Larkwing ran. As if they had a mind of their own, her paws carried her away. The wind made her eyes water until she could barely see where she was fleeing to.

Away. Just away. Her ears throbbed, her heart almost seemed to want to burst. Larkwing clenched her teeth. She couldn't weaken.

Behind her, she heard a hiss — far too close. Larkwing instinctively pulled her tail to her flank. Not a moment too late, for the brown she-cat snapped shut with a clicking sound, exactly where Larkwing's tail had been a moment ago.

That was close. Larkwing took a turn to the left and dashed off amidst the skydens. The tendrils seemed to be denser here, yet thanks to her small stature, she had no trouble slipping under them. Whereas the strange she-cat would get caught in the thorns because of her long pelt.

In fact, she didn't seem to follow Larkwing, whereupon the tortico she-cat slowed her run and finally stopped, breathing heavily.

Hidden between two tendrils, she kept a watchful eye on the direction she had come from. A screech could be heard again and again, sounding a little closer each time.

Larkwing flinched, startled. Could she be following me after all? She turned her head wildly in all directions. Maybe she should try to run back to the others. The seven of them would surely manage to push this creature back.

With one last look back, Larkwing was about to turn around and make her way out of this maze when suddenly a pair of flashing golden eyes appeared barely a whisker's length away from her.

She had come from the other side. I thought she was behind me the whole time!

Every fibre in Larkwing was geared to escape. But suddenly her body no longer obeyed her. Her paws, which had previously carried her as swiftly as the wind, were so heavy that she could no longer take a step.

"Who... no, what are you?" Larkwing whispered distraught, unable to take her eyes off the tendril coming out of the brown tabby she-cat's body. She felt sick. Great StarClan, how in the world can she still be alive in this state?

Growling, the brown tabby she-cat bared her yellowish, broken fangs. Very slowly, as if she were stalking prey, she placed one paw in front of the other, inevitably coming closer and closer to Larkwing.

Then, just as the tips of her torn ears brushed the black tendril above her, her expression changed from bloodthirsty to agonised. Howling in pain, she jumped back, her muzzle curled. Staggering, she rushed forward again, but when she came into contact with the tendril once more, she screamed in torment.

Strange. Even though there is a tendril inside her, it's also incredibly torturous for her to touch one. Uneasily, Larkwing looked at the tendril wrapped around the skyden next to her. What was with her? Would she react in the same way?

For a third time, the mangy she-cat tried in vain to get past the tendril. By now, however, her attempts seemed to have become more feeble.

"I guess I can call myself the biggest mouse-brain in the world from now on," Larkwing muttered to herself, then she let her tail quickly brush over a tendril. She winced reflexively. But she felt nothing.

This finally gave her the courage to push off powerfully against the wall. Only narrowly did she catch the tendril with her front paws. For a moment, she hung in the air, kicking and struggling, until she found a pawhold with her hind claws and was able to pull herself up.

Gasping for air, she pressed herself against the wall. Under the pads of her paws, the tendril felt smooth, hard and cool, but fortunately it didn't seem to cause her any pain when she touched it.

Far down on the ground, the she-cat had laid her head on her neck and was bellowing angrily at Larkwing. Twice she even tried to climb up the wall — in vain.

For now, I'm probably safe up here, Larkwing decided and looked further up the tendril. She was undecided. Should she risk trying to find a way down on the other side?

Tentatively, she put one paw in front of the other, taking care not to get her pelt caught in the spikes. Incidentally, these were not as sharp as they had looked from a distance, but rather had slightly rounded ends. Nevertheless, she wasn't particularly keen on hurting herself at this height.

But then, without warning, a cramp shot through her body. Clenching her fangs in pain, Larkwing hissed. I can't move. A wave of panic swept through her body as she tried with all her might to lift even one paw without success. What's happening with me? Why can't I move?

Oh, just look at her. A voice, not quite female, not quite male, whispered and as if controlled by a stranger, Larkwing turned her head down to the brown she-cat. A pathetic sight, isn't it? That's what happens when creatures that are too weak absorb the power of the tentacles.

