The dusky light of evening had begun to settle over the camp, casting long, flickering shadows that danced between the bramble walls. Emberfall sat just beyond the entrance, her flame-colored pelt glowing in the fading sunlight as she silently observed the bustle of camp life. Warriors exchanged words as they organized patrols, apprentices darted between their mentors, and the scent of fresh-kill filled the air with the promise of a well-earned meal.

Then, a familiar scent curled into her nose—Cobaltail. A heartbeat later, the dark-furred tom padded up beside her, his deep blue eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"I'm here to relieve you," he murmured, dipping his muzzle slightly before leaning closer. Without hesitation, he brushed his tongue over her ear—a casual, familiar gesture. "Have you thought anything about my proposal?"

Emberfall's tail twitched minutely, betraying the brief flicker of something beneath her composed exterior.

"No, not really," she admitted, rising to her paws in a fluid movement. "We've had too much to do lately, Cobaltail."

There was no sharpness in her voice, only a quiet firmness. She wasn't ready to give him an answer—not yet. And before he could press further, she turned, brushing past him with a flick of her tail.

Her paws carried her through the warrior's den entrance, the dim interior a stark contrast to the open space outside. The scents of her sleeping Clanmates wove together like the roots of an ancient tree, comforting and familiar. But something felt... off.

Ironheart's nest lay empty.

The unease crept up her spine like ice-cold water as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, landing on Ivypool. The silver she-cat was anything but restful—her paws flexed against her nest, her form taut with restless energy as she paced, her tail lashing subtly.

Emberfall narrowed her eyes, tension knotting in her chest.

"What's wrong, Ivypool?" she asked, her voice low but edged with a quiet urgency.

Ivypool halted, lifting her head, her stormy gaze meeting Emberfall's. A muscle twitched in her jaw before she exhaled sharply.

"Where's my brother?"

Ivypool halted mid-pace, her silver-gray fur ruffled as she turned to Emberfall, her blue eyes darkened with something unreadable—concern, maybe even fear. "Still in the medicine den," she murmured, her voice unusually quiet. "I don't know... but I feel like something's wrong."

A cold prickle ran down Emberfall's spine. Ironheart should have been back by now.

Her tail twitched sharply, betraying the tension rising in her chest. "I'll go see," she said, firm and unwavering. Whatever was happening, she would get answers.

Ivypool hesitated but then gave a single uneasy nod as Emberfall slipped past her, urgency propelling each step. The camp felt strangely distant, her surroundings melting away as she focused on her destination.

The medicine den loomed closer, its familiar scent of crushed herbs and damp moss curling around her like a whisper of unease. But as she neared, she froze just a few paces from the entrance, her ears pricking sharply.

Low murmurs.

Shuffling paws.

Her brother's breath—rapid, uneasy, panicked.

Alarm shot through her as dread coiled deep in her belly.

Without hesitation, she shoved forward, pushing through the curtain of hanging lichen, her fur bristling as she stepped into the dimly lit den. Her sharp amber eyes immediately scanned the scene, landing first on Ironheart—his muscles taut, his usual confidence replaced with something she had never seen before.

Fear.

She turned on Jayfeather, her anger flaring. "What's happening?" she growled, her voice carrying the weight of a sister unwilling to be ignored.

Jayfeather exhaled—long-suffering, unimpressed. He rolled his icy blue eyes toward StarClan and flicked his tail sharply.

"Oh joy," he muttered dryly. "Another jumpy apprentice."

His glare shifted to her, unreadable yet firm, his posture unwavering.

"Back off, Emberfall," he said, his voice low and edged like stone. "This isn't for you to know."

Leafpool moved fluidly between Jayfeather and Emberfall, placing herself in the space between them before the tension could coil any tighter. Her voice was measured and calm, yet firm with quiet authority.

"Take it easy, Jayfeather." She cast a pointed glance at her sharp-tongued son. "It's her brother. Of course, she has the right to know."

Jayfeather huffed but said nothing more, though his tail lashed once, betraying his irritation.

Then Leafpool turned to Emberfall, and in that moment, the warmth that usually resided in her amber gaze had vanished. What remained was something darker—something serious.

"But can you keep a secret?" she asked, her tone softened, yet carrying the weight of something far greater than a simple request.

Emberfall's tail flicked, unease curling in her belly like a low-burning ember. "What is wrong with my brother?" she demanded, a hint of desperation threading through her voice.

Leafpool hesitated, her whiskers twitching before she finally exhaled and lowered her head slightly.

"He has been marked."

The word hung in the air, heavy and strange.

Emberfall's ears flattened. "Marked by what?"

Leafpool lifted her gaze once more, and the solemnity in her expression sent a cold shiver through Emberfall's pelt.

"The Dark Forest," Leafpool said, and the words felt like a shadow creeping over them all. "It is like StarClan, only it harbors our most evil foes. Tigerstar—the first Tigerstar—is there, I assume."

Just the mention of his name sent a flicker of unease through Emberfall's spine.

Jayfeather grunted, his tail twitching irritably as he nudged Ironheart to his paws. His brother shifted reluctantly, his muscles stiff, as if the words had weighed him down.

"Yes," Jayfeather murmured darkly, "and so is Brokenstar, if he was ever left to fade away." He let the implication settle, his ice-blue eyes flashing with something sharp.

Then, his gaze snapped back to Emberfall, and his next words were carved from stone.

"You cannot tell this to anyone—not even your mother or father."

His tone left no room for argument.