Chapter Text
“Are you sure you’re going to keep looking for memories?” Daruk asked, cutting casually through the same snow Link had to wade through. “You’ve been taking them pretty hard, little brother. You don’t need them if you don’t want them.”
Link shrugged, but Daruk kept looking at him expectantly. After a bit, Link relented. I’d rather learn something sad than be stuck not knowing.
Daruk chuckled. “I’ll admit, that does sound like you. You’ve always been insatiably curious.”
Link let the corners of his mouth twitch up, and then looked ahead again, trudging through the snow towards the mountain in the near distance. The morning sun cast a golden light over the white-capped woods, and even through the ruby circlet and the warm doublet, Link was threatening to shiver; he’d have to find something warmer. The cold made his skin ache. (Everything seemed to make his skin ache.)
There were chillshrooms growing by the path, and Link couldn’t resist veering back and forth to collect them, and the wildberries he found, the odd truffle and winterwing butterfly. It was a long way up, and he expected it would take all day, even if he pushed himself.
He coughed.
The road forward was paved in stone, with stairs cut into any incline that was remotely steep, but it was so overgrown and worn-down that it clearly hadn’t seen any use in years, probably decades – as long as that lynel had been guarding the entrance, Link expected. He detonated white chuchus with his bow and took down lizalfos with prejudice; about half of them had lizal weapons, and the rest had stolen and scavenged Hylian ones.
A third of the way up, Link stopped to rest, built a fire, and roasted some spicy peppers and the wild meat he’d gotten on the way up.
“Are you still cold?” Mipha asked with concern, ever attentive. Link shrugged, coughing into his elbow a couple times.
He wasn’t cold, exactly. But his skin hurt, and he thought it would calm down if he was warmer, maybe. The heating magic in the peppers would probably help with that.
“Cold aggravates scar tissue,” Urbosa said, without looking at either of them. Her gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance down the mountain, her legs curled under her. “I imagine he’s responding to that.”
“I thought heat did,” Revali accused, as if someone had intentionally deceived him.
“I imagine there’s little that doesn’t aggravate scar tissue when it makes up half of all of your skin,” Urbosa replied flatly.
Link glanced at Urbosa. It wasn’t like her to be so subdued for so long. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. It’s sore. Not as bad as a thunderstorm though.
“You should be able to get warmer clothing in Rito Village,” Revali said, deliberately unhurried and unconcerned. “Perhaps snowquill armor. It was popular among Hylian swordsmen in our day.”
Link smiled a little and nodded, then started eating through the clumsy skewer he’d made.
“Are you going to go up Death Mountain?” Daruk asked abruptly, more serious than Link was used to hearing from him. Link cocked his head, and Daruk scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I’ve been wondering about my kid. Igneous. Little tyke was never much of a warrior, but, well…”
Link softened. I’ll make sure I do, he promised, coughed, and continued, Will I need anything for the trip up?
“Fireproof elixir,” Daruk answered instantly, the relief in his voice betraying him. “You can get flamebreaker armor once you’re up, but fireproof elixir will get you there. Death Mountain runs too hot for Hylians to stand without help.”
Link nodded, making a mental note, and then adding it into his slate notes as well.
“…I never did thank you for letting me see Riju,” Urbosa said quietly. Link glanced at her fleetingly, and she smiled a little, her expression difficult to read but distinctly softer than usual. “She’s my niece – my sister succeeded me as chief, I expect. I was glad to see she was doing well. So thank you.”
Link considered her for a moment, unsure, and then dipped his head once.
He finished eating and stood up, brushed himself off, and kept going up the mountain, following the path carved into it. It didn’t ring familiar, but it was… odd, to know he’d walked up this way before, with Zelda.
(Everyone had been so disappointed that Zelda hadn’t unlocked her power, and it was the first point of connection that Link felt he could reach out and touch. He might not have known what that felt like then, but he did now.)
The sun passed slowly through the sky as they wound their way up, the silence exaggerated by the snow that seemed to muffle everything around them. Pillars of ice rose tall out of the ground, and Link collected monster parts as neatly as he could, tossing a few of the weaker lizal spears in favor of new weapons.
