Archive of Our Own ^beta

A/N: So I've been worldbuilding for Breath of the Wild lately, and I have fallen in love with the Rito. So I've come up with this! Their Ceremony of Winds. Feel free to adopt this as your headcanon or use it in your story, too (the concept, not the word-for-word story, obviously).

Since the Ceremony of Winds is a sending off of the deceased, I had to kill someone off. I took a vote, and Teba won (or lost, depending on how you look at it). I find it works better this way, anyhow. Comments and fanart are welcome. :)

[Seriously, if I could draw half as well as I could write, half my stories would be artwork. Including this.]

I also highly recommend reading this to this OST: https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/G3LcJbSVCpAZTjUw8

The Rito had many things that Wild loved about their culture. Traditions and songs and dances in the sky that made him wish he’d been born with feathers, too. He toyed with the small necklace he refused to remove. They were on Skyloft right now, and while he adored the floating island and the sea of clouds, he truly missed the simplicity of Rito Village and the warm meal he knew Saki would have for him. 

“What’s that?” Wind asked, eyeing his necklace. Everyone was sitting around the training grounds, taking turns sparring. “I’ve seen you play with it a lot.” 

Wild smiled a bit as he held up one of his most precious treasures. It was a feather, dyed gold with veins of blue that matched his eyes and tunic. The blue covered the entire tip of the feather, and the golden base shone brilliantly in the sunlight. 

“Wow! Is that from a Rito?!” Wind grinned as the others—who were taking a break from the spars—leaned in to get a better look. 

“That almost looks like a Loftwing’s feather.” Sky mused. 

“It is a Rito feather.” Link nodded. “But it’s a very special one. It’s my feather.” 

“Your feather?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. 

“Yep.” Wild smiled. “It’s a tradition in Rito culture. There’s an old legend amongst the Rito…” He grinned as he settled into his storyteller mode. Several of the others got into more comfortable positions and looked at him eagerly. “There was once a great Eagle Rito named Fyre. He was the strongest flier that’d ever been, and the best warrior that would ever be. He was rightly arrogant and sought to start a war with the Hylians to prove his strength, for he looked down on them for their lack of flight. The Goddess Hylia saw this and warned Fyre to leave her chosen people be, but he did not listen. He struck down a great swordsman—some stories even say he was the hero of that time—and as punishment, the Goddess stripped him of his wings and feathers, turning him into a Hylian, himself. Not a single feather of his remained.” 

“Just like that?!” Wind was bouncing excitedly where he sat as Legend leaned against his fist, seemingly bored. But Wild caught the glimmer of curiosity in the veteran’s eye, making him chuckle softly. 

“Yep. But there’s a second story that goes along with the Fall of Fyre. Some stories say it’s Fyre redeemed, others say it’s an entirely different person, going by the name of Brine. He was a Hylian that longed for one thing—the flight of the Rito. Often, Brine interacted with the Rito, helping them in whatever ways he could. Everything from teaching them to sew to helping them move goods. He lived among them as if he was one of them. But he was still a Hylian, and nothing would change that. Although, in the version where it’s Fyre, he was trying to earn redemption by doing good deeds for the Hylians and attempting to learn how to live as one of them. I think one version even has him with a Hylian mate, but I can’t quite remember that one.” Wild couldn’t help but feel grateful for Wind ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing at all the right points. The kid was an experienced story listener. 

Wild continued. “Brine—or Fyre, depending on the version—continued to help the Rito wherever he could. One day, a Lynel made its way into the village, wreaking havoc on everything in sight. Brine gave his life to defeat that Lynel, saving all the Rito. For Fyre, he’d given his life for the Hylians. Hylia was pleased by this act of courage, and blessed him with new life. She gifted him a feather—in the story of Fyre, it’s the same color as his feathers used to be. In Brine’s story, it’s said that the feathers were made in the color of his Rito soul. This feather, when worn, would transform him into a Rito.”

“So that transforms you?” Legend raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” Wild grinned, “but it is where the tradition comes from. See, sometimes the Rito will… uh… how did Harth phrase that? Whenever someone ‘performs an immeasurable act of courage’ for the Rito, they honor them by making them a feather in the colors they believe that person would have if they’d been born a Rito.” 

“So that’s yours?” Time hummed thoughtfully. “It suits you quite well.” 

“But what does it do ?” Wind tilted his head. “Is it just a feather?” 

“In a sense.” Wild nodded. “But it marks me as an Honorary Rito. So any Rito I meet—no matter the flock—will treat me as one of their own.” He smiled. “Kind of like that dual citizenship thing Hyrule was talking about last week.” 

