Chapter Text
Red.
It seeped into every facet of his life. It leaked into every nook, every cranny, every crevice. It filled every cavity, consuming and overflowing. It stained every interior. Every surface.
Red.
It flowed in his veins, the life-blood that pumped through his body. It energized him, powered his movements. It heated his core, swelling to the cadence of his beating chest. The key to an unwarranted resurrection.
Red.
It covered the walkway leading to her altar. It embraced her slumbering figure, a misleading warmth contrasted by the chill of the chamber. It reflected off the faces of the palace crystals, each promising the release of the binding spell placed on the Valley of Death. To obtain his ultimate objective.
Red.
It glinted in the eyes of unspeakable horrors in the dark; eyes swimming with bloodlust. It garnished their blades, the rivulets dripping to the floor. It decorated the hilt of his own.
Red.
It withdrew into the forgotten byplaces of his conscience; the recesses of his mind. It trickled into his dreams, turning them to nightmares.
A silhouette, mountainous and domineering against a maroon sky. A laugh, as piercing as the tusks protruding from its snout. Feral eyes, seething with a hatred that knew no bounds... a hatred that far surpassed his then 12 years of life. It rose from the ashes, merging into the monstrosity known across the ages as the Prince of Darkness. The Demon King.
The complete Triforce lined in crimson, burning on the back of his hand—
“Watch out!”
BAM.
A force slammed into his shoulder with the strength of an angry moblin. Before he could register what had happened, he was flying from his place on the log. He was thrown several feet before crashing onto the hard ground below him, scattering twigs and pieces of wood in all directions. Pain lanced in his side as he skidded to a halt, the air knocked forcefully from his lungs. He wheezed, coughing up dust and phlegm as he tried to catch his breath.
From his position on the forest floor, he heard an indignant shout.
“ARGH! Are you serious right n—Wild! Warrior!”
The Hero of Hyrule wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, tasting dirt as he spat onto the ground. As he lay reeling from the unexpected impact, he felt his arm hauled upward and the rest of his body followed stiffly. He shot up into a sitting position with a grimace, blinking the dancing spots away from his vision.
“’Rule, Hyrule hey, I am so sorry buddy, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t… here, let me—”
“Wild, move,” the first voice interrupted, drawing closer. “I swear, you’re worse than Wind is…”
The dazed hero sensed another presence approach, pushing the other away. It began straightening his clothes, attempting to brush the dirt from his tunic. As the stars cleared from his eyes, the color red enveloped his vision, crowding out the sky blue. Slowly, a face came into focus, eye-level with him from where he sat slumped on the ground.
“Deep breaths, Hyrule,” the Hero of Legend reassured as he wiped dirt away from his friend’s arm. “How’re we doing?”
Hyrule clutched at his shoulder, already feeling the beginning of a bruise. With one eye squeezed shut, he looked back at Legend with a crooked smile—a conciliatory gesture. For a moment, Legend frowned back at the rumpled hero, searching his face in suspicion. Then, seeming satisfied, he stood from his crouched position and wheeled around, crossing his arms resentfully.
“See what happens when you fail to listen, Warrior?” the irritated hero admonished. “We told you guys to take it somewhere else, but no. So much good your fancy footwork will do when you can’t even listen to basic commands.”
“Legend, chill,” replied the hero with the blue scarf. He was standing nearby in the middle of a small clearing, gripping his lowered sword as a few of his comrades looked on. “We didn’t mean to ruin your game. It was an accident.”
“Yeah? Try telling that to Sky when he finds out you’re the one responsible for losing his game pieces,” Legend snapped. “You’ll be the one answering to him, not me.”
Hyrule looked down, realizing for the first time where he was sitting. He sat halfway on a checkered game board with dirt kicked onto its surface. Scattered around him were what appeared to be handmade figurines carved to look like some sort of bird—not the random wood chips he initially took them for. On his right, he noticed that someone sat cross-legged next to him on the floor. He glanced up and met the concerned gaze of the Hero of Time, who raised his eyebrows in question.
“Really? You’re getting mad at me?” Warrior argued, glaring back at his accuser. “Wild’s the one who caused the chain reaction.”
“Yeah, because you threw him into Hyrule, who then promptly crashed into us!”
