The gods argued over who should lay siege to the soul. The forces of good knew the soul’s potential; when nurtured, it would be the brightest star in the sky. The forces of evil were equally aware of the soul’s potential; just as it could do a great good in the world, it would was equally capable of doing harm. The forces of good saw in it a dazzling angel; the forces of bad saw in it a merciless monster. They warred for a long time over which allegiance the soul ought to own. Eventually, both sides realized that they were running out of time. If the soul stayed with them much longer, it wouldn’t survive; a soul without a body withers, just as a body without a soul. So, in the midnight hour, the gods came up with a compromise. They would let fate decide. Seven years a saint, seven years a sinner, so the gods must have ordained the day they sent her soul into a vessel. For seven years, she would be good. She would play by the rules, she would do what was right. She would be good, be pure, be whatever the humanity in her heart told her she must. And after seven years, there was truly nothing more frightening than a saint who had her first taste of sin. She would repay whatever good she had done in the world with a blaze of darkness. The day she died, the gods would decide which side had been stronger, the good or the bad, and she would spend eternity to whichever side her allegiance was truest to. Both sides were so sure the soul would one day belong to them that they agreed to the compromise. So it was ordained: the soul was sent to earth and the wager was made.

If both sides had played fairly, perhaps it would have been an even battle of good and evil. However, seven years is a long time to wait for your precious prize to unleash her potential, and the forces of evil are a fickle sort. When they grew too tired of her goodness, they interfered. They sent a dog to her. If the gods of good were to ask, there was certainly plausible deniability. How could we have done that? they would ask, and the gods of good would have no evidence but their own suspicion. And, even if they could prove that the forces of evil had tangibly got involved, they would point out that there was no rule against sending a little tribulation in her way. How were we supposed to know this would be how she would respond?

Once tampered with, the game would never be the same. The saint’s first sin had occurred; how could they expect her to remain pure when the darkness felt so good?

It had been moons since her first taste of what the gods of evil could promise her. They pampered her with opportunities to test the darkness and rewarded her greatly. And with each spoil of war, Aspenstar became hungrier, greedier. With each reward of her bad behavior, she became worse.

Perhaps this was why she stood over the corpse with a faint indifference. Its lifeblood pooled at her feet, a deep crimson against her otherwise pale fur. The forces of evil roared in excitement at the fact that this - the taking of life - had become such a fact of life that it no longer phased her at all. The forces of good were horrified; perhaps they had lost her forever. As for Aspenstar, she didn’t much care for what the gods had to say about how she handled her business. This corpse, after all, was her business. The cat had intruded on her land, and she took care of business. The wages of that cat’s sin - their trespassing on her earth - was death. One day, she was sure the same would be said of her.

She let out a soft sigh, before carefully removing the eye from the socket. At least she hadn’t needed to hunt for someone so that she could leave her warning to Regulus. She buried it quickly, before returning to the body. Disposal was always tricky. There was still nearly an hour before sunset. All she had to do was get the body to the other side of the border …

And so she did, making as quick of work as possible of it. The next thing she needed to do was wash herself; the blood had now caked into her fur, and she simply couldn’t return to NightClan camp like that. She let out a sigh, before making her way to the river. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t the only cat who seemed to want a morning swim…