"Shadow and Remnant" - Zelda Universe Forums (2024)

Greetings, one and all.
I shall post, chapter by chapter, my first completed Zelda fiction, Shadow and Remnant.

For the completed work on FF.net, I will provide a link: Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4525378/1/S ... nd_Remnant
Please feel free to leave reviews there as well!

For this thread, I shall commence from the beginning....

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Shadow and Remnant -

By: Justin C.

Prologue

In the Land of Hyrule, there is war.

Twilit shadow cascades across the northern lands upon steeds of darkness.

Once thought only to be mere shadows against the Light, the mounted figures lower their lances in the evening’s mist. Ornate armour shields their milk white bodies, shrouded underneath dark cloaks. Vivid cyan glyphs trace the contours of both flesh and iron. Their eyes, beneath uniform, helms burn brightly against the night’s canopy.

The Innocent watched in bleak terror as the thunderous sides of war drew ever nigh upon one another.

They are the night: Black hooves dash against cold Hyrulean earth, carrying the weight of both steed and shelled rider. Lance and spear and axe and blade are gripped tightly under enchanted gauntlets.

Indeed, they are the night.

Twilit Knights of the Realm, pure and free, ride against the black foe now unfamiliar. Nearly half a mile away, the offensive brood charged. Dark-swirled muscle beneath cursed black flesh, their fingers long and powerful. Tendrils, from behind cold stone masks lash about like the whips of slavers.

Only, these creatures that carried the crimson symbols of the dead Usurper King were not the drivers, but the ones in bondage.

Cursed, feral, and snarling. The Twilit Knights knew well of their foes, and for each beast that was slain, the deeper the wounds of heartbreak snaked. Their growls and screams lay etched in the minds of the brave few Knights who dared challenge the Darkness.

There were fewer of them now than before, the Knights came to realize. To heed the call of their forsaken Queen, they rode to these pure lands. Still, the screams of the many, so blinded by Darkness drew near.

A young man of Twilight, clad in the most ornate of armours, baring a helm that was graced with the black plume of a great flying beast and boasting both vivid red eyes and broad trim beard, rode before his company. A blackened cape lapped in the passing winds from his broad plated shoulders. The mark of the Twili race emblazoned a pure white squarely at its center.

The Captain of the Twilit company bore no shield, nor spear, but a single short blade crafted from the depths of his people’s will alone. Out of the thin evening air, the blade's curvature came into focus and solidified. The Captain’s grip was strong as he pointed his short sword’s razor tip toward the approaching legions of his former brothers.

Brothers they were no more. Cries of anger, terror, bloodlust, and hatred emerged from opposing ranks of Twili and Beast alike.

Finally, they became one: a cacophony of steel, claw and shadow.

So many masked beasts rose against the mounted surge. Blades fell and the creatures dissolved, but many more took their respective places. The Twili and their mounts cut a simple swath through the disjointed lines of howling Messengers. For the entire day of every day in the long week, the charges began as such. The Captain broke the mask of his seventh Beast in the charge when his anticipation of his earlier prediction came to being:

The mighty shaft of a long spear flew from the hoard of cursed ones. The blackened steel tip passed through the officer’s decorative plume and found concussive residence within the plated chest of the Knight at his immediate flank. The unfortunate soldier gasped for his last breath and passed away before his body met the littered ground.

There is was, a creature standing eleven feet tall, rippled with muscle and agony. It stomped closer toward the center of the Twilit charge. More importantly, stomping toward him, the Captain. The cursed Chieftain itself was controlled by the same Darkness that was awash within the former comrades that were being cut down all around him.

The cycle had repeated once more.

To each skirmish, there was a Dark Lord that controls the fate of all within its ranks. Removing any leader of any side would result in a breakdown of morale and eventually the battle itself. Inevitably, both the Captain and his opposing Lord Chieftain drew the same conclusion. The Captain reared his steed and shouted in a language unknown to the Innocents watching from afar.

At once, the entire Twilit company rallied to their officer and made war against the single Chieftain. Ignoring all other foes, the Twilit Knights lashed and speared at the opposing Lord, despite the drastic efforts of the feral beasts about them. The Lords varied in size and in strength, however, their fates wrought the same results: victory.

Such was the victory at the northern edge of Hyrule’s ravaged lands. The cursed Lord reared its ugly dark head in a last violent throe of life. Each spear wound and each embedded axe head shortened those unrestrained synapses.

Finally, the beast collapsed and was silent.

The battle plains were silent with the dead. The Messenger foe, once large and threatening, gave a final harmonic scream before they themselves fell. Their reigns were broken, each beast dissolved along with their field master. There were no shout of rapturous victory, nor were there smiles that dared impress. The Captain took a sweeping glance at the remnants of his company. Rest well, brothers. You have earned your keep in the halls of our ancestors.

The mist cleared as the winds blew strong once more. The cold air nibbled at the Captain’s face as he removed his helm. With a strong gauntleted hand, he wiped clear the sweat within the chin's thickness of stubble and whisker.

* * *

The mist cleared to reveal emerging stone. Soon, there were more and more that rose. Large slabs of stone, carved and arranged in such a peculiar fashion that none understood their purpose.

Amazing. Astounding. These were the queries that passed among the tattered few who remained on the field.

At last, the stone slabs were ceased from the ground which they emerged. From disturbed Hyrulean earth those structures rose to form a pattern seen only from the sky. A wide clearing resided within the perimeter that the stones created. The Captain and his flabbergasted few approached silently and slowly their prize, if a prize indeed it was. None risked a touch, but all risked their stares. Such a mysterious formation, yet no purpose arose as to the existence of such a structure.

The Captain, his entire company eagerly awaiting his words, said nothing but bravely placed an open palm upon the naked surface of the nearest stone. From the point where his hand made contact, sharp blue lines emerged. Twisting and turning, forming curious, brightly lit mazes and patterns, the lines halted not until the last snakes of blue light returned to the point of origin.

A resonation was felt from the glyphs that formed. For as magical as the event itself, there was no other that followed. The stone perimeter simply sat and pulsated with its newfound light. Of the many strange and unfortunate events to pass through our lost lands, these stones who refuse to yield their purpose are among the cruelest.

There was a noise. A rustling noise that caught the ears of those Twili that no longer possessed any. All in the mounted Twili unit turned and lowered their arms in preparation.

Ilia had to keep Telma silent, but ever since the change, she had developed a restless nature that coincided with her usual stout assertiveness. In the short time that the young maid from Ordona had known the Hylian tavern owner, she had never witnessed such impulsiveness. This curse, this vaunted magic was foul business, though Telma’s shape was foreign, her inner self remained. Or what could be seen as her inner self.

Throughout the entire battle, both women watched in immobile silence. Even when the last Beast fell, Telma was calm. Then, those mysterious stones rose from the ground and Ilia’s cursed comrade became restless. The bearded victor, that Ilia regarded as the company commander, took the initiative to approach the mystery.

Telma’s cursed eyes bulged further from their pink sockets as the bearded one placed his hand upon the nearest stone. “Ignorant Interlopers!” hissed Telma as she attempted to claw her way out of the shrubs they used as cover. It took nearly all of her strength to withhold the poor creature, lest the victorious riders mistook her for another foe.

The pain of guilt should any harm befall Telma would be too great for such a kind heart to bear. Alas, her grip failed her and Telma was loose to stumble forward into the clear. Ilia gasped in terror as the deformed bar lady made her way across the open toward the glowing stones.

* * *

The Captain could not believe his own scarlet eyes. The figure that stumbled from the bushes took his entire company aback. It was large, pink and angry looking. Yet, for all of its demeanor, the short dwarfish creature bared no threatening representations. Large brown eyes, those that appeared several sizes too wide for the pink sockets glared only at him. Its pointed ears were decorated with fine golden loops that hung freely in the breeze. Round pink hips suggested a feminine build, large lips and a slight waddle confirmed the suggestion.

It spoke, saying, “Have you no idea what this place means. O Captain of the Twilight?”

Another voice shouted after her, “Telma, wait!” Captain sought the voice’s origin. A human female?

This one who caught up with the pink dwarf was a fragile one indeed. Short golden hair was tied back to make way for the brilliant green eyes that accommodated the petit thin visage.

“What do you think you’re doing, provoking them like that? You could be killed!” A strong head held such motherly words. Humans and their emotions. The Captain simply stared in confusion.

“O Captain of Twilight,” began the pink one. “I offer to you, information most valuable to your cause, should thou choose to heed my call.”

To humans, it was gibberish. To the Twili, it was their native tongue. How could this one speak so fluently, though she clearly does not belong to us? The human female at her side did not appear to understand. Instead, she chose to plead with the Captain, “Please, sir. My friend is not well. She has been transformed and I do not know how to help her. Her name is Telma.”

Hylian, a simple language. Captain decided to acquiesce, “She has been cursed.” The human fell silent, “It is likely that this form is born from the evil that my company seeks to destroy.”

“Can you help her?” asked the female pleadingly.

Those eyes somehow tore a hole in the Captain’s own emotional defences. A heart hardened by combat somehow shattered at the will of a civilian, or by the looks of her simple dress, peasant woman.

Before he could answer, the Captain was derailed by the pink one, “We have no time for idle chatter, come o Captain, there is much to be said.”

* * *

The Captain appeared to have considered it as he dismounted his dark steed. Those creatures upon which the victors rode were unlike any that Ilia had seen before. They were dark, featureless. There was no beauty that Ilia could see like she saw in a horse. She thought of Epona, the mare from Ordona. Thoughts of the beautiful horse eventually melted into thoughts of Link, Epona’s rider.

Thoughts of Link transpired into the thoughts of her mission. By the time Ilia shook those thoughts away for the sake of the moment, she realized that Telma had disappeared into the lines of Dark victors. The Captain, as it seemed had taken the Castle Towner in a private audience, to treat in a language that Telma had never spoken before. That is, one that she had never chosen to speak before.

Strange tidings and stranger results. She had much to learn of these victors and the significance of this mysterious structure.

Ilia wondered at the possible outcomes of her mission. Were they even worth the possible results?

Quote from shadow226

All I can say is... wow. this story is amazing! So well written! I cant find any faults, just cant wait for the next bit to be posted!

Thanks for the comment!
The new chapter shall be posted....

Now:
----------------------------------------------
Chapter One: Sleepy Ordon

---

“You don’t need to worry about me any longer. Whenever you return, I will waiting for you.”

- The Maiden to her Hero.

---

One week earlier…

Thirteen years. It had been thirteen long and painful years since Link’s departure. Sleepy Ordon Village had never been the same since. What was once the joy and peace that Link’s presence brought to the kind-natured people had diminished. There existed only paranoia and lament in our Hero’s absence. The young one though, shows promise. With each harvest reaped with his strong arms and each goat herded by his uncanny skill with the horse, peace had perhaps returned after all.

Lady Ilia of Ordonna sat silently upon the porch of her long-dead father’s hut. It was an old and sturdy house built near the precious goat ranch. The sun had risen over the rolling hills and the thick forests that crowned them.

Her skin was fair still. Twenty nine was a very young age to run a village, but as Ordonna’s first and foremost female representative, there was no greater example of both beauty and leadership. Although, Ilia did not feel beautiful. She has not felt beautiful for more than thirteen years when her Hero left them, her, behind to pursue some wild dream. For as vivid as her bright green eyes became when hosting a debate, or for as lustily as the wind blew through her golden locks, so did she feel a deep sorrow.

Ilia was married now and had been for nigh on a decade. The man of choice was a passing merchant and Aeadis was his name while fine linens were his trade. A dashing figure that stood much taller than anyone born and raised in Ordonna. Even clumsy Fado could not match the man in neither height nor strength. He fit well with the setting, mostly because it was she who caught his eye. Almost immediately, Aeadis was taken in by the community, desperate for another fine example of manhood. Even the silent and graceful warrior that was Rusl had taken well to him. It was no surprise how quickly Ilia herself fell for Aeadis and his deep brown eyes. She loved the way the wind threw back his long brown hair. His full smile reminded her of the one she used to love and that made her smile during the day while forcing tears from her eyes for every night they spent together.

It was a quick wedding, but Ilia was surprised at how much she actually enjoyed it. Two children were born in the House of the Mayor: the firstborn, a male. The second nearly twenty seconds later, a female. Twins. Ilia and Aeadis bore a pair of happy healthy, beautiful baby twins. The male was christened Hector while the female was named Gira. At long last, Ilia’s family was complete even though her inner being felt fractured.

The infants had grown into toddlers, walking and babbling their first words and getting into all kinds of mischief. The seed of Ordonna grew both wild and lovely as the children did. As the sun rose, Ilia found herself to be the only one fully roused and warm in the summer air. Fado had lazily passed by with the task of, once more, attempting to herd the rascal goats. Ilia bade him good morning and just as lazily, he was off. A hand found her shoulder, which startled Ilia at first, but the feeling was familiar.

Aeadis joined his wife on the porch steps. “Up early again?” he asked.

Ilia simply tilted her head to rest upon her husband’s strong shoulder, “The mind rises early, but the corpse does not.” Aeadis chuckled as he presented a cup filled with the sweet aroma of herbal tea. She welcomed the gift and the two sat silently sipping. After ten years of crying, the morning tea with a man just crazy about you seems to make it all worthwhile. For the first time that morning, she was able to smile at the memories.

Still, she wondered about Link. The last time she saw him was when he was riding away, not even glancing back to see her pleading eyes. He had not spoken much since the attack. She recalled the endless depth of his bravery and how valiantly he placed himself in harm’s way to ensure her safety.

She puzzled. For thirteen years, she puzzled the reasons why he would look on her with such admiration only to part when peace had finally settled. He was a selfish man! Ilia concluded this with a frown that replaced the original warmth of her previous smile.

Aeadis pretended not to notice. For nigh on a decade, he pretended not to notice Ilia's momentary distractions around him. She sometimes found herself dreaming in the middle of a debate that she herself had organized. Most crucial was after they made love, when she would cry as if her enjoyment had suddenly vanished. The silent weeping ate away at his soul. At first he tried to talk, but all he received was a hurried explanation of mixed emotions and an equally unexplained past. But now he knew. He worried and so tried to make her life as mayor as relaxing as possible by working hard and earning his place among the men while being respectful and courteous to the women.

Since Mayor Bo’s passing, the people called for Rusl to take the helm. A job in which he was not inclined to acquiesce. Instead, Aeadis stood behind Ilia and pushed for her nomination. Before long, it was his lovely new wife that took the reigns and Aeadis that made sure all performed well for her.

And she was an effective woman: industrious, firm, and fair. The people loved her, but it was Aeadis hat truly adored her. For nigh on a decade, Ilia was everything her father was and more, she was a wonderful mother to their children. With that, Young Aeadis was able to smile, despite his wife’s distance. He knew the reason after the past few years. The people spoke and they revealed all once they could fully trust him. What they unearthed was a past that Ilia appeared unable to deter.

As the sun crept upward, Aeadis finally spoke, “What was his name?”

She looked at him, asking, “Excuse me?”

“What was the name of your old lover? Link was it?” It hurt Aeadis to give such a tag to someone she still loved because he so loved her.

Ilia shook her head, “Lover? Hardly. He never did much as smiled at me, let alone become a lover.”

“Yet, he has been affecting you all these years. You still love him?”

“I love you, Aeadis. I would not have married you and started a family otherwise.”

“Please, dear. Do you still love him?”

Ilia sighed, “Yes,” and Aeadis’ heart sank.

He tried to remain composed when he asked, “Why do you still love him when he took off without any warning?”

“I love him because I knew him best, yet I knew nothing. It was the mystery behind those eyes and those silly pointed ears.” Aeadis understood and began to sew together his heart. However, the ‘pointed ears’ caught his attention.

He asked for clarification, “Pointed ears?”

“Yes,” she smiled at him in such a way that his heart melted back together.

“Pointed ears.” he repeated. “Was he a Hylian then?” Ilia had seen Hylians before in central Hyrule. Everyone there had pointed ears, so it only made sense that somehow he wound up in Ordonna from there. Aeadis pondered, “Do you know anything about his past?”

“He never spoke of it because we were so young when he first came into our lives. I barely remember the day. It was an early morning and there was a knock on the door.”

“This door?” asked Aeadis, regarding the old wooden frame and old brass hinges.

“Yes," replied Ilia. "My mother answered. She was pregnant with my little brother at the time and father Bo was out hunting.”

“I never knew you had a brother,” said Aeadis, surprised.

Sorrow crossed Ilia’s eyes, “She was young when he arrived. But there were complications and we ended up losing-” Ilia could not continue for the hurt in her throat. Even after twenty-five years, her mother’s death still cut deep within her.

“I’m sorry.” said Aeadis, regret boiling within him.

“It’s ok, hun,” replied she. “Anyway,” Ilia continued her original story, “I remember getting up to see this tall robed man holding a bundle that could only have been a small child in one arm while grasping a dripping sword in the other. I don’t remember any rain the night before.” Aeadis nodded slowly and Ilia pressed on, “The cloaked man appeared to be pleading with my mother, even dropping his sword to kneel before her. Reluctantly, she took the bundle and the man thanked her. As he walked away, my mother watched him curiously. He walked with a limp, trailing sword and blood behind him. I remember rushing back to bed scared. When I awoke, any blood that I saw on the ground before was wiped clean somehow, as if the swordsman never existed.” Aeadis placed an arm around his wife’s trembling shoulder as she said, “That was the first time I had ever seen human blood.”

“What about the child?” asked Aeadis.

To this, Ilia gazed into the distance, “When father returned, mother explained all that had happened. Always the big softy, my father accepted him, even if his ears were a tad sharp.” Ilia giggled for memory’s sake and Aeadis felt a smile crawl across his own visage. “The entire village was rounded that very day to decide the best method of how to deal with such a child. Questions were raised about the figure who brought him, but none had seen his face, save for the golden beard that protruded from the chin. ‘It was a handsome chin, much like the boy’s,’ my mother pointed to the committee.”

“So the best guess was that the cloaked man was Link’s father.”

“Yes," sais she. "After discussion, the elders accepted that story.”

“Who named him?”

“No one. He spoke his name quite well already.”

“And how did he feel about his new surroundings.”

“I remember playing with him. He never cried once in the time that I have ever known him. Always such a brave boy, even as an abandoned child.” Ilia rested her head upon her husband’s arm.

“Are you sure he was abandoned? Maybe a limping bloodied man had no choice,” cautioned Aeadis.

“You’re right,” reasoned Ilia. “He never came back and there was no news from the outside about a cloaked and wounded man. It was as if he vanished out of thin air.” The couple sat silently and listened to the songbirds sing a chorus with the whispering winds.

In the hut, the fires were burning and the morning meals were served. A drowsy Hector and a sleepy-eyed Gira sat upon their seats and stirred away at their honey-sweetened porridge. Their schooling began shortly thereafter with Uli from across the stream. This systemic had been maintained since the previous fall and the children loved Uli’s warm embrace. The tutoring would never last for more than an hour. With each passing lesson, the twins and their mentalities grew and Ilia noted the progress. On her regular duties, the twins were with her. Other times, it was father Aeadis that took charge and brought them about the village. On this particular morning, it was not only Uli who appeared, but her first born, Colin.

Ilia greeted them both with warm smiles. Colin’s blond hair had grown near his broad shoulders, but was kempt and tied neatly. The boy was now a man of twenty-two and still a bachelor, despite young Beth’s advances. Colin spent most of his time hunting and fishing and practising his swordplay with his aged father. Often, the peaceful Colin was at work with clumsy Fado, herding and managing the fickle goats. In the depths of Ilia’s mind, she saw Link’s influence on the young man: a swordsman, a rider, a farm hand, a kind soul. Perhaps the most indicative of these was how Colin cared for his sister, Uma. The thirteen year old girl was not nearly as quiet or reserved as her older brother, yet he cared to teach her the ways of the horse and the calming sport of fishing. In the chilling early spring, the two could be seen along the lake’s edge with their hand-crafted poles and brightly coloured bobbers. In many ways, the golden-haired Uma resembled the lost Link every bit as much as Colin did. At that, Ilia felt at ease about Ordonna’s future. “Morning, Lady Ilia,” began Colin with a shy smile upon his cleanly shaven features.

“Good morning to you to, master Colin,” Ilia was amused by such formalities. “Good morning to you, Uli. Please come in.”

The soft-hearted woman smiled and replied, “And good morning to you too, Ilia, how are the twins today?”