“Not quite how dual citizenship works, but close enough.” Hyrule shrugged. “That’s pretty cool.” 

“The Rito have all sorts of traditions.” Wild smiled wistfully as he gazed at the clouds. “Sometimes I really wish I had been born a Rito. It must be nice to fly.” 

“I could take you on a flight with Crimson sometime?” Sky offered and Wild perked up excitedly. 

“Really?!” 

“Yeah. I’m sure he’d let you ride him alone if you asked, too. Just try not to fall off… Or jump off.” He added once he remembered who he was talking to. 

Legend snickered as Warriors outright laughed. 

Wild was about to say something when he felt Hylia’s Divinity swirl nearby, tearing open a portal just a few dozen feet away. “Oh.” He was severely disappointed he wouldn’t get that flight with Crimson. 

“We’ll get you that ride next time.” Sky promised, patting his shoulder. But Wild only frowned a tad more. Hylia’s Divinity was… urgent in a way that she wasn’t normally. There was… a sorrow there. None of the others seemed to notice as they lined up, heading through. 

The sinking feeling only got worse when Wild set foot in his home Hyrule. Normally, he’d be excited to be home; especially with how close they were to Rito Village—a place he always loved to go to. This time, however, he felt that something was wrong. Off in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Despite this, he still felt excitement well up in him. “We’re in my Hyrule.” He grinned, ignoring the churning in his gut that something was wrong. He scanned the horizon as the others groaned or cheered, but couldn’t spot anything out of place. No rogue Guardians or anything else that would set him on edge. 

“Come on.” He nodded up the path. “Rito Village is nearby. We can’t be more than a half-hour’s walk away.” Judging by the sun, it was early morning, still. Perhaps seven or eight. He ignored the cheering as each step brought with it a new spike of anxiety. Even Wind’s mindless babble about sleeping in a bed and eating Saki’s cooking again wasn’t enough to distract Wild from whatever instinct had reared its head. 

There were no guards by the gate. That wasn’t right, there was always someone by the gate. He felt a frown tug at his lips as they entered the growing village. Where was Gesane? Or Mazli? 

They continued up the steps, and Wild noticed that the Goddess Statue was even more decorated than usual. Hatchlings ran around joyfully, and for a moment, Wild was sure his gut feeling of wrongness was his imagination. 

Verla waved to Wild from where he stood before the inn. A few children ran around the group of heroes, a couple of them barely avoided colliding with Four. 

“Wow, they’re lively.” Twilight grinned. “Is there a festival in town?” He wondered. 

“None that I can think of around this time of year.” Wild frowned. “What makes you assume it’s a festival?” 

“Well, they’re carrying lanterns.” Legend pointed out, and Wild froze. Indeed, the children were running around and playing with handmade lanterns hung upon hooked sticks.  

Lanterns that were made of white paper . Wild’s stomach sank as the claws of fear gripped his heart. He looked towards Verla with a desperation that hadn’t been there a moment ago. 

“O-oh.” Verla winced. “You… weren’t told?”

“Hey, you’re looking pretty pale. Are you okay?” Sky asked, but Wild couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t help but shake a bit at the thought of someone—a member of his flock... of his family being… 

“Harth!” He called as the familiar Rito rounded the bend. Wild shook off Sky’s concerned hand as he ran over towards the dark-colored warrior. The other Links were right behind him, steps quickened by concern. 

Harth whirled around, and a pained look on his face told Wild all he needed to know. He came to a stop right before the person he saw as an uncle. “Who?” His voice was scarcely a whisper, yet it still managed to crack. 

Harth pulled Wild into a hug, nuzzling his hair in apology. “Teba.” 

An iciness gripped his heart as his brain almost physically rejected the information. “No.” He whispered, pushing Harth away. “N-no, you’re…” he wasn’t mistaken. Wild knew Harth couldn’t possibly mistake Teba for another Rito. The two were practically brothers. “H-how… Not… not Teba .” He looked up at Harth. “Please…” 

He could hear the sharp intake of breath from behind him as the other Links worked out what was going on, but Wild didn’t care. This time, he didn’t push Harth away. “I’m sorry , Link. We tried everything we could. He died a warrior’s death, defending fledglings from a Lynel.” 

He gripped Harth’s shirt tightly as he hugged him, refusing to let the pain out. He had to stand strong. He had to be strong. Only a few tears escaped, and Harth gently wiped them away. 