About ten yards from the top, Link stopped, a bolt of terror shooting down his spine, like he’d just looked a lynel in the eye. Everyone else stopped too. He looked up, but of course, the steep rock face blocked anything he might have seen, except perhaps a slight haze, too faint to make out. He hesitated.
“I’m looking ahead,” Revali said after a moment, and didn’t wait for a reply before he rose up with a flap, twisting through the air to search the ground. Less than a minute later, he was down again, expression set in a grim scowl. He looked Link in the eye, and Link was already bracing himself by the time he said, “If you’re not prepared to fight with prejudice, turn back now.”
Link hesitated, searching Revali’s eyes as if for information. There wasn’t a bit of give in his expression, and Link dropped his eyes to the ground, stomach twisting. He coughed into his arm, trying to think.
He could run away, if he wanted. He thought that this time, no one would even be mad at him. It was something about the set of Revali’s wings.
But Link was hurt, and scared, and tired. He was not a coward. And Revali had not said to run away.
Link looked up, nodded, and, with purpose, started forward again.
Revali sighed. “Draw your best bow,” he said, without any condemnation. Link obeyed.
The implacable feeling of terror magnified as he climbed the steps, an ominous ringing in the back of his head, but Link didn’t understand why until he arrived at the top.
There was a dragon curled around the peak of the mountain.
She was as beautiful as Farosh had been, glowing with a soft light, crystals sparkling down her spine and shards of ice like a mane on her head. She was draped across the mountain ice like a snake upon a tree, her clawed feet digging into the rock. And she was also, just as clearly, sick.
Link had seen malice swamp a few times before by now – far away in the coliseum, far closer in the Gerudo labyrinth. It explained the terror he’d felt on the way up; the grumbles and groans that malice made were the sounds of his nightmares, and he often knew it was around before he even consciously registered it.
He looked at the malice caked onto the dragon’s beautiful scales, the dust and smoke that puffed out of its mouth with each breath, the eyes staring back at Link from the points of infection, and he felt bile rise up his throat.
And at the dragon’s feet was the spring, the statue rising up and glowing with Hylia’s gentle light, exactly as he’d seen at the Spring of Courage.
“You have done well to find your way to this spring,” Hylia murmured to him, soft and understanding and solemn. “You who have overcome the trials and obtained the spirit orbs… the one you see before you is an attendant to the Spring of Wisdom. This is Naydra, the blue spirit of Lanayru.”
Every word had a weight Link could feel hang in the air. The world narrowed to the top of the mountain, blotting out the path up and the ocean on the far side and everything visible in the distance. The wind blew harshly, whipping around what little of his hair had pulled free. It whistled in Link’s ears and dried his throat, and he coughed again.
“This servant of the Goddess has looked over the spirits of the land for ages, unknown to the world of man,” Hylia continued softly. “However, the dreaded Malice unleashed by Calamity Ganon has possessed its body and reduced it to this state.”
Link swallowed, inhaled too quickly, and coughed again, chest shaking.
Hylia’s voice grew gentler, edged with supplication. “You who have received the spirit orbs… Free Naydra from this Malice. Show what your power can achieve!”
Link took a deep breath, drew a single arrow, and took aim.
“Ready when you are,” Revali murmured to him, and the rush of relief was so dizzying that Link almost missed.
He shot the first arrow into one of the enormous, glowing eyeballs embedded into the guardian spirit, and with a thin and wavering roar of pain, Naydra took off. Link grabbed his paraglider just in time for Revali to sweep him up, and he was after Naydra.
The first and the second eye were easy to take out, and Revali, who had more practice navigating in the air than Link did, was able to steer him past Naydra’s sweeping, flailing claws as long as Link followed him closely.
After the second boil burst, Naydra screamed in pain, the malice convulsing around her. She swept past him, fleeing in blind agony that made Link’s skin throb sympathetically. His fingers aching from holding onto the paraglider, he pressed forward in close pursuit, eyes focused on the dragon.
“She’s circling back!” Revali warned, and banked sharply in a way that slid Link neatly into a place where he could shoot a third malice eye off Naydra’s back.
His hands were numb with cold and stiff with strain. He missed.