“Waiting eagerly for their lessons.”

The twins perked from their near-slumber, “Aunty Uli!” They both shouted in unison and began to stumble toward her. Uli bent low to scoop the toddlers in her embrace. Ilia and Colin watched as Uli led them near the fire with her bundle of lessons and songs.

Colin said, “I think she misses having children of her own now that Uma is independent and I am always away.” Ilia nodded, “I sing to them every night and play with them at any opportunity I get. Aeadis has them on other occasions.”

“You seem to be getting well with your family. I’m happy for you.” Colin shot Ilia a warm sentiment.

“Thank you, Colin. You’ve always been a good friend to me.” Colin’s blue eyes held hers for a moment before he blinked and said, “Well, it was nice to see you today, but I’ve got to take the horses to Fado. Uma is coming with me.”

“Are you not coming in? Even for a moment?”

“Sorry, Il. I’d love to but I’ve got work to do.”

“I understand,” she said absently. “Have a good day then, Master Colin.”

“You too, Lady Ilia.” The lady mayor of Ordonna watched as her childhood friend walked away to meet the lovely young Uma riding up to him on their stallion. It was Aeadis who gave the black steed to Colin’s family as a gift. The original parents that the wealthy merchant brought from his travels resided in Fado’s ranch. Over the years, Aeadis purchased another mating pair and it was not long before nearly every child in Ordon had his or her own pony to call his or her own. Aeadis was a giving man and Ilia loved him all the more for it. Still, for all of his love, she still wondered about Link and his role in the world.

Quote from Zeldafreak83

Amazing work. Just be sure you're proofreading to find spelling mistakes, but even those were minor. Keep up the great work, looking forward to the next chapter.

I shall keep those in mind, thank you!

And now:
----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Two: The Former Hero

-----

"You really are the chosen one, Link… A true hero!"

-The Twilight Princess to her Hero

-----

Link lay alone before the tattered ashes of the previous night’s fire. Soot clung to the brown cloak he was using as a blanket. As he roused from his slumber, both the smell and the sounds of morning teased his senses. Golden sun rays danced through the forest canopy and nearly blinded the former hero. The brightness made him stir. He remembered the brightness of the Mirror Chamber moments before it was sealed away forever. This memory both saddened and angered Link and he tightened his eyelids and turned away from the light. A hot moisture washed across his bearded face. Large smooth wet lips traced across Link’s cheeks when he finally roused and raised his hands to gently stroke the strong shout of his life-long equestrian friend. Epona aged well, but age was still present. Link recalled the past fifteen years when Epona was but a small pony whom had taken a liking to the long-eared Hylian. The noble mare was pushing her sixteenth year, but she pushed gracefully. Link’s blue eyes met those amber brown of Epona and the sight of her active master sent a jolt of contentment through her. Link stood to his full height and smoothed back the grease in his long golden hair before letting a tiresome yawn echo through the sleepy morning mist. Link removed the large heavy cloak and folded it promptly before storing it inside his traveller’s pack. His bare back tingled as the misty air kissed the naked flesh. He reached for the dew-covered boots and folded green tunic before trotting off toward the nearby creek.

Link studied the small pool of crystal-clear water gathered within his enclosed palms. His reflection stared blackly back at him before he splashed the refreshing liquid across his face. Silky beads rolled from his eyelids down his cheeks before getting lost in the yellow forest that was Link’s unshorn face. Others rolled down the tip of his nose and found a similar fate with the thick brush that was his upper lip.

Link had grown. Since the time he left sleepy Ordon on his quest, he had grown. Broader shoulders atop a taller frame and an overall increase of body mass in the form of muscle. Thirteen years, however, saw the only the progression of growth and no progression toward any answers was found. His quest was simple in principle: return to Twilight. This single vocation consumed his very soul. For thirteen years, the desire had not waned, but his goal remained at its initial distance: zero. Mostly, Link argued to his inner self, due to distraction. People everywhere are in need and Link could never help but to charge in and assail any problem that the hapless beings of Hyrule found to great to assail themselves. Being a hero was no easy occupation to walk away from. After thirteen years, Link knew the landscape better than the back of his own gauntleted hand. Thirteen years of a fruitless venture and Link was beginning to wonder as to why he sought the Twilight. He was sure that it was beyond trivial, but the notion seemed palpable still. By now, she must have forgotten about him. By now her reign as Queen was solid and her people contented. By now, she must have stifled any emotions that she shared for him, friend or otherwise. All Link knew is that he wanted, no; needed to return to Twilight and gaze upon her once more. Just this one last grace….

Link sat down by the creek’s edge and dipped his feet into the pool. The cool water washed away the grime and dirt while maintaining its original purity. The water in Hyrule was indeed blessed. Link thought of the Sacred Springs strewn across the provinces of the Kingdom. To each, Link had paid homage and requested audience with the Light Spirits. By each, he was rejected and they remained silent. The mighty Faron did not stir, nor did the angelic Eldin or graceful Ordonna spirits. Lanayru the serpent held its forked tongue when first prompted and held it further since. The guardians, as it seemed to Link, were responsive only in times of need. If that was the case, then Link wished dearly for another siege by the Twilight in order to cross over once more. It was such that his only remaining option lay in the counsel of the Hylian Queen.
Link recalled his last venture into the Daylight City that surrounded the castle. The old structure had lost its upper-most levels in the Twilight Invasion’s final stages, but repairs had been, for the most part, positive. There remained several more years, since his last visit, until the battlements were restored to their former splendour, and those years had come and gone. Link requested an audience with the Queen herself but was denied by the Steward of the Throne, as Queen Zelda was absent at the time of his arrival. When asked how long her absence would be, the Steward simply implied that it was none of his business, ranging from weeks to months, even unto the coming years.
It had been five years since that day and still, Zelda had not returned. The Steward still sat in his place before the throne and Hyrule’s peace had been complete ever since, the people blissfully unaware of their Queen’s extended leave.

The damage caused by the Twilight had washed away in the thirteen years worth of seasons. For that time, the legacy of the Hero of Light faded with the green on Link’s tunic. Ever since he restored the Blade of Evil’s Bane to its rightful place within Time’s Temple ruins, the green-clad former hero had fallen into disfavour with the Gods of Fate. Link felt used and forgotten. As if his courage was milked into the sacrificial pots of destiny only to be cast aside once the ritual was complete. This angered Link greatly when his request was simple: Grant me the blessing of her face once more. The goddesses were generous with their blessings when the Invasion was underway, but once the curtain of Twilight was lifted and Ganondorf slain, they did not see Link as fit to stand by the Queen of Twilight, to treat with her as he pleased. Yes, this indeed made Link very angry on that most beautiful and warm of summer mornings.

Defeated, he lay back and let his feet soak a moment longer. Sleep suddenly visited, though its feeling was not of the lax nature, but of an unnatural fervor. The world around him lost its colour and he suddenly stumbled to his feet. His heart beat and his lungs burned. A bright ring formed on the ground next to the edge of the creek and Link fell backwards into the water. The ring was wide and the forest around it burned. Epona was nowhere to be seen, but that did not matter as two figures materialized in front of his eyes. One was a man. A tall man garbed in brown fabrics, his head covered by a hood. Beneath the long sleeves glistened the sheen of chain mail. This man was either a soldier or a simple swordsman, there was no distinction. In his gauntleted fists grasped a long blade, crafted by the smithies of Hyrule. The Royal emblem was crested into the side of the sword’s hilt. Link instinctively reached for the Ordonian handle that should have been wrested to his back, but grasped at nothing. Silently, Link cursed as a crescent of falling pixels collected and the other form appeared.

On the opposing side of the ring was a figure in dark ornate armour. The shadow that wrapped itself around the taller figure was familiar to Link’s dried eyes. This man, were it a man, appeared unarmed, though well protected from within his glowing armour. The shell itself bore strange glowing symbols that snaked around the leg and arm pieces. Could it be… thought Link, is that a-
The swordsman of Hyrule took a step forward and readied his long blade. The black knight, glowing crimson eyes emanating from behind a black steel beaver, bellowed a loud foreign cry. A cry that was not so foreign to Link’s ears. With a twist of the wrist, the armoured being reached for the air behind him and grasped tightly. Black swirls of smoke appeared and a long curved blade formed in the knight’s metallic hand. The sword solidified and became sharp. Bright red glyphs, much like the cyan upon the man’s armour, etched itself within the magical length of the blade.

At that, the duel was begun. The human form ran first at the armoured form. Their blades clashed and sparks flew. Without warning, the armoured knight lashed forward with his leg and sent the human flying back towards the awestruck Link. The man’s hood fell and Link was shocked to see his own face. A large scar stretched from chin to grazing past the right eye. It was a hideous disfigurement, but the bright blue eyes and pointed ears told no lie. Even the golden beard resembled his own, but there was one feature that was different: the nose. Link looked closer and saw that his own nose was pointed, as opposed to the swordsman’s rounder nostrils. Was this even him? The armoured shadow approached and swung his blade up on high, poised to bring it down and end the man’s life.
Time slowed at that instant. As the shadow blade fell, the scarred man locked eyes with Link. The fallen man parted his lips and spoke in a grizzled raspy voice that was not Link’s own, “Son…”

Link awoke with a start and a mouth full of water. The sun was rising higher and the birds sung louder than before. Coughing and wheezing, Link felt a sudden force grab his tights and pull him out of the water. Whatever force that was, has strong teeth and Link let out a howl of pain. Full of rage, he leapt up to attack the feral beast that was foolish enough to cross him! Instead, he saw the bright brown eyes of Epona as she let go of his sopping wet tights. The fury drained from in as the dripping water left his clothing. Eventually, Link smiled and rubbed the nose of his faithful mare. “Thank you, Epona.” The worried horse released a gleeful whine and sat down at her master’s shaken side. “What a dream,” he said to her finally. Link laid back against Epona’s muscular hip and wondered whether or not that what he had experienced was even a dream. Even so, the warrior rose and adored his tunic, despite the dampened trousers. The day’s ride would see them dry eventually.

As they rode, Link’s mind rose, like the sun, into the skies. The wind took up his cap and caused it to flap obediently upwards. Upwards, thought Link as he galloped on, Upwards. The idea struck him as the sling-borne pumpkin seed strikes its target. Like such a target, Link nearly fell off his mount. He had spent thirteen years pleading with the powers of earthbound Hyrule, yet, never did he think to rise to the clouds. To the limitless sky where the bird people thrive, that may be the key! Link’s last endeavour to the floating City in the Sky was destructive and cast aflame by the breath of Argorok, the Twilit Dragon. Perhaps the Oocca were still as thankful as they had been when the dragon was first slain. Goddesses, if he had not been present at that time, the winged foe would still be dominating the skies that rightfully belonged the queer chicken folk. And Link knew from his travels that dragons lived far longer than any human or Oocca alike...or did they? Yes! Either way, they must welcome him with open arms - or wings - assuming of course, that his ancient method of transportation had gone unmolested for the past dozen years. Link prayed for no such reality as he made way toward Lake Hylia.

Chapter Three: Departure for Truth

-----
So I have come to learn the truth…

-The Old Knight to the New Hero
-----

Ilia awoke with a start. She could not remember the dream she just had, but knew that it was most terrible. In fact, Ilia found herself thanking the goddesses for sparing her the wretched details that gave her such a fright. The sun was yet to rise and Aeadis was sound asleep at her side. Though the desire to close her eyes dwelled along the surface of her intentions, a deep curiosity would not be satisfied. She rose and gathered her night gown before descending the stairs to her front door. Why did she possess the vocation to open it? Before she reached for the door handle, Ilia took a glance over her shoulder to check on the twins in their beds. Both were safe and sound within the realm of their innocent dreams. The door opened on its own and a cold gust of wind overtook her. Rain, like thousands of angered tears, fell upon the soft Ordonian earth. There, standing amid the frame of the old wooden door was the form of a small human, cloaked and wet. Cold eyes peered from sockets hidden behind a veil of long silver hair. A woman; an old woman, alone and quiet. Ilia stood in shock, for there was no rain when she awoke. Was this a dream as well? Do they exist? Dreams within dreams?” The old woman did not stir, but Ilia stepped forward, both curious and irritated by such inconvenience. As she stepped to greet the quiet woman, a bony finger rose from her wetted sleeve. A voice, one that matched the suffocating depth of her black eyes, rose from withered lips, “Child.” Ilia froze, staring agape at what she argued was either a vision or a demon. Then, she felt saddened by the old woman’s presence. Once again, she spoke, “Child of the Strong, heed my call.”
Ilia heeded, for it was all she could bare to do. The elder’s finger was frozen in her direction, accusingly. The old woman spoke again, “The sorrow you feel runs far deeper than you perceive. The Hero of Light is a hero no more, yet his destiny remains unfulfilled.”
Link, thought Ilia. “Yes,” responded the woman to Ilia’s feelings, “The one you know as Link seeks what he cannot find in these lands. In his travels, great perils await, though none may understand, for none seek to understand.”
“I want to understand,” said Ilia. “I want to know how and why he came and went. I want to understand who he is and why he is.” The woman lowered her accusing finger, much to Ilia’s relief. “The peril exists in many forms, Child of the Strong. His strength is great, but not unlimited. Your leadership is bold, but unchallenged.” Ilia could not agree with this statement. There have been many a trial and tribulation for the village, even for one so sleepy as Ordon. There was flood, drought, unrest, raiding parties of the thankfully disorganized Bokoblin camps. “Fire and storm await Hyrule, Child,” said the old woman, “your sanctuary is by no means immune to the evil that awaits.” Ilia struggled to understand what she was hearing as it was spoken, “Twilight descended and was removed by he who was blessed. However, in the lands beyond recognition, a new enemy is at play. Of the four directions, they rally and plot, though unwillingly.” Ilia shook her head, “Other nations, you mean? Beyond the mountain’s cradle?” The old woman simply nodded. “Who do you speak of?” asked Ilia, for it was her turn to speak, “Who is this new enemy to Hyrule?”
“She is of four. She is of Darkness and of Light. She governs the heavens, yet her eyes have fallen to govern the land. She is of four. AND SHE WILL HAVE ALL.” The voice was strong and Ilia was forced to grimace under the pressure. “Child of the Strong,” the old woman’s voice was soft and weak once more, “the true test of your own strength arrives as surely as the sun rises in the morning. However, to survive, you must seek the key of the past. Though this past is not your own.”
“Then whose is it?” asked Ilia. The rain stopped and the door was closed. Sunlight shone vividly through the window panes and the songbirds began their ballads. Ilia stood, vacantly watching the door, praying for an answer. “You alright?” Aeadis was atop the stairs holding his unshaven chin upon his fist, a look of both curiosity and wonder upon his confused face. Ilia was still erect and dumbstruck by her vision. Was it even a vision? The uniquely woven mat before the door and the wooden flooring around it was saturated with puddles of freshly fallen water.

Once again, breakfast was swift and tangible, though Ilia’s attention was elsewhere. Occupied, she absently stirred the floating honey wafers that floated about in rich goat’s milk. Aeadis had finished his bowl and was aiding little Gira break her wafers into her own bowl of milk. Hector stared at his mother with both curiosity and contempt at the fact that his father was occupied with the girl and his mother was busied herself not with him. Without little reason, the young lad flipped the bowl and spilled its contents across the table’s top and upon his mother’s lap. Aeadis mumbled a silent curse and rose with a towel to wipe the intruding puddle of milk. It was only when the liquid met the flesh beneath Ilia’s gown that she reacted. Hector, satisfied with his victory ignored his father’s reprimand until a sharp slap was received upon his tiny hand. Hector’s brown eyes welled with tears as he bit his lip. Little Gira, amused by the fuss that her parents were making by Hector’s actions, decided to cause trouble of her own. In less than five seconds after her brother’s initial manoeuvre, Gira repeated the action. Only this time, the wooden bowl was lifted uneasily into the air, its contents spilling at random, before being tossed across the table and skidding to ward the floor. As soon as Hector’s reprimand was delivered, Gira sensed her own pending judgement and it came mercilessly. The twins rubbed their swollen wrists as the adults cleared the table of their offspring’s throes for attention.
Aeadis cleared the plates as Ilia wiped the kitchen surfaces. He took a sidelong glance at his beautiful wife and wondered if Link was still a burden on her soul. Aeadis decided to begin a conversation as the children were being given their tutelage by Uli. “What possessed you to walk about at night?” Ilia halted her task and said, “I had a terrible dream that I cannot remember. So I awoke and could not find sleep again.”
“So you decided to walk about the house and not rouse me?”
“There was a knocking at the door.”
“At dawn?”
“Yes,” Ilia answered and Aeadis considered this, “Who was it?”
“Aeadis, I’m still not sure whether or not it happened. I didn’t even open the door.”
“Well,” said he, “that puddle of water at the threshold tells me otherwise.”
“I did not open the door, husband. She opened it from outside.” Aeadis halted his actions and stared at his wife, “A ‘she’ opened our locked door before dawn in a downpour?”
“Yes,” was Ilia’s response. She did not expect her husband to understand. His next comment came as no surprise, “I bet it was another bad dream, you know, those dreams within dreams. You were simply sleepwalking in response to those dreams.” Ilia felt hopeless, yet Aeadis’ explanation was a logical one. He then asked, “Did this woman speak to you? What did she look like?” Ilia told her husband all that had transpired. To all that, Aeadis replied, “If I was a reader of omens, I’d be spilling bricks and repenting my soul to the Goddesses.” Ilia laughed and said thoughtfully, “I was told not to seek my own past, but another.”
“Did she mean Link?” asked Aeadis. Ilia considered that as her husband reinforced his opinion, “It only makes sense that you would dream so vividly about discovering his past, because you don’t know it. All this ill-omen stuff perhaps magnifies the urgency of your desire for answers.” Ilia was astounded by the logic within Aeadis’ observations. He knew that she still loved the Hero, Link. At this, she felt sorry for her husband’s grief, but he was right about her curiosity. “I think I know someone who could help you.” Ilia’s ears perked, “How so?”
“It only seems logical to start with his origins and work your way around that. Am I right?”
“I guess so.” Ilia was not sure of Aeadis’ angle, but her own curiosity and desire for truth forced her to listen, “Your Link is a Hylian, right?”
“Yes.” Ilia thought fondly of those pointed ears. Aeadis continued, “The man you assume was his father carried a blade. Do you know what kind it was?”
“I’m no fan of swords or their use, husband.” said Ilia sternly. “It was just a sword with a silver and black handle.” Aeadis paused then asked, “Silver and black? Are you sure?” To which, Ilia said, “Yes. It was dark, but the lantern light illuminated the silver within the handle. It was the first thing that caught my eye before I noticed that he was not alone.” Aeadis smiled and gazed unto his wife’s beautifully perplexed visage, “There’s your first clue.” Ilia paused and bade her husband continue, “Only the Knights of Hyrule carry such a blade.” Ilia had to ask, “How do you know this?” To which, Aeadis replied, “I have a friend in Castle Town who spent a great deal of time around the castle per se. I’ve done business with him before and we’ve helped each other out in the past. It was through him that I met a woman named Telma.”
“You know Telma? The bar owner?”
“I assume you know her as well?”
“I owe many things to her.”
“In that case,” said Aeadis, “I owe her much as well.” Ilia smiled, “And how is that?” Aeadis’ face was flush and he could barely maintain eye contact, “Well, she spoke avidly of a beautiful maiden from Ordonna Province that was spirited to her town during the Dark Time. I could only assume that the maiden of unsurpassed beauty was you.” Aeadis drew one of the smirks that only a salesman could procure, but only a lover could maintain. “So, I travelled far from my market to try my luck in the quiet country side. Needless to say, I struck gold.” It cut deeply to pour his soul knowing that Ilia’s love was not completely his. Still, he loved her enough to help her unfurl the mystery behind her love that was never meant to be. Ilia’s eyes were bright. Maybe, thought Aeadis, she knew as well what he was trying to do. Pride could not enter into the equation. Never as a salesman and never as a husband. Ilia asked him of the name that his friend bore, to which Aeadis plainly said, “Auru. His name is Auru. He can tell you everything you want to know about…well, anything.”
“How can I reach him?” asked she, “Mail perhaps?” Aeadis laughed sarcastically, “Auru can never be reached beyond the length of your arm. You have to find him.” Ilia took a moment to process what her husband was suggesting. “Traveling?” she asked, “You intend for me to-”
“Not intend, my love,” Aeadis touched the sleeve of his wife’s gown, “I’m only suggesting that you take our steed, Estbar and perhaps take Colin and Uma with you as company.” Ilia was adamant, “I am not leaving my family!” Sorrow crossed his eyes, “If you dwell on Link for too long, dear, you will lose us anyway.” Ilia was shocked to hear such words from her husband, but was perhaps more disappointed in the truth they held. Deep down, she understood the need for her to learn or her lost love’s past, and perhaps forgive him for his flightiness. She felt a strong hand reach from her sleeve to her arm and a strong force pulling her inward. In the next moment, Ilia found herself in Aeadis’ arms, clasped within a tight embrace. Their lips were one and for a brief moment, all of her own desire flooded into his mouth in which he happily received the passion. So warm was her touch and so gentle was his embrace. Ilia thanked the goddesses truly - for the first time in a long time - that Aeadis was, indeed, hers.

