Chapter Text
With each step, the ghastly noises echoing through the labyrinth grew more intense. The earth trembled weakly, as if in warning.
Zelda didn’t falter, nor did Link.
They eventually arrived at the Chamber of Sacrifice, an enclosed room at the center of the maze. Pinpricks of orange light punctuated the darkness of the high ceiling. At the top of a dais, an altar glowed with the same uncanny cyanic light as Zelda’s tablet.
“What happens now?” Link asked.
“If we were to perform the ritual, you would lie on the altar,” Zelda answered. “I would offer a prayer of dedication as I anointed you in preparation.”
“In preparation for the Calamity to emerge?”
“No, not immediately. Earlier you spoke of a sword hidden in this chamber, and you spoke truly.”
Zelda placed her tablet on a waist-high pedestal in a corner of the room. A section of the nearby wall slid back in response. Inside the hollow lay a rod fashioned from the same rough ceramic material as the tablet.
Zelda lifted the hilt from its cradle and placed it in Link’s hand, adjusting his fingers to ensure that he gripped it correctly. When she placed his thumb into a shallow indentation, a blaze of blue light flared into a serrated edge. The light hummed softly in a tune that Zelda could almost recognize.
“This sword would have been the ritual instrument,” she explained. “The sacred anointment would have numbed your nerves and held you in place, and the altar would have been activated by the warmth of your blood. After that, I do not know.”
Link tested the sword, swinging it in an arc that traced a contrail of light through the darkness. He flicked the blade on and off several times before asking, “Does the altar need blood, or just warmth? This sword is activated by touch. So is your tablet. I’d like to lie down and see what happens.”
Zelda wanted to object. Touching the altar was forbidden. She had never failed to respect this dictate, which had been handed down to her by her mother. Her respect for the ritual still lingered. Nevertheless, she nodded and remained silent as Link climbed onto the raised platform and lay on his back against the furrows of its surface.
“Nothing has changed,” he observed. “Can you turn off your tablet again?”
She did so and climbed the steps leading to the altar. Everything about this was wrong. A violent shudder passed across Zelda’s skin. Link lowered his arm and lay a hand on her shoulder. She covered his hand with her own, and they waited in silence.
“It’s only half the sky,” Link observed.
“Half the sky? What do you mean?”
Link pointed upward to indicate the faint lights on the ceiling. “The lights are constellations. I used to sit outside and watch the stars with my father, and I can recognize most of them. The ceiling is a star map. You can see the Archer just above us. There’s the shield, and look, there’s the Owl. You can see the back legs of the Dragon over there in the corner, but it’s missing its head.”
Link sat up and swung his legs over the side of the altar. “The head should be on the other side of the wall. Maybe there’s a way to move it. You used the pedestal to open the wall hiding the sword. Do you think your tablet might activate another gate along the far wall?”
Zelda closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was the moment she’d been dreading. “I do think the wall moves,” she agreed. “The pedestal responds to the tablet, and the tablet reacts to the warmth of our hands, just as the sword does. But the altar… Link, I don’t think the touch of skin is enough.”
“So it needs blood,” Link stated bluntly.
“I…” Zelda shook her head but couldn’t continue. Despite the horror of the ritual, she was still determined to do as she planned. Her left hand would probably suffice. It would hurt, and she was afraid. She would have to ask Link to help her.
“That’s easy enough,” he said, his bright voice breaking into the shadows of her thoughts. “But please, I’d ask a favor – don’t look.”
From the corner of her eye, Zelda saw a quick flash of light. She rose to stop Link from using the sword, but the tip of her sandal caught on the edge of a step. She fell forward, and Link caught her in his arms.
“Please don’t worry,” he assured her. “It barely hurts. It’s just a shallow cut.”
Zelda’s response caught in her throat as the far wall began to move. There was no earthquake, and no rumbling of stone; just a smooth hiss, like a curtain being pulled aside.
The scene on the other side of the wall was horrifying.
Under the dim illumination of the constellations, an ichorous mound of black tar rose from the ground like a necrotic lump of flesh. It shuddered and pulsed in a maddeningly irregular rhythm.
Link supported Zelda as they stared at the abomination. “This is what I came to defeat,” he murmured.
He took a step forward. His sword blazed with light in his hand. Before he could descend the dais, the walls came alive. Dozens of eyes glowed like diseased suns in a midnight void. A slick tendril of ooze darted from the shadows and twisted around Link’s arm. He didn’t scream, but Zelda could hear the sizzle of his flesh.
