The death of the tyrant, Hawk Belly, brought a long period of peace to bless the lands. The tribes began mending their relations with one another, exchanging gifts and good faith. The Blossom tree had recovered to its former glory, it’s petals a brilliant spectacle among the lands. In order to further solidify their newly forged relations, the tribe leaders came together and formulated an event to celebrate this joyous occasion. The Blossom Festival would welcome all four tribes to the islands, cats both young and old. There they would feast in celebration, trade crafts, hold games and competitions, and dance beneath the glittering stars. They agreed that they would attend this festival during the next full moon. It would be a monument to the new era.
As days passed awaiting the Blossom Festival, strange occurrences began taking place in the Land of Echoes. Cats from all tribes would go missing, vanishing into the wind as if they never existed at all. There would be no trace of them, no scent trail to follow. One of these cats included the Tribe of Howling Breeze’s new overseer, Ebony Mist, who had previously led the rebels to overthrow Hawk Belly. After she had gone, her eldest son, Eagle Heart, was left to fill in her paw steps. He ascended to the position of Overseer, tending to the remains of his shattered tribe.
Although the lack of confrontations and war suggested a blanket of peace over the lands, a scar was still left in it’s wake. Cats were still recovering from the war that was casted by the former tyrant, and the vanishing of tribe members was beginning to root an air of uneasiness. Uncertainty was planted, and cats began to question the will of the Celestials and their gifts of elemental power. And who could blame them? The lands have been ravaged by constant war and the wrath of element against element. Cats began losing faith, believing that the Celestials only seeked to breed more chaos over the tribes.
The Blossom Festival soon arrived as scheduled and all of the tribes gathered on the island to celebrate. The overseers divided different activities to host between themselves and soon, the crowd dispersed and attended the festivities. In the hunting competition hosted by Cherry Snow and Eagle Heart, a team rang victorious as the greatest hunters of the land: Sun Glade from the Tribe of Howling Breeze, and Snow Foot from the Tribe of Reflecting Ripples. On the other side of the island, Honey Freckle was instructing a pottery session among those curious enough to learn. And around the Great Blossom itself, Strike Call led a dance and displayed a grand spread of food for everyone to share.
During this festival period, everyone communed with one another and shared prey as if they were all from the same tribe. The Celestials seemed pleased with this outcome and blessed the cats with the first snow of the season. Small snowflakes fluttered gracefully down from the heavens, dusting the ground with a beautiful layer of white.
Then suddenly, everything seemed to slow to a stand-still. The snowflakes ceased their descent towards the earth and became suspended in the air. The commotion of laughter and conversation converging together died into sudden silence. Even the breeze no longer made an appearance. The world froze in time around the cats, but they seemed to be aware all the while. However, they found that they wouldn’t be able to move. Then, the blue skies began souring into a sickly crimson hue and the clouds above turned dark. The snow began falling once more, and was no longer made of ice, but of drops of blood. The blossoms of the tree began fluttering down from the branches one by one.
Then a hollow voice would ring out, reaching the ears of everyone in the clearing. It heeded them with an eerier warning, if it could even be considered as such:
“Like a dying blossom, faith will wild and wither. Even stars can fade away.”
Then as if nothing had gone amok at all, the present scene returned. The red skies and blood snow vanished, returning to as it was. Time began to pass once more and everyone could move again, but were bewildered by what they had seen. Then, as if to mock the confused crowd, a single blossom would float down from the tree. It would land on the top of a kit’s head, Tide from the Tribe of Whispering Cinders. It’s edges were already tarnished and wilting. An air of uneasiness broke out over the crowd as the cats attempted to piece together what they had just seen. After a small discussion, the shamans from each tribe agreed to meet during the next half-moon summoning to attempt to commune with the Celestials and discover their intentions. The festival dissolved quickly after, the mood turned dark as the tribes headed home.