Link snarled wordlessly in frustration, caught the paraglider again, and glanced at Revali, who uncharacteristically didn’t comment, just banked again to lead Link to another opening.
A sticky patch of malice swept within a foot of Link, and he turned sharply away. His breath was coming hard; his chest ached and his throat was sore.
He released the paraglider, turned, fired, and caught it again, and this time it hit the third malice eye dead center. Naydra wailed again.
Link couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t- he couldn’t bring his other hand up, his left hand twitching convulsively as it held his whole body weight. The paraglider began to veer sharply as he failed to balance it. The wind roared in his ears.
The ground was so far away. His shoulder screamed every time he tried to reach. His right shoulder was his worse one, and it didn’t want to stretch, and he was exhausted and he couldn't catch his breath.
“Link, what are you doing?” Revali demanded, loud enough to be clearly audible over the wind and Link’s pounding blood.
Link struggled for another breath, ignoring the scratchiness of his throat, slammed his bow back into his Sheikah slate, and looked up to make another grab for the handle. He missed, his fingertips barely brushing the smooth wood before his strength failed him. The paraglider dipped until it was perpendicular to the ground.
He was falling.
“Link!”
He couldn’t make out a single voice amid that cacophony. He just knew that he couldn’t let his friends down. He couldn’t-
Link heaved with a shout that was either effort or pain, dragged the paraglider closer, and caught the bar with his other hand. With a yank, he righted it, broke his fall, and only a couple of seconds later, he hit the ground tumbling.
Before he’d even stopped moving, Link was already crying and coughing violently, his fist locked onto his shoulder as if that would calm the spasms. He was still gasping, and for a few long moments, he didn’t even try to get up. His whole body jerked with every other breath, like he was trying to escape his skin, and his cheeks were wet, and he was coughing out as much as he was breathing in.
“Link!”
That one was Mipha, suddenly kneeling by his side, eyes wide and frantic.
“It’s alright,” a different voice said, and that was Urbosa, stern and calm and directed at him. “Just breathe, Link. You’re alright. Breathe and let the pain pass. You're alright.”
Link inhaled, long and hitching and cut with the beginnings of whines, and then let it out in a rush that was half a sob and broke into a coughing fit. Then he breathed in again, and everyone was there, leaning over him, like a shield from the world.
Link breathed out.
It took a few minutes for the spasms to ease enough for him to look up, and when he did, he noticed that Urbosa’s cheeks were glistening. Had she been crying?
Naydra bellowed in pain. Link pushed himself up to his knees, shivering, and craned his neck. Naydra was still in the snowfield with him, crashing and barreling against trees at random, trying to scrape off the last of the malice. Link’s skin crawled, and he had to force himself to let go of his throbbing shoulder.
I’m okay, he signed, trying to reassure himself as much as the others. He struggled unsteadily to his feet. I’m okay. Revali. Help?
Revali exhaled, somehow looking both dramatically put-upon and genuinely strained. “Only if you promise not to fall out of the sky like a nestling this time, little champion. You’re taking years off my life posthumously.”
Link let out a shaky laugh, wiping his eyes with his gloved hands, and nodded.
“Wipe that parasitic piece of shit off the planet, little guy,” Daruk encouraged, relief clear in the lines of his face and the slump of his shoulders.
Mipha met his eyes as soon as he looked at her, and exhaled shakily.
“Be careful,” she said insistently, and he took a deep breath, coughed a few times, and nodded.
Then he grabbed his paraglider, looked at Revali, and a breath later, he was in the air again, Revali twisting around him to lift him far above the trees.
The last malice eye was on the very tip of Naydra’s tail, and pulling back his bow was excruciating. But the last arrow hit true, and with a grunting, growled gasp, Naydra flexed and writhed, struggling against something unseen and unfelt. Then, with a final twist of her graceful body, Naydra broke free, shaking off the parasitic infection.
Then Naydra looked directly at him.
A push of her clawed feet sent Naydra flying towards him, and on some unfathomable instinct, instead of bolting, Link lifted his hand. When she changed course to pass just over his head, he caught one of her claws. It was cold enough to numb his hand.
