A PALE ONE WILL RISE

PART I: A PALE ONE WILL FALL

The rain poured down, and it poured down hard. Thunder accompanied, crackling against the nightmarishly darkened sky. A sky that was once filled with the shouts and cries of warriors, allies and enemies alike not long ago. The battle was a long and brutal one. But one side was hit with the hardest losses and, unfortunately, lost all together.

Among those lost to the bloodshed, a subtle jerk could be perceived. And not long after, the motions became more apparent. It took a short while, but whatever still drew breath among the dead successfully removed a lost comrade from it's back, forcing itself up with it's two paws. It's ears were the first to show; white as the snow that refused to fall this cold season. And this color dominated the entirety of the rising warrior's fur. It's hand extended down towards a red, pointed hat. It's green shaw billowed every now and then in the gusts of wind that occasionally came to meet it. The cat was now fully on it's feet, but stumbled nonetheless, nearly collapsing back to the ground before it caught itself and felt the return of a burning pain. The warrior instinctively pressed a paw against it's right side and brought it up to it's face.

Blood.

Blood in the Age of Blood.

Reality finally caught up to it, as it was all in the red liquid that had stained it's fur. Blood. Blood everywhere. And not just it's ownblood. Not even close to just it's own blood. The warrior cat's comrades were all dead. The battered and beaten cat inhaled a sharp breath, the frigid air sending her already exhausted body into a deep shiver. Turning itself around in a panoramic fashion, it recollected itself, observing the horrid aftermath reluctantly. And then it finally caught note of the colossal tower. It overshadowed her small form in comparison, taunting her.

Oh how could they have missed it?

The cat gritted it's chattering teeth as the full recollection of it's mind returned...

They were beating them back. For every mile they fought, it seemed the Fire Priests and undead Skelie warriors dwindled more and more in their numbers. And as they approached the towering structure known as the Demontower to finally end this god-forsaken war, it was too late to realize their mistake. The devious plot of feigning their progress had been deployed upon them. Successfully. The reduction of the evil and undead was a purposeful and manufactured effort. And the ploy had worked indeed, leading the white cat and it's fellow soldiers straight into an ambush of astronomical proportions. Right between them and the dark, ominous tower ahead of them, stood rows and rows of both the undead and magical. Some additional groups came in from behind and from the sides too.

They were surrounded. But they couldn't retreat, even if they wanted to. They had to fight. And so they did. And so they lost. After all of the white cat's allies were incapacitated, the undead army did a full sweep of the battlefield and slaughtered anyone who was still on the ground breathing. The white cat struggled desperately to do something, anything, but ultimately, couldn't. It could only just barely lift it's cranium and watch. The cat forced itself to watch. It would make sure that it's failure to lead was met with a beyond terrifying visual reminder. A visual reminder that in the enormous shadow of the Demontower.

It wasn't very long before a skeletal soldier eventually made it's approach to the fallen cat's position. It heard the menacing chuckle it gave out. In the corner of the fallen warrior's eyes, it caught glimpse of the blade the offending Skellie soldier raised up into the air, threatening to fall and end the cat's life. However, seconds passed and nothing came. The air seemed to stiffen, and the atmosphere around it changed drastically. It was a horrid feeling that made it's fur stand on end. A feeling deeper than impending doom. The cat could only wait in dreadful anticipation as the Skellie warrior re-sheathed it's sword and backed off as another figure approached from far behind. The overwhelming feeling of dread began to multiply inside the white cat's heart, and no matter how hard it tried, the feeling couldn't be shaken away. Before too long, the figure was but a mere few feet away.

At first, the white cat could only see the lower half of this being, too weak to lift her head again. But the being kneeled and gripped the cat's chin, roughly pulling it up to have their eyes meet. And it was then that it was met eye to eye with it's arch enemy.

The Blood Thief.

The ironically pure white coat of fur on it's face glistened in the illumination of the flashes of lightning that accompanied the night. The fallen cat hated the resemblance it had to this ruthless beast of a cat. It absolutely hated it. The yellow, sharp-edged slits that were his eyes store daggers back into the eyes of his fallen enemy. But the words spoken from his mouth were deceivingly soft.

"It is over. You are no more, Palecat."

The fallen cat now known as Palecat simply closed her eyes. She could do no more. She had failed. But as she bravely awaited her fate at the edge of the Blood Thief's sword, like the Skellie warrior before, it never came. Palecat open her eyes to find the Blood Thief turning away, ordering his army to follow. The necromancer, without looking back, finished by saying, " You shall lay here alone, just like before. But this time, you shall also die here alone."

And with that, the Blood Thief and his posse grew farther and farther away towards the Demontower. The Palecat's consciousness slipped in and out of focus until she eventually succumbed to the darkness...

The Palecat came back to the present time as she spotted her signature blade not far away. She approached it, weakly crouching down to retrieve it, hissing silently at the burning sensation of her side wound as she did. But just as she began to sheath her sword-

"Palecat! Palecat!"

The shout sent her adrenaline pumping and despite her injuries, spun around fast enough to take out her sword once more and point it defensively in the direction of the sudden voice. However, her intensive actions were soon put to rest, and for the first time in what felt to be ages to her, gave out a legitimate sigh of relief. Palecat lowered her sword and immediately started limping towards the silhouette that, in return, began running in her direction.

Her gritted teeth eased as a legitimate smile stretched across her face, uttering one word from her mouth with labored breath.

"Elijah."