposing, their eyes gleaming with the weight of countless lifetimes. They moved with an ethereal grace, their paws barely touching the ground as they circled her, their gazes piercing.

Thunderstar, his orange fur aglow, stepped forward. His eyes locked on Ivypool, and she felt the full weight of his gaze. There was no warmth in his expression, no kindness. Only judgment. Only expectation.

“You are the victor, Ivypool,” Thunderstar declared, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. “You have proven yourself stronger than all others.”

The other leaders nodded in silent agreement, their eyes fixed on her. Shadowstar’s dark form seemed to meld with the shadows around her, while Windstar’s sharp gaze followed Ivypool’s every move. Riverstar and Skystar stood like statues, their expressions unreadable, but Ivypool could feel the weight of their approval.

“You are to be crowned,” Thunderstar continued, his voice unwavering. “You, alone, have earned the right to live. You, alone, are worthy of the title.”

Ivypool’s heart pounded in her chest. Worthy? The word felt like a lie. She didn’t feel worthy of anything. She wasn’t stronger. She wasn’t braver. She had only survived because everyone else had fallen. She had watched them die, watched Sunbeam die, and done nothing.

Her mind swirled with guilt and grief, the faces of the fallen flashing before her eyes. Was this what survival meant? To be haunted by the lives she hadn’t saved? To be crowned victor in a battle that had taken everything from her?

Thunderstar stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her. “Do you not accept this honor?”

Ivypool’s throat tightened, her voice caught somewhere between anger and despair. “What honor is there in surviving when everyone else is dead?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Shadowstar’s cold eyes narrowed. “You speak as if there was another choice. There is no honor in death.”

Ivypool’s claws scraped against the stone beneath her. She wanted to scream, to tell them they were wrong, that surviving wasn’t enough. That the victory they offered her felt like nothing more than a heavy chain wrapped around her heart, dragging her down into a pit she couldn’t climb out of.

“I didn’t win,” Ivypool finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t win anything. I just... lived.”

Thunderstar’s gaze hardened. “And that is enough.”

Ivypool shook her head, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. “No. It’s not.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the leaders standing before her like silent judges, their expressions unreadable. For a moment, Ivypool thought they might leave her there, might disappear back into the mist and leave her with her grief and guilt.

But instead, Thunderstar stepped forward, his eyes still fixed on hers. “You may not believe it now,” he said, his voice softer than before, “but you will learn to carry this burden. You will learn to live with the weight of survival.”

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the other leaders. “Let the crown of the victor be placed upon her.”

Shadowstar moved toward her, carrying a crown woven from dark reeds and leaves, its edges sharp like thorns. It wasn’t a crown of victory or triumph—it was a crown of the fallen, a reminder of the lives that had been lost. She placed it gently on Ivypool’s head, and the weight of it made her knees buckle.

The leaders stepped back, their eyes glowing faintly in the mist. “You are the victor,” they said in unison, their voices echoing through the still air.

But Ivypool felt none of the honor they spoke of. She felt only the crushing weight of the crown on her head, a reminder of the ghosts she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

As the original leaders faded back into the mist, leaving her alone on the cliff’s edge once more, Ivypool looked out over the land below. The wind howled, cold and biting, but it didn’t bother her. She stood, frozen in place, her mind heavy with the thought that had nearly consumed her before.

What if?

She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the crown on her head, the burden of survival pressing down on her chest.

But even as the darkness threatened to pull her under, she knew she couldn’t follow. Not yet. Sunbeam’s voice, soft and distant, whispered in the back of her mind, urging her to keep going.

You have to live, Ivypool. Even when it feels impossible.

Ivypool opened her eyes, her breath steadying as she took a step back from the edge.

For now, she would live. But the burden of being the victor would never truly leave her.