“Legend, look, we’re sorry,” Wild consoled, sidestepping around his agitated companion. The long-haired hero grabbed Hyrule’s arm and yanked upwards, bringing his friend swiftly to his feet. “We’ll help you pick up the pieces, I swear. Just don’t tell Sky—”
“It’s my fault,” Hyrule interjected, massaging his bruised arm. He looked down, staring pitifully at the discarded game pieces surrounding his feet. “If I was paying attention, this wouldn’t have happened. I should have been more alert.”
“Don’t even, Hyrule,” Legend retorted, turning his way. “It’s not your fault they’re crazy as keese. They were told not to spar so close, but they didn’t list—”
“Uh, excuse me?” Warrior protested. “You’re the one who chose to play in such a vulnerable spot!”
“We were here first, Mr. Fancy Footwork!”
“Guys, drop it,” Time interrupted from his place on the ground. “Are we adults or five-year-olds?” Their designated leader got to his feet, dusting off his pants. “Let’s collect the pieces before it gets too dark. Legend, are you going to want to continue playing?”
The pink-haired hero pressed his lips together as the Hero of the Wild rushed forward at Time’s request. “Sorry, but I’m done for now.” He shot an angry look in Warrior’s direction, his nose wrinkled. “I’ll be on Sky’s end of camp. It’s a lot less oppressive over there.”
Hyrule glanced over his shoulder as he made to help gather the playing pieces. From across the wooded campsite, he spotted the out-of-earshot Chosen Hero, who sat whittling a piece of wood. A content smile played across his lips as he conversed amiably with the Hero of the Four Sword, who stood nearby. The Master Sword lay sheathed across his lap, resting peacefully amidst a growing pile of wood shavings.
“Well, I was about to ask if you wanted to take Wild’s place and let some of that steam out, but Hylia forbid you do anything like loosen up,” Warrior scoffed. He turned to Hyrule, ignoring Legend’s affronted squawk. “Wanna come try your hand, Hyrule? Maybe a good match will improve your agility so we won’t have this problem in the future.”
“Hyrule’s not the problem, Warrior,” Legend growled, spitting vitriol. “Leave him out of this.”
“Yeah, that honor clearly belongs to you.”
As Legend stormed away and Time delivered the eye roll of the century, Hyrule bit his lip, considering Warrior’s offer. He knew his sword fighting skills were subpar compared to a captain well-versed in battle like Warrior, or someone vigorously trained in a knight academy like Sky. Typically, he fared pretty well for himself when spurred on by the heat of battle, but Hyrule had to admit he tended to shy away from sparring matches with his teammates. He wasn’t particularly attentive (as proven by his run-in with Wild) or even exceptional with a blade, so it became habit for him to shirk all forms of recreational swordplay around camp.
He was uncultured enough in all things “hero.” No sense in embarrassing himself more than he needed to in front of the others.
“Uh,” Hyrule began, his hands full of finger-length wooden birds, “I… I think I’ll pass. I just like watching.”
“Oh! Let me, let me!” the Hero of Winds exclaimed, seizing the opportunity. The young sailor jumped up and ran forward, bouncing in place as he faced the Hero of Warriors. His drawn Phantom blade reflected the early evening light, casting a glare on the nearby pines. “Avast, ye scallywags! You’ll be shark bait when I’m through with you!”
“Now hold up, cabin boy,” Warrior smirked. The older hero strolled toward his younger comrade, throwing out a hand to ruffle the boy’s thick yellow hair. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Ask Four to take you on, that would be more of a fair fight.”
“I’m not asking Four,” Wind spat, swatting away Warrior’s outstretched hand. “I fought him last time, and the time before that. Come on, War, why won’t you spar with me? Are you afraid that I’ll thoroughly spank you?”
“Tch. Sure, that’s it,” Warrior retaliated. The captain rested his free hand on his hip, shooting the younger a sympathetic look. “Come back in a few years, and then we’ll talk. I don’t want to be responsible for any accidents on the job.”
Wind’s face fell at the reply, his shoulders slumping. He stubbed his toe on the ground, a cloud of dust flying up at the motion.