But then he was flying at a rate far faster than he could ever achieve on his own, the wind lashing at his face, and he laughed and coughed and laughed again, and when Naydra passed over the Spring of Wisdom, he let go.
He crashed to the ground still giggling a little, punch-drunk and frightened and shaking, and in the next breath his friends were around him, varying degrees of exasperated or alarmed. Before any of them could speak, though, the soft light of the mother goddess lit up the statue again, and they all fell quiet.
Her voice was warm.
“Thanks to your efforts, Naydra, the spirit of Mount Lanayru, has been freed from the grips of an evil power,” Hylia murmured, heavy with gentle pride. Link pushed himself to his knees. “But a single ceremony remains. Now… Loose your arrow through the body of Naydra to free the spirit of this region!”
Link took a deep breath, drew his bow one last time, aimed at her muzzle and fired. Something bright and sparkling flew off, landing with a clatter on the grand platform.
“That is the spirit Naydra’s scale,” Hylia said, building in quiet intensity. “It fell when your arrow struck. It serves as proof of courage you have shown to the one who served the spring since ancient times. Come… offer the scale to the Spring of Wisdom.”
His whole body trembling from both the cold and the adrenaline, Link bent down to scoop the scale up, walked forward, and tossed it at the feet of the statue. It burst into a beautiful golden light, and the wall behind the goddess statue slid up.
He couldn’t see Hylia’s smile, but somehow he felt it anyway, and the corners of his mouth twitched up. “Your path has shown itself. Now go forth. You have done well.”
Link wasn’t sure why Urbosa had pulled him aside to speak alone, but she was intent enough on it that he’d gone along, climbing up to sit on the peak, shielded from the whistling wind by the ice pillars that surrounded it. He pressed his shoulder against one of them, sighing as it numbed the angry throbbing, and watched Urbosa.
Urbosa stayed standing. Her hair didn’t flicker in the wind. Her arms were crossed, her head tilted to look down at Link with solemn eyes.
For a long time they were both silent, and it wasn’t until Link broke into a short coughing fit that Urbosa sat down in front of him, folding her legs under her. Link cocked his head, and she sighed.
I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry for what I said in Hateno, she said carefully. I didn’t mean to make you feel like a burden. You’ve never been that.
Link cleared his throat uncomfortably. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.
But it still hurt, and I never should have said it, Urbosa said, and Link didn’t deny it. Urbosa softened. Zelda loved you. I wanted to make sure you know that. By the time the Calamity hit, I think you were her closest friend. And she would have been appalled to think that you owed her your pain.
Link turned over his hand to look at the transparent yellow overlay, and for a minute he was quiet and pensive.
I don’t think I would have been so upset if I didn’t agree with you, Link said at last, exhausted. He coughed. I want to do better too. For Zelda and for Mipha and for you and Revali and Daruk… and everyone. You’ve all done a lot for me, and I… He shrugged. All he’d done was fail.
We’re all in the same boat here, Urbosa signed calmly. She looked tired, too, almost defeated. And I don’t think I can describe how frightened we all were when you fell. It… forced me to realize that I can’t lose you, either. Link tilted his head, and Urbosa took a deep breath. For a hundred years it felt like Zelda was all I had left, and you were the only one who could help her. But losing you isn’t an acceptable price for getting her back. It never was. I’m sorry.
Link softened, and he didn’t know what he was feeling, but he thought it was some kind of relief. It’s okay. I know it’s been… difficult. And he really meant it this time. He met her eyes solemnly. You must miss Zelda a lot.
Urbosa’s breath hitched, startling him, and she nodded once, tightly.
That was probably why I was so angry, she admitted, and her breath hitched again. We didn’t know what condition you’d be in when you woke, and admitting that you couldn’t help her would be to admit… She wiped her eyes impatiently, and that was when Link realized she was starting to shed tears. That there was no way I could help her.
The first thin gasp wasn’t even a surprise, or the strangled, cut-off sob that followed. Link scooted closer, where he couldn’t touch her but could still be a comforting presence, and hummed, low and as soothing as he could make it.
He thought that right there, on the peak of Mount Lanayru, might have been the first time Urbosa cried in a hundred years or more.