Random Short Stories

Hunger Of The Golden Rose [🪽]

(TW: Contains heavy gore, cannibalism and the brutality of the Golden Rose Cult)
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The sound of snarls tore through the air like lightning crashing through the clouds as the scent of metallic blood and tension hung so thick in the stale air you could almost taste it.

A deep tawny-amber, almost gold and white furred tom stood tall, his burly form bristling as his narrow green eyes seemed to spew daggers into the one he had declared to have wronged him. A hollow bone amulet hung from his neck, rusted and glinting ominously.

His challenger, on the other hand, showed nary a sign of aggression. Her amber eyes remained half closed, her sleek brown and white fur settled and calm as she carefully examined her talon-like claws, the golden cuffs she wore a symbol of her rank.

"Urchin," she spoke, her voice a cool drawl. "What gives you the right to accuse me of using you all for my own gain and disposing of you when I'm bored? Do you really think I'd do something simply so heinous?"

"You are the living embodiment of everything evil!" Spat the Scoto in response, his fur bristling and his eyes narrowed into a maddened, narrow glare as his claws scraped against the stone floor.

"And what proof do you have to back up this claim?" Eagle replied, her voice a soft, soothing melody that could entrance any cat into listening to her. "Surely you have proof if you want to come at me with these atrocious claims."

"Proof?!" he spat out, his voice a snarl that echoed through the clearing. The Cult cats turned, their pelts bristling with the electric tension.

"You make us cannon fodder! You push us into the jaws of death while you sit safe atop your throne! It's only a matter of time before we're all 'expendable' to your twisted goal of power!"

A gentle breeze stirred around them, ruffling Eagle's fur as she unfurled her wings, creating a barrier of wild serenity. "You speak of power as if it makes a leader. No warrior is disposable, Urchin. Not on my watch."

"Not on your watch!" Urchin repeated mockingly, his fur bristling. "And how many warriors have we lost already? How many lives have been sacrificed on your whims? Are we nothing more than pawns in your grand chess game?"

Eagle's patience began to fray marginally, yet she maintained her composure. "They fought to protect our home. Every cat who has fallen has chosen valour over cowardice. Each was given the chance to retreat. It is not my paw that forced them forward."

"Chance?" Urchin snarled, nostrils flaring. "You call it a chance while you parse out pieces of our tribe as if they were merely threads in your tapestry? No! You've littered your path with the fallen!"

He continued to pace, adding, "If you're so concerned about the Golden Rose Cult, why haven't you put forth the effort to present a better strategy? Or do you want us to die? Could it be that you're moving toward a goal of your own—the crown on your head?"

At this, Eagle's eyes narrowed slightly, though her voice remained like the calm before the storm. "And do you suppose you would do better? No warrior knows their strength until tested, but to accuse me of treachery is a foolish distraction born of fear."

"Fear?" Urchin laughed bitterly, spinning on his paws. "Fear of what? You? Your pitiful attempts to control us will never hold! I'm not afraid of you! I'm afraid of the day I have to stand in front of a tribe full of your brainwashed followers who've lost their own sense of valour!"

"Brainwashed?" Eagle echoed, brow furrowing like thunderclouds. "Tell me, Urchin. Have you ever seen a cat rush towards battle, chained only by the power of a leader's will? Or perhaps you just imagine them all helplessly following an illusion? You are being simply ridiculous."