Afternoon was well under way when the final preparations were met. Ilia would depart the next morning, at first sunrise. The mighty young horse Estbar would convey both the lady and her supplies for the three-day’s journey. All that remained was to request Colin’s presence. “It would take no more than a few days, Colin,” pleaded Ilia. “I would feel much safer with you around.”
“And the village?” Asked Colin, “Three people leaving would set us back a while and I cannot neglect my work. Besides, Uma needs-”
“Uma,” said a third voice, “can take care of herself, thank you very much!” The long-haired, freckle-faced Uma appeared from around the family hut’s garden. Colin was taken aback by his little sister’s sudden appearance but remained firm, “You must stay. The village needs at least one of us here.” Ilia interrupted, “Oh, so you will come along then, master Colin?” Caught, the blonde-haired young man sighed and mumbled, “yes, ma’am. Count me in.”
“And me too, Lady Ilia!” Uma was flush with excitement. All this to which Colin said, “No.” The young girl’s pleading eyes fell upon soft Ilia’s heart, even though she wished already for the young maiden to accompany her. Uma was strong for her age and Colin was simply looking out for her. Still, the final decision remained with her. “Colin and Uma, you shall both accompany me on this trip. And, as the decision is mine to make, there will be no argument. I am no democracy and the village will survive a few days.”
“Who will you leave in charge, Lady Ilia?” asked a curious Uma. Ilia said, “I will let the remainder vote for their acting chief.” At that, the lady mayor of Ordonna raised her chin and said, “Make ready your steeds and provisions for a three-days journey to Castle Town. I will meet you by the bridge at dawn.”
Night fell like the sheets of rain from a windy storm: fast and heavy. There was an odd silence that stirred not even the crickets or cicadas of the evening. There was no rain, however. Nor was there wind to accompany the falling night. Ilia lay awake, furled next to Aeadis. She was unsure of the path ahead, but determined to travel it. The idea of learning about her old love’s mysterious past was far too tangible for a sleeping mouth to taste. The more she wondered of Link, the more she wondered of his father. What could have happened that forced a man, a possible Knight of Hyrule, to abandon his only known son and disappear? She needed to know everything if she wanted to free herself to her waiting husband.

Quote from shadow226

Very good. I really liked the dream... or was it a dream? I dont know, but it was very well written.
This is a very interesting story and I cant wait to see more.

Thanks for the input!
Dream, vision, foresight, it's whatever you wish to interpret it as.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Four: Gunpowder Transaction

-----

“See, long ago, I saved this man Fyer’s life, and now he cannot refuse me if I ask a favor. If you leave the rest up to Fyer, all should go well.”
-The Old Knight on the Ballistic Vendor

-----

Even after thirteen years, Fyer was still perched before his cannon, waiting for the next available customer willing to be projected into the heavens. It was no surprise to Link that when he approached the diminutive firearms expert, he was not recognized. A baker’s dozen worth of years had not been totally kind to Fyer as they had been to Link. For all of the gunner’s businesslike demeanour, his moustache was extended, greyed and his belly distended further. Link noticed the same combination of colours that Fyer wore even thirteen years earlier. Even as Link came to a halt before the silent, gloomy-looking little man, his features appeared not to spark a reaction. Perhaps it was Link’s golden beard that circled his mouth and cheeks. Or perhaps it was the faded green of his Hero’s tunic. Was Link taller than before? It did not matter, for Link decided to speak, “Fyer,” he began, “it’s been a while.”

The cannon man blinked and tilted his head, “Naw, it couldn’t be.” Link smiled from behind his scruff, his blue eyes glinting. “You’re the lad with the old gun from all those years ago.” Fyer’s own sombre eyes appeared to glimmer with memories of the lucrative venture.

Link took a glance around to the empty space where his Sky Cannon once sat. Confusion and near-anger boiled inside him before he calmed his nerve and asked, “How has business been?”

“Not bad, I must say.” said the little chapeau’d man. “I mean, business was good when you were around, but since then I’ve actually been able to expand my market. That three-hundred you gave me for that Sky Gun job of yours allowed me to make some down payments on other projects and voila: I now have guns and landing sites all over Hyrule!”

Despite his own confusion, Link’s interest was captured. He asked, “People have finally taken to your mode of transportation, then?”

“Oh yes,” replied Fyer. “Bigwigs and the like caught their eyes on my cannons and a few questions later, CannonAide: Fyer’s Flyers Club was finally a reality.”

Link gave the little man a questioning look, “You had a vision like that? Goddesses Fyer, I would never have expected something so ambitious from you.” It took a moment before Link realized the insulting potential of his comment, but to his surprise, the quip was met with laughter.

“Not the first time I heard that! But I won’t complain, I basically have you to thank.”

Link was now further perplexed, but his anger was simmered. “Why me?” asked the warrior.

Fyer explained, “Well, I was able to replicate the technology within that Sky Gun of yours and patent it.”

“Speaking of my Gun, Fyer,” asserted Link.

Guilt suddenly swam across the small man’s face. “I -er,” Link braced himself, “I kinda sold it to this exuberant young lad about ten years ago, lad.”

“Sold it!” ejacul*ted Link, “Why would you do that to someone else‘s property?”

Fyer’s gloomy face sank, “I refused at first, but he was insistent, you see?”

Link remained unimpressed. This compounded with his dire need to reach the Sky. Without a second thought, Link seized the little man by his collar and held him close to his pointed nose. “I’m only going to ask this once and you had better not lie.” The fear in Fyer’s sunken eyes matched the helplessness of his dangling feet.

He pleaded, “Please, son. You have to understand, she was going unused, though I did take good care of ’er. This young, fine-dressed man approached me and asked questions, exclaiming that his had seen this structure before.”

Link’s memory was jogged and he set little Fyer down and knelt down to his eye level. “Go on.”

Fyer continued, “He wanted to know who owned such a Gun and I told him that I have a strict customer confidence policy. All I told him was this it was old, repaired, and used only once before. I could not tell him where you went ’cause I don’t even know m’self.”

Link sat down and rubbed his sore temples, “Then what?”

“He did seem interested but dropped the history lesson and offered me the deal, which I refused for about a month. Every day he’d come in with a higher price to offer me. Finally, he approached me with a large sack of silver rupees. Thirty thousand rupees worth! By then I had already patented the innards and was on my way to making a large business venture. An extra thirty large would have- an did - help me greatly.”

Link waved off the finances and looked Fyer dead in the eyes before asking, “Did he give his name?”

“Link, I can’t-”

“Was he from Castle Town?”

“With those clothes, yes, but-”
 “Was his name Shad?”

“I don’t-”

“TELL ME!” Link caught his anger and let it settle once more. Fyer’s pale completion told Link that he had strayed too far only to discover that his sweaty palm was wrapped around the steel hilt of his Ordon Sword. Fyer stepped back, but was too afraid to move further. Link relinquished his grip on the blade handle and sighed, asking, “Fyer. Please. I need to know.”

The little man nodded, “Okay. Come inside, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

It was Shad after all. The scholar, for nearly ten years had been in possession of the canon that both he and Link discovered beneath the dirty roads of Kakariko Village. With Fyer’s business booming all around Hyrule, it was no longer uncommon, according to the salesman, for people - albeit the higher classes - to have their own cannons and landing pads. Fyer was a wealthy man now that his plans bore fruit and his abode was built directly into the rock that surrounded Lake Hylia. It was a humble home, not unlike the one Link left behind in Ordon. In fact, many linens and furniture set about the cliff-side house originated from Ordon. Each features the signature goat horn seal of approval by the sleepy village’s fine craftsmen. Link wondered about the place he once called his own, but did not let that distract from his dealings with Fyer. The little cannon man could not specify just where Shad resided, but Link held an idea. Immediately, he rose. Fyer followed and asked, “Where are you off to now, buddy?”

Link turned and smiled to the business man, “I’m sorry for the scare earlier, Fyer.”

“Aw, think nothing of it, buddy!” I was foolish to let that beauty out of my sight anyway. Besides, that Shad boy looks like a mild-mannered young man, I’m sure he’s taken good care of it. Doesn’t seem the rough type to me.”

Link smiled and was off to the surface. He recalled where he left Epona, in the care of the game man named Falbi. As he approached the door, Fyer followed saying, “Do you want to go back up top?”

“Yes,” replied Link.

“Well then,” said Fyer, “I don’t see how you can return without the use of my canon.”

“It’s okay, Fyer," replied the warrior. "I have my own way.”

Outside, Link pulled out his withered old map and gazed upward at the geometric oddity that was the Twilight Portal, hanging aloof above the flat atoll upon which he stood. There was something intriguing, yet disturbing about that portal, and all the other portals hanging about the land. Even when she left, those magical gateways hung like scars in the skies of a formerly ravaged Hyrule.
Perhaps she left them with the thought of maintaining his memory of her? Not likely. No amount of any conceivable thing could break his memories of the monarch whom he adored. So, as he stood upon the atoll below the mystic gateway, Link’s spirit sank upon the sudden realization. She was not going to teleport him, for she was no longer within reach. Link was blinded by his own foresight. Even after thirteen years, even after so many quick, nervous glances at his own shadow, hoping the ghostly spirit would arise to scold him, Link knew the shadow would not come to his aide.
So there he stood, alone, abandoned.

Link folded the withered map and stored it as he walked toward Fyer’s canon.

The little man smiled as the bearded warrior approached. “Needed time to think about where you were goin’, buddy?” asked he in a friendly tone.

Link’s sorrowful features became masked behind a lie, “Yeah. To the surface, for now.”

“Good choice. I’ll send ya up for no charge. Consider my gratis service as an apology for my lack of foundation earlier.”

The crank shafts and gears rolled with well-oiled precision and the entire structure of Fyer’s canon housing rotated on its own axis before locking into an active firing position. With a few adjustments here and a final powder measurement there; a tug of the lanyard and Link was away.

Castle Town had not changed either. Thirteen years and the only fresh scenery was belayed in the newly repaired battlements of Hyrule Castle. Such fanfare that was characteristic of the Town never ceased to fill the air while the Town’s inhabitants filled the streets. Link stayed well away from the brass Castle gates and wove deeper into the crowds. Telma’s bar was around the corner, only a few meters away. A chubby guard, one clad in iron and baring the symbol of the Hyrulean Royalty, held out a palm to bar Link’s decent into the tavern’s main entrance. The mailed and plated gauntlet pressed hard into the warrior’s abdomen and Link halted. “Where do you think you’re going?” asked the guard. Link simply stared at the shorter man and glared menacingly into the dark narrow eye slit of the sentry’s tin can of a helmet. Link’s own fierce sapphire eyes burned with annoyance. The dark slit gazed blankly up and down and took notice of the large iron blade that was bound to the back of the traveler's faded tunica. Slowly, the hand removed itself from Link’s body and the guard stepped aside. Link’s eyes did not relinquish their savage hold until the bearded man was well down the stairs and through the threshold of Telma’s Pub.

For a late afternoon, the Pub was alive with strange faces that sat and conversed warmly. The atmosphere was mercurial as men and women exchanged excited talk with the few hard-hard Goron that strutted about. Even some Zora floated about gracefully as they mingled with the varied masses. Indeed, it was a full house, but there were no familiar faces that Link could pick out.

Then, “Link?” The sound of his name being harkened to caught the Hylian’s pointed ears and he turned to face its source.

“Link! It is you!”

A rather large woman pushed her way through a group of Goron and human merchants. Telma halted her bulk before Link’s feet, her sizable bust mere a decameter from his whiskered face. Link tried not to let his eyes wander as Telma bent lower to study paralyzed patron.

Full pursed lips parted to become a warm smile and strong arms wrapped themselves around Link’s frame. “Oh, it is you!”

As the python-esque arms squeezed the breath out of Link, he replied, “Hello Telma,” and with his last gasp, she let go. Link fought to maintain his deportment as he recovered from the closest experience with death since facing the Dark Lord. Time had treated the darker Hylian woman well. Her size was more or less the same and her pointed ears carried a few more golden loops and the like as they were presented on a woman’s ear. The bar itself remained unchanged and the aspect sat well with Link, who could live with change, so long as it was not all at once. This, however was contrary to his actions, which adapted well to radical shifts. Though, it is said that those who wish not for change are often veterans of it.

Telma rested her hands upon her wide hips and waddled over to the group of Gorons and lifted a frothy mug from their table saying, “Everybody, listen up! Allow me to introduce to you: Link, the unsung Hero of Hyrule. Were it not for him, we’d all be sucking on that Dark sludge those many years ago!”
Relevant or not, the patrons each raised a glass and shouted loud accolades, even if only to join the cheer. Link made an attempt to escape the limelight but was found again by Telma, having just placed the empty mug back onto the Goron table. The large jolly woman, clearly unaffected by the mug’s contents, sat Link down at a nearby table and silently studied his feature. It made the warrior uncomfortable, but alas, he digressed. A firm hand from Telma ran itself down the length of Link’s beard as the woman chuckled. “Were it not for the brilliant eyes, hun,” she began, “I would never have seen through that beard of yours.”

“I’m glad that I’m so noticeable,” said Link dismayed at his lack of subtlety.

Telma smiled again saying, “Well, even though it makes you look more rugged, I prefer the smooth cheeks that bordered your broad smiles.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Telma, but it took far too long to grow this thing and I’ve grown rather fond of it. Though, tonight, you’ve ruined its purpose.”

Telma studied him again, though with less time taken. “What exactly are you hiding from, dear? What did you do?” Link replied, “I’m not in hiding, nor did I do anything besides leave my old life behind.”

“Why would you do a thing like that? What about Ilia, and Ordon?”

“Old dreams, Telma. Simple and wanton. I’m searching for something…privately.”

Unimpressed, Telma asked, “Might I inquire as to what you are searching for and why?” This annoyed Link coming from Telma as it did from his own conscience thirteen years ago, although Telma could not know the greater reasoning.
No one could know.

“I cannot say, Telma. I’m sorry.” Link was somber in his response.
“Is it worth leaving that darling girl behind?" asked the bar lady. 'What happened to you two?”

“Ilia cannot offer what I seek." replied Link. "Not anymore.”

“But the way you would look at her when I first met you. I swear that you two were a fair-tale come true.” Sad disappointment washed across the Pub-owner’s visage.

Link sighed and shook his head, “Yeah, the Cat’s Meow, right? Speaking of which, where is your cat, Louise?”

Telma said solemnly, “Passed peacefully about eight years ago, but not before she birthed a litter of kittens from one of the neighbours’ toms.” As she explained, a fluffy black and white mass mounted the table. Its face was flat and white with a black smear running between its vivid green eyes and up around the skull. It wore black patched about its paws and along its long tail. “Hello, Riddle,” said Telma as she ran her polished fingers through the feline’s long coat of fine flecked fur. The cat gave a happy meow as it sat down and began to purr. “He was Louise’s firstborn and I’ve treasured him ever since.” After a moment, Riddle was satisfied with the attention and briskly leapt down off the tabletop.

Telma spoke as she watched the cat waddle off saying, “Honestly, Link. For as much as I miss my Louise, I am thankful that Riddle is around to help me cope. I see her live on through those green eyes that her son carries.”

Link tried to comprehend the small talk, but Telma’s sad eyes found him, “It pains me to see that you are unable to let go of whatever it is you’re searching for and that you left a perfectly good chapter unread in your life.”

“Telma…”

“I know, I can’t do a thing to change it, though I wish I could," said she. "It was your choice and I guess I must trust your judgment, hero.”

“I am no longer a hero, Telma,” said Link. “I am a nomad, nothing more.”

“A lost spirit, sounds more like it.”

“Listen, Telma, please!” pleaded Link, “In order to find these answers, I need yours. Will you help me?”

“I can try.” said the bar lady.

Link reached out and placed his gauntleted hand upon Telma’s, “I need to find Shad. Do you know where he is?”

Telma considered this and thought before she answered, “Well, I haven’t seen the Group together for a few years now, at least not for long in this pub. As for Shad, I assume that he is still on his expedition.”

“Expedition? Where to, do you know?” asked Link.

Telma replied, “He asked me if I wanted to attend, but I declined, as I couldn’t trust the Pub to anyone but myself for such a long period of time. The place he was looking at is an ancient ruin that he stumbled across about thirteen years ago, when I last saw you. He’s been circulating between what he calls an ancient temple and Castle Town ever since.”

The Sacred Grove in Faron, thought Link. Excited, the former Hero of Light rose to depart, but was halted subconsciously by an awestruck Telma.

The red-headed woman asked, “Whatever you are looking for, hun, I sure hope you find it soon.”

“Thank you, Telma. I’ll be in touch.” Link quickly dashed over to Telma and gave her a jubilant squeeze. As Link turned about, his body was met with a solid rock wall. Link gazed upward and studied the familiar texture of stone-like Goron flesh, painted with ritual tribe patterning. The large mauve eyed mask that was the Goron’s face bent low to examine Link. Stern stony lips parted to reveal a pair of large white teeth in a Goron-like attempt for a grin.

Link relaxed as the rock man’s featured softened and it spoke, “You are the one who wore green all those years ago.”

“I am among many who wear green,” replied Link.

“Yes,” said the Goron, “but only you lifted our sorrow in our time of need, or at least that is what I have heard.”

“Were you not present at the time, Mister…”

“Songoro, son of the Mountain and nephew to the great Gor Coron, brother.” The large Goron, though quite small compared to the average Goron, held out a large rocky palm. Link took a firm hold and the two shook. Even for a small Goron, his grip was immense and Link held his pain back convincingly. Thirteen years had not prepared him for a friendly Goron handshake. Though, something was familiar about this particular Goron. Their hands parted and Songoro said, “At last, brother, we can shake hands without the confines of water to surround us.”

Link laughed and said, “You’re the one from the volcano rock! In the Zora throne room.”

“I see that your memory has not faded with your green tunic, brother.” said Songoro with a hint of embracement. “The passage of time has been well with you, brother Link.”

“And you too, brother Songoro. Though time is always merciful for the Goron.”

“Nevertheless, time cannot delay my gratitude. Not only or your actions to save our tribe, but for my personal well-being also.”

Link flushed, as the thunderous voice of Songoro attracted more listeners. “There is no need for thanks, my friend.”

“I have another gratitude, brother Link.” pressed Songoro. “Your action in freeing me from the rocky prison permitted me to meet, who I am proud to introduce, my good friend, Lakea.” Songoro stepped aside and permitted the slim aquarist form of a lovely Zora female with bright red eyes and a shy smile upon her lips.
The Zora woman approached Link and extended a delicate webbed hand, “Good afternoon, Hero Link. I have heard much about you, though I was only young when You were about your quest. In the name of my people, I offer my gratitude.”

Link took a gentle hold of the Zora’s hand and gave a light kiss upon her smooth fingers. “I am pleased to meet you, fair Lakea, but I must correct you that I am no longer a hero.”

Lakea smiled and said, “There is no end to the Hero’s title. You are not immune from such an honorific.”
Link nodded, but was unconvinced. Lakea’s brilliant red eyes shone brightly. Those eyes and the fire that emanated from them caught Link off guard. His heart sank as the face around Lakea’s eyes became, for a brief moment, a long and beautiful visage. From around the eyes, there was a shallow cobalt tinge that radiated an exotic pair of lips and a thin, narrow chin. Link saw, from the sight of the Zora’s eyes, that which sought himself. Oh, how he longed to the vision to be real.

"Are you alright, brother? You seem faint.” Songoro’s thunderous voice carried Link out of his brief, but wonderful dream.

Link realized that he was staring and a shy Lakea gazed wide-eyed back at the expressionless former hero. “I’m sorry,” said Link, “I suddenly feel very strange. Forgive my silence, please? I hope that I did not offend.”