Larkwing bared her teeth. "What in the name of StarClan are tentacles?" she snarled. "Who are you and why are you so bold as to nest in my head?"

Who I am? Well, the question should rather be: what I am.

"Who, what, none of that matters now." Larkwing thumped her tail against the wall of the skyden. "I've had enough of any voices that nestle inside me and whisper nasty things to me. So get the out of here!"

But of course, her angry snarling had exactly zero effect. Instead, the voice became louder, more insistent. No. You are different from all the others before you. You are the right one to use our power.

With half-closed eyes, Larkwing leaned against the wall. She felt terribly worn out and her ears were ringing as if she had just been through a fierce battle. She didn't even have the strength to answer.

Use it to get that pathetic thing down there out of the way, the voice continued almost enthusiastically.

"W-what do you mean, get it out of the way?" Larkwing croaked.

At that moment a breeze came up and forced her to crouch down and cling on. Clueless cat! Your claws into her throat. Then you're rid of her. That's what you want, isn't it?

Horrified, Larkwing drew in her breath. Eyes widening, she stared at her claws scratching the smooth material of the tendril — or rather tentacle. "Forget it," she managed to protest between clenched fangs. "I'm definitely not going to kill a cat."

Determined not to be swayed by the cold voice any longer, she pulled herself to her paws and climbed on. The only thing that mattered now was that she found her way back to her patrolmates. Surely they were already worried about her.

Carefully, she ventured around the corner of the skyden. The brown tabby she-cat's screech could no longer be heard. The mysterious voice had also fallen silent.

Good. I hope my ears will never be tortured with something like that again. Larkwing groaned with relief.

Searchingly, she let her gaze wander over the landscape. She had a great view from up here. She could see as far as the eye could see.

Frantically, she searched for her patrolmates, but there was nothing. Her heart was pounding restlessly. Where were they? They couldn't possibly have walked so far that they were no longer visible.

Larkwing took a few deep breaths. It wouldn't do any good if she got unnecessarily stressed. First she had to find a way down here and away from the she-cat with the tentacle sticking out of her back.

Suddenly she felt a sharp pain flash through her like lightning. How dare you try to run away!, the voice harangued her, now more furious than before. Kill her! Kill her! Show her that you are stronger. Strong enough to withstand the influence of the tentacles.

Without responding to the voice any further, Larkwing bravely put one paw in front of the other. Whatever was going on here, she would never sink so low as to kill someone.

But wouldn't it actually be the best solution? She stopped. The brown she-cat posed a great danger. Fighting her alone would do no good. It was already clear that it would be impossible to rout her. Besides, this wasn't a Clan cat and it would count as self-defence.

Then Larkwing shook herself and resolutely continued on her way. Self-defence or not, she certainly didn't want to end up in the Dark Forest after her death. She was a good and honourable warrior. Under no circumstances could she allow such dark thoughts to continue to poison her mind.

Once again she turned her green-blue gaze downwards, although she had long since realised that it would do no good.

However, this time she spotted movement in the distance. Someone is there. Larkwing paused and narrowed her eyes.

Closer and closer this someone came, until Larkwing could make out their dark grey, almost black fur.

Lakepelt? Larkwing's thoughts raced. How did he find me? She opened her mouth wide to yowl. "I'm up here!"

A fatal mistake. Not only had she attracted Lakepelt's attention, but also that of the brown she-cat, for she began to hiss and scream again — and this time it sounded so terrifying that Larkwing's fur stood on end in fright.

Within a very short time, Lakepelt had arrived at the base of the skyden. "Larkwing! We were worried about you—" he began and broke off abruptly. "Wait, how did you even get up there?"

Larkwing became impatient. "Doesn't matter," she wanted to reply. At the same time, her voice was drowned out by more hisses.

"What is that?" Lakepelt sounded frightened.

"You don't want to know," Larkwing groaned. "Though for some reason, she can't touch the tentac— uh, tendrils without it being painful."

