Chapter Text
Clouds of dust arose as he stumbled through the ancient structure, until it threatened to almost choke him. He brought the collar of his shirt up to shield his nose and pressed on, guided by the quickly growing blue light that pooled at the end of the corridor.
He reached the chamber and took a moment to stare in awe at the architecture. He approaches the center of the room, gazing at the great ornament drooping from the ceiling. His eyes trail down it until they fall upon the pool, its water an unnatural blue… and the body in it.
It floats as if the being in it was merely asleep. But the boy can see how the skin is pale to the point of transparency, how rigid the limbs seem, how blue the spaces around the eyes are. Yet it seems preserved, as if the liquid had been holding it in stasis for however long it had been.
He cannot help but wonder at how similar this face must have been to his own, once. With the lighting, it is hard to tell, but it seems the hair is just a few tones lighter than his, the eyebrows set in harsher lines where his own are always soft. The boy has brown eyes and will not check those of the body. This must be a tomb. It would be disrespectful.
He is startled out of his thoughts as a voice rings out, and the pool begins to drain.
“Link… Open your eyes…. Wake up. Link!”
The call is soft but hurried, as if the disembodied voice was out of breath. The boy takes a step back and watches expectantly as the body settles on the bottom of the pool.
Back when he was a child, his mother had told him tales of a knight, chosen by the Goddess of Light to fight and defeat the scourges of Hyrule. A knight that wielded a blade said to have the power to seal darkness away, and who went missing in the land’s great hour of need, a hundred years ago.
His father spoke of a princess of Light, locked in fierce battle with the Calamity itself in the heart of what once was Hyrule’s castle. He wove the tale of the prophecy, of the slumbering Hero of Hyrule arising, when the time comes, and destroying the beast, freeing all the land from its clutches.
Standing in the shrine, hearing the ethereal voice calling the form in the pool, he knew these tales to be true, and that he was about to witness the awakening of the hero.
Moments passed. The form remained still.
The voice called again. “Link!”
….
“Open your eyes…”
Silence.
The boy began to worry.
“Wake up!”
…..
Nothing.
Hesitantly, the boy edged towards the pool, and after a moment, held his hand close to the form's nose and mouth.
Nothing.
A moment longer, he mumbled a quick apology, and pressed his fingers to the side of the neck, searching for a pulse.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited…
Nothing.
The skin was cold, the body unmoving.
He retracted his hand, letting out a whisper of shock.
“He’s gone…”
He didn’t know if the voice could hear him, but he spoke regardless.
“I’m sorry.”
The boy stepped away, inwardly wishing the peace of the one that had passed. Link.
He allowed his eyes to trail around the room, in an attempt to offer the voice and the body a sense of privacy, if either could benefit from that anymore. He felt his status as an intruder keenly now, and opted to keep his attention on the strange pedestal near the door.
For a few more moments, he simply studied the intricate patterns carved in the stone, wondering where the almost ethereal blue light finds its source. He pondered the nature of the rectangular shape in its center.
“That,” the voice from before resounded again, but quieter than before. “Is a Sheikah slate.”
He thanked the voice for this information, and took a step towards the door.
“Take it.”
He stopped, bewildered by the sudden injunction. Did… Did the voice hear him speak?
Did it know that he wasn’t the awoken being from the pool?
“Take it.”
Slowly, he turned back to the pedestal, watching in amazement as the centerpiece pivoted to reveal an embossed weeping eye design. The boy reached out to delicately take hold of the object, lifting it in front of his face to better examine.
A mysterious tablet with a glowing center. He has never seen this device before.
He raises eyes full of questions towards the ceiling, hoping for the voice to explain itself, its reasoning, what it wants him to do with this thing. For all of it, he is only met with silence.
Resigned, he manages to attach the slate to his belt with a bit of fiddling. Finally, he makes his way to the exit, and steps outside in the golden light of the day.