“It’s this whole schtick again, isn’t it?” he grumbled. “You think I’m too young to keep up with the rest of you.”
Warrior fell silent, his expression betraying his thoughts. When he gave no response, the young seafarer scoffed, slamming his sword into its sheath and turning away from the guilty hero.
“Wind, it’s not like that,” the Hero of Twilight affirmed from nearby, his arms crossed as he leaned against a large cedar. “Most of us are a lot bigger than you, and that matters in a fight. I know that’s not something you want to hear, but it’s true.”
“I’ve bested darknuts twice your size, Twi!” Wind shouted, rounding on his new target. “And what about everything else I’ve faced, huh? All those giant monsters? Does that count as nothing to you?!”
“It doesn’t count as nothing,” the pelt-wearing hero asserted, shifting uncomfortably. “We just want to make sure we’re careful with each other, that’s all. It’s… we just...”
Twilight sent a pleading look toward his mentor, grasping at straws. Giving a prolonged sigh, Time laid his collected playing pieces on the game board and faced the Hero of Winds. He cocked his head, eyeing the young hero with a look that was not unkind.
“Don’t take it personally, kid,” said the scarred hero. “If it’s any consolation to you, you won’t find me going up against any of them either. Age… does things to a person.” He paused for a brief moment, a faraway look in his eye. Then, he extended a hand in invitation, his features softening. “You’ll be older before you know it. Why don’t you try out Flights of Wisdom with me? It’s pretty fun. Come on, I’ll teach you how to play.”
Wind pursed his lips, contemplating his options. He eyed the game board sitting on the forest floor, the pieces piled on unceremoniously.
“...I guess,” he acquiesced. “But only so I can tell Legend I utterly destroyed you, since he was too much of a cucco to do it himself.”
The corner of Time’s mouth quirked up in an amused grin. “That’s the spirit.”
As Time and Wind relocated to a different spot, Twilight was pulled into the sparring arena with Warrior, with Wild observing on the sidelines. Hyrule joined the blue-clad champion on the log, staring unseeingly at the blur of clashing swords. His stomach sank as negative thoughts began permeating his headspace, all too familiar for comfort.
He knew he shouldn’t have declined Warrior’s offer to spar. Really, he had no reason to. He knew this was an insecurity of his that needed to be dealt with instead of avoided, but Hyrule couldn’t help himself from running the other way. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even sure what he was running from.
It wasn’t as if he expected his companions to make a laughing-stock out of him. Hyrule knew Warrior was serious when he offered his help, and he knew the older hero would do what he could to improve Hyrule’s dexterity. But as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, Hyrule hesitated at the idea of putting his lackluster sword skills on display for so many talented peers. Peers he was supposed to hold a candle to when it came to this type of thing.
But wasn’t that the purpose of training? Wasn’t each individual improvement a win on behalf of the team? The downcast hero fingered the ties of his arm braces, his chest hollow.
He trusted his friends. He trusted each one of them with his life.
So what was he running from? What was he so afraid of?
Hyrule sighed, his breath swishing around strands of hair that fell into his face. It was then when the background came into focus before his eyes, emphasizing a figure in pastel green.
From his place on the ground, Sky relaxed against the base of a tree, content to whittle as Legend and Four chatted off to his side. The sky-dweller’s friendly countenance was a beacon of light—open and approachable. Hyrule studied his friend curiously, feeling a spark of interest catch.
Sky was never anything but kind, being quick to lend a supporting hand and slow to judge. He wasn’t demanding and never applied pressure when it wasn’t welcomed—an easygoing and affable individual. Not to mention his fighting prowess was reputable; the accomplished hero was deemed one of the most experienced combatants in the group. If there was anyone Hyrule felt comfortable asking for a favor, it was him.
And now seemed like his chance.
The apprehensive teen glanced back at the spectacle of swords, waiting for an opening. He watched as Warrior sidestepped a powerful thrust from Twilight’s blade, swinging back in a wide arc of his own. As the clash of metal rang into the air, the Hero of Hyrule slipped off the log he shared with Wild and scuttled away, the others too engrossed in the match to notice. He approached the distracted Hero of the Skies with trepidation, his footsteps inconspicuous in the hubbub of camp.