Lakepelt glanced briefly over to the crevice between the two skydens from which the hissing sounded, then back to Larkwing. "How can it not affect you?" he questioned incredulously.

Because you don't have a weak spirit. Now do it at last! The longer you resist the tentacles' will, the more you will suffer. And as if to emphasise this, a scorching pain shot through Larkwing's head. Out of nowhere, she began to feel dizzy and her surroundings blurred before her eyes.

"My claws into her throat. My claws into her throat," she kept murmuring to herself in a voice that sounded like her own and yet was alien.

Meows reached her ear from far away. She ignored it. It was irrelevant. At that very moment, she had only one goal.

I have to kill her.

With tunnel vision, she slowly turned and padded down the tentacle.

I have to kill her.

The image of the ragged she-cat appeared in her mind, first alive, then gradually changing. Now she lay on the ground, her chest shredded beyond recognition, in a dark red blood lake — dead.

I have to kill her. Otherwise I'll be the one who has to endure the agony. Larkwing quickened her steps. Skilfully, she weaved her way around the spikes, her fear of heights forgotten.

Soon she could see the brown tabby she-cat. Still she stood between the tendrils. However, she no longer seemed to be paying attention to Larkwing. Instead, she was focussed on something on the outside.

Larkwing pressed herself down. There were no spikes on this part of the tentacle, which made it easier for her to move forward.

Very well, the voice praised her with a malevolent undertone. Do as the tentacles wish and kill her.

"Their wish is my command," Larkwing heard herself murmur muffled. Gathering strength in her hind paws, she wanted to push off and land directly on the brown she-cat's back.

Just at that moment, she whirled around and stormed out of the crevice with a long, drawn-out cry of fury.

No! Lakepelt! All of a sudden, Larkwing's mind was lucid again. Filled with panic and fear for her Clanmate, she scampered back up the tendril.

Just in time, the tortico she-cat caught a glimpse of the brown she-cat about to hurl herself at Lakepelt with unsheathed, flashing claws. Seemingly by a whisker's breadth, he was able to swerve her attack. Slithering, he got back on his paws a few tail lengths away, his back arched in fear. Rigidly he crouched there, staring only at the brown she-cat — no, at the tendril sticking out of her body — and made no move to flee as she staggered back towards him.

Larkwing howled. "Watch out!" Her voice was barely loud enough for Lakepelt to hear. As if a stone was weighing her down, she dropped flat on her belly. Her eyelids fluttered.

I... I have to fight it. I have to get down there now and... Gradually she lost all her strength and there was nothing she could do.

Weakly, she stretched out a paw, holding her claws against the sunlight. Maybe you were wrong. I am indeed weak.

A low growl was the answer. You have only yourself to blame for this weakness! Don't close your eyes to the truth. If you manage to focus the power of the tentacles and harness it, you will be granted an unbelievably great power that is reserved for very few. And to achieve this, you must fulfil their wish, and their wish is to eliminate that cat down there.

Larkwing's chest tightened as a dark memory resurfaced like thick morning mist. Eliminate. Eliminate. Eliminate. Eliminate. Eliminate. In a nightmarish way, Petalpaw's monotonous words, which she had muttered over and over again during the battle in the RoseClan camp, kept repeating themselves in her head. 

But I don't want power. The only thing I want is to be a normal warrior. Even more, I want to live a full life and not be constantly plagued with the regret of having killed someone.

With that, she finally lost all her strength. She dropped her chin limply onto her front paws as she slowly blacked out.

However, at the same moment another pain shot through her body and suddenly she was wide awake again — with a clear target in mind that she finally had to fulfil.

She dashed down the tentacle a second time, doing so with such confidence as if she had been doing it since birth. Her paws drummed over the hard, black material. A wild fire seemed to blaze inside her, the golden flames as high as trees.

I have to kill her.

She was almost at the bottom.

The tentacles say I have to kill her.

Now she was really close to the ground. She circled the skyden one last time, then set her sights on the brown tabby she-cat.

