Chapter Text
Ancient Technology - Stasis rune now available.
The day started with Rhoam and Link both following the routine that they had grown used to. The whole while Link was making an effort to let his displeasure about yesterday be known through all the little things, taking his time going from point A to B, answering any of Rhoam's requests with reluctance and in general just being petty.
Rhoam on his part was too distracted trying to piece together the vague and blurred sights, sounds, and smells that had been assaulting him all day when he tried to remember anything from his past. He efforts have given him a few answers.
One, his daughter had been just on the verge of adulthood when something happened and all he could remember from then on was her pained, crying expression while wearing a white dress.
Two, his wife died when his daughter was young, a terrible sickness that left her onyx eyes dimmer and dimmer as her skin became as pale as snow.
Three, he was a soldier in his youth, his size and unnatural strength allowed him to use heavy weaponry with devastating ease. He even had a Gerudo teach him the basics of The Golden Claymore fighting style, most Hylians couldn’t learn it due to not being the right size to get the leverage needed to make the style work.
He learnt most of this through voices that he had the names of on the tip of his tongue, accents he heard for the first time and yet a thousand times, followed by blurred visions of places and people. It left him off balance and he could feel countless other memories hanging just out of reach, locked behind something that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t break through.
Eventually he resolved to try again tomorrow when he was well rested.
Once all the chores were done Link began his bow practice. His arrows leaving a satisfying thunk with every shot, the head steadily being filled with arrows. About halfway through, as Link lines up another shot, he hears a sharp snap and his arrow falls on the ground.
What once was a bow was now a slightly curved stick with two bits of string limply hanging from it.
"Oh dear, well I suppose it would have broken eventually." Rhoam looked up from his place lounging under a nearby tree as soon as he heard the familiar sound of a bowstring snapping. "This is a good opportunity to teach you how to make and string a bow." Rhoam looked to the sky "and we've got plenty of time to get what we need…" Rhoam looked at Link with excitement "... deer tendons."
Links ears perked up at that. Link had been wanting to hunt a deer for awhile but every time he brought it up Rhoam would point out that it would be a waste since they don't need so much food.
With a quick sign to Rhoam, Link was hurrying to get what they would need. Knife, rope, Rhoam's bow and hunting arrows, and of course, The slate.
Following the usual routine until the stones that act as a way point, instead of turning north-west they made a straight shot west. Link caught a whiff of that same stench from a while ago although very faint, so he decided against telling Rhoam.
Eventually they reached a clearing near a stream, where a number of deer grazed.
The smell was mostly gone by now. Rhoam motioned him to come closer and stay low behind the bush, then pointed to a buck with darker antlers to the rest.
"I’m going to take a shot at that one there, It's going to bolt as soon as the arrow hits so keep a close eye on it.” with a nod Link focused on it.
Rhoam stood slightly taller and drew back the string, With a steady breath he loosed the arrow as he exhaled. The twang of the bow made the deer's head shoot up but by then the arrow sunk into its ribs just behind its front legs, right where the lungs would be.
It bolted through the trees along with the herd, Link was chasing after it before he could hear Rhoam's shout to wait. His eyes never left it as he weaved through the trees, hot on its trail. As he chased it he felt his heartbeat rise and his mind catalogue how long he could continue.
The world slipped away from him, The only thing he could see was his target. He could feel his lungs begin to burn by the time the deer began to slow down. He was close now, so close he could pounce and take it to the ground if he wished.
Yet he refrained, a beast was most dangerous in its death throes. So he waited. And as it fell to the ground, exhaustion and blood filling its lungs, he stalked around it till he was just out of sight and took grip of its horns and snapped its neck. A quick and clean kill, just like he was taught.
He snapped back to himself in an instant at the thought, bile rising up and burning his throat. Why did he do that? W-who taught him to do that? He… he wasn't in control of himself again. It was like with the pots, something deep and buried had come to the surface and wrestled control from him before he even knew what was happening.
His breathing grew short and his vision blurred as panic took him. Dozens of thoughts raced through his head, was he like this before he lost his memories? Is it new? Is he sick? Will he lose himself like this again? What if he hurts someone? What if-
His train of thought was ground to a halt by the sound of snorts and foliage being pushed aside. Remembering Rhoams words he bolted up a tree and pressed himself against a branch. He made an attempt to even out his ragged breathing while he waited for what he thought were boars.
Instead, what he saw was a red humanoid creature with a stumpy face and a small horn atop it’s head. Something in his stomach burned at the sight of it and he felt his vision focus on it’s form. He shifted till he was right above it, poised to take it to the ground and snap its-
He froze at the realization of what he was about to do. He was going to kill it and he had no idea why he felt the burning desire to brutalize it like that. And once the burning hate was snuffed out a different feeling coiled around his lungs.
An all encompassing fear that froze his limbs and shook his frame. He was paralysed with the need to run away and shook from how much he wished to be able to fade into the shadows of the tree.