"
Nonsense, brother. You must have had a long day. You may rest at our domicile by the River.” Songoro placed a rocky arm around the delicate Lakea, who still seemed a bit sky but nonetheless agreed. Link felt dizzy, but determined to reach Faron, even if he had to ride all night to Epona’s dismay.

“Thank you for the offer, brother," began the former hero, "but I must decline.”

Songoro’s exuberance faded into disappointment, “But you are tired, brother. I must insist.”

"Thank you, brother Songoro. but I must reach Faron Woods by morning.” The Goron stood silently with his Zora companion before both began whispering among themselves.

Link grew annoyed with the delay was about to dismiss himself proper when, “Well, if it’s to Faron you wish to go, then please allow Lakea and I to escort you. Meet us outside the West Gate.” At that, the Goron and Zora were off while Link stood flabbergasted.

Telma walked up beside the bearded silent hero and said, “Those two: so young and helpful. Remind you of anyone?”

Link looked at the bar lady and smiled, “Perhaps. I’ll try to find a way to lose them, maybe convince them that what I seek is too dangerous to accompany me.

”
That,” said Telma, “will only fuel their interest. You see, Songoro is quite lively for a Goron and Lakea, though timid at first, is rather outgoing and charming when you get to know her.”

Link nodded, “Assuming they have the luxury of getting to know me.” He then winked a blue eye in Telma’s direction, “I’ll see you later, beautiful."

”
See you later, hun. And good luck!”

At that, Link walked serenely out the door and veered toward a westerly threshold. Telma watched the energetic younger man jog away and thought fondly of simpler times, when adversity drew people together. Maybe thought Telma, Link was facing another adversity.

“Hop on, brother!” Songoro’s voice permeated the brisk late afternoon air. There the Goron stood next to a wooden cart laced with only a single pair of wheels and an enveloping cabin. Long handles reached out and were completed by a large harness by which Songoro stood. Link took a moment to admire the cart as the mighty Goron slipped into the leather harness. It became clear to Link that no beast would carry the burden, only the man of rock. Sitting timidly inside the well-cushioned interior of the rickshaw was the lovely Lakea gazing curiously out at the green-garbed former hero. The Zora gave a little smile and Link replied with his own. Songoro had finished tightening the laces of his harness when he called back to Link, “Are you climbing aboard, brother? The sun will begin setting soon.”
Link studied the queer setup and admired the dignity that the mauve-eyed Songoro took in his task.

He then chuckled and said, “There will be no need, brother. I provide for my own.” He reached at the chain tied around his neck and withdrew a horseshoe shaped pendant. The perplexed glances exchanged between the Zora and the Goron were priceless as Link drew the pendant closer to his lips and blew. The pitch of the rising and falling notes was high and heard among the collective ears of Hyrule. The only pair that mattered belonged to the aged mare that galloped happily toward her master in response to the tone. As Epona skidded to a halt, she reared to her full height and neighed with glee. Link took a firm hold of the horse’s reigns and jumped upon the steed with enough time to catch the awed stares of the civilized creatures belonging to both rock and sea.

Link grinned broadly as he shouted, “I hope you can keep up, brother!” At that, the horseman yelped and in a cloud of excited dust, was off at full speed toward Faron. As he rode, Link heard the incoherent reply of Songoro, now many paces away.

After a moment, Link felt an unfamiliar rumble beneath his saddle. As time passed, the tremors grew until a cloud of kicked dirt and soot appeared along side the aged Epona and her rider. A circular rotating object the size of a large rolling boulder with a wooden cart in tow caught up and held pace. Link’s eyes widened at the endurance of the Goron and nodded with approval. “How is this, Hero?” Lakea’s finely finned head emerged from the enclosed rickshaw’s window. Link could only maintain his nod was the Goron drawn cart began to gain a steady lead.

“C’mon, Epona. Let’s show these kids who the true master of speed is.” The she-horse neighed with determination and pounded the earth that carried a loud message. This message conveyed the notion that she was not going to be outclassed by a rolling stone or an overconfident fish. Epona was merciless to the dirt road beneath her. It bore the brunt of her fury as she pushed steadily into the lead ahead of the thunderous Goron.

Further, further, further still until the woods of Faron were reached by midnight.

Quote from shadow226

Yet another excellent chapter of the story. Enjoying this an awful lot. You really have the characters done so well. Aging them just right for the thirteen years this is after Twillight Princess.

Thanks for the comment!
As for your work I will try to write up a basic critique about what I feel should be looked at: grammar, spelling, punctuation, syntax.
Overall, the story looks interesting. I will try to help you in any way that time allows me to.

------------------------------------
Chapter Five: Arrive to Return

-----

"In the Kingdom of Hyrule there is a great castle, and around it is Castle Town, a community far bigger than our little village… and far bigger than Hyrule is the rest of the world that the gods created. You should look upon it all with your own eyes."

-A Noble Swordsman to a Young Traveler

-----

Ilia and her company had ridden into Hyrule’s capital by mid afternoon. The three day’s journey passed quickly, though all three travelers were fatigued and restless. It was Colin who led both his sister and the lady mayor of Ordona into the brass and wooden gates, leaving their steeds to the charge of Castle Town Valet. Ilia could see in both the younger siblings’ eyes that the high walls and battlements of the town were indeed a sight to see. Even she herself took a moment to fully appreciate the sturdy stone walls and the well-laid cobblestone that functioned as the city’s streets. The main arteries within the city circulated with its usual vigour. Crowds of merchants and workers drifted in and out of Central Fountain Square as they did so many years before. Colin, though he was in the lead, stood still amid the tumult. Never before had he and Uma seen the industrial and economic centre of the Hyrulean world. As the pair gazed about in wonder, Ilia took the lead and guided them through the streets that were forged into her memory. “This way, Colin, Uma. It’s not far at all.”
“Where exactly are we going, Il?” asked Colin.
Ilia turned her head to meet his wide blue eyes and said, “To a pub.”
“A pub!” Colin was shocked and Uma bore a look a pleasant surprise. “Are you sure, Ilia?” asked Colin. “I’m not such a fan of ale myself.”
“I don’t mind ale,” said Uma. Colin shot her a suspicious glance which Uma immediately regretted. “Oh?” pursued her older brother, “and how did you come about this fascination?” Uma’s expression went sour and she said, pouting, “Well, maybe father and his friends enjoy a good drink once in a while and I just so happen to be along!”
“You stole some, didn’t you?”
“No!” Uma flushed greatly this time. Ilia decided to end the trial.
“It doesn’t matter right now, Colin. Though I think you should confess to your father, Uma. Theft, even of an unknowing father’s drink, is bad judgement and could harm you later on in life.”
“It was just one mug!” Uma attempted to defend her standing, but failed and held her head low. “I’m sorry, Colin.” Her elder brother could not bare to begrudge his only baby sister and smiled warmly, “It’s okay, Uma. I’ve actually done that before as well.” Ilia rolled her eyes as the siblings became siblings once more, though under the strange circ*mstance of mutual petty theft. On they strode, toward Telma’s Bar.

The pub was alive and circulating, as far as the group could hear below the stairwell. They would have reached the stairs, were it not for the chubby guard standing before them. His iron wares glinted reflections of the late afternoon sun. How many in your party, madame?” asked the guard in an automatic tone. Ilia turned to meet her lovely green eyes with the cold black slit that functioned as the guard’s only vision. She said softly, curtly, “Myself and the two siblings behind me. We’ll only be a minute.” The guard was silent long enough for Uma to chime in,
“Hey, chubby! We are on important business and are meeting someone important within that pub, so if you want to keep your post, I suggest you let us by!” The guard sighed and mumbled a reply, but nevertheless stepped aside.
“So many rude people recently,” grumbled the guard. “At least the little lady isn’t armed.”
Telma’s bar was as Ilia had left it those many years ago. Telma herself stood behind the oak counter and handed the two pairs of frothy mugs to four eagerly awaiting Hylian workers. It was then that her brown eyes caught a glimpse of the newcomers standing at the door. “Ilia?” asked the fiery haired Hylian woman. “Is that my brave Ilia?” The entire congregation turned their heads to face the doorway as Telma bounded up and over the heads of her countered patrons and toward the fair-haired Ilia, arms wide open. The lady mayor opened her own arms and shouted,
“Telma!” Both women squeezed and laughed for the joy within them. Colin and Uma simply stared as Telma broke the embrace with Ilia and approached them.
“Master Colin, my how you’ve grown. Big and strong, as well as brave, from when I last saw you.” Telma held out a hand for the shaking. Colin smiled and embraced the bat woman tightly. Telma accepted and said, “And still a caring-heated young man. I knew it.” She gave Colin a large kiss on the cheek and then turned to Uma who smiled shyly, saying, “Hello, young lady.”
“Hullo.”
“We’ve met before, though you were only a week old. I must say that you have blossomed very well in these short years.” Uma smiled and Telma responded with a hug and kiss on the freckled cheek. Ilia stood silently by as Telma looked back over to her, asking quite politely, “What brings you back to me, dear?” Ilia simply said,
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Well,” said Telma, “I may just be able to help.” The group at down at an available table to converse.

So I got a little impatient, waiting for you to update your story here and decided to use the link you provided to read the full story. . .

WOW!!!!!

(if I was as eloquent with words as you I would describe my impression of your story better but WOW is the best I can do)

You had me on the edge of my seat the whole way through, and while I won't spoil the ending, I certainly did not see that coming.

I beg of you to continue proofreading to find those minor gramatical errors. My only complaint about your story is when I was pulled out of the world you created in order to decipher a misspelled word or who said what in a single paragraph that had multiple people talking.

I hope to see more of your work in the future.

Quote from Zeldafreak83

So I got a little impatient, waiting for you to update your story here and decided to use the link you provided to read the full story. . .

WOW!!!!!

(if I was as eloquent with words as you I would describe my impression of your story better but WOW is the best I can do)

You had me on the edge of my seat the whole way through, and while I won't spoil the ending, I certainly did not see that coming.

I beg of you to continue proofreading to find those minor gramatical errors. My only complaint about your story is when I was pulled out of the world you created in order to decipher a misspelled word or who said what in a single paragraph that had multiple people talking.

I hope to see more of your work in the future.

Display More

Haha, I figured I would be too slow to update this story on these boards.
That was why I placed the link right from the get-go.

I am certainly glad you enjoyed it!

For the rest of you, I will slowly post the next chapter..........................now.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Six: The Skull Dancer
--------------------
“Go now to the sacred place, beast… We yield passage to the Sacred Grove…”
-The Holy Sentinel to the Blessed Beast
--------------------


Link halted Epona with a tug of the reigns. At last he had arrived at the edge of the mighty Faron Forest with the Goron-drawn rickshaw skidding to a stop behind him. Songoro unfurled his powerful mountainous body and lowered the cart’s handles. “We are arrived, Lakea,” called the Goron behind him. The delicate lady Zora’s sleepy eyes emerged from behind the carriage’s thin curtain to view the thick tree line before them. The only available route of access lay on the same road that connected with Ordon. Link pointed out the nearby entrance and rode silently toward it. Quickly, Songoro rolled his body and followed Link through the natural threshold.

The residence of the strange oil merchant, Coro, still remained, though it had succumbed to some wear. The same fire that heated the same cauldron of rancid soupy broth burned weakly. What appeared to be a large curly brown bush sitting atop a scrawny sapling of a man turned to face them. Coro still sat there, dutifully selling his flammable wares. The messy mass that was his afro had grown in volume and served as the home for multiple winged creatures that flew to an fro with little consideration for the man beneath them. It did not appear, however, as if Coro paid any heed, though that was not surprising in the least. Link dismounted his aging mare and approached the lazy salesman. He was studied with a half-focused eye. Then, Coro spoke, his tone thirteen years deeper, though expressing the same, unchanged level of lethargy. “Guy, It’s been a while.” Link was shocked that even Coro recognized him. “Hello, Coro,” replied Link awkwardly, “it has been awhile.”

“Hm,” said the salesman as he studied the Goron and lady Zora stepping into the clearing. “Friends of yours?” Link shrugged and said, “New acquaintances. They are accompanying me on a little trip.” Coro co*cked his head to one side causing a shower of debris to rain down and flustered wings to take flight from his large hair. “A trip, eh?” asked he. “Does this mean that you will be needing some lanterns and oil?” Link saw a hopeful smile cross the young man’s face. Link reached behind his belt and pulled out the very lantern that he purchased from Coro thirteen years prior. “Still the same one? Wow, you use your items well, guy. I’m impressed, really!”

“Thank you,” said Link and motioned toward the entrance leading to Faron’s Forest Temple, “we need to get to the Temple. Is the gate locked?” Coro replied, “Not anymore, guy. Since you been around all those years ago, the forest has fallen back into order. The Bokoblins packed up and left and even those poisonous Deku Babas have stopped growing. Something’s different, but peaceful.” Link smiled beneath his beard and said, “Thanks once more, Coro.” The former hero reached into his pouch and tossed a red rupee onto Coro’s lap. The skinny afro-wearing man took up the offering and smiled, “Hey, thanks man and good travels.”

Link walked on and was followed by Songoro and Lakea, now on foot. The unusual pair waved happily toward the equally unusual man as they passed by. Coro gave a nervous grin toward the giant rocky Goron, but softened and waved at the lovely Lakea with much enthusiasm. The gate was wide open and the entrance to the cave unhindered. The former hero’s lantern illumined the now-still cavern halls. The hook-tailed bats and toothy rats were no longer to be seen and the group passed through the rocky way unchallenged. Almost at once, the low ceiling gave way to a vast opening. The sudden dip of the land and presence of a haggard old dock connoted to an ancient lake that had long-since dried up. Though, thirteen years ago, the old lakebed was filled with another substance too noxious to pass through. Even the deadly purple mist was no longer present, which was a welcome relief to Link, who sighed. Songoro and Lakea gazed inquisitively at the former hero as he walked down into the open space. They followed aptly, though wearily on through the gloomy vastness. Link, however, quickly became weary himself and proceeded to nock his Hero’s Bow, the twine of which he freshly replaced. He added tension to the bow, preparing to loose at the first sign of trouble, though none was made present. Songoro, feeling Link’s unease, stomped no more, but tread softly, his powerful arms clenched. Lakea simply strode closer to the Goron, her wide crimson eyes ever-expanding.

Finally, the trio reached the edge of the shallow lakebed and rose up onto level ground. Another cave met them, though with little length in comparison to most caves. The light at the end of the tunnel illuminated a vast clearing and finally, around the bend, their destination. Lakea gasped with wonder as they approached the deep chasm separating them from the massive old tree that housed the entrance to the Forest Temple. An ancient water shoot served as the bridge between the passers-by and the old temple. As they neared, Link veered off the beaten path and instead climbed onto the natural wall the rose to block the unweary from the depths of the endless pit below. Songoro and his Zora friend approached Link and asked, “Are we not to enter that old tree, brother? I see nothing beyond this wall." Link beckoned the Goron rise with a flick of his fingers. Songoro shrugged and knelt down to allowed the delicate Lakea to step onto him and up beside the former hero. Then, the Goron himself leapt up next to them. Link pointed toward a series of natural platforms hanging among the mists and falling leaves. A series of wooden walking boards could be seen extended between some, but not all of these platforms. Link smiled at their presence as they denoted that Shad was still about, though the absence of certain planks turned the former hero’s smile upside down. Wind and weather served to dismantle certain boards and send them below. “You expect us to reach those flattened platforms, brother?” Link nodded. Songoro then said, “Well, I may be heavy, but I can leap far.” He then took Lakea up onto a rocky shoulder and bade the Hylian man onto the other. However, an idea struck Link who was lamenting his lupine abilities.

Instead he drew Gale Boomerang, which hummed and spoke silently to its master saying, “Long have I waited the day or my reemergence. I am glad.” Link smiled at his archaic wing-shaped weapon. He gripped tightly as he steadied his aim. With a curious Songoro and Lakea gazing on, Link hurled the Gale in the direction of the first platform rendered unreachable. The whirlwind that resulted lashed forward as Link readied his Ordon Sword. As the boomerang made its windy return, the former hero leapt into the chasm, spinning his sword around with a fierce tenacity. Though the Goron and his Zora friend gasped in fear, Songoro even stepping forward helplessly in an attempt to save the faded-green clad man from his fall. As Link fell spinning, the whirlwind caught its master and propelled him upward. The former hero bellowed aloud as he shot upward and onto the first previously attainable platform. Link panted happily as his feet touched down and he looked back at the awestruck pair above him. The route to the next platform was connected by a wooden walking plank, so Link crossed it plainly. He watched as Songoro aligned himself with the platform that he was standing upon and leapt forward. With all the subtlety of a landslide, the Goron landed upon the platform that, much to Link’s surprise, held the weight of a rock man and his marine friend combined. Impressed, Link continued to use his newly discovered technique to reach the final stage of the hazardous route toward the ancient and sacred Grove. With a final spin, the boomerang carried its master onto solid ground and with a final leap, the Goron landed right beside his human cohort. Without a moment’s pause, the trio pressed on into the hidden woods.

Link recalled his previous excursions into this most ancient of groves. Once, as a man and once as a blue-eyed beast. He walked cautiously through the sun-kissed clearing and expected a large stone door to stand in his way.

There was none. On pressed the cautious voyagers ever deeper into the old trees, past the aged boulders and springs. Through path and tunnel they crossed until, finally, the group halted behind Link’s shielded back. “We are close now,” said the Hylian man cautiously. “I remember this clearing.”

“Heads up, brother!” shouted Songoro as a large mass, the size of a man descended quickly upon Link. With a mighty fist, the Goron let fly a quick hook which made contact with the falling object. It shattered against the rock man’s clenched fist and showered its remains upon the group. They were splinters of wood and hide. Link saw a bright red button that suspiciously resembled an eye. Then an arm and finally a large round head, all fashioned from planks of manipulated wood. Songoro gazed suspiciously downward and took up the broken head that once held a pair of red button eyes. From the shattered body there lay fine strings, as if the wooden creature was a puppet of sorts. “Oh, no,” sighed Link who quickly drew his blade and prepared his broad shield. “Not again.” The Goron dropped the severed wooden head and scratched his own, saying, “I do not understand, brother. What trickery is this?”

“Malicious trickery, brother Goron,” replied Link who’s eyes darted back and forth in search of movement. “Stay close and protect Lakea. There are going to be plenty more where that came from.” The Goron nodded and guided his fragile-looking Zora friend in between he and the former hero.

As Link foretold, two dozen wooden figures fell from to treetops surrounding the group of three. They hung in the air, guided by some mischievous force. Their long limbs flailed at random in an almost comic fashion. The hanging puppets greatly resembled the local primates that ran amok among the trees, though their piercing false eyes and painted jagged grins betrayed no friendliness.

As one, they descended and as one they struck. Link dodged a clawed swing and shattered the ape puppet with a single powerful thrust of the sword. Songoro took a hold of a pair and squeezed the sap out of their wooden skeletons, reducing the foes to sawdust. Aptly, the former hero cut through the charge and felled many of the non-living mannequins. More descended and attacked with increasing fury. All the while, Lakea stood and watched silently, seemingly helpless. There were so many of these creatures, she could barely count. Suddenly, one such being hung before her. It did not strike, as it only stared with cold unseeing eyes. As it hung dumb and vulnerable, a second creature descended from on high and landed squarely on the shoulders of the wooden puppet. This being was indeed living, as its vivid red eyes blinked curiously to Lakea’s. This creature was short, childlike in appearance. It -he, it seemed - bore a wide skull-like grin; one that the female Zora could not interpret.

It was simply a smile, neither malicious nor friendly. She felt a cold chill rise up her spine, yet this creature seemed harmless. He wore clothes fashioned from the forest: leaves and hide sewn together. A large pointed cap with a wide brim sat plainly upon the child-creature’s darkly coloured head. In his right hand, he clutched a lit lantern while in the other, he carried an odd pipe that sported four open bells at the end. Around the child’s neck was a leather strap that held a brand new compass as a pendant. His painted face tilted inquisitively to one side and Lakea felt a sudden grin traverse her lovely visage. Whatever he was, thought the lady Zora, he was actually kind of cute if not a bit unsettling. The little boy stood imperiously upon the puppet’s shoulders and bent forward to study Lakea further. She wanted to approach the being, as she sensed no direct threat from him, though the other puppets remained to harass both Link and Songoro. Finally, the last offensive puppet was dashed to the ground and shattered by the Goron’s mighty swing. Link panted and looked about only to see a single remaining puppet and...”You!” shouted Link. Songoro saw the little boy upon the puppet’s shoulders and took a cautionary step forward beside Lakea.
Link sank his blade into the soft earth and unslung his recurve bow, fixing a shaft into the twine. Before the Hylian could draw the arrow, the little child took the horn to his lips and blew hard. A bladder that supported the bells inflated and a flat whiney tune emerged from all four. A serious of puppets fell down and began their attack. As Link loosed his barbed shaft toward the child, a single puppet fell and took the missile in the chest. The Hylian warrior grunted with anger and reached for another arrow from his quiver. Before he could draw, Lakea held up her webbed hand and stopped Link in his deadly aim.

