In the tranquil depths of the moonlit camp, where shadows danced among the trees and the whispers of the night seemed to speak of forgotten tales, Nascentseraph traced the invisible lines of memories. It was a long winding path splattered with crimson and salt. It was his alone though. Whether that was a lonely or comforting thought would remain to be seen. Or maybe he’d never see. He wouldn’t hold his breath. The tomcat rarely got that kind of luck. Tonight, however, was different. Most would consider /this/ luck. The air held a rare stillness, pregnant with the weight of imminent change. Nascentseraph felt it in the rustle of leaves and the heaviness of his clanmate’s gaze on his back. He shouldered it and moved on. It wasn’t unmanageable. He’d done nothing but carrying burdens his life. Unseen but very much present. Being bothered by it had long faded with age. And yet, amidst that, there were moments of quiet joy. Playing with Olivepaw, his mother’s gentle coaching, Nimbusveil’s love and their kits—these were the threads that wove the tapestry of his own life line. Every moment bitter and sweet had shaped him into this. Now, he stood before the Moontree, the ancient voices of StarClan seemed to whisper on the wind, urging him forward. He hated it. It was perhaps also his greatest achievement. With a quiet grunt, the feline settled in and Nascentseraph closed his eyes. What a strange thought to know, he falls asleep bearing a suffix given by a father he now hated but once yearned to be like that. The stain of that would be gone. What a strange thought to know, he’d wake up bearing a suffix the very same as a father he now hated but once yearned to be like that. The stain of that would be branded. This wasn’t a blessing or a curse. This wasn't lucky or unlucky. It was his duty. It always came down to that, right?