I will fulfil the will of the tentacles.

Closing her eyes, she pushed off blindly. For a heartbeat she flew through the air, feeling free, feeling weightless.

Then her body collided with another. Roughly, she rolled across the floor. Her paws touched fur, her claws sank in.

Suddenly everything happened very quickly. Larkwing's eyes snapped open. She found herself standing on her hind legs, her front paws hovering over the brown she-cat before she brought her claws down and shredded the throat with them. A red fountain gushed out relentlessly. The unstoppable masses poured over Larkwing's white front paws and slowly but surely formed a dark red blood lake around the brown she-cat.

She was dead.

Larkwing stepped back, staggering. Oh no... She stared at the she-cat in horror. What have I done?

The fire had gone out. Instead, coldness crept through her body. Trembling, her legs gave way beneath her and she fell onto her side. 

"Larkwing! Oh my goodness, are you all right?" Lakepelt rushed over to her and crouched down. His face was so close that Larkwing could count the dark speckles in his irises.

Her heart felt like it was being pierced by thorns. "Nothing is all right!" she sobbed indistinctly. "I—"

I was possessed! I didn't even want something like this to happen! Once again, I was reckless enough to allow evil to invade my thoughts. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't make a sound.

Why hadn't she been stronger? She should have fought against the influence. Now a cat had died at her paws. Even though she was probably too dangerous, she had still been a cat. It was against Larkwing's nature to kill another cat.

With a faint purr that was probably meant to be soothing, Lakepelt licked the bridge of her nose. "No, that was the only right thing you could have done," he explained in between. "I think if you hadn't done it, I would have. It would have been the safest option."

"What?" Larkwing's fur bristled in shock. "But that's against the code of combat! I... I can't believe you would consider such a thing!"

Lakepelt lowered his gaze. "It's not the first time."

Larkwing's fur prickled unpleasantly. He was no doubt alluding to that one battle with the Shadowless. Oh StarClan. Shivering, she flattened her ears. How could it be that he would even consider such an act with such casualness? Was it the death of Reedclaw that triggered it or had these thoughts existed for much longer than she would have liked? Maybe... maybe...

Questions upon questions buzzed around in her head like a swarm of gnats. It was all just so crazy. All their lives had changed drastically. Nothing was as peaceful and carefree as it had been when she was a kit. 

I wonder what exactly the voice was and why it had such an extreme effect on me. Larkwing looked thoughtfully at the huge tendrils around the skydens. So apparently the real term for them was 'tentacles'. They seemed to be made of a material whose origin was unknown to Larkwing. But she was sure of one thing. It was dangerous to touch them. The voice and the forceful manipulation of her will had only appeared when she had climbed onto the tentacle. Now both had vanished without a trace and Larkwing felt strangely lightweight.

"We should go now." Lakepelt's meow snapped Larkwing out of her deep thoughts.

Embarrassed, she licked her flews. How mouse-brained of her to forget that. They absolutely had to get back to the others. "All right—" she started, then realised with horror that the tip of Lakepelt's right ear had been torn off.

"You're hurt!" she squeaked shrilly and rushed forward.

Almost defiantly, Lakepelt turned his head away. "It's not that bad," he objected.

But Larkwing didn't even give him a chance to finish. Instead, she held his head with her front paws and ran her tongue vigorously over the irregularly jagged crack like a queen grooming her displeased kit.

Without the right treatment, it might get infected! She felt freezing cold. "We have to find Cloverdapple as quickly as possible," she ordered and stepped back. Worried, she let her eyes wander over Lakepelt. Fortunately, she couldn't see any other injuries.

Lakepelt wriggled out of her grasp and nudged her to motivate her to get up. "We stopped not too far from here."

Larkwing's heart was pounding wildly. What should we do with the... the corpse? The question was as unpleasant as burrs on her tongue. The smell of blood was omnipresent and she didn't dare turn round to see what she had done a second time.

I just want to get out of here.

"Hurry up then," she snapped unkindly, and trotted past Lakepelt.