Hyrule came to a halt before his friend, surveying the older boy’s handiwork. A half-formed wooden bird similar to the ones he’d seen earlier was delicately held in the sky-dweller’s hands. The bird stood on two clawed feet with its wings extended, its beak opened mid-squawk. Wood shavings lay curled on his lap and on the floor, continuously falling as he used his knife to detail the feathers on one outstretched wing. His tongue was set between his teeth, his eyes fixed on his project.
Hyrule cleared his throat, very aware of his pounding heart.
“Uh, hey… Sky?”
The teen glanced up from his craft, his brows raised in surprise. Upon discovering who spoke, he gave a warm smile, resuming his wood carving but with less intensity than before.
“Hey, ’Rule. How’s it going?”
“Going good,” Hyrule replied, grabbing at his elbow. “Whatcha got there?”
“Just another loftwing piece. A wing broke off from one of the knights, so I decided to make another one.” He turned the bird around in his hands, showing off the fine detailing. “Back home we played with colored pieces that were all the same shape. I don’t have any of those now, so I thought I’d make my own.” He carved another slice into the wood, accentuating one of the primary feathers.
“Oh… nice. They’re really good.”
“Thanks. It seemed like a good way to pass time around camp, so I had fun making them.”
Hyrule shifted his weight between his feet. He side-eyed the preoccupied Heroes of the Four Sword and Legend, gauging his distance. The two heroes chatted off to the side, oblivious of the conversation occurring a few feet away.
It was now or never.
“So, um… I’ve been wondering. If you, you know, could maybe… help me? With something?”
Sky glanced up, his knife poised over the wooden carving in his hand. After a brief pause, he lowered his tools and set them aside, giving the Hero of Hyrule his undivided attention. He peered inquisitively at his companion, his eyes focused and transparent.
“Yeah, talk to me. What is it?”
Hyrule interlocked his fingers, twiddling his thumbs as he felt heat rise to his face. “Well… I was just thinking… I mean, since you’ve done it before… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I-I thought you might…”
The flustered teen took a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky exhale. He really needed to get a grip on his stuttering.
“I’ve been wanting to improve my sword wielding technique. I’ve seen the way you fight and I think I’d have a lot to learn from you. I… would you teach me what you know? Would you… spar with me?”
Sky blinked at his inquiring friend, clearly caught off guard by the question. As the words registered in his mind, he lifted a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his hair sheepishly.
“Oh. Well, I’m honored you consider me as such,” he said, chuckling nervously. “I’m not sure if I have quite the arsenal as Twilight or Warrior, though. Wouldn’t you rather they…?”
“No! No, no,” Hyrule replied, shaking his head earnestly. “I… I’m not looking to learn cool tricks or anything like that. Just… your technique is so polished and precise, and… well, no one’s ever taught me those things. The basics. I want to learn. You know… grow my confidence and all.”
Sky tilted his head ever-so-slightly, the confusion evident on his face. “Hyrule, I’ve seen you fight and you’re plenty good with a sword. Are you sure you want me giving you advice? I’m not sure how much I—”
“Yes! Please,” the adamant hero pleaded, stepping forward. “I want your help. Please, Sky…”
Sky fiddled with the hair at the back of his neck, deep in thought. His eyes glazed over as he stared out at the sparring arena, where Wild had taken Warrior’s place dueling Twilight. After a brief moment of inward debate, the older hero straightened his back and stretched his arms above his head.
“Okay. I’d love to help.” He gave a perfunctory nod and made as if to stand. “C’mon, let’s see if we can go next.”
Hyrule’s heart jumped into his throat, his blood running cold. He felt himself start to panic as his companion rose to his full height and began moving in the direction of their sparring allies.
“Wait! I—not yet. I don’t… they shouldn’t have to stop just for me. I… I can wait.”
Sky waved Hyrule’s concerns away, continuing his path forward. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Those three have been at it all afternoon, I’m sure they’ll let us step in.”
“N-no, but… but I…” Hyrule trailed off, the words refusing to move past his lips.
Sky came to a standstill, turning back to the flustered teen. Something seemed to click in the sky-dweller’s mind as he observed his companion’s fidgety demeanor, his pale countenance. He eyed Hyrule shrewdly, his mind connecting the dots.