“Wait, Link,” she said, placing that hand in between the strange child and the barbs. The child tilted his head once more and giggled as he jumped down from the ape’s shoulders.

“Hee, hee, hee.”

Link bared his teeth at the little creature and said, “This is all a game to him, Lakea. Just let me run him through and we’ll be on our way.”

The lady Zora gaped at the man’s lack of compassion and placed her free hand upon her feminine curves. “Is this how you treat children?” The little one giggled once more and placed dark hands upon his own waist in mock incredulity.

“That is no child!” spat Link, “He is a mischievous little demon. This is what he wants!”

Lakea was unconvinced and rolled her lovely crimson eyes as she turned to face the little being that was imitating her sternness, his broad grin never fading. “Well, hello there little one. What is your name?” The child stood up straight and tipped his pointed chapeau, “No name for me, lady. What’s yours?”

"I am Lakea of the Zora Domain. May I ask why you do not have a name?” The skull-grinned child danced around the lady Zora and studied her closely.

Curiously, he ran a dark finger along one of her fine fins saying, “You smell funny, lady. Like a fish out of water!” Link and Songoro exchanged glances of bemusem*nt, though Link held a look of annoyance-induced murder.

“And you!” The skull child danced over to Songoro from the bewildered Lakea. He then gave the Goron’s rocky leg a poke with his long musical horn. “You are like a walking mountain. I hope you don’t step on the nice fish lady.”

The powerful man of stone could not help but unclench his giant fists and snort with mild amusem*nt. Link still held his vigour. It was only inevitable that the skull child danced over to the former hero, having introduced himself to the others. “I remember you, wolf man,” said the child as he stopped before Link’s height. The Goron and the Zora stared at the Hylian with confusion marked upon their faces.

The skull child giggled with mischief, “You’ve let your face get long, Wolfie. Can I pull it off?”
Link grumbled and the child jumped up to grab a firm hold of Link’s golden whiskers. With a blur of motion, it was instead the skull child that was caught by his dark little arm and held in the air. “I don’t think so, little one,” said Link. Though the boy’s annoyance never ceased, neither did his childhood. Link could not help but wonder why the skull child remained...a child, even after thirteen years. Lakea was upset with what she saw as abuse from Link against so small a child. Mischievous as he was, the skull boy was still a child. She demanded the warrior to lower the struggling little creature. Her words fell on deaf pointed ears. Link, still immersed in thought eventually, yet slowly lowered the child who, once free, scurried over to Lakea’s side and stuck out a green tongue. Link walked away and sat before a large stone face that they all stood before, waiting.

Songoro stayed and Lakea crouched low, speaking softly to the skull child, “I apologize, little one.”

The boy’s grin did not fade as he said, “He may be old now, but he still plays fun.”

“Fun?” asked Lakea. “You think that all this is fun?”

“Yup!” said the child with a tone of excitement. Lakea asked, “Are you alone?”

“Yes,” replied the boy, though that perpetual grin appeared false. Lakea pressed, “No parents?”

“Nope. Just me and the trees forever.”

“How old are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel old.” Lakea gazed in wonder at her new companion and noticed the compass dangling from the skull child’s neck.

She pointed to it remarking, “That’s a nice compass.”
The boy stepped back and held it tight, away from her, “Mine! The glassy-eyed man gave it to me a long time ago.”

The Zora raised her hands and said, “Don’t worry, I will not take it.” Still, she wondered who the ‘glassy-eyed man’ was, so she asked. The child made loops with his thumb and forefingers and held them to his eyes. Link glanced back and his own eyes widened at the skull child’s action, but held his tongue.

“Other men walk here all the time. Sometimes two, sometimes four, but the glassy-eyed man is always there. I like him, he talks funny.” Lakea smiled warmly at the child’s exuberance when he said, “But none are fun like the wolf man!” He pointed to Link sitting away from the group.

“How do you know Link?” asked Lakea.

The skull child tilted his head and said, “He came here before. We played a game and he won, so I let him into the secret place. The glassy-eyed man gave me this toy and I let him go as well.”

“Secret place? What secret place, little one?” The skull child stepped back and snapped his fingers. At once the giant stone wall behind them faded and revealed a sun-glazed courtyard awash with fallen structures and statues. The Goron and the lady Zora gawped at the marvelous sight. Link simply stood and walked cautiously into the unfurled area. Songoro took Lakea by the hand and guided her into the ancient ruin. As she walked, Lakea turned to face and thank the child but saw only dancing leaves carried by the breeze and heard nothing but the fading giggle of a lost child.

Link stepped into the clearing but halted. Without glancing in any direction, he drew his Ordon blade. Suddenly, a foreign length of steel emerged from the shadow. The blade was considerably longer than Link’s as they made a sparking contact. The sheer power behind the blade was great, but Link threw it off and beat the blade away. The opposing sword’s master emerged from the shadow. His clothing was thick, but his face was sagged and bearded. Pointed Hylian ears emerged from beneath greyed hair and deep brown eyes shone furiously as they fell upon blue-eyed Link. The former hero stepped back and raised his blade in defence but the older man did not swing any further.

He asked, “How long has it been, Link?” As he spoke, Auru took his great blade and hefted it unto his broad armoured shoulder. Link relaxed and smiled as he swung his blade up with a twirl and aptly slid the Ordon Sword into its vacant scabbard.

“Thirteen years,” replied he. Both men approached each other and shook hands.

Laughing, Auru claimed, “At first though, I failed to recognize you. I am more accustomed to your shorn face.”

Link rolled his eyes and smiled as he said, “I intended to travel unheeded, but it appears that the beard is not enough.”

“I will not ask you for your reasons for disappearing, though I would care to be introduced to your friends,” said the old Auru as the Zora and the Goron stepped wide-eyed into the ancient broken courtyard, though weary of the older human.

Link replied saying, “Of course. Auru, allow me to introduce you to Brother Songoro of Death Mountain. Songoro, meet Auru of Castle Hylia.”

Auru stood straight and bowed his head respectfully, “Greetings, Man of Rock. Please pardon my... stellar entrance.”

Songoro’s stern face gave way to a light smile and said, “I am pleased to meet you, master swordsman. There is nothing to pardon, as my brother was left unharmed.”

The two exchanged nods and Link turned to the fragile Lakea. “Auru, may I present Lady Lakea of the Zora’s Domain.” Auru bowed low and took the Zora’s hand whereupon he placed a tender, but swift kiss. The lady Zora smiled shyly and was flush. The old Auru stood straight and turned to Link saying, “Let us walk. I assume you are here for Shad.”

The ancient ruins were as Link remembered them, though Shad the archeologist was not entirely. After a baker’s dozen worth of years, the young man had not gained much height, though his girth also remained unchanged. The largest difference was found in the man’s hairline, or what remained of it. The traveler’s blue eyes still shone with the same curiosity that inspired his archeological vocations. Link enjoyed the confusion that was wrought upon Shad’s face as his group approached. The entire ruined area was sectioned off into grids, the ground around disturbed by previous digs. As Link halted before the excavator, realization boiled into Shad’s eyes. “Link?” he asked.

The former hero nodded and replied, “Shad. Nice place you’ve moved into here.”

“Oh yes, I discovered it about the same time you dropped off the face of Hyrule.”

Link nodded again and Shad spoke on as he always did, “How did you and your -” Shad looked around Link’s broad shoulder and saw the Goron and the Zora standing behind, silently with Auru, “-friends come about this place?”

“Intuition,” replied Link with a smile. At that he introduced Shad to the unlikely pair just as he had done for Auru.

“So,” asked Shad post-introduction, “I see that you managed to get past the Skull child without much hassle.”

“I’ll say,” said Link, “it’s not the first time him and I have met.”

“He’s not a bad kid when you get to know him,” said Shad, “I gave him my father’s old compass as a sign of goodwill, and though he wears it like a pendant, he seems to take good care of it.”

“Did he make you run around beforehand?” asked Link.

Shad chuckled, “Oh yes. I guess it’s his job to weed the unworthy from those who seek the secret place.”

Both men nodded silently in agreement as they watched Songoro in conversation with Auru while the lovely Lakea bathed in a nearby spring. Link sensed the question on Shad’s lips, but let the man ask anyway, “Where did you find them?”

“The Goron and the Zora?” asked Link who said, “I never meant to bring them along, but we met in Castle Town and they insisted to accompany me and escort me to Faron. I haven’t been able to shake them since. Besides, they’re good in a fight.”

“Ah,” was Shad’s response, “and why did you want to come all the way back here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m here for you, Shad. Word has it that you purchased my Sky Cannon about a decade ago and I need it.” Link did not have to look at Shad to gauge his incredulity.

The archeologist raised a shocked brown eyebrow and scoffed, “First of all, Your cannon? I do believe, Link, that it was we who discovered the object, but you somehow stole it and left it under the care of that awkward businessman.”

Link shook his head, not wanting to argue said, “I hear it took you a month and thirty thousand rupees to finally get it.”

“I was prepared to offer a million just to study it,” said Shad admittedly. “That cannon means everything to me and my research, Link. You understand, right?”

“Yes, I do.” nodded Link. “I know what it means to spend so much, anything, to reach that one goal. So I can’t be angry with you.”

Shad smiled and patted Link’s back saying, “Tell you what. I will write a letter to my housekeeper, where the gun is being held. When you deliver it, you will be granted the permission of an honoured guest. You may use it as you see fit, so long as you keep in touch.” Link was agape with the shocking generosity displayed by his balding friend, who then shook his hand.

There was a moment of silence before Link spoke, asking, “Have you ever tried it?”

Shad gave him a questionable look and said, “Um, no I haven’t. Link, that thing is almost a thousand years old, I’m not going to climb into it. Why do you ask?”

Link, regretting the question said, “No reason. It’s just... nothing. Stupid idea.”

The balding man grew stern and said, “Link, promise me that you won’t try it. It would be bad enough that the gun gets damaged, I don’t need you killed as well.”

Link smiled as he patted Shad on the shoulder and laughed. “No way, Shad. I’m no circus performer. Stupid question is all.”

Then, Shad stood and said “I’m going to write that letter now. Feel free to stay the night. Your friends are welcome as well.”

“Thank you, Shad. I’ll go deliver the message.”

As the faded-green-clad former hero rose and walked toward the group, he was stopped by Shad’s voice calling, “Link, what happened to your sword?” Link reached behind him and drew the blade, showing it to the scholar, who studied it. “What ever happened to that ornate blade that once hung from your shoulders?” The former hero swung the blade up and slid it back into its scabbard and pointed toward the stone doorway in between the large, helmed stone guardians.

Auru replied, “Only the blessed are capable.”

Shad stepped closer to Link and asked, “Can we - I - ask you to free the sword once more, for research purposed of course.”

Auru raised his hand in protest, but Link spoke first, “If you will write that letter and let me leave right now, I will do as you wish.”

Auru did not speak against Link and simply walked away saying, “Suit yourselves.”

There was a large tent where the Master’s Blade once sat embedded into the ground, naked to both air and time. As Link approached, the winds howled as if to disagree with his presence. In one swift gust, the tent was upheaved and sent across the clearing as if a mighty Goron had cast it aside. There the Blade sat, imposingly. Link reached out and touched the warm pommel. He placed a strong grip on the length of the deep blue handle and squeezed. Songoro, Lakea and Shad stood behind and held their collective breaths. Link tugged and heaved, but the blade would not budge. As if to mock the former hero, its handle became moist and slippery allowing Link to stumble back and fall. The winds howled with laughter and then died. The three behind him remained silent, perplexed at Link’s sudden and humiliating defeat.

“Only he who is needed may draw the Hero’s Blade from its tomb.” Auru was grim in his approach, but correct as Shad lowered his head in disappointment. “Don’t worry, Link. I’ll draft up that letter for you anyway.” But Link was already walking down the lonely hallway, past Auru and toward the Grove entrance.

The rain began to fall then.

Chapter Seven: A Knight in Faron

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.”

- The Philosopher to the World

It was a downpour and Ilia struggled to keep her hooded cloak up. It had appeared so suddenly, the dark clouds followed by a sudden ravenous rain. Uma covered and clutched onto Callie’s kennel with all of her might, despite the light gail. Colin rode ahead, his hood lowered and his golden locks drenched. Ilia worried about him, for as strong as the young man was, no warrior could resist the cold for long. Still, on he rode as a knight amide the sudden darkness. She gazed upon the sword handle that protruded from the cloak, strapped securely onto her friend’s strong back. He reminded her of Link, the way he carried himself with such prudence, yet with such grace. Ilia could not imagine Colin as being resentful in any way toward her former hero. Link indeed was brave man and that courage had seeped into the young master that rode before her in the wretched rain. We all still love him, thought the lady major to herself. I can see that now, if anything.

It was then that the tall trees of Mighty Faron’s woods were seen, through gloom and shadow. The travel was, at last, over for a time. The precipitation fell wildly still.

The natural threshold appeared ahead, unveiling the road into Ordona Province. The three riders strode wearily into the open gate guarded by a single house. The oil vender Coro, despite his commune with nature, was not out in the rain, but instead within the confines of his small stead. The warm glow from his darkened window was welcoming to Ilia, whose cloak was heavy and dripping. Colin stopped before the house and dismounted. Before Ilia could fathom the boy’s intentions, he was knocking plainly on the door.

Ilia and Uma rode up and the lady mayor asked her male companion, “What are you doing, Colin? Leave the man in peace.” Before Colin could voice, the wooden door creaked open and a brown frizzy bush squeezed through the opening provided. A round, stubbled face with thick cheeks and thin neck accompanied the afro below.

Coro eyed Colin suspiciously asking, “Can I help you, guy?” Upon his eyes falling onto the young man’s sword handle being but a quick reach away, Coro quickly added, “Because I’ll do the best I can.”

“My lady and girl sister,” began Colin, “require shelter for the night. I am prepared to compensate for your troubles if you would be so kind.” Coro peered into the rain to see both Ilia and Uma’s hooded selves.

“Colin...” said the tallest hooded figure. The voice was sweet, but the revelation of a lovely thin face, golden hair and green eyes was sweeter as Ilia lowered her hood. Her eyes were compassionate, though there was the element of sadness behind them. Uma too lowered her hood to reveal the soft blonde locks that resembled Colin’s.

Coro was pleased to see freckles dotting her young visage. “Are you passing through for the first time?” asked the salesman. Uma then dismounted her horse and stood next to her brother,saying, “We can grace you with our story if you will let us in.”

Coro, flushing, stepped aside and allowed the girl to pass. “My castle is your castle, guy and gals.”

“Thank you, sir.” said Colin gratefully. “No problem, guy. Anything for the ladies.” Colin nodded and bade Ilia to come in. The lady mayor looked longingly toward Faron’s woods before sighing and dismounting.

Uma was fascinated by the large mound of unkempt hair that sat upon Coro’s head. Bird of all kinds fluttered about within the house to and from their homes within the salesman’s afro. So too, was little Callie fascinated, but unsuccessful in her ventures to pounce the winged creatures. The young girl from Ordon spoke vividly about the city and her desire to return someday. She spoke of Callie and Telma and their lives in Ordon. Coro replied with wonder at how could have possibly missed three travelers, especially two young beautiful ladies, passing by his shoppe from Ordon. Colin sat in the corner, gazing out the window, his watchful eye shifting from Coro and Uma, to quiet Ilia sitting across the room. Ilia did not listen or contribute to the conversation, though she caught a solemn swear by Coro to never nap during business hours again. She chuckled inwardly at the salesman’s charming, yet obvious attempts to gain attention from the young Uma. She felt Colin’s eye upon her, though she pretended not to take notice. As soon as she felt his gaze, it lifted and the young warrior rose for the door.

“Where are you off to, guy?” asked Coro. Colin did not look back as he stepped out the door, closing it behind him.

“Colin?” called Uma behind him, but only the wood of the door absorbed the sound.

Ilia stood up to follow her friend saying, “I’ll go talk to him. Stay here, Uma.” At that, she too vanished into the rain.

Colin did not wear his cloak but instead let his light robes defend him against the cold downpour. His long golden hair hung downward and ran with water as the young warrior spun energetically, blade in hand. Exhaled grunts followed each quick thrust while snorts of effort complemented each jab. The boy’s hand was steady and his mock strikes potent. In several short steps, Colin dashed, lunged, parried air, and plunged his sword into imaginary foes. He cut and wove his way in between falling droplets, slicing many as his blade passed through the wet curtain. By the time his exercise was complete, Colin stood alone, panting angrily. He stood straight and spun his finely-crafted sword around, then up and into its scabbard.

Colin’s back was facing the silent Ilia, but still he spoke through the din of falling rain, “I’m not used to people watching me practice, Ilia. It throws my concentration off.”

The lady mayor of Ordona stepped timidly forward saying, “What if you were fighting someone? Your foes will always watch you and you still expect to keep your concentration?”

“That’s different, Ilia.” said Colin. “If I have to fight blade for blade, I will focus on one enemy at a time and never divide that attention until I win.”

“So that means that you should practice well without me interfering.”

“Perhaps,” replied Colin.

Ilia took another step forward and spokesoftly, saying, “Something’s bothering you, Colin. What is it?”

The blonde warrior said nothing but walked up to his sheltered horse standing beneath a large tree with the others. “Nothing’s bothering me, Il.” replied he, his back still to her.

Ilia walked until she was behind her friend and placed a hand upon his broad shoulder. “Is it about Link?”

“Not entirely,” he said, the tense feeling within his shoulder fading.

“Is it about me?” she asked.

Colin turned around and placed a light kiss upon Ilia’s lips.

It was sudden and shocking, but before Ilia could react, Colin was walking away, leaving her alone.

Morning came as suddenly as the kiss, which still tugged at Ilia’s subconscious mind. Coro had bade them good day and waved enthusiastically as Uma rode away smiling to him. Ilia pondered the kiss and its lack of definition. She had always suspected a crush as a child, but never for his entire young life! Perhaps his humiliation had robbed him of his speech for he did not so much as look in Ilia’s direction. This was unnecessary turmoil on her already burdened mind. She worried still. She worried about Link, she worried about Ordon, she worried about Aeadis and most importantly, the twins. She missed her children and longed to return to them. At that, Ilia made up her mind. After finding Auru and sitting with him, she would return right away, despite conditions that could potentially arise. Nothing would halt her from being with her children babies once more.

The path through Faron was clear as Colin pressed silently forward, sword drawn and lantern lit. Regardless of how many time one may tread a familiar path, Colin refused to trust it, or anything for that matter. Thirteen years ago, not a single soul could safely venture through Faron’s thick wood and dried lake unchallenged. It was then that Ilia decided to peruse her marked map. Auru’s locus was on a spot that the lady mayor had never ventured before. She noted the deep cliffs that surrounded the area. At once, Ilia felt that the mere effort to find the old man would rob her of her swift rendezvous and her opportunity to see her children once more. She lowered her map and was shocked at what she saw: a tall and mountainous Goron towering from above.

Colin lowered his sharpened blade and sheathed it, for it would be useless against such a rough-skinned opponent. What appeared to be a kinetic mound of solid rock was indeed the imposing figure of a Goron. Though, this Goron was only a solitary one. A Zora, delicate and smooth, like the young Prince that she cared for so many years ago, stepped out from behind the man of rock. Colin took a sidelong glance at Ilia, then back at the curious-looking pair. The Goron was silent, his purple eyes transfixed upon the young warrior. The Zora gave an inquisitive look at Colin, then Ilia and Uma. “Um, hello,” said Colin awkwardly. The hard features of the Goron melted like a molten flow of a docile volcano and a great smile spread across his face. “Greetings, human brother and welcome to the benevolent forest of Faron.”