“Come now, you know it’s bad luck to cry before the Ceremony.” Harth said softly. “You’ll make Teba sad. This is a time to celebrate his life.” 

Wild took several steadying breaths as he stepped away, squaring his shoulders. “When is the Ceremony?” 

“Tonight. You’re just in time.” Harth put a wing on his shoulder. “Link… would you do us the honor of Guiding the Wind?” 

He stiffened, unable to hide his small gasp. “M- me ? What about Saki? Or you ?” 

“She’s far too distraught. Besides, you know it’s best done by the person who was closest to him.” 

“And you?” 

“I think he would want you to do it.” Harth smiled. “You’re practically his hatchling… I can think of no one better.” 

Wild swallowed thickly. “I would be honored to Guide Teba’s Wind.” 

“I’ll have your ceremonial garb ready by sundown. Until then…” He glanced behind Wild towards the others. “Perhaps you should take some time to process this. I know it’s quite sudden.” 

“Thank you.” Wild nodded as Harth left. 

“Wild?” Wind spoke up softly, and he turned towards the group. 

“Come on. I’ve got a house here we can stay at.” The group remained silent as he led them through the village. All about, there were people with white paper lanterns. Some were painted with bright colors, others were plain. And Rito all around them were carefully grooming themselves. 

Stands were set up like a festival of sorts, and there were areas to place offerings of food and goods. Wild made a mental note to come back and offer a bow to the warrior. 

“What is all this?” Twilight finally asked as Wild let them into his home. 

“Preparations for the Ceremony of Winds. The Rito’s sending off of the deceased.” Wild answered softly as he started the fire under the cooking pot. 

“You were close.” Time gave Wild a sympathetic look, but it held no pity. For that, he was glad. 

“Teba…” he cursed the way his voice cracked, “was the only father figure I can remember. He was the one who presented me with my feather.” He played idly with his necklace. “The Ceremony is a beautiful thing… you should come see. Thankfully, it’s a rare occurrence these days.” 

“Cub, I’m so sorry.” Twilight looked heartbroken. 

“Teba is— was a warrior. It is considered rude to cry before the Ceremony of Winds. His spirit is still here, and it’s frowned upon to show him how much his passing hurts us. It’s better to send him off with a celebration to show him how much he means to us all… and to alleviate his worries and show him we’ll be okay.” He smiled softly. “The Ceremony will guide him to the afterlife on Nayru’s winds.” 

“Nayru?” Legend tilted his head.

“Just like Hylians pray mainly to Hylia, the Rito honor Nayru above the other goddesses. Her Wisdom guides us through the winds of change, and the Spring honoring her, lies at the peak of the mountain.” He explained with a soft smile. “That reminds me, if I’m going to participate in the Ceremony, I need to go prepare.” He shook his head. 

“Prepare?” Four tilted his head. “Sorry, it’s just this culture is so… different.” 

“Since I’m Guiding the Wind, I need to cleanse myself at Nayru’s Spring, and ask Nayru to carry his spirit home tonight. With my Slate it won’t take long, no worries. But don’t be surprised if you don’t see me before the Ceremony begins. It’s a celebration of his life and a sendoff to the next one. It’s meant to be a happy thing, which is why the hatchlings are all running about. Feel free to offer assistance. I’m sure they’d be grateful.” 

“Right.” Hyrule nodded, already getting up. “And Wild… You know we’re here for you, right?” 

“I know.” He held back the tears. “But for now, I want to do this right. You cry after a farewell, not before one.” 

A few quick taps, and the world dissolved into tendrils of blue. A moment later, he found himself on the mountain. It didn’t take him long to reach the Spring, and he followed the pathway into the frigid waters. 

Naydra eyed him curiously, from his perch upon the crystalline peaks of ice. He lowered his head in greeting, resting it upon the waters in which the hero stood. Wild placed a hand on his snout, silently conveying his sorrow. “I have to say goodbye to someone very dear to me tonight. Will you be joining us for the Ceremony of Winds, Naydra?” 

The dragon snorted, as if offended he’d even ask. 

“Thank you. I’ll need that updraft to do this right anyhow.” He smiled as he sank down into the icy liquid. He submerged himself three times. Once for Birth, once for Life, and once for Farewell. After he was sufficiently soaked to the bone and certain he was growing ice on his arm, he stepped out of the spring and into the snow. Without waiting to dry off—and Twi would kill him if he knew—he leapt from the edge and soared. It felt wrong to teleport directly from the Spring, so he waited until he was a fair distance away before teleporting to the Sha Warvo Shrine.  

