Random Short Stories

Empty Throne [🦋]

In the heart of Embertide Forest, the sun cast dappled shadows across the gathering area of TorchClan, where whispers of rustling leaves and distant birdcalls mingled with feline chatter.

This was home to Stagpaw, the only son of Corvidstar, the fierce leader of TorchClan. Stagpaw was looked upon with a mixture of awe and disdain, a product of his privileged upbringing and his father's thunderous reputation.

Yet behind the striking pelt and sharp claws, there lay a young tom whose arrogance had become a slowly entwining vine that choked the life from his relationships.

Since his early days in the nursery, Stagpaw had been told his lineage made him special. the world had been laid out before him, a banquet of privilege and attention that would spoil even the most humble of hearts.

But Stagpaw's heart was anything but humble.

As he began his apprenticeship, he quickly learned to wield his father's name like a weapon, using it to bend the wills of his fellow apprentices.

"Do as I say, or I'll have my father speak to you," he would croon, his voice silkily laced with menace. The way his companions recoiled only fueled his arrogance. It became a vicious cycle: Cruelty bred submission, and submission fed his growing entitlement.

All his fellow apprentices would flinch, recalling tales of Corvidstar's wrath. The TorchClan leader was protective of his son, and punishments bestowed upon cats who 'hurt' Stagpaw were usually a sharp swing to the face with claws unsheathed.

At first, some apprentices complied, albeit begrudgingly, scared of the consequences. They'd fetch him moss for his nest or help him hunt, wary of inciting the ire of the young prince. As the moons waxed and waned, Stagpaw's arrogance grew more and more pronounced.

His threats became less of a joking matter and more a creed he lived by. As the other apprentices exchanged nervous glances, the friendships Stagpaw once had withered, and one by one, they stopped coming to him.

After all, they feared the day they'd be next; they feared the day they put a paw out of line, Stagpaw would call his father and they too would bear the scars of their leader and its trauma for moons to come.

And yet, his arrogance persisted; he thought he was SpiritClan's gift to TorchClan, he was above all. An example was when one of his fellow apprentices, Larkpaw, asked him if he could join a hunting patrol that was to go near the stagnant swamp.

"Just do it, Stagpaw," urged Larkpaw, a gentle, hopeful apprentice, once looking at him with wide, trusting eyes. "We all want to hunt together, like we used to."

Stagpaw's reaction was swift; he laughed cruelly and tossed his tail dismissively. "You think I need you to tell me what to do? I'll be a leader one day. You should be grateful I even let you sit near me."

As seasons passed and the young cats blossomed into maturity, Stagpaw's ego grew like an unchecked weed as he became Stagtalon, twisting and gnashing at the delicate roots of camaraderie.

He became infamous, the embodiment of entitlement in a clan that valued unity and strength. His pathetic attempts to maintain a circle of friends only led to an entourage of strained loyalty and whispered resentments.

Soon, even the whispers faded, leaving echoes of his own arrogance ringing in his ears.

They're just afraid of me, he told himself, strutting through the training grounds like a peacock, mouth curling into a smug grin. They'll come to me worshipping me when I rule TorchClan one day. Just wait.

When he demonstrated new skills, even the clumsy technique and stray claws meant to intimidate became part of his bravado.

There was a discomfort in the air whenever he prowled, a tension thick enough to suffocate, but he misinterpreted it as admiration.