“Charmed,” said Colin as he bowed low. “I am called Songoro of Death Mountain,” said the Goron. “And this lovely creature is Lady Lakea of Zora.” The feminine marine woman gave a curt bow, her crimson eyes fluttering. Colin bowed to her as well then said, “I am Colin and these two are my sister Uma and Lady Ilia-”

“-Of Ordona?” asked the female Zora. Ilia stepped forward and said, “I am her.” The Zora smiled greatly and exclaimed, “You are one that aided our beloved King Ralis in his most desperate hour.”
Ralis, thought Ilia as she recalled the wounded emerald-eyed Zora prince that she, Telma and Link rescued from certain death. The Zora never forget, apparently. “We of Zora are indebted to you, Lady Ilia.”

“I only do what is right, comrade Zora.” said Ilia, extending her hand toward Lakea in friendship. The Zora took it gently and bowed her head. Still, Ilia begged the question, “May I ask what a Goron and Zora are doing so far from their respective domains?”

“We,” thundered the friendly mountain, “are in search of our comrade. One named Link.” Ilia froze at the name. Colin tensed and Uma appeared confused. Eventually, Ilia asked, “Is he in Faron?”

“He was,” said a strange voice, a young voice. A man with spectacles, thinning hair and a thick backpack upon his shoulders appeared from behind the Goron. Letting his charge down, the man, sweating from effort, extended his hand. “I am Shad of Hylia; scholar, and a friend of Link.” Ilia took the hand and shook lightly. She asked, “What was he doing here?”

“Searching for something. He left in quite a hurry. Do you know him?”

“Yes. My name is Ilia of Ordona. Now please, for where did he depart?” asked Ilia. Shad replied wearily, saying. “He left yesterday without warning to, I suspect, my home in northern Lanayru.”

“Why there?” asked the lady mayor. Shad shrugged replying, “I’m not sure. He just needed something from there and was not willing to wait for my letter of approval to be complete. I doubt he will make much progress without it.”

Ilia shook her head, “I’m confused.” Shad was about to say something when a fourth body emerged from behind the mighty Goron: An old man with a white beard and long silver sword clung to his tall back. “We’re unsure of his motives, but the group of us are on our way to retrieve him.” Upon seeing the elderly man, Ilia recalled Telma’s words to her.

She asked him, “Are you the one called Auru?”

The old man replied saying, “Yes. I am he. Are you the one called Ilia?”

Shad chimed in, “The girl who lost her memory? Ah yes, how could I forget that face?”

“It requires great skill to forget one so young and fair,” said Auru smiling. Ilia returned the smile, but the look of pleasing within her green eyes prompted Auru to ask, “What service do you require of me, Lady Ilia?”

The lady mayor took a good studious glance at the dark silvery helm of Auru’s long sword. “Perhaps we should sit?”

An old knight turned mentor to the greatest, most benign ruler ever to sit at the throne of Hyrule. Auru, as Ilia learned, was a man with a great history behind him, though his modesty masked such achievements. She asked first of Auru and his own past. This was unnecessary, though the depth of the old man’s eyes prompted that curiosity. His wife and child were long dead. The result of a Bublin raid on his village many years ago. Though Auru led his people to victory, he could not prevent the savage trampling of his wife and young son as they fled though the fields from swift Boar Riders. Ilia was saddened by Auru’s story, for since then, the man had not remarried, nor remained in a single area for long. The only time his displaced self was held was for several years as the tutor of the young Princess Zelda. From a young age, as Auru recalled, her wisdom was great, and he endowed the knowledge that would necessitate that wisdom. He taught her of the many creeds and cultures that thrived in the Green Lands that were Hyrule. They travelled far and wide while he taught her of the proud mountain dwellers known as the Goron. She learned of the sea-faring Zora and their nautical beliefs. With respect and dignity, Zelda learned all from Auru. Though she had many tutors, it was Auru that she preferred. They all offered a great measure: arithmetic, politics, ladyship, and the like. However, none offered the Princess that which Auru excelled at and that was swordplay. Under his tutelage, Zelda became a well-balanced fencer, swift and deadly but compassionate and gentle. The Throne could expect nothing less from a Knight of the Realm. Ilia was captured by the idea that old Auru was once a prestigious Knight of Hyrule. From a simple village leader to a fighting warrior in the service of the King. Auru took the oath and watched over his old village while guiding his protege into the graceful light. Having no family to provide for, Zelda was as a daughter to the old Auru.

Time passed and Zelda’s training was complete. Auru continued to serve until his age saw him fit to retire from the Throne. From that moment on, Auru travelled in and out of Hyrule, to the neighboring nations and learning many things. That was until the darkness overwhelmed Hyrule and peace was shattered. That was when he met Link. That was when Auru smiled once more to the heavens since his life of solitude began. He stared off into the distant memory as he retold his story to a captivated Ilia.

By the time his own personal recount was complete, Auru asked, “Do you have children, Lady Ilia?”

Green-eyed Ilia responded with a cheerful smile, “Yes,” she said, “Twins, in fact. A boy and a girl.”

Auru appeared pleased and asked, “What are their names?”

Ilia handed her folded parchment that served as a family portrait and told the old man the names of both Hector and Gira.

“My son’s name was Talarau,” said a solemn Auru, “a strong, lovely lad with little care beyond the wishes of his mother.”

Ilia choked, “I have been gone for nearly a week and I miss my children terribly. They are so close, I can almost hear them rising for breakfast, eagerly awaiting our nanny’s schooling.”

The two sat in silence as Auru slowly drew his long sword and placed it before them asking, “Why did you wish to know about this, my lady?”

Ilia tried to place her words. Instead she found, “Your sword. It belonged to your Knighthood?”

“Yes,” said Auru, “it is the ceremonial blade that is issued only to the Knights of Hyrule. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve seen it before, though it belonged to another Knight that I met.” Ilia’s face was awash in memory and time.

Auru studied it well and asked, “How long ago, my dear?”

“Many years,” replied she, “I would say over twenty.”

Auru considered this and said, “Over twenty years ago, Zelda was but a young maiden Princess as I’m sure you were. As an instructor bound, I was also among the Knights of Hyrule. There were only ever thirty at one time. No more, no less. I knew every man, woman, Goron, and Zora that had pledged his or her sword to the service of the king, by name. I cannot recall of any that were posted within or near Ordon at the time.” Ilia appeared to be let down, her green eyes lowering in sadness. Auru spoke once more, “But, we can find out. If my authority within the Castle still stands, we may soon be able to clarify.”

Ilia looked up and met Auru’s deep brown eyes. She said, “You are indeed kind, good Knight.”

“Alas, I am no longer a Knight. I am but a servant to those who require service.”

“Once a Knight, always a Knight. The good of people, nor their glories can ever be taken away from them, only time may fade them, though not entirely.”

Auru paused at Ilia’s truth and said, “You man be right, my lady. However, my stance is but to serve and serve I shall. We ride to Castle Town and toward the Castle therein. The group stood up and began walking toward the natural threshold that served as the gateway to the Fields of Hyrule.

However, Ilia ran before then and held up a firm hand. “It is but a three days’ journey from here, my friends. I am of Ordona and I will welcome you into my home, for I long to see my children once more. Only then will I grant the service of Auru.” The mighty Goron, standing beside Colin, Uma and Lakea tilted his head inquisitively as Ilia withdrew her firm, open palm.

“Please,” said Ilia to the lot, “it will be brief and you may enjoy Ordonian hospitality until such time as I say my farewells to my beloved ones.”

Auru called from behind the group, his great sword now secured to his back once more, “Then we shall, Lady Ilia. Lead to way to Ordona!”

Chapter Eight: Faith and Will
--------------------------------------
Begin with the end in mind.

- The Leader to the Follower
--------------------------------------

Link was always a swift rider. Even on the aging Epona, the journey that would have taken days was reduced to mere hours, with much thanks to the mare’s potent legs. If his glorious horse did fail herself, Link was prepared to dash across the wind-swept fields and open grounds of the fertile province. Onward Epona pushed until she could push no more. Fortunately, this northerly travels were at last ended. Before the falling of the sun, the green-clad former hero was upon the walkway of what he perceived was Shad’s familial manor. The wealthy scholar lived well, though he was rarely at home to enjoy the splendour. There was no talk of a wife or children from the archeologist’s banters in Faron, but Link assumed that there was a keeper, otherwise there would have been no reason for a letter of approval. One that he could convince the keeper to let Link cross or, Goddesses help him, force his own entry. Either way, Link paid no heed to the necessity of a letter. As he approached the old oaken door frame, Link readied the archaic Claw-shot that hung awkwardly on the former hero’s belt, for with the grappling device, he could hoist his burdened self into the ancient Sky Cannon. Link could almost feel the rushing breeze of mid-flight as his gauntleted wrist rapped rhythmically across the front doors. After a short while the door opened and a wrinkled old hand passed through the separation. A white head adorned with half-focused pale blue eyes came with the hand. Link recognized the old woman that revealed herself. She was the first to speak after thoroughly examining the faded-green-clad warrior. “The Messenger?” came a squeaky old voice.

“Impaz?” asked Link.

The old lady smiled and said, “Oh, my dear It has been too long!”

Thirteen years and the old woman still functioned, albeit at a much slower pace than before. Though the life in her voice shamed her age, which Link did not hazard to guess, her helpless demeanour only increased. Link wondered at the old woman’s presence, though he was sure to co-relate her with Shad’s fixation on the Sky Tribe. All Impaz could recall was a man in green that once fulfilled her destiny. The curious look from her light blue eyes suggested that she expected to fulfill his in payment. “Are you here for the Ooccaa Transport, young man?” asked she.

Link nodded, saying, “Shad-” but was interrupted by the old Impaz saying, “Oh, he granted you permission to officially test it for him? Good for the master, as I would never consider it myself, though young men such as yourselves may pull as many muscles as possible without consequence.” Link paused and said slowly, “Yes. That is why I am here. I am going to test the gun just for him.”

“Well, that’s good,” said the little Impaz, “he has held onto that cannon for nearly ten years and now is the time he has expressed a means to fire it instead of standing with it. Indeed he is a strange boy.”

“I can agree with you there,” quipped Link. Impaz nodded and sighed saying, “But, he is a very kind man, having spirited me away from the desolate loneliness that was my old village.”

“He wanted to learn from you?”

“Yes, very much so. He was quite generous in offering me his home as my own, but I think it’s too big for me to keep while he is away. I feel that I shall pass on before he will return. In some ways, my loneliness has followed me albeit to more lofty heights.” Impaz trailed off, but then caught herself. “Please, Messenger, do come in. You look famished and fatigued.” Without any approval from Shad, the elderly keeper hobbled aside and let a smiling Link pass through. The house was neat, save for large open room that appeared to be Shad’s study. “‘Impaz, my dear.” imitated the older woman, “Should you feel the sudden urge to search about, please refrain from entering my study unattended by myself. Please do not be offended, as this rule applies to any and all visitors.’” She pointed Link in the direction of the large room and said, “I must ask the same of you, I’m afraid, dear.” Link nodded, saying, “No problem. I will respect Shad’s privacy.” Curiosity, however, took a hold of Link as he gazed toward the notes and blueprints that hung from the walls. He turned to the old woman gazing upward at him, cautiously, if not admirably. Those half-focused eyes searched the depths of Link’s soul. “My eyes may be failing me, Messenger, but I do not recall your face being so long.” Link replied, “I roam and therefore neglect to shear my face.” The old woman simply nodded and asked, “Are you as hungry as you look. dear?” At the second mention of hunger, Link realized it and responded, “Yes, I am quite low on energy.”

“Then,” chirped Impaz, “may I offer you a meal?” The notion was grand and Link accepted both the meal and the opportunity to peruse Shad’s findings on the Ooccaa Tribe. As Impaz was away to prepare the kitchen, Link saw portraits of the Ooccaa Sky Cannon and its inner workings, as if Shad had dismantled and rebuilt the machine himself. Terror shot through Link as he hurried from the study. If Shad had disassembled the Gun, then he may have miss stepped the rebuilding procedure and fouled the original functions. The notion robbed Link of his appetite as he stormed from the foyer deeper into the house. A back door, or even a secret passage would have sufficed his search. Link needed to learn the present condition of his only means of conveyance toward the ancient floating City in the Sky. He opened door after door finding only empty rooms and hallways. Finally, upon reaching the center of the house, a set of doubled doors gave way to an expansive courtyard. The entire manor wrapped around the large clearing whereupon the ancient bipedal cannon squatted unused, but appearing in prime condition. Link walked around the inert Cannon, checking for any abnormalities since his last flight. Externally, the workings appeared nominal, but the true state of being rested within the innards of so aged a weapon. There was only one method to testing its effectiveness and the means to carry out that test hung on Link’s belt. With a final release of breath, the former hero donned the Shot, aimed into the open chamber of the Sky Gun and released the grapple. In the short distance, the metal claw took a firm hold of the firing mechanism and Link was pulled into the dark cavity. Once inside, the chamber was sealed and the Cannon began to rumble and shake. An archaic bird-like leg stepped out and righted the massive Gun. A shifting motion denoted a directional change and the cannon found its bearings, guided by the ingenuity of Ooccaa design. Once locked into place, the charge began and Link bit his lip. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow and cheek as the charge reached maximum.

White gave way to mass. Mass gave way to symmetry. Symmetry ceded to detail and detail to form. Form became water, which gave way to Link. Despite the unpleasantries that came with instant dampness and cold rushing winds, the Ooccaa had created the ideal landing zone for so terrifying a journey. All this passed through Link’s mind as his head emerged to the surface of the Landing Pool.

The Cannon worked after all, delivering the former hero back into the gold and ivory gates of the Ooccaa Citadel. The damage, as Link remembered it, was caused by the mighty dragon Argorok, was repaired and well gone. There was no dearth of complex design as Link rose from the pool. Now that he was here, he did not know where to go, who to go to, or how to speak the language that the Ooccaa chirped fluently. To his left was the shoppe that sold an array of supplies unneeded by the Ooccaa people, yet served Link greatly in his prior quest. Behind him stood an opposing Sky Cannon that projected its charges ground-ward, back into the depths of Lake Hylia.

Link walked to and stood before the massive ivory doors that beckoned him. So, he walked but was met with no resistance. There were no Ooccaa about, nor were there enemies to fight until the mighty winds rose. Link struggled against the gales, but to no avail. His bulk was blown aside and his weight sent crashing onto the brick below him. Then, when the winds had blown their fill, the former hero rose once more to challenge the length toward the gates. This time there were no winds to meet him, only silence. With powerful thrusts, Link pounded his gauntleted fists against the golden ivory doors until finally, they ceded and he entered. There, he met the Oocca: the miniscule golden-feathered humanoid aviaries fluttering about their business. All of them with their tiny saffron featureless eyes gazed upon the human. All were still in their appraisal of the Hylian, though none spoke...to him at least. There were hushed mumblings in a language that Link had yet to understand, but he was sure that the voices vociferated about him. A single golden feathered being stepped forward among the throng. The ridges above its eyes were taut, as was the flesh about his neck. While most other Ooccaa wore several flaps of wrinkled skin about their long necks, this particular being appeared young. Its head tilted to one side before flapping his large wings and flopping down before the former hero. “Hey, it’s you!” shouted the little Sky Being. “Wow, it’s great to see you again, Hero. You’re awesome!”

Ooccoo Junior. The exuberant bird man was none other than the little companion that flew about with his mother during their time on hylia firma. The little flying head had sprouted an entire feathered body and more defined features, yet his young stood out among the crowd of otherwise indiscernible patrons. Link relaxed and smiled as he knelt down before the short bird-like humanoid. The corners of the Ooccaa’s mouth curled upward in what Link defined as a smile and said, “Ooccoo Junior, how have you been?”

“Never greater, Link! Welcome to the Lofty City! Please allow me to show you around!” Link admired the young bird’s enthusiasm, but the warrior felt that he had gotten to know the City quite well during his previous visit. Before the Ooccaa could scamper off, Link said, “I’m afraid that will not be necessary, my little friend. I must have a word with your leaders.” Junior halted and bowed his head in disappointment as he said, “Aw, okay then. I shall inform the Eldest.”

“Do they speak Hylian, Junior,” asked the green-clad human. As Junior was stepping away, Link followed. Looking over his golden-feathered shoulder, the young Ooccaa said, “Of course the Eldest speak your tongue. They taught it to my mamma, who then taught it to me. Granddad taught her well, didn’t he Link?”

“Your mamma?” began Link, “Where is you mother now, Junior?”

“Oh,” replied the bird man, “She sits among the Eldest now. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you again, Traveller.”

The chamber was vast and empty, save for the seven Ooccaa perched at its epicenter, leaving lowly Link to stare upward into the flowing light. Junior bade Link to stay put and then himself flew upward into the light, before which sat the Eldest of the Ooccaa. There was hushed, but rushed murmuring among the seven, but eventually Junior fluttered back down to an awaiting former hero. “Will they speak?” asked Link, who was immediately shushed by the young bird. A loud squawking voice, both shrill and hight emerged from the perches. “Link of Hylia.” began the first. “You arrive unannounced at our Ivory gates with the urgent need to speak with us, the Eldest of the Ooccaa. Is this true?”

“It is,” replied Link firmly. The voice continued, “What is the purpose of this urgency, Master Link?”

“The purpose is personal. I rode many days and nights and have put many miles behind me to speak with the wisest of you.”

“They are we, young Adventurer.” This was the aging, but friendly voice of Ooccoo, Junior’s mother. “Now please, ask and we may proceed to help you in any way we can.”

Another voice interrupted, saying, “We, however, cannot promise success in our services, o Hero of the Skies.”

“I understand,” replied Link. “The reason I come to you, the wisest of the Sky, is that I seek passage into the Twilight Realm.”

There was chatter most excited from above. The Ooccaa were arguing amongst themselves in reaction to Link’s wish. Finally, a coherent voice spoke, “Are you not aware of the complexity of your wish, Master Link.”

“I am aware of my desire to return to Twilight. I am also aware the Mirror of Twilight is no more and I therefore request a solution from you on high. All I request is one of two possible answers.”

“Please state the question and we may answer.”

“If I pose, then I wish for a solution to the positive format of the answer. If there is a negative response, I will humbly leave you at peace and never return again.” Silence. Link continued by asking his question, “Is there an alternate means of travel to the Realm of Shadows that is accessible to myself through your machinations?”

The Ooccaa Eldest talked among themselves before finally informing Link, “Yes. There is a method by which to proceed. However, much is left to be explained. We can help you, o Hero, but you must be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” asked Link. A door opened in the gloom and the Eldest descended into it. Ooccoo said as she flew, “Follow us, kind Hero, and we shall explain everything.”

Faith and Will. That is what they called it. The remaining route to the Realm of Twilight was attainable only through the prestige of Faith an act of the Will. To have faith is to believe, to believe is to convict, to convict is to focus on that which your heart desires most. To have faith in one’s goal ensures its spiritual fulfillment. The Act of Will is the final testament to that belief. The Act itself denotes the level of faith in one’s journey. To accept Faith and perform Will was the only remaining link to the Realm that the former hero sought. The means came in the form of a machine. Complex technology beyond Link’s understanding, or even all understanding. They explained the technology as a marriage between Mythos and Machine. A device with unprecedented power and potential. This machine, designed and built by the Ooccaa gave a feeling of unease within Link’s stomach, yet the Sky Tribe’s technology had never failed him before. It was a small chamber wired with a table and natural sunlight. The doorway into the chamber was domed with thick glass. The table itself held chains and braces that fit the form of an adult male Hylian.

There was, however, a catch to the completion of Link’s journey. “You see,” explained the Eldest, “The Faith must be unshakable and the desire strong. If that is simple to one warrior such as yourself, then the Act of Will is what requires the most concentration and determination. For you see, warrior: unbreakable faith is nothing without action in this case.”

Link stared blankly at the vacant chamber and the table there-within and asked, “What must I do?”

The eldest replied, “Enter the chamber and remove your equipment. Lay upon the table and allow the technology to work. Once secure, we will ask you to summarize your goal in order to establish the perception of Faith.”

Link complied and removed the burden of his sword, shield, gauntlets, bracers, tunic, mail, hat, and boots. He lay half-naked upon the automatic table, which secured his body. A voice leaked through the glass window asking,“What is the object of your Faith, Master Warrior?”

Link closed his eyes and said, “Midna.”