It wasn’t too long of a walk, but with how frigid the air was and how cold and wet he was, he felt like it had taken years. But he needed the time to think, and he wanted to do this right. The fire at the range was out, and it only served to remind him that Teba was one of the only Rito who regularly used it. Wild hoped that Tulin would learn to use the range just like their dad did. 

He started the fire and sat himself beside it, gathering ingredients. It was tradition for friends and family to offer something that was loved by the one who passed. Food was very common, as was weapons or clothing for a warrior. But Wild wanted to do something different. Something… unique . 

The food would still be welcome, but he felt like even Teba’s favorite meal wouldn’t be enough of a send off. Wild smiled softly at his feather as an idea floated into his mind. He jumped from the edge of the range, using his paraglider to drift downwards and land near the bottom. He scoured the area, even following the air currents upwards and searching the surrounding cliffs. Finally, after two hours, he found what he was looking for. 

He headed back over to his pot of golden liquid. He prayed to Nayru that this would work. And if Hylia wanted to lend a hand, too, that would also be welcomed. 

Dusk was quickly approaching when Wild returned. He greeted Harth with a small smile as he and Saki—whose eyes were bloodshot—helped Wild get into his ceremonial garb. Since he was arguably the most vital role to this Ceremony, they made sure it was very warm. The outfit was a soft golden hue with light blue markings that matched his tunic. It matched his Rito colors perfectly. 

“How did you know…?” He asked. It must’ve taken them days to make this. The long white cape with intricate black markings around the edges would’ve traditionally been made by Teba’s wife, in the color scheme of the Rito they were sending off. The markings around the border were a photographic representation of Teba’s life, from hatching to parting, and that would’ve been a collective effort from the village as a whole. It was big enough to drag on the ground, a sign of a good long life. 

The ceremonial garb that Wild wore—usually just a simple set of armor made by the warriors of the clan—was far more intricate than he felt it normally would have been. It was similar to his Snowquill armor, but not nearly as baggy. The sleeves had little latches for the cape to attach to, so it’d glide behind him like a set of wings when he flew, and the colors were a bright gold. If he somehow looked from afar, he might actually mistake himself for a Rito. He smiled softly, knowing that he would likely not have the heart to don the Ceremonial garb on any other occasion than one such as this.

“We knew that Nayru and Hylia wouldn’t let you miss this.” Saki sniffled a bit. “I really appreciate you Guiding him, Link. I truly do.” 

“Of course.” Link hugged her carefully as Harth braided his hair. “It’s an honor to be the one to do so.” Harth’s deft primaries added in small gems and a few of Teba’s feathers to his hair. 

Finally, the two stepped back, and Wild took a deep breath. A few beats from a drum told them that the Ceremony was beginning, and Wild quickly followed Harth out to take his place on Revali’s Landing. 

Lanterns— hundreds upon hundreds of lanterns —filled the area, and Wild could clearly see every Rito and every hero. Even Kass had come home for the Ceremony of Winds, and he smiled and nodded to Wild when their eyes met. 

The Elder stood before everyone. “Tonight, we gather together to send off a good friend, a great warrior, and a beloved father. Teba bravely gave his life to save the delicate young gales of the hatchlings, and we honor him tonight for all that he has done. We gather in celebration of his life, and remember the great Rito he will always be. From his first flight to his battle with Vah Medoh beside our brothers, Teba was truly an amazing Rito Warrior.” He stepped off to the side as Harth came forth. 

“The Ceremony of Winds will now begin!” He called out, which was Wild’s cue to step forward. His Rito’s Feather was sitting on his chest proudly. “Guiding the Wind tonight will be our brother, Link, who fought bravely beside Teba to appease Vah Medoh. It is tradition for the Guide to send off the first Feather.” Harth looked at Wild, who held up a feather he’d made earlier that day. He’d painstakingly replicated the same feather Teba had made for him. 

Typically, each Rito would pluck a single solitary feather from their wing. It was tradition to choose the best feather, and send it off to guide the Rito home, that they may never forget that they have a flock and family who care. But Wild didn’t have any physical feathers. He was sure that Harth hadn’t been expecting Wild to have made one, but the smile made him sure he’d made the right choice. 

He held the feather up as a gale of wind carried it off the landing. It floated almost peacefully, as if waiting for him. 

