ACT I - TWISTING THE KNIFE - VULTURE SRP

Instructions

TW - Bl00d, death. ════════════════════════════ ACT I THE FOREST REMEMBERS "The dead rarely chase us. We walk back to them." ════════════════════════════ Reality Strength :: 80% Memory Strength :: 20% Identity Strength :: Stable Known Witnesses :: • Daffodilkit • ShatteredCrown Unknown Presence :: 1 Current Objective :: Return to the war room. Threat Assessment :: Unknown. Status :: Pending. ... ═══════════════════════════════════════════════ a second fracture. A voice that did not belong to the room. Did not belong to speech. Did not belong to the present tense. “He doesn’t care about me.” Hornetvenom. Not here. Not present. Not visible. Vultureslaughter’s jaw tightened once. No response. Acknowledging it would give it structure. The map pulsed. Ink turning briefly into something resembling breath. “Maplestar requested no interference.” No one reacted. That was worse than denial. That meant acceptance had already happened. Vultureslaughter froze. Maplestar was not part of this space. And yet, she was now a fact inside it. Reality was no longer filtering correctly. It was importing things incorrectly. The war room began to feel less like a place, and more like a memory pretending to be one. Behind him, The kit shifted. Closer now. Daffodilkit. Alive in a way that made logic uncomfortable. “Are we done yet?” Vultureslaughter flinched. Barely. “You are not here.” Daffodilkit tilted her head. “I never liked waiting for permission.” The war room loosened at the edges. Shatteredcrown appeared. Not arriving. Just suddenly.. true. Standing where authority should have been. Watching him. Evaluating. “You’re slipping.” Vultureslaughter did not turn. “I am leading.” “You are remembering incorrectly.” The kit stepped closer. “Are we going to pretend you didn’t miss me?” Silence fractured further. “Leave.” Daffodilkit blinked. “You always say that when you run out of answers.” The map stopped being a map. It became something softer. Something alive. Something that used to run. Cedarear’s voice echoed faintly from nowhere. “You already chose.” Vultureslaughter’s breath sharpened. “Stop.” But nothing stopped. Because nothing had been real enough to obey him for several seconds now. The war room dissolved without disappearing. It simply stopped being agreed upon. And the forest arrived. Grass underpaw. Wet air. No walls. No orders. No structure. Only him. And the kit. Daffodilkit circled once. Not cautious. Not afraid. Curious. “You look different.” Vultureslaughter’s voice came slower now. “You are not real.” “That’s funny,” Daffodilkit replied softly. “You’re the one who thought of me first.” Silence. That landed too precisely. Because it was true in a way that didn’t require permission. Behind them, Shatteredcrown remained. Watching. Not correcting. Not saving. Just witnessing. Above— Hornetvenom’s voice lingered in distortion. And Maplestar’s name still existed where it should not. Vultureslaughter exhaled. Controlling becomes an effort. “This is not real.” Daffodilkit nodded. “No.” A pause. “But neither are you, if you stop remembering us.” Silence. And somewhere far behind the forest The war room still existed. But Vultureslaughter did not turn around. And that was the moment nothing could return to what it was. The forest answered with silence. Not the silence of peace. The silence that came before prey realized something was watching. Vultureslaughter remained still. His breathing steadied. One breath. Then another. Control returned. Good. He had faced worse than memories. "Daffodil." The kit looked up. "What?" He swallowed. "...Nothing." If he spoke to her… she became real. If she became real… this place won. So he walked. One paw. Then another. The forest accepted him without sound. No birds. No insects. No wind. Only pawsteps that seemed to arrive a heartbeat after he placed them. Daffodilkit trotted behind him. Not because she had been invited. Because she had always followed him. Just like that day. Neither spoke. The trees grew older. Thicker. Roots twisted across the earth like old scars. Then another set of pawprints appeared in the mud. Tiny. Fresh. Vulturekit's. Vultureslaughter stopped. They hadn't been there a heartbeat ago. Daffodilkit walked straight past him. She wasn't looking at the older tom anymore. She was looking ahead. "I remember this." "No." His answer came too quickly. "No, you don't." "I do." She smiled sadly. "You made sure I never forgot." The undergrowth shifted. Not from wind. From memory. A pair of young cats burst through the ferns. Laughing. Panting. One dark-furred kit. One tiny kit struggling to keep up. "Slow down!" Daffodilkit squeaked. Vulturekit looked back over his shoulder, grinning. "You wanted to come!" "I didn't know we'd run this much!" "You'll be fine!" "I think my legs are gonna fall off!" He laughed. Actually laughed. Cont in N + C