“Hey, I get it,” he soothed, his voice a low murmur. “We can do it someplace else. No biggie.”
Relief and shame simultaneously flooded the green-clad hero’s chest. He lowered his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “Sorry, I… I’m just not that good. I can’t…”
Sky made a noise of protest. “Sure you are. Hyrule, look, it’s not a big deal. Let’s do this, just you and me.” He returned to his belongings and unfastened his sailcloth from the jeweled brooch at his collarbone, folding it into his bag. “Let me clean up here real quick and we can find somewhere to spar before it gets too dark.”
“Oh,” Hyrule said. “You mean like… today? We’re doing it now?”
“Sure, why not?” answered Sky. “Give me about ten minutes to track down a different sword and we’ll head out. I’m sure Wild has plenty he’s willing to lend.”
Gratitude blossomed in Hyrule’s ribcage. He fingered one of his arm braces, feeling warm with embarrassment.
“I… thanks, Sky. Really.”
Sky’s cerulean eyes lit up in response, reflecting the light of the dying sun. Then, he turned his head toward the surrounding trees, suddenly wary. “Let’s just make sure we don’t run off too far. I don’t want to be caught out alone in these woods after dark. You know... with all these disappearances.”
An unexpected chill trickled down Hyrule’s spine, making his hair stand on end. His mind flashed to their most recent visit to Castle Town to restock their supplies—of the empty market square. Back alley chatter had disclosed that travelers were going missing in the North Woods after sundown. How people were no longer leaving their homes in fear they’d be snatched away into the cover of night.
Time had his own suspicions about what was going on in his homeland. Multiple weeks had passed since their visit to Lon Lon Ranch, and seeing that Malon had said nothing of disappearing travelers then, Time had only assumed that whatever was going on in the forest was a recent development. Why the mysterious Lost Woods was extending its reach to the trees bordering Hyrule field, he wasn’t sure, but their experienced leader had little doubt that it was the root cause of the disturbances after nightfall. The existence of a magical and misleading woods came as no surprise to most of the Links, so while there was still an air of caution about the group, it remained undisputed that those who were missing would soon be found. That their band of heroes would find and retrieve the lost souls from the mists of darkness.
And all the while, a flicker of unease prodded the back of Hyrule’s mind. Into his consciousness crept images of nameless evils from beneath the earth. Of terrors unseen by the naked eye.
Of crimson eyes, glaring back at him from the blackest depths, hungry for his blood.
No way out...
“Hyrule?”
“Huh?” The hero in question wrenched his gaze away from the red obi at Sky’s waist, locking eyes with his worried friend.
“You sure you’re all right, buddy?” Sky asked, shifting his weight. “You kinda zoned out there for a second…”
Hyrule gave his head a quick shake, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m, uh… ready when you are.”
Sky stared back at his companion, unconvinced. He offered a tentative smile before strolling away, fixing a brace to one of his arms as he proceeded to the nearby sparring arena.
As Sky set off to retrieve one of Wild’s swords, the Hero of Hyrule looked out into the surrounding trees, trying to shut out the monstrous images that flashed in his mind’s eye. He rubbed his sweaty palms onto his trousers, hoping to Hylia that he wouldn't regret this.
Here’s to making a fool out of himself.
“All right. Rule number one of sword fighting: stick the pointy end into the other guy.”
Hyrule felt the blood rush to his cheeks, his face on fire. “Sky…”
Sky beamed, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips parted in silent giggles. Then, he quickly diverted his attention back to his sparring partner, his face serious.
“Honestly, I’m not sure what I can teach you that you don’t already know. It just takes practice if you want to grow more comfortable with it, Hyrule. Seriously.”
“I know, I know… it’s just…”
The Hero of Hyrule rolled his shoulders, pulsing with a nervous energy. He gripped one of his dulled, unfit-for-real-fighting swords in his left hand, his whole body tense. The soft evening light filtered between the evergreens, spotlighting particulates that hung suspended in the air like fairydust. His polished Magic Sword lay outside the sparring circle with his traveling packs, alongside the Master Sword.
“I feel like you—Time, Twi, everyone—you’re all so capable. And I… I’d never want to be a liability to the group.”