The chamber went dark and a single mechanical arm descended from the chamber ceiling. A single syringe was clasped by rubber fingers as it became level with the former hero’s neck. “Now it is time for the final inquisition, warrior.” said the Eldest. “It is the Act of Will. The choice you make will be the needle’s choice. Within the needle, there is only death.”

“Death?” asked Link.

There was silence when Ooccoo spoke softly to the half-naked hero, “Yes, Link. The only spiritual path to any realm lies in the choice of death. Though the action of death must be reinforced by faith for the travel to be a success.”

Link chuckled at the length he was about to go to. “Death is the answer, then.”

“If that is your choice, Master Link, please understand that you might never return.”

“Ooccoo, my dear,” said Link, “There is so much justice in that syringe that the irony will strangle me itself.”

“Then, before you choose to end your life, please restate your Faith and hold it well.”

Link closed his eyes and thought of flowing red hair, and smooth, pale blue skin. He imagined running his finger through the warmth of that hair while becoming lost in the tangerine and crimson bliss that were Her eyes. Fine lips smiled at his presence. And wavering shadow embraced both he and his Twilight Princess. Yes, that is what Link thought of before the syringe sank into his veins.

“Midna,” was all that he whispered as Link drew his final breath.

Quote from shadow226

What!! Link cant die! Although I never saw that coming. another fantastic peice of writing. The story is changing in a way that I never expected, utter brilliance.

There is more to come.
I personally love this next part myself.
Things get very dark from here on out.
.------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Nine: A Lacerated Sky

Do not pass by my epitaph, traveler.
But having stopped, listen and learn, then go your way.
There is no boat in Hades, no ferryman Charon,
No caretaker Aiakos, no dog Cerberus.
All we who are dead below
Have become bones and ashes, but nothing else.
I have spoken to you honestly, go on, traveler,
Lest even while dead I seem loquacious to you.

-The Dead to the Weary
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Ilia’s vision slid back into focus. As the world spun back to her, she recognized the faces that spun with it. Colin and Uma stood above her, yelling incoherently. Ilia felt a pressure in her chest that almost made her scream, though she could not for the life of her. Shad and Auru stood away, though their eyes did not shift. The mighty Songoro held a frightened Lakea in his strong rocky arms as Colin bent low to place a hand upon the lady mayor’s cheek.

Finally, Ilia was able to speak. With a loud gasp of air, she was fully awake and fully aware. She spoke, saying. “Link!” The group stood in silence around her. Ilia was on her back, which was stiff as a board until the feeling began to return. The pressure in her chest faded and was gone. With Colin and Auru’s help, lovely Ilia was hoisted to her feet. She placed a weary hand upon her aching head and asked, “What happened?”

“You took quite a spill there, Lady Ilia,” said the thunderous Songoro.

“You just collapsed,” said Lakea with worry written all over her thin visage.

“Had us worried to death!” exclaimed Uma. Ilia tried to take a step forward, but stumbled. Colin rushed forward to help, but Ilia waved him off, for she was determined to proceed. “I feel like I just died,” she finally said after a few cautionary paces.

“You did,” said Auru. The group was stricken with grief as Auru continued, “Nearly upon the gates of Ordona and you fell back, cold as ice.”

“Then what? How long was I out for?” asked Ilia. Shad chimed in, saying, “No more than a minute. How do you feel?”

“Fine now,” replied the lady mayor.

“Can you make it the rest of the way?” asked Colin. Ilia nodded and began to step forward, finding her balance once more. Before long, the mystery surrounding Ilia’s sudden collapse was left to future inquiry, as the green-eyed lady herself found new life in the familiar road leading toward the village. She could smell the warmth of the bread from Talo’s mill and the cook fires burning within each house. The bleating of goats sounded a pleasant cacophony in Ilia’s ears and served only to fuel her pace. Past the Spring and through the trail, Ilia neared the house that formerly belonged to Link...

Then it happened.

Thunder. The sound of thunder drummed heavily from the heavens. Yet, there was no sulking cloud in sight within the unbroken sapphire sky.

Thunder, thunder, thunder.

Louder and louder still did it become until the sky itself broke and bled. Like ink, the redness masked the ceiling of heaven. Like blood, did it stain the clouds and canopy above.
Before long, the entire tapestry of eternal blue sank into a stormy sea of infernal red. Ilia and her group halted and gazed upward. She felt uneasy at the sight she bore witness to from afar.

Over the bloodstained horizon, black objects, like many fell beasts began to rise. At first they were small, but as they approached, their bulk grew until their size matched that of seafaring ships. Upon first glance, they were few. Then there were dozens, then hundreds until over several thousand vessels hung from the sky, drifting over top Sleepy Ordon. The denizens of the village below emerged from their houses to stare in unified awe at the sight from above. Low over the horizon, many more images appeared, only these masses bore great webbed wings and long, scaly necks.

Dragons, thought Ilia in horror. There are Dragons in Hyrule. Hollow cries were bellowed from the distance. They were strong and guttural. At once, the people of Ordon broke and fled as the first of the fell beasts soared overhead, their razor sharp limbs trimming the treetops. The Dragons screeched and roared as they gained altitude. Upon their backs bore the shapes of riders. Tamers of Dragons, as it appeared joined the fleets up above in their black displays.

Suddenly, the network of floating ships, uniform in their dark appearance, let fall a vast array of fire from their many collective hulls... onto the village below.

Pure lances of heat and flame lashed violently against the hapless earth. With concussive force, entire houses were torn from their foundations and their remains burnt. The Black ships bore mercilessly down until nearly every scrap of green was rendered charred and dead.

Ilia stood silent and cold as the ships fired and the tamed Dragons dove down in entire droves, letting fiery breath engulf the innocence below.

Finally, after the last ship had closed its hull and the final Dragon had blown its fill, the Black Fleets ascended into the blood red clouds.

All that once was in Ordona Province’s sleepy little village, was no more.

Only after the fires were spread, did the rains come to quench them. Against a crimson sky, the drops were as blood falling from a great laceration.

And all Ilia could do was stare helplessly into the devastation beyond.

She was a broken woman. Ilia's heart fell with each crashing stroke of flame that consumed her valley, her home.

She thought she could hear the voices of her little ones, calling to her, wishing for her to hold them in their fears.

Ilia's knees buckled and her soul faded, faded like the screams down below.

Only fire and ash could be seen or heard, dancing and cackling, replacing the song and dance that once was.

Through torture and agony of so slow a death, she would have given anything, anything, to cradle her children once more. To chastise Hector's exuberance, or to nurse Gira's shyness.

Those wishes crumbled like the roofs of so many ruined huts.

Yet, all Ilia could do was stare helplessly into the devastation beyond.

Chapter Ten: Twilight Falling
---------------------------------------

“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds”

-A Fierce Deity
----------------------------------------

Link opened his eyes and the warm light of the realm washed them clean. The dark clouds of Twilight tumbled and slid across the perpetual sunset skies. It was upon firm rock that Link stood, suspended in eternal bliss.

He was naked. It was as if all of his belongings were left behind in the world of Light. It did not bother Link in the slightest. He no longer felt the need to let his weapons burden him. It was just Link alone along the edge. Nothing separated him from that ground and the unyielding depths below.

He would fall forever if he did.

Link turned around, as the feeling of the rock beneath his naked feet was that of a steady decline, like a natural ramp. When he completed his turn, a familiar sight befell him: The Palace. The Royal Citadel of Twilight.

He had made it. After thirteen long and fruitless years, Link had finally succeeded. The sight of the dark stonework and majestic architecture nearly brought the former hero to his knees.

But, there was one sight that did: the tall, lean curvature of a dream robed in a black veil. That vision, that angel of darkness was but a swirl of tinged blue flesh and shadowy garment. A vivid river of fire furled around her head and was contained by a stone bracelet. Sitting above lush, kissable lips and small pointed nose was a pair of the most beautiful eyes that Link had ever seen. They themselves were as sunsets: a painting of auburn, married to a golden tangerine bliss.

Those eyes focused on him and him alone as the angel approached. Link’s knees finally gave way then. He fell before her, his Twilight Princess. She did not deviate and she did not take her hot, focused eyes off of the de-robed Hylian. Link’s own eyes began to sting. They were wet with approaching tears, but he dared not turn his face away.

Not away from her. Not away from Midna.

She halted a mere foot away from the downed, wet-eyed warrior. She stared down and he gazed upward. Another figure appeared behind the Twilight Monarch. Much like the kin of this realm it was another pale Twili; a male, in fact. An exceptionally large man of dusk, though his broad chest and shoulders were clad in a thickly woven armour. Upon the black iron were traces and various lengths of cyan arabesques baring the Royal Seal of the Realm. Upon his thickly chinned visage was a well-groomed tuft of facial whiskers and deep red eyes. Regardless of his importance, the armoured shadow’s presence stirred anger within the naked former hero. This intrusion was unforgivable, yet Link lacked the ability to vociferate. In a language that could not be understood by Hylian ears, the male uttered urgency. A musical melody responded in that same tongue from Midna's lips. Though he could not understand it, Link adored every syllable, every possible verb and every articulation. Just surely as the man arrived, so did he part. With a short, respectful bow, he turned and left, much to Link’s pleasure. She did not watch the armoured knight depart, as her gaze never lifted from Link, which only served to paralyse him, to hinder his mind and body. Then, those luscious lips curled at the corners, however slightly. It was a warm smile, one that mirrored the comfort of her realm as he basked in it.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to shake, though Midna did not quiver with it. The oscillations became more and more violent until the foundations of the Twilight Palace before them began to splinter. Then, the colossal structure and is many substituents, like blackened glass, shattered. The citadel, in all of its might, broke and crumbled under a massive shock wave. Blue fire rose and engulfed whatever remained. One by one, the floating isles that made Midna's kingdom, began to drop away into the abyss below.
A single golden shimmering tear ran down the regal painted visage of the Twilight Monarch. Her realm, her charge, dissolved around her, yet there was no panic.
Confused, Link stood up upon his naked legs and looked pleadingly into the beautiful Twili’s sunset eyes. He saw only pain. Pain behind the smile and pain behind the veil of calm.

Calmness shrouded her like the cloak she wore.

The blue fires expanded and consumed. The distant moaning of trapped Twili only thickened the golden river that was flowing from Midna’s wonderful eyes. The fires eventually reached the lone pair and drew a tight ring. White light suddenly cascaded around the circumference of the fire, pure and bright. Midna slowly raised her chin and closed her eyes. With an exhale, Link went numb once more, his bare body tingling.

The light faded and the fires consumed all.

Burn, burn, burn, World of Light.
Fall, fall, fall, Accursed Twilight.
Rise, rise, rise, Eternal Chaos.
Mine Sword and Mine Rule be thine to behest.
For I, simply, am.

For Mine Blade, swift and nay dulled by time, nor wear,
Does aptly cut the swath and veil of sweet darkness nigh.
So readily, do I command the sky to bleed, the forests to fall.
For things, simply, are.

I am She.
I am of Four.
Of the Four Directions come.
Of the Four Directions conquered.

I play counter to Three,
The lead to their Gold.
Casting ignorant wisdom,
Weakened strength,
And pitiful courage,
For the true hearts of the living are all of these things.
I know all.
I destroy all.
I know no fear, and pity none.
For I, simply, am.
And things, simply, are.

May the Mountains, Waters, and Earth bow to their Mistress.

---------------------------------------------------000-------------------------------------------------

Link’s vision caught only a glimpse of the room he was in. Something warm was holding his hands. Another pair of human fingers clutched his own. Nails, long and sharp, did not harm his flesh. A dark figure was standing over him. Whoever it was, it brought comfort and even a smile to the former hero’s whiskered face. It took a moment before he realized that he was on his back upon the flat table in the room that took his life.
Somehow, he had returned. Midna! Where is she? Link nearly panicked. He was so close! The thought of loss coupled with those last chaotic moments in his brief stay within the Twilight were terrifying at best. He squeezed the fingers that were wrapped around his and the Hylian's vision came fully to.

There she was. His Twilight Princess, standing next to the spot where her hero had taken his own life in order to be with her, even if only to see her just once more. However, something was different. She was no longer a Princess.
She was a Queen, quiet and radiant.

Even so, Midna was still smiling warmly, though the tears she shred from before still left their wet traces behind. Her hooded veil was away and a crown of red hair hung gracefully down. A dark hand found its way to the bushiness of Link’s cheek and he nearly fell asleep with the heat it created within him. He turned his weary head to meet the wonderful crimson of Midna’s sunset eyes. The regal monarch tilted her head slightly to one side and smiled mischievously, saying, “Hello, Link. Did you miss me?”

All the warrior could do was widen his sapphire eyes and grin happily. For the first time - truly, in a long time - Link felt a familiar pang of emotion called happiness. Finally, he spoke, “Thirteen years worth of words to speak and I am muted.” Midna giggled and replied, “That’s the second time you’ve been struck by my presence. Do I frighten you?” Link was silent again, but only for a moment.

“Immensely," said he. At that, they only stared at each other. A long gaze which, eventually, Midna was forced to break. Link could tell that she was in real pain, yet the confusion surrounding his return to her realm and their sudden departure begged the question, “What happened in there?”

Midna turned angrily toward him, her fangs bared, “That wretch is what happened!” Link’s heart was well-tuned to sudden strikes and lashes, but nothing could prepare him for such an aggravated response. He felt his blood run cold and thick, as if he was about to be forced to defend himself. She did frighten him after all.

Then he saw the tears run anew. Tears of anger, hate and total misery. Something had forced her out of her rightful place once more, only this time she retained her true self. It was at that moment that Link sat up, took his unbound hands and wrapped them around the tall dark mistress. Her tears were hot against his neck, but she did not sob. As quickly as Midna had growled her response, so did she appropriate her royal self. The Queen of Twilight then found herself returning the embrace given by her Hero of Light. Link considered asking the question again, but Midna spoke, her tears dried and vanquished, “She calls herself the Mistress of Four.”

“A mistress?” asked Link, perplexed, “where from? And how?” Midna frowned and said, “An unholy being from an unholy place. She wields a mighty power, one that matches the power of your Golden Goddesses.” Link’s expression went sour and he said, “Matches them? Is that even possible?”

“You saw what happened to my home, Link. My throne, my people, my kingdom. All burned and fallen away with a twist of her will.”
So it was true. The Twilight as Link saw it, was no more. He remembered the crumbling citadel and the blue fires. Most horrific of all, was the memory of -
“Screaming.” whispered Midna. “I can still hear them calling to me. I can hear their voices fading into the fire.” Link felt helpless. He wished to comfort his companion, though he was unsure how. She simply stood, her back to him. And so he stood, obediently behind her. “Is there anything I can do?” asked Link meekly. Midna turned around and smiled, saying, “You can help me find her, get to her. Then, when we do, I’ll ask you for your sword which I will then use to sever her rule.” The barred grin was not a friendly one. There was malice and there was angst. It is not often that the ruler of Twilight gets expelled twice from her own kingdom. Link wondered how she was able to survive while her people burned and fell away. Did she even have a choice in the matter of life or death?

Before Link could ask, the metallic door hissed open and the squat little Oocca known as Junior marched in. “Link, I hate to break up this reunion, but I have terrible news. I think you should follow me quickly.”

“But what about Midna, I can’t leave her here,” replied Link.

Junior titled his head and said, “Queen Midna of the Twilight is formally a guest within these suspended may do as she pleases.”

Link wondered how long he was unconscious for if Midna had time to work her charms on the Oocca. Even so, he shrugged and followed the golden-feathered being into the antechamber. Link glanced toward Midna who strode gracefully along side him, her long fiery hair flowing behind her.

The antechamber was no longer flooded with mercurial sunlight. Instead a dull red haze poured from the skylights. Oocca flew about noisily, panicked. Just as all things in the Twilight Realm went awry, The world of Light was also in turmoil. The Eldest of the Oocca were gathered around a brass table with a large orb at its centre. The sphere was lit and a film of images flooded from it like a vision. Projected upon the walls was a pulsating version of an all too familiar map. One of the eldest Oocca faced Link and asked, “You are familiar with this landscape, yes?”

Link nodded, saying, “Hyrule? Yes I am. Why?”

“What we are about to show you is upsetting.”

“What is it?”

Link would live to regret that question. The images that flowed from the orb were of Hyrule in its varied entirety. From the Deserts to the Mountains, the skies were blood red with black vessels hanging ominously from them. All about were winged beasts breathing fire. Dragons racing over the desert and ships scouting the highest peaks of snow. To the West, the rivers of Zora ran low, reflecting the rash-coloured heavens above. Central Hyrule, the vivid city was empty, while the surrounding fields lay dead. The only commonality between all of these lands were that they were all being consumed by fire. The forests burned and the villages were razed. Countless dead lay about, stripped of both possession and flesh. It was a terrible sight indeed. The once green fields were black with ash, whatever survived was slick with blood. Finally, an image that nearly brought Link to his knees once more:

Ordona, the sleepy village to Hyrule’s south, lay in ruins. Each hut was burned and flattened. Black smears across the ground evaded Link’s attention before he realized that those individually carbonized masses bore the uncanny resemblance of people. Adults, children, villagers all.
Link was speechless. Even the welcome placement of Midna’s hand upon his shoulder failed to placate Link’s grief. Now it was his turn to become angry. The happiest moment in his life was stained by the unruly actions of a greater power.

Link made a vow to drain it.

Calmly, deftly, the former hero turned a question over to the assembly of Oocca, “Who is this Mistress of Four and where do these enemies hail from?” It was old Ooccoo that answered, “She is not of these lands, Adventurer. It is unknown where she truly came from.”

“The Mistress of Four,” added another Eldest, “is said to have descended from the Gods themselves.”

“She,” said yet another, “possesses the gift of rhetoric. Her silver tongue can sway the hearts of the weak and even convinced the most stubborn of mountains to bow. For those too strong-willed to comply, she simply sets her hoards of blind followers upon them.”

Midna spoke up, “They are not slaves, like my brethren to Zant’s chains. They follower her willingly and kill indiscriminately. They accept her and they are forever hers." Link studied the holographic images that flowed and considered the black fleets hanging above the land. He asked, "Where could this Mistress of Four have come from prior to Hyrule?" He looked from Elder to Elder until little Ooccoo found his sight. She said, "focus on the map and I shall tell you."

The representation of Hyrule shrank until its view was beyond that of the cradling mountains. There were indeed more lands outside Hyrule, lush and beautiful. "To the North," began Ooccoo, "is a land that is ripe with change and industry. Their technology extends beyond even ours. Ships that once floated on the sea began to hang in the sky, much like our cities, though these ships have been converted into machines or war. Many machines of war." Link gazed, struck not only be the raw power of these black ships, but by their sheer number that blotted the sun. From their hulls, Link witnessed falling lines of concentrated fire that instantly vaporized anything it its path. Truly something to behold.

"Next," said Ooccoo, "is a land so wild and untamed that its people are governed by nature itself. And nature is a savage mistress." The map shifted from North to South, beyond sleepy Ordon. Lush jungles and furious rivers painted the land bright shades of green and blue. Pairs of webbed wings emerged from the canopies. With those wings came thick scaled bodies. At the anterior end was a long neck supporting a narrow head that bristled with pointed horns and jagged teeth. A large dead animal hung limp from closed jaws while Link concluded that the source of offensive winged beasts was found. Upon their backs were savagely-clothed riders, much like humans in appearance. "Survival is the key to ruling in this paradise," said Ooccoo. "Though the cost may very well be one's humanity."

"To the East is a nation that once prided itself on peace." A mountainous, foggy landscape masked the territory beyond the Desert. "Here," continued Ooccoo, "lives a tribe of docile magic weavers. Though they do not seek war, their powers serve only to increase the quality of life. It is for that reason that this tribe is considered the longest living band of them all." To live so long would be a blessing as long as that long life was worth living, thought Link as he took a glance back toward a quiet observant Midna. A least, now it would be.

The land faded away as the view was brought to the West, past the Zora Domain. "This land is one of moderate balance, much like our Hyrule," orated Ooccoo. "It is a relatively smaller realm, though it's cultures are advanced. Technology is favoured more so than magic, but the elements are still visible. Great tame creatures with enormous strength walk about when they are prompted to." Link gazed at the place before him. Something was familiar about the lay of the land, though he could not point out why. The map faded and an overall globe was formed in the air.

Ooccoo strutted across the table and pointed with a golden wing, "Once again: to the North is the land of gears and bearings. This land is called The Republic of Aerij. Its people are hardy and strong-willed, though their capitulation was quickly wrought with the Mistress controlling the political elite. A descent from the top proved to be a quick victory for her."

