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The expanse of land before Link's eyes is awash in a golden light so bright he must squint against its unforgiving radiance, that of midday sunlight on fresh snow. Through endless fields of overgrown green and ancient groves he treads, running towards something that beckons insistently. Something important. Something he cannot remember.
Blades of dry grass and pebbly soil turn to cobblestones under Link's blistered feet, and a lively celebration greets his senses when he lifts his weary head. Amidst colorful stalls, merry music, and mouth-watering smells, people flock into a town square he knows like the back of his hand — all familiar faces bearing smiles that tug at the corners of Link's mouth. He sags in relief. He's made it. Everyone is safe. Everything is alright.
Grinning from ear to ear, Link takes one eager step forward.
In unison, every head turns around sharply, zeroing in on him as the music dies off with a dissonant screech. Link freezes under the sheer force of their glare, his pulse thudding against his temples as that accursed light shines ever brighter...
"Monster!"
It is Rusl who yells it first, pointing at Link with a trembling finger. Uli cowers behind him, knife in hand and poised to flee. There is no warmth in their gazes, no spark of recognition for the youth they so lovingly raised as their own: only hatred and unbridled fear.
No! It's just me! Link wants to call out, wants to reassure, but his tongue won't obey him. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, but Rusl flinches as if struck, pulling out his sword and stepping back. Link staggers and falls to the ground. His vision swims, his left hand burns...
"Monster!" comes another fearful voice. Then another, and another, and another — a cacophony of cries passing judgment on him. With every shriek comes a merciless lash upon Link's prone body, brittle bones snapping and reassembling with a squelching crack that has him swallowing down bile and begging for mercy. His nails harden and grow into jagged claws; thick fur carves its way out of his skin in tufts, fanning down his spine onto his contorting limbs, and it itches, itches, itches...
Through it all, the only sound his rebellious throat deigns to make is a pitiful, inhuman whine.
Make it stop.
One by one, Link's witnesses turn away from him and fade into the light — Rusl and Uli, Renado and the Ordonian children, Telma and the entire Resistance. Link is left writhing in a body that is neither human nor beast, struggling to breathe as his lungs refuse to settle on one shape.
Only one figure remains, staring silently at Link with an inscrutable expression.
Ilia.
Link forces himself upright and stumbles towards his childhood friend, pleading with his eyes. Has she remembered him? Does she recognize him at long last?
'You can never come back.'
Link jolts at the sound of her voice coming from unmoving lips, crystal clear as if spoken right into his ear. Icy dread coils in his gut as her eyes roll into the back of her skull, while a twisted smirk mars her face, taunting him.
'But you've known that all along, haven't you? I know you've felt it.' She giggles, walking languidly towards him. With every soundless step she takes, the world grows impossibly, blindingly brighter. 'A deep darkness lurks within you, Link. The Light Spirits warned you, but you didn't heed their words.'
A hand closes around his neck, constricting, and Link cries in agony as his left hand is set ablaze; as his beast half is torn from him against his will, dispersing into dark, floating specks. Distantly, he hears the mournful howl of a one-eyed wolf; the melodic chimes of a beloved companion rising from the shadows to his aid...
'How could you be the fated hero when your deepest wish is not Hyrule's salvation?'
"...Link!"
Link hurtles forward, wheezing into complete darkness as the clutches of that terrible nightmare slowly recede. Though the searing pain is gone, violent tremors wrack him from head to toe. If an enemy were to ambush him now, Link isn't sure he'd be able to wield even a pitchfork in his defense.
Not that any foe would think to search a rickety abandoned house in Kakariko in the middle of a raging storm.
Tiny hands come to rest on his cheeks, blissfully cool against his feverish skin. He knows these hands even in the dark; wagers he'd recognize them among a hundred others.
He valiantly fights the urge to pin them in place.
"Easy there," comes Midna's voice, its sarcastic edge tempered by ill-disguised concern. "Take it easy, Link." Three beats of silence pass. Four. "Come on, stupid wolf, breathe!"
Only then does Link realize he's been holding his breath since he first felt her touch, too afraid it'd disappear like yet another fleeting dream. He ends up choking in his haste to refill his lungs, and he coughs into his fist while Midna tuts, utterly unimpressed.
"There you go. You were whining like an injured dog, you know? Someone had to put you out of your misery."
Link feels her weight settle beside him on the musty bedroll, a comforting presence that anchors him more securely to reality. He opens his mouth to mumble his thanks, but nothing comes out. Resigned, he raises his trembling hands and immediately drops them with a minute shake of his head: no point in signing in the dark, after all.
Watching him with a thoughtful hum, Midna hovers towards the oil lamp on the floor. Panic rears its ugly head at once, and Link whirls around and blocks her way, baring his teeth in a snarl.
No more light, he uselessly pleads with his eyes as thunder shakes the foundations of their derelict shelter. Not tonight.
Unlike the frightened people in his dream, Midna doesn't even flinch at his sudden outburst. She merely sighs and floats back towards him, and Link gets a whiff of her strange earthy scent as she raps her knuckles against his forehead.
"That bad, hm?" She looks out a cracked window, clicking her tongue. "Well, it's still pouring outside, so there's little point in us leaving before dawn. And you light dwellers certainly need more rest than my kind." She perches on Link's shoulder, her touch a tad lighter than usual. "Think you can go back to sleep after... whatever it is you saw?"
Link considers this, opening and closing his fists rhythmically, over and over. He's certainly deep-bone exhausted and does need the rest, but the possibility of going back to that horrid dream is just—
When a violent shudder runs down his spine, Midna's hand on his shoulder tightens ever so slightly. And, with it, a simple answer presents itself.
Link flops back down on the bedroll without a warning, and Midna scrambles out of the way to avoid being crushed under his weight. Before she can let out her usual string of insults, Link opens his arms and beckons, hoping the gesture is visible enough.
Hoping he isn't being too bold.
Stay with me, he silently requests, feeling warmth flood his cheeks as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. I don't want to... I can't be alone.
They've slept together countless times as imp and wolf — merely a practical arrangement to brave the elements during their journey. This isn't any different; it doesn't have to mean anything.
The insistent fluttering in Link’s chest begs to differ, but he squashes it down with stubborn fervor.
For what seems like an eternity, Midna is eerily quiet. Link's anxiety grows with every second without her facial expressions to guide him, and he is beginning to retreat his arms in defeat when a familiar titter reaches his ears.
"Be thankful you bathed today," Midna says as she ignores Link's offer altogether and curls up against his back, pressing her helmetless face into the crook of his neck. "I've had enough of your wet dog stench to last me a lifetime and the next."
With his heart hammering away at a steady staccato, Link lets out a quiet laugh and closes his eyes, mouthing a 'thank you' into the night.
By the time a bolt of lightning briefly illuminates the room, Link is no longer awake to feel Midna's sunset hair shielding his eyes from its glare.