“-nk!” his head swivelled in the direction of the voice. “Link!” It was Rhoam. Probably looking for him after he ran after the deer like an idiot. “Link!” The red being had taken notice now and was moving toward where Rhoam was.
Link blinked and suddenly he was on top of it with one hand wrapped around its large ear and the other its arm before flipping it onto the ground and kicking its throat.
It grabbed his foot and pulled him to the ground where it used it’s greater weight to pin him underneath it. Screams of familiar voices filled Link's ears as he was now looking into the scarred face of a red snout and beady eyes.
The forest fell away around him, replaced with a burning farmhouse and blood soaked ground beneath him. A red silhouette turned silver and his shoulder burned with a pulsing pain. His nose flared with the scent of iron and the only thing he could focus on was a deep rooted hate that seared his insides, threatening to tear him in two.
And then he saw red again.
When he came too again he was bundled in a soft cloak and a number of fur blankets. His throat burned, head pounded and his limbs ached. Everything came back in a flood and he bolted up looking left and right.
“Easy there.” Rhoam was by his side in an instant, supporting his weight and gently lowering him against the headboard of the bed. “You're probably starving, here, have some stew.”
How did he get here? With shaky hands he signed "Where did that thing go?"
“Relax, you're safe now, nothing will hurt you now.” Rhoam’s voice cut through his panic as he handed Link a bowl of stew. “I figured you probably couldn't stomach much right now, so it’s a bit more of a broth than a stew really.”
Link was just glad to have something to soothe his throat and distance him from his thoughts. Once he was done Rhoam replaced the bowl with a cup filled with tea. “You should get some more rest. I’ll continue the story from before if it'll help?” Link nodded and shifted to be more comfortable. It wasn’t long before he was dozing, the exhaustion of the day rendering him unconscious.
Rhoam was panicking and he knew it but that didn't stop him from calling out Links name over and over again. He knew he shouldn’t be making so much noise, especially since the forest holds worse than just boars.
But he couldn’t stop his brain from conjuring up hundreds of ways Link could have gotten hurt out there.
He was following the trail of blood and upturned foliage that the deer and link left behind. He was beginning to get desperate when he heard the sound of snapping bone and the desperate shrieking screams of a dying animal. He sped up and His blood ran cold when he entered the scene.
Link was pining a red body underneath him and tearing at its neck and chest with an antler. Raining his makeshift weapon down upon it over and over again until it stopped moving. It was then that he realized the sound he heard before wasn't coming from the Bokoblin but Link.
He was screaming bloody murder and continuing his onslaught against the corpse. Rhoam was frozen in place with horror as the splintering bone and flesh was pulverised.
When Link finally stopped his assault the corpse could hardly be recognized, it was a mess of splintered bone, flesh and blood. Link fell to the side and Rhoam released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. When he drew the strength to move closer and check on Link he found him passed out.
He wasn’t sure what happened but that vicious hate that blanketed the area, that malice, he had only felt it once before. Right before he lost everything. Before he saw the light that held back the calamity within Hyrule castle fade ever so slightly.
Before he forgot his own name. Before he lost the memory of his death. It was right before his kingdom fell. It was when he watched helplessly as his daughter was devoured by the dark cloud of malice. It permeated his own mind as he charged the calamity in some vain idea of revenge.
It was the rage of loss.
He remembered it all now. His daughter, her champions, her love of discovery, his stupid refusal to listen to her, her knight who never spoke, a destiny that goddesses be damned should never have exist, the prophecy his dying wife gave that he was too idiotic to see the true meaning of, everything came rushing back in a single blinding moment.
He knows what he needs to do but he doesn't know if he has the strength to do it.
He can’t send another one of his kids to face that thing.
Only once Link was fast asleep did he leave their side to think.
It was late at night when Rhoam found himself standing atop Mt. Hylia, standing next to his own grave. It was there he thought about it all, the death of his wife, his daughter sacrificing her physical form to hold back calamity, the hero who had a short, so damn short, life time dedicated to nothing but combat and responsibility heaped on their shoulders, his sweet little zelda trapped forever in a stalemate against the greatest evil known to exist, and of a revived child who couldn’t save the world with an army at his back and friends to help him that now must do it on their own.
And no matter how he twisted it, looked at it from a different angle, or searched for some meaning behind it all.
He came to the same conclusion, there was no point to it. It was just a mindlessly repeating cycle of death that would continue. If he sheltered Link, protected them until they died of old age and with a family left behind, he would just be reborn, forced to fight the calamity in his next life.
If he thrust Link into the fight he would surely die and be reborn again and then the same outcome would happen no matter what.
Eventually, after enough tries and rebirths Link will defeat the calamity. Hyrule will be saved, then in a few thousand years a new calamity will appear and it'll happen all over again.
There was nothing he could do to stop or change the inevitable. Nothing but beg, beg the goddesses to put an end to this, to finally free hyrule from this eternal decay.