"The lush lands that are filled with wild beasts is a place known as Fell. Though its people are the hardiest of all, they recognize only raw power and leadership. To topple a warring chief is to rule the tribe. Of the five major tribes, the Mistress of Four personally rules them all. They were the first to submit to her rule, followed by Aerij."

"The third and most difficult," continued Ooccoo, "was the magical tribe of the Leer in the land of Leeror. Their minds were the strongest of all, but the Mistress of Four abandoned her rhetoric and called upon her ships to convince the tribal leaders otherwise."

"This final land beyond the Zora rests by the Great Sea. She is the sister world of Hyrule. The industrious, yet cultivated Termina." Chatter along the Eldest heightened as Ooccoo pressed onward. "This beautiful land was the most recent addition to the unholy axis created by the Mistress of Four. With her name and her legacy complete, she seeks to enslave Hyrule."

“Those that defy her....” Midna’s anger boiled as her brow furrowed. Link understood completely and nodded. Still, he asked, "But why? What is her motive? Who is she really?" Link nearly demanded to know. The Oocca simply shook their creative little head and frowned. None of them knew. "Beyond the simple desire of war, we have no idea as to what her motive it. I'm sorry Link." said the small creature. "The absence of Queen Zelda makes matters worse. We have long since lost sight of her after her journey into the lands beyond." Link pondered as well what Zelda had planned, but if she returned, she would most likely discover a burnt shell of what these lands used to be.

Link made his decision on the spot With a frown upon his lips and scorn in his heart, Link made a personal declaration of war against this faceless evil. As a sign of such conviction, the former hero knelt down, drew his Ordonian blade and held it by the razor edge, its pommel facing Midna. With a bow of his unkempt head, Link spoke, “I will assist you in any way I can, my Queen. My sword is yours, as well as my life. Your war is now mine.” Midna held a stern look upon her face.

Gently, she pushed the pommel down and bade Link to rise, saying, “I can’t ask any more of you, Link. You’ve done enough for me already. I owe you.” Once again, Link was lost for words, but none were necessary.

However, little Ooccoo Junior approached and said, “Hey, Link. We may have found survivors in Ordon. We detect movement." At once, the green-clad warrior rose and stored his weapon to gaze upon the illuminated walls. The image focused on a small group of people charging down into the valley where Ordon once stood. The flames and smoke were thick, but Link recognized the mobile figures. There were several adult men and few women. A large tanned boulder that could only be a Goron and a sleek pale woman of the sea. Songoro and Lakea, thought Link. The men were more difficult to identify, despite his recognition, but Link knew that they were Auru and Shad. However, there more. A blonde man and woman. Two blonde women in fact. The man’s long stride and drawn blade resembled that of old Rusl. Colin, thought Link. My, he’s grown. If that was the young master, then the woman next to him was his sister, Uma. Link recalled the infant upon his return to Ordon those many years ago. That left the other woman. She was ahead of the group, shouting. Her green eyes full of worry. That could only be Ilia. The image then pulled away as more figured entered the valley. Only these figures were many. Their flesh was dark, clad with various irons and their limbs armed with various lengths of weaponry. They surrounded the valley and slowly began a detailed march around the small group of Hyruleans.

Fear overtook Link and he turned to the Oocca Eldest and shouted, “I need a cannon to send me to Ordon. Now!”

“I’m sorry, Adventurer,” began Ooccoo, “but our cannons cannot aim so far as Ordon, Your closest landing would have been the lake in Faron, which has long-since dried. We cannot send you any closer than Lake Hylia.” Link shook his head and pounded his gauntleted fists down upon the brass table, which shook.

Once again, he felt the cooling sensation of Midna’s palm on his tense shoulder. “Link,” she said, “are you forgetting who’s company you are in?”

Link looked up and toward his Twilight Queen who held the ability to traverse time and space. Without another moment passed, Midna held up a single finger and cast an invisible ink across the floor, which formed into a black spiralling surface that hummed and glowed a pale blue along its edges. The regal Queen stepped onto the surface and held out her long, perfect fingers. Link smiled and took a hold.

With a final nod toward the Oocca, his entire body dematerialized and the molecules were sent skyward and across the bloodied heavens.

Chapter Eleven: Contact
---------------------------------------------------------------

“The clock ticks on
While my soul bleeds slowly
And the aching of my empty arms
Cries softly, like a child in the night
I examine the hole in my Self
That remains where once a baby smiled at me...”

- A Mother, lost.
----------------------------------------------------------------

A mother’s search for her children is furious, desperate and unrelenting.

This was Ilia at the scene where the most horrible event of her short life had taken place. For any mother, such an event could only mean the loss of her children. Nearly every square meter of ash and soot that once stood dominantly as the Mayor’s Hut was scraped by her bare hands now hot and sullied. Colin went to her, despite her fanatical vocation. The others stood close by, prepared to lunge forth in case Ilia decided to dive into the active flames. Colin decided that it was best to keep the lady mayor away from the crisp remains of what was once hers. He placed a strong hand upon the weeping Ilia’s shoulder and knelt next to her.

The young mother tilted her golden head to rest mournfully upon his shoulder, hot tears dropping like rain. Deep were her sobs. For the longest moments, Ilia’s broken-hearted cries were the only vocalizations that anyone in the disdained company could utter.

Once again Lakea was cradled in the rocky shields of mighty Songoro’s arms fighting tears of her own. The usually cheerful mask of the Goron was inverted and angry, however, his purple eyes denoted nothing but helplessness. Auru stood outside the huddle, his drawn long sword in hand and his dark eyes darting wearily about. Shad in particular looked distressed. He simply sat next to the old Knight, watching the despair. The young Uma had followed her older brother and joined in his comforting of the grieved Ilia, whose weeps had died into forsaken whimpers. Once again, those whimpers were the only sounds heard amid the cackling flames and disturbed water.

Disturbed water? Ilia glanced at Colin, who stood, pulled his sword free and turned to Auru. The old man stared coldly down the direction of the stream leading into the nearby Ordonian lake. There was a sound of sloshing and complaints of effort. A large dark figure trudged upward against the mild flow of the stream, its shape made monstrous by the redness of the sky above. Unsure, both swordsmen made ready their positions while the Goron covered the rear. Ilia simply stayed where she sat. No amount of fear could have moved her from the site where her young family once lived. She longed for the little hands that touched and the little mouths that kissed. She also longed for the strength of her husband. She found some comfort in that knowledge that Aeadis was with them. He was there to hold them before they died. He was there to - “Mommy!” -

Hear their voices. The shadow that had swords drawn against it dissolved into three individual entities: a tall one sided by a pair of miniatures. The little shadows burst forth and were their darkness was lifted to the eyes of the group. From the haze, twins Hector and Gira revealed themselves. As the pattering little feet approached Ilia, the lady mayor’s green eyes widened with disbelief. Reflexively, she opened her arms wide and accepted the shivering embrace of her two children. Tears, warm and thankful flowed freely from her eyes as her twins squeezed with all their might. They were cold and damp, but alive. “Oh, my babies!” Ilia delivered pecks to every square inch of their wet little faces. She stopped to breath and wondered, “But how?” She looked beyond Hector’s long brown hair and saw a tall lean figure among the shadows. “Aeadis?” she called. “Is that you?”

“As much as I would like to be,” replied a familiar voice, “I’ll have to disappoint you, Ilia.”

It was Talo, the mill owner’s son. The red bandana he wore a child was still used to gather the perspiration from his brow. In the time since Link’s departure, young Talo had matured from a rambunctious trouble-maker to the tall, mild-mannered successor to his father’s waterwheel-powered mill. Talo’s younger brother Malo had left for Castle Town in pursuit of furthering his general retail market, as Ilia recalled in those few seconds. It was difficult to picture those two without one another. Wet, shivering, and wide-eyed, Talo’s shoulders relaxed and he fell, blood flowing from a fresh wound in his arm. Colin shouted a response and ran toward his friend. Using the red handkerchief that held Talo’s hair, the blonde-hairs swordsman constricted the the crimson flow and the river ceased shortly thereafter. Talo was pale, not only from blood loss, but from sheer terror. The children were also whitened, but the warmth of their mother saw the flush return of colour to their small cheeks. They gathered around the fallen mill-owner and were taken aback. Steadily, the brown-haired man breathed out the events he had witnessed and the actions he took. First of all, he asked, “Where are the tykes?” Ilia smiled and replied, “Right here with me. Thank you Talo, for watching over them.” She still wondered about Aeadis. Was he dead? Talo smiled back, relieved. He then said, “I saw Aeadis before the fleets and the fire.” This caught Ilia’s interest. She listened as he spoke on, “He was the first to point upward and the last one that I saw alive.”

“Is he still alive?” asked Ilia half-heartedly expecting the answer to be a negative one. “I don’t know,” replied Talo. “I was standing next to him when he quickly turned to me and told me to follow him.”

“Then what?” Ilia’s eyes were ablaze. Talo swallowed as he continued, “We entered the hut and he woke the twins, gathering them up in his arms. He asked me to take Hector and to follow him to the lake.”

“Did he know what was going to happen?”

“Seems like it, because that mysterious floating armada from the skies began unleashing their hell when we reached the lake.” The memory was beginning to upset her again. Talo ceased talking.

“Please, Talo,” urged Ilia, “Please tell me what Aeadis did next.”

“Your husband held the children tight, telling them that I was going to look after them. And as abrupt as it was, I was willing to undertake the task.” Ilia felt tears flowing. Still, Talo pressed, despite his discomfort, “Then, with a final embrace, he left. To where, I have no clue, but before he took off, he told me to enter the lake no matter what happened.”

“So you stayed in the lake this whole time.” Songoro thundered in. “Yes,” replied Talo, “I put my body between the twins and the falling shrapnel. That was how I got this wound.” The young man hinted toward the gash upon his arm. He tired to stand, but was weak. A rocky hand from Songoro aided in Talo’s rise. He was pale and his lips were dark. Both the water and the shock from such a wound had taken their tolls. Still, Ilia embraced him, delivering a kiss upon both white cheeks. Immediately, they became flush and Talo smiled. With a glance about, the mill-owner’s son asked, “Did you find anyone else?”

“Only what remains,” admitted Colin sadly. The blonde-haired swordsman sought his sister, but Uma he could not find. Then a memory of his father struck home and Colin turned in the hazy direction of his house. Ilia watched as Colin walked away, more sadness filling her. In the distance, she could hear the gentle weeping of a young girl who had just discovered the blackened skeletons of her parents. Ilia was upset not at the absence of her husband, but at the absence of any indication whether he was alive or dead. It would haunt her and she knew it. A part of her longed to be Uma and Colin, huddled in their sorrow before their burnt home. At least the foresight of acceptance and progression were available to them. For as macabre as that sounded, it was a merciful reality that Ilia knew she would most likely never have: the knowledge that the one you love is actually dead.

Hope was such a burden in these dark times.

Colin found Uma on her knees before the House of Rusl. The front portion of their home was burned away with duty embers feasting on that which remained. There was an ominous glow left by the pulsing wooden beams, consumed and spent. The young girl wept silently as she bowed her head down. Colin fought the urge to weep with her, as he did not trust the gloom around them. Though his sword was sheathed, Colin felt that to only way to atone to for his grief was to occupy himself by keeping his little sister safe. Still, he advanced and placed a gloved hand upon her shoulder. She wept louder still, but with more security. Colin could not see what was left of their mother and father, but he knew they died together, never to be separated for long.

Something caught his eye: a glint from within the blackened grass. Reaching down, Colin’s grip found the firm handle of a small fishing rod. The string was taut and the reel unharmed. Only the handle was burnt slightly. The glinting hook was in proper shape. It was the rod that he and his father Rusl had made. A fine-quality work that necessitated many hours of fine tuning. Absently, the young swordsman rolled the rod handle in between his fingers while his sister stood up and walked towards him. In the most vulnerable of voices, Uma asked, “What do we do now, big brother?” Colin handed the fishing tool to his little sister and said, “We survive and protect our friends. It’s what mother and father would have wanted.”

“I’m frightened,” was all Uma could mutter as she wrapped her lean arms around her brother’s chest and delivered the tightest of sisterly embraces, the fishing rod clasped within her tiny hand. Colin squeezed Uma back and said, “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to you. Not as long as I am around.” Uma smiled with tear in her eyes. Another glint caught Colin’s eyes as he broke the embrace to reach for it. Beneath the ashes was a metal handle. Attached to that handle was a long flat and sharp edged blade. Colin froze. It was his father’s sword, unbroken and warm beneath the layer of ash. In wonder, the swordsman took up the sword and held tightly onto it. Colin made a promise to use it well. A final promise to his parents’ memory.

Then, something made both Colin and his sister gaze upward to the high ridge that surrounded their house. Several figures, black and tall lurked forward from on high. Their faces were masked and their eyes glowed a deep amber. A pair of clawed limbs on each figure held long, sharp cleaving weapons, broad and thick. Enough malice was born into both weapon and black wielder to sever a man in two. The eyes from behind black masks served only to strengthen the theory. Uma stepped back as the ridge line became populated with many of these fearsome-looking beasts. Or were they men? More arrived until the entire dominating tree line that surrounded the valley, was populated with amber pairs of eyes.

It was then that Colin lost his trust in the haze and pulled his blade free of its resting place. “Run, Uma!” he called. “Run and I’ll be right behind you. Warn the others!” The beast men leapt down one by one in pursuit only to meet Colin’s challenge. He swung for the first beastman’s snarling head.

Ilia saw Talo leaning against a boulder in a futile attempt to contain his misery. He stood before the charred existence of what was once his. The old man that was his father lay across the blackened mass that was his mother.

Even in death, the man defends the woman with his body.

Only the children remain, at least one of them.

Then, Talo’s head perked up. “Malo!” he shouted. “Malo!” said the older brother once more until he grabbed a gentle hold of Ilia’s blouse and explained, “We need to get to Castle Town and find my little brother Malo!” All this he urged with reddened eyes and trembling lips. Before Ilia could answer, she had to consider their situation: wounded with children with no food or supplies or enough horses for a three-days’ journey. They needed a plan.

Colin and Uma’s sudden arrival caught their attention. Uma’s blue eyes were wide and frightened while Colin’s were fierce and ready. “We’re surrounded. Prepare to fight.” Ilia saw that Colin’s sword was drawn and it ran black with a thick liquid that smelled both wild and pungent. Blood.

Auru stood at the ready and Songoro flexed his sedentary muscles and pounded his rock fists together. Colin grabbed a hold of Uma and told her, “Get Ilia and her children into a huddle and join them. The fighters will form a defensive ring around you.” Ilia heard this and held her children close. Uma joined them and beckoned Lakea to join them. The Zora refused and smiled as she joined the ring of defenders unarmed. Talo joined the ranks and was surprised when Colin handed him his sword. “Remember our sparring, Talo?” asked Colin. Talo smiled weakly, though his strength returned. Then there was Shad, unarmed and helpless. Colin ushered him to the women. Uma shouted to her brother, “I want to fight too!”

“No,” was his prompt response. There was no time to argue as the hoard drew near, their growls and cries for blood for all to hear.

The battle was then, met. Tall and black were their armoured bodies. Masked and expressionless were their faces. Evil were their eyes. Spear and sword and axe and claw charged forth. Sword and rock and fist countered. Colin wove through the lines with ease, cleaving and cutting. Talo, despite his dearth of strength, parried and impaled with expert timing. Old Auru heaved his heavy long sword and derailed a pair of spears that thrust in his direction. With great downward swipe, the spearheads were severed from the body of the shafts. Not long afterward, the heads of the black spearmen were separated from their armoured shoulders by Auru’s blade. The mighty Goron simply chortled as spear heads and axe beards where broken against his thick arms. Songoro then took wide sweeps, knocking several black beasts to the ground before stomping or crushing them with his bare heavy limbs.

Ilia watched in horror as black bodies fell around them. Hector and Gira were hiding under their mother’s arms while Shad head darted about frightened. Uma sat transfixed upon her brother’s sword play. “I could do that, easily,” scoffed she. “All these years of training and I’m no longer fit to fight?” None answered Uma’s rant until the girl rose and went in search of a fallen weapon. Ilia was about to call out in fear, but something else caught her eye first. It was a long spear shaft being thrust in Lakea’s direction. Before Ilia could scream in futility, a webbed hand took a hold of the shaft readily and a pale oceanic body spun around the deliver a swift kick to the bearer’s side. The spearman relinquished the grip on his spear and fell sideways, dazed. The lady Zora raised the dark weapon up above her head and spun it before thrusting the sharpened metal tip into the former master’s chest. Another spear was trust toward Lakea’s back, but the swift Zora tilted and allowed the shaft to narrowly miss her side. Instead, the weapon had made contact with and severed the long shaft of the first beast’s weapon in two. Undaunted, Lakea hefted the bare broken pole with one hand while uprooting the bloodied broken sister half from the first beast’s body. With the two broken sections of the spear in both hands, Lakea spun and avoided the repeated thrusts of her challenger. With the blunt shaft, she clubbed the beast man’s helmed head while plunging the bloodied head into its exposed neck. With a gurgle and whimper, the tall black figure fell. Retrieving her victim’s elongated weapon, Lakea made war yet again. Her thrusts ran through flesh while her swings broke both bone and concentration. Ilia and Shad could not believe their eyes amid the dark red haze. Songoro simply blew hard laughter as he took a firm hold of a nearby beast man and began to separate its armoured limbs from their proper sockets before casting their bodies away. Colin continued weave and carve his father’s blade while Talo felled another beast like a tall black tree with his sword as an axe. Auru raised a free hand and delivered a glancing blow to the chest of a nearby enemy whereupon he raised his mighty blade and cut the flesh from the bone of its leg. The beast man fell to his knees where Auru quickly brought his sword down to bear. The nape of the creature’s neck was disturbed by cold steel and soon, the figure felt nothing as his head rolled free. Lakea dispatched of another enemy by running her stolen spear through her opponent’s belly, the drenched head appearing unnaturally out the beast’s back. The mighty Goron simply crushed a black helm with a single closed palm, the contents of that helm running like pulp between his rocky fingers. Colin raised his raised his blade, Talo recovered from a parry, Lakea dropped her spear in favour of an abandoned short sword, leaving the spear at home within the writhing corpse of her previous kill. Songoro took a step and ended the life of another black being beneath his large flat feet.

The heroes recovered and fought anew. Like the rage of Din, they ventured forth and slew their dark host shrouded by the black crimson mist. They left the dead and dying behind them only to turn and renew their positions around their helpless charge.

Ilia held her shivering children tightly as the defensive group returned to brace the ring around her, Uma, and Shad. The blonde girl held a broken spear shaft close by, her eyes wide with fear. Shad simply sat, his expression unreadable. She suddenly felt sorry for the little man who was barely able to carry his own light weight, let alone a weapon. He was too gentle and Ilia found herself wishing that all men were as such. However, just as the ring reformed around them, dark objects rose from the distance and fell towards them. A pair of black beast men landed within the circle itself, their daggers brandished. Uma screamed and rose to challenged them before the others could turn about. One beast simply turned to her and struck her cheek with a wide sweep of his clawed fist. Uma fell hard onto the ground. The second beast simply sauntered up to Ilia, who placed her children behind her with a savage look upon her face. The expressionless mask that the creature bore as a helm swept his foot and cast the lady mayor aside, leaving the children huddled and frightened. All Hector and Gira could do was sit and stare with fear in their young eyes. A single hand reached out to grab them when the beast reared its head back and screeched aloud. A stricken Ilia recovered in time to see the blade of an ornate dagger, born by the hands of Shad, sunk into the bare foot of the black beast. Shad was not defenseless after all, but a raised dagger from his victim promised to end his courage. Suddenly, a flash of steel removed that threat by removing the arm of the assailant. The beast who reached for the children did not have time to screech a second time before another blade was run through its throat. The pair of jumping beasts clattered to the scorched earth with their lives ended by the hands of Auru and Lakea.

Then, all was silent. Whatever beast men remained had fled the way they came. Colin and Talo stored their blades and Lakea threw down her stolen charge to help Uma to her feet. Shad rose and helped Ilia regain her balance. Little Hector and Gira soon found the embrace of their mother. Songoro beat a solid fist against his rocky chest and bellowed a fierce cry as only a triumphant Goron could.

Auru’s grip on his long sword weakened and the old man fell to his knees.