“You’re capable too, Hyrule,” Sky countered, casually twirling one of Wild’s practice blades. “Very capable. And none of us see you as a liability. You know that, right?”
“I know,” muttered Hyrule. “But I can’t duel like you guys can. I feel like I’m always scrambling. I want to learn.”
Sky glanced down, his eyes tracing the pattern drawn in the air by his short sword. “We all have different strengths. It’s not always about being a great swordsman. But if that’s what you want… I’d be happy to help.”
The older hero took two steps forward, assuming a guarded position. “First things first, and that’s to utilize your eight angles of attack. Your vertical,” he swung in a controlled, straight down motion, “your horizontal,” he swung left to right, “and your diagonals,” he finished with two shoulder-to-hip slashes, one on each side. “Then repeat in the opposite directions. Obviously.”
He lunged forward with his right leg, extending his sword arm. “Thrusts are an option, but I wouldn’t recommend them because too often you open yourself up for attack. It really just depends on if you’re confident that you can deliver a good final blow.”
Hyrule released a pent-up breath. For all the grief the Chosen Hero was given for his “laziness,” the man really knew his stuff.
“Right… confident. Got it.”
Sky began positioning his sword at different angles, each shielding various parts of his body. “Knowing how to counter is critical, especially since we’re not using shields. But if you want to come out alive… well. Your best bet is to make the match as quick as possible. Which means staying on the offensive.”
The sky-dweller resumed his guarded position, his sword at the ready. “Let’s practice by having you take the offensive on me. Use the angles of attack and apply them in quick succession. Keep coming at me until I give the word; then we’ll switch. Remember: quick and hard-hitting.”
Hyrule braced himself, mirroring Sky’s blade with his own. He reminded himself that they weren’t to the point of exchanging blows yet… just warming up. He rolled his shoulders again, his nerves fired up in anticipation.
“All right. Ready.”
He came at the older teen with a strong slash at the shoulder, which immediately transitioned into a horizontal strike that soon reversed on itself. Sky parried each attack with a block of his own, giving up ground as Hyrule advanced toward him. With each wave of his sword, Hyrule pressed forward, inwardly fretting over his footwork as he tried to maintain the quick pace of his sword arm.
“Halt!”
At Sky’s command, Hyrule ceased his attack mid strike, which resulted in locking blades with the older hero. After a brief pause, Sky pulled back, with Hyrule following suit.
“That was good,” the sky-dweller reassured, massaging his dominant wrist. “Nice job with the aggression there. Next time, try focusing solely on the speed of your attacks. The quicker you transition between strikes, the less likely your opponent will slip in a counter attack. The more you practice that, the more likely everything else will fall into place—like your footwork.”
Hyrule swung his blade in a figure-eight pattern, working out the tension in his shoulder. “Yeah, I… I’m not always the best at homing in on something. You know… easily distracted.”
Sky blew out a laugh. “You’re telling me. I spent my whole life in the academy, and I’m not exactly known for being very focused. But don’t count yourself out.”
The older hero brandished his sword, squaring up against Hyrule once again. “Okay. Now it’s your turn to take the defensive. Remember your counters—I’m coming in hot.”
The intensity of Sky’s initial strike surprised the unprepared hero, causing his back foot to fumble from the impact. Before he could correct his footing, another strike rained down on him from above, forcing him to deflect and nearly causing him to fall over. By some miracle, Hyrule maintained his balance, shuffling his feet in the dirt as he braced himself against his attacker’s barrage.
As Sky continued peppering him from all sides, he started to scramble, his brain trying to play catch-up with the speed of Sky’s strikes. Overwhelmed, he found himself itching to use a shield bash, as was his tendency when backed into a corner. He fought down the urge, relying on the weapon in his hand to see him through.
Somehow, Hyrule fended off the incoming attacks, yet all the while knowing he couldn’t last much longer. He clenched his jaw in concentration, his blade flying to counter Sky’s sword that struck out again and again.
He was slipping...
Suddenly, Sky was pulling back, the last echo of clanging metal ringing through the trees. Hyrule held his sword out defensively for a moment longer before dropping it to his side, winded. Both heroes stood panting in the chilly dusk air, their chests heaving.