Please just make it stop, once and for all
Without his notice his body faded from its vibrant spiritual blue and the soft glow of his spirit dimmed, a weight settled in his soul.
A rough piece of metal was grating against his left arm, the few chains remaining on it gently clinking.
A finely made bracelet sat snug on his right wrist, it’s dark gems humming a familiar tune.
An ever changing mask was strapped to his face, it whispered in his ear the greatness he could achieve with it.
An old blue tunic bleached from the sun was warm against his skin, it told of a great adventure across an even greater sea.
A blue ribbon hung around his neck and in a voice that rang like gentle bells told him his chance of success.
He wore thousands of items and held dozens of tools at once, all of them his and yet he did not own a single one.
And before him stood an endless line of himself, their height, age, outfits and even race differed from one to the next. But he knew they were him and they were reaching out to him. He felt what they were trying to pull him away from, dark hands similar to his own gripping his tunic from behind.
His panic rose and he desperately reached for the set of arms nearest to him. They were thin but strong, like wound wire, and had a chain upon their left arm. They pulled and pulled but the dark hands were steadily dragging him away until-
Link awoke to an empty house, the fire had gone out and it was dark outside.
He was drenched in sweat and the furs stuck to him uncomfortably. He shifted to a sitting position while peeling the furs from his form and took a few minutes to steady himself. He stood and cast his eyes across the room, spotting the door ajar.
Rhoam must have gone out.
Link stood and ambled over in its direction on unsteady feet. Once he made it to the door he felt the hair on his neck raise, his heart beat slowed down and an unnatural calm settled into him. He knew something was there on his arm and it was wrong on a level that left his stomach flipped upside down and his fingers tingling.
It’s right there but he can't see it. What is that thing? It's not right.
He reached his hand forward slowly in front of him, his hand shook slightly and with it the quiet clicking sound of chains that weren't there.
He could feel the wrought iron against his skin. A shackle that didn’t exist, weighed down his arm but felt lighter than air. Placing his hand over where the shackle should be revealed his arm feeling the same as ever.
It left the tips of his fingers numb on the arm it was on and a surging feeling in his palm that he stamped down but only grew and grew until it felt like he was holding back a river and he couldn’t hold it anymore.
It burst open.
Dark glyph-like cubes began to form and shift in front of him, sucking in the low light left from the singular candle in the room. The shadows shifted and danced around the room, taking the form of small misshapen beings. They swirled just out of his sight leaving spots in his vision whenever he tried to focus on them.
Their dance constricted around him, growing closer till he could feel ice cold breath on his face. His hand shifted to his wrist as the weight from before became real, cold black iron tight against his skin.
The feeling of small cold hands on his head made him freeze, his skin crawled where it met. No thought entered his mind other than his body screaming to not move, to stay where he is, to hope that its attention would move on.
Slowly they forced his head to turn towards the mass of dark shadow that had sprung from his hand. Its shape condensed from a werling voide to a quadruped form as large as him. Piercing blue eyes stared at him from the shifting darkness that made up the shades head, an unearthly glow burning within them. It felt as though an eternity had passed, the beast becoming more defined as time stretched on. Writhing shadows became legs, the gaping nothingness gaind form in the shape of a body, the flaming wisps of dark forming a head.
A gigantic wolf stood before him, its fur a jet black that sucked in light while its ash grey underside glowed faintly. A strange symbol resting on its crown. It's eyes pierced him in a way that left him feeling raw and untethered to the world.
Slowly it stalked toward him. Giant paws silent, fur shimmering in the low light. It's breath lacked warmth as it's maw opened to reveal an endless darkness that produced it's own twisted light.
A sense of horrid bliss coursed through Link, a joy leaving him shaking with fear, a love so pure and encompassing that it left only hate in its wake, he understood this beast better than itself and knew nothing of himself. The shadow figures hiding in his peripherals formed people so beautiful he found them disturbing, the hands that held his head grounded him to reality as he continued to slip between two extremes, where light and dark are one.
The jaws that held the hole in existence closed, far too quick but painfully slow.
Once again he stared into vibrant blue but no beast stood before him but a man. Dressed in deep forest greens and browns, dirty blonde hair stuck out under a cap.
Slowly the man raised a hand with a manacle on it to Link's chest.
A darkness suffocating in light blossomed in Link's heart, leaving him feeling both whole and broken.
The old him gave him a soft smile and clicked his fingers in front of Link's face.
Blinking dark spots from his vision link looked around the room. Lazy light from the sun barely poking from over the horizon bathed him. The dark/bright ball of something still rested inside of his heart, though its weight lessened as the sun rose.
His mouth felt dry and he had to lean against the wall to not collapse in a heap. There he wept, for there was no other way to expel all his emotions, he bellowed in rage, whimpered in fear, cried out in joy all at once.
Darkness enveloped his vision and he drifted from consciousness.