The Calamity was ravenous, and it intended to have Link one way or another. If they tried to fight it, they were doomed. In the terrible span of an endless moment, Zelda understood that there was only one person who could help them.
As Link struggled to free himself, Zelda walked calmly to his side. “Please trust me,” she said as she pried the hilt of the sword from his clenched fingers. She extinguished the radiance of the blade and thrust the impotent hilt into her belt. Even in the faint light, she could see the beads of sweat on Link’s face.
“Stop fighting,” she said, no longer sure who she was addressing. “I know you’re in pain, but please try to relax. You won’t come to any harm.”
Link closed his eyes and lowered his shoulders. The black tendril ceased its lashing and slipped back into the darkness, leaving behind a livid burn on Link’s skin. Zelda reached for Link’s hand, and he squeezed her fingers so hard that her bones cracked.
“You were never meant to defeat the Calamity,” she told him. “You were meant to become it.”
He looked at her uncomprehending, his eyes glazed with pain.
“It’s dying, can’t you feel it? The storms, the earthquakes – it’s struggling to survive. But nothing can live like this forever. The Calamity needs fresh blood, and a fresh host.”
“That can’t be a person,” Link muttered as he gazed at the pulsing mass. A corona of orange eyes ringed its loathsome bulk.
“It was, I’m sure of it. I don’t know what it is now, but we can’t leave it like this.”
This was why she wanted to offer herself as the sacrifice. If she knew what the Calamity was, and if she could see it from the inside, then perhaps she could find a way to change it. But she had waited too long to act, and Link had become tangled in the threads binding her to the Calamity. Still, now that he was here, there might be another way to change their destinies.
“Link. Please help me.” Without waiting for his answer, Zelda descended the steps of the dais and approached the heart of the Calamity. Expecting it to be her death, she plunged her hand into the slime.
The pain that raced across her skin was unbearable, yet still she reached forward – and a hand grabbed back.
“Link!” she cried as she grabbed its wrist. “Please, help me!”
No sooner did she say Link’s name than he was at her side, reaching into the ooze. Through the pain, Zelda could feel the grip of the hand on her wrist strengthen as Link grabbed its other arm.
As they struggled to pull the figure free of its prison, the earth heaved in resistance. The ground under their feet pitched and trembled. The light of the constellations flickered and winked out one by one as sections of the ceiling broke away and shattered on the floor. Zelda feared the walls would fall on top of them, but it was too late to turn back.
Link screamed as he doubled his efforts. Zelda had no energy to spare, but she pulled for all she was worth. Finally, miraculously, as the earth rolled like waves under their feet, something gave way.
A young man covered in bituminous slime splashed from the horrible fleshy mound. Zelda and Link fell to the floor on either side of him as he dropped to his knees. Thick globs of ooze rolled off his body.
The remains of the man’s clothing were tattered, and his long hair was matted with filth. As he gasped for breath, the earth grew still, its sudden fury vanished.
“The king lies,” he managed to say before a cough choked his voice. He gasped for air and spoke again. “The sacrifice…”
His gaze fell on Zelda, his eyes darting between the Lomei embroidery on her robe and the tablet at her waist before resting on her face. “You saved me. Who are you?” he asked. Before he could continue, he was seized with a violent fit of coughing.
Zelda was amazed that he could speak at all. She had nothing to offer him, but she moved to his side and laid her hand on his back. After a moment of hesitation, Link did the same.
Gradually the man stopped shaking. “The king feeds the Calamity,” he said, his jagged whisper echoing through the shadows.
“I would have become the Calamity,” Link said, finally understanding.
“I would have let it happen,” Zelda added.
“No.” The man shook his head. “I saw you in my dreams. You were the only light I had.”
He turned to Link. “You would fight it? The Calamity, the king… all of it?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will help.” The man tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support his weight. Link lifted him to his feet and helped him gain his balance. The Calamity, whatever was left of it, had retreated to the shadows. The light of the constellations was all but extinguished, but Zelda’s tablet still glowed. She passed the sword hilt to Link. He could use the blade as a torch if he wished, but Zelda needed no light.
“I know the way out,” she said. She knew each twist and turn, and every hall and corridor. Even if she never returned to this place, she would always know the way out. The path would be long, but she had spent far too long buried below the ground, powerless and ignorant. She wanted to know more, to know everything there was to know. She would no longer read the history of Lomei in carvings or tiles; she would learn from living words. Zelda resolved that she would be the last princess who would ever have to learn about the labyrinth. With the last hero and the last sacrifice, she stepped forward and began walking.