“Nice job,” Sky puffed. “Thought I had you—at the start. Didn’t think you’d—keep momentum.”
Hyrule leaned forward onto his knees, his brow slick with sweat. “You almost did.”
They stood like this for a minute longer, catching their breaths. Despite the intensity of the exercise, Hyrule couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t providing the release he expected. That he wasn’t matching the praise his companion was awarding him. He ran a hand through his damp hair, tangling the brown curls.
“I can tell your focus is a little scattered,” Sky continued, his voice breathy. “Remember to concentrate on your sword, and your confidence will improve with it. Don’t worry so much about the details when you spar—your footing, what’s going on around you—none of it. Obviously those things are important in a real fight, but those will come with the territory. Don’t let Warrior’s footwork seduce you.”
The sky-dweller shook his head in amusion, his fluffy blonde locks fanning out around his head. “Just focus on the technique. Even if you stumble in the beginning, you’ll eventually adjust to what feels right with enough practice. And then the rest will follow, Hyrule. Trust me.”
The younger teen sighed, placing a hand on his hip. “I know, I know. I just… I get so jittery. I can’t help it.”
“That’s normal. As long as you channel that energy into your blade, it’ll become easier with muscle memory. I mean, that’s why we’re here now, isn’t it?” Sky peered back at his companion, a friendly smile upturning his lips. “You’re doing great.”
Hyrule looked down at his boots that were discolored with dirt. “Thanks.”
Sky gave a single nod of acknowledgement. After a quick twirl of his weapon, he assumed a defensive position once more, raising his short sword. “Now that we’ve taken turns playing offense-defense, let’s throw them together and take a stab at some actual sparring.” He paused before giving his head a quick shake, his cheeks tinged pink. “Uh… no pun intended.”
Hyrule felt his heart rate skyrocket, his palms growing sweaty. He gripped the hilt of his blade to offset his nerves, trying to refocus on the task at hand.
“First one to disarm, catch unguarded, or land a hit wins the round,” Sky prompted. “At the ready.”
Both contenders stood posed for battle, each tensed in anticipation of the fight. Hyrule fought down his instinct to flee, studying the Hero of the Skies closely. When it became evident that his opponent refused to make the first move, he steeled himself.
Here goes nothing.
He lashed out with a flurry of hits on Sky’s left, aiming for the speed and accuracy so adamantly impressed upon him. Ready for the assault, Sky jumped into action, matching the speed of Hyrule’s blade with his own. With each metallic collision, Hyrule pushed his opponent back, emboldened by the success of his rapid fire.
That is, until Sky slipped in a counter strike.
Somehow, the sky-dweller broke between Hyrule’s attacks, thrusting forward with a powerful stab. Thrown off guard, Hyrule barely managed a parry of his own, swatting aside the other’s blade as he would an ambushing moby. He fell back, losing his balance as he deflected another of Sky’s strikes.
A third strike later and he lost his footing completely. He toppled to the ground with a thud, squinting up at the dulled point of Sky’s short sword.
“One-nil,” Sky said with a smile. “You were doing so well until I flipped the script on you.”
“I’m not used to blocking with the sword,” Hyrule justified, his cheeks warm. He let Sky pull him to his feet and dusted off his clothes. “I’m used to having a shield.”
“You blocked my first blow, so I know you’re capable of it,” Sky proposed. “Just remember to focus, and the speed of transitioning from offense to defense will come.” He twirled his sword, standing at the ready. “Again.”
Without warning, Sky struck out with an upward slash at Hyrule’s hip. The younger hero threw out his sword to block just in time, nearly tripping over his own feet. He backtracked, once again on the receiving end of the blade. As Sky administered a volley of swings, Hyrule fought down the urge to pull out his boomerang, to throw out a kick and offset the aggressive Chosen Hero. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning his perimeter for something to use to his advantage—sticks, stones, a boulder to get behind—anything to gain the upper hand.
Stop it, Hyrule chided himself, wobbling as he countered an overhead strike. Stop thinking that way. Use your sword.
His scatterbrained thoughts proved his downfall, however, when a sly twist of Sky’s blade sent Hyrule’s own flying out of his hands.
For a brief second, they stared each other down, their labored pants reverberating across the glade.