Harth carefully took a small dish of ashes and handed it to Wild. “This is Teba. With the Winds of Nayru at your back, Guide him home on our behalf.” He stated, as Wild nodded. Carefully held the ashes up, holding it out over the edge of Revali’s Landing. Children and adults alike picked up the lanterns and sent them skyward, where they gently floated in a slow upward motion, mesmerizing in their simplistic beauty. It was as if they were standing in a sea of stars. 

For a moment, all was still. 

And then, Naydra flew up from beneath the landing, carrying a puff of ash and the golden feather with him. Link deployed his paraglider and leapt from the edge, riding the gale. Lanterns danced upon the winds, creating a winding trail that chased the white Cloak of Memories, upon which Teba’s entire life was embroidered. 

The night was dark and the air was cold, and the further from the landing he got, the more alone he felt. It was almost suffocating. The blackness about him was closing in, and the chill was settling deep within his bones. For a moment, he felt completely lost and alone, and it terrified him. For that moment, he almost felt like he was back in the Shrine of Resurrection, and he understood that this eerie blackness was the isolation of death. 

But then, a song rose into the air. The voice of every Rito folded together in unison, and while it wasn’t exactly harmonic , it warmed his heart and soul. The lanterns joined them soon after, as he rode above Naydra, who carried him in an updraft. 

All along, Teba’s ashes flew off into the stars, and before long, hundreds of feathers—all shapes and sizes and colors—floated around them. 

And where once there had been darkness, now there was light. The silence of the shadows had become warm with the song of home, and the feeling of isolation was chased away by the feathers that reminded him that they were not alone. 

And suddenly, the icy fingers of death—which Wild knew so well—retreated into a warm feathery embrace that was unlike anything he’d ever felt. This, he decided, was how he wanted to be sent off when his time came. And he was glad that this was how Teba would be sent off, as well.

The path up to the peak of Hebra was an intimidating one. The flight was hours long, but somehow, though the song of the Village was too far for even his ears to hear, the music followed them upon the wind. The feathers never left the path, though a few fell here and there down to the earth below. The lanterns stayed, too, likely due to Naydra’s interference. They created a brilliant path of light in the wake of Wild’s Guidance through the shadows. He was glad Harth had asked him to do this. He truly would not want Teba to travel this lonely path by himself. 

Finally, they crested the peak of the mountain. Wild couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped his lips as he hovered over one of the most breathtaking views of Hyrule that he’d ever seen. He couldn’t recall ever experiencing a sky so clear from the peak before. 

It was there, at the peak, that he saw the ghostly figure of Teba. His eyes watered. “Teba.”

“Thank you, Link. For Guiding me. Harth was right—I would have no one but you on this Final Journey with me.” He smiled, wings flapping likely out of pure habit. “This flight was not only my last, but my most precious and peaceful.” He glanced at something off to the side that Wild could not see. “Thank you, my son. May we soar together in our next lives. Fly safe, and teach Tulin how to use that Flight Range for me, okay?” 

“I promise.” Wild smiled, choking on the tears. “Thank you, Dad. For everything you’ve given me. A home. A family. Love.” 

“I will always love you, Link. Never forget that.” 

“Until we fly together again, Dad.” 

They shared one last grin before Teba flew off and vanished in a flash of brilliant white light. For a moment, Wild swore he saw a gateway of some kind, with intricate runes carved into the edges and a soft warm light emanating from the center. But it was gone far too quickly for him to be sure. 

He smiled to himself as he looked back behind him, where a path of golden light from the lanterns reflected off the countless feathers of the Rito, illuminating a golden pathway for him to follow back. 

“Thank you, Naydra.” He nodded towards the dragon, who seemed to smile back at him. The wind carried him home along the path. The closer he got to the Village, the louder the song became. Though the younger Rito were tuckered out or distracted early on, the elder ones were still singing, a way to welcome the Guide home. 

When his feet lightly touched down upon Revali’s Landing, Harth was there waiting for him. His legs shook a bit, having been practically nonexistent for the last several hours, but Harth steadied him with a knowing look.  

“You look better.” Harth observed. 

“He’s home, now.” Wild stated with complete surety. “It’s true what they say… about the Gateway.” 

Harth startled. “You saw it?” 

“Only for a moment.” He smiled, eyeing the pathway that would stay until sunrise. Naydra only let the path vanish with the first rays of the sun. “Teba is at ease, now.” 

Harth relaxed. “Come. We should eat. Teba would have our feathers if we didn’t celebrate, too.” 

“He’d have your feathers.” Wild corrected with a grin as he followed his uncle. 

And if Wild stayed up to watch the sun’s rays gently coax the lanterns and feathers to the earth below, then only Harth knew.