“Two-nil,” said Sky. “You were doing it again.”
“Argh, I know,” Hyrule groaned, throwing his hands up. He trudged over to retrieve his weapon, frustrated with his incompetence. “I have a hard time focusing, I know I do. I can’t do what all of you can do, and it shows.”
Sky studied his companion with concern, his brow furrowed. “Hyrule… it’s okay. You’re trying to use your surroundings to your advantage. That’s a good thing—and not something everyone’s good at doing. But you asked to hone your skills, and this is the best way to do that. Practicing with blade-on-blade fighting will give you a wider arsenal to work with, and more importantly, will help you not to feel so frantic in a fight. Just be patient with yourself.”
The frustrated hero glared at the ground, refusing to look at his friend. He knew he was overreacting, and he knew he wouldn’t become a master swordsman in a single sparring session. So why was he already feeling so defeated?
“Why don’t we stop for the night?” Sky suggested. “I can tell you’re frustrated, and it’s getting dark. We should—”
“No, no, I—I’m sorry,” Hyrule mumbled, shaking his head. “I-I’m okay, I promise. Ten more minutes and we’ll call it a night?”
Sky regarded his companion carefully. Shrugging, he took up a readied position once more, flourishing his weapon. “Sure. Ten minutes.”
They continued at it, with every passing round marking another victory for the Skyloftian. The Hero of Hyrule grit his teeth, losing hope with each repeated failure. He skirted a sideswipe and met Sky’s blade from the reverse direction; he lunged forward in a stab, receiving a smack to the forearm; he feigned directions in the hopes of faking out his opponent, only to land flat on his backside. In no time at all, he found himself backed to the edge of the clearing once again, desperately trying to sneak in a counter attack amidst Sky’s relentless battery.
If I can just land a hit, he reasoned, fumbling over a fallen branch. One single hit, he pleaded, narrowly missing an overhead blow. Maybe then I’ll be worth something. His back hit the trunk of a tree, his fate sealed as his attacker raised his weapon in a preparatory final strike.
No!
He saw red.
In that moment, instinct overcame him. It was as if he had become a passenger in his own body—driven by a power separate from his own energy reserves. His legs turned to springs, propelling him into the air just as Sky’s blade wedged itself into the tree trunk behind him. He flew upward to an alarming height and found himself bearing down on the Chosen Hero, who looked up at him with astonishment. Before Sky could react, Hyrule rained down with an underfoot swing, following through with the downward momentum of his fall.
The Hero of the Skies toppled, meeting the earth in time with Hyrule’s feet.
There was silence as Hyrule gazed down upon his conquered comrade, slack jawed.
He didn’t mean to do that. He swore he didn’t mean to do that!
“Hyrule—that was incredible!” proclaimed Sky, smiling up at the baffled hero. “You jump like a remlit! I forgot you could do that—who taught you?”
Hyrule stared blankly at his companion, lost for words.
“I… I-I don’t…”
Sky eyed his friend curiously. He got to his feet and began dusting off his trousers. “You definitely threw me for a loop with that one. With a skillset like that, who cares if you’re not a traditional swordsman?” He rested a hand on his hip. “Good match.”
Hyrule looked down at the sword still gripped in his hand. It wasn’t fair; it wasn’t a fair match, and he knew it. A rock formed in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than anything he’d lifted with his power bracelet.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice small. “Thanks for sparring with me.”
“Anytime,” said Sky, clapping Hyrule on the shoulder as he passed by to retrieve the Master Sword. “C’mon, let’s head back. I’m pretty sure I can smell Wild’s cooking from here. If wild boar in Time’s world is anywhere near as good as it is in Wild’s, then we’re in for a treat!”
Hyrule nodded, resigning himself to his dejection. He followed his peppy comrade over to retrieve their belongings, both taking long drafts from their canteens.
As Hyrule sipped his water, he gazed out into the distance, examining his surroundings. The sun had sunk well below the treetops now, the twilight heralded in by the songs of evening larks. A melancholic sound that reflected the mood in his heart.
As the pair made their way back to camp, the sullen hero retreated far into his thoughts, for once not feeling so hungry.
Who am I? And why am I nothing without magic?