Chapter Text
A single golden light pierced the dark, preceding a soft, melodic voice. The voice chanted an unintelligible sound, once, twice, before the light pulsed and rapidly overtook what shadow was left, and then faded. A blue glow took its place. The voice gained clarity as it continued, driving away the clinging grasp of unconsciousness.
“Open your eyes… Open your eyes.”
Slowly, he blinked into awareness. The haze of blue above him solidified into many dots, aligned in a strange, senseless pattern. Some were connected by crooked lines, others circled by smooth overlapping ones. He had never seen anything like it. It was familiar.
“Wake up, Link.”
Something lapped at his skin. Cold trailed in its wake. With his eyes open, he could see the blue glow that surrounded him, shining through the liquid he laid in. His mind drifted as he relished the chilly embrace of it. Something about it was strange. Again, it was familiar. Known.
A soft whoosh invaded the echoing silence, and the liquid began to drain from around him. In short time, the surface he laid on was dry, no evidence of anything having been there at all. With it went the weightlessness he hadn’t known had been there. The liquid’s absence made way for a gravity to exist, and only after a moment did he realize that weight belonged to a body. His body.
It took little coaxing or effort to connect to his body. Twitching in his limbs became shifting, and shifting became pushing himself upright. From his new position he could see that he was in a dark room. The only light came from the blue glow of the shallow pit he sat in, and the strange matching glow above him. He climbed out of the pit.
Upon standing, it was apparent that while the pit dried immediately, he did not. Liquid dripped from him as he moved, falling to the smoothly textured ground below him in short pit pit pats. Mist swirled in the space around him, barely visible through the dimness. If he squinted, he could just barely make out an even dimmer orange glow, spotting along the walls like the blue had above him. And, directly in front of him, something stood nearly as tall as he did, with more blue dots.
Slowly, he walked to the… thing, listening to the thudding of his feet against the stone-like ground. As he neared, he realized the thing was made of the same stuff that he saw on the floor, walls, and everything else in the room. The place was strange. Foreign. Still, something about it calmed him. He knew this place. He couldn’t recall it. How? Why?
His silent questions unanswered, he returned his attention to the stone in front of him. Close as he was, he could make out thin grooves in a circular shape, outlined in more blue glowing lines. When he stopped in front of it, the stone’s light pulsed as if sensing him, and the circular center rose above the rest of the stone, rotating and twisting, raising until it lifted a rectangular cut of the stone above that piece. The cut itself had a mixture of the blue and orange glow, and appeared to be just like the rest of the stone. The main difference was that it had what looked like a missing chunk, and a strange symbol rested in the middle of it. An eye, something in him supplied.
“That is a Sheikah Slate,” The voice returned, nearly startling him backwards. The voice continued. “Take it. It will help guide you after your long slumber.”
He… was somewhat dubious of the strange disembodied voice, but he guessed that he had no real reason to be. Cautiously he held out a hand, gently grabbing the Sheikah Slate, dislodging it from its place. Turning it over in his hands, he studied it. And then it lit up with another, larger blue glow. As he was distracted, the strange rock—pedestal, that knowing in him said—shifted again, returning to its original position with a Sheikah Slate-shaped hole at its center.
When the pedestal finished moving, a portion of the wall in front of him rumbled, and began to raise stone by stone, revealing another strange room. This one had more blue lights, except they were disconnected from the wall and lined in rows, three on either side of the room. It also had boxes. Many of them. With a glance to the pit behind him, he moved into the new room.
Around him were two very large boxes, and many smaller and more strangely shaped ones. Two of them—chests—had strange metal things on the front with little holes at their centers—locks. Observing one, he experimentally kicked its side. Instantly, a sharp pain shot through his foot and he grabbed it, hopping back with a wheezy grunt. The chest, to its credit, popped open anyway. Huffing, he peered inside to see bunched up brown cloth. Trousers. They seemed worn, with frayed ends and littered in holes. They were small, too.
He dropped the trousers back into the chest and turned to the other one. This time he bent down and wiggled the lock, the old metal easily giving way to the slight force. Inside was another too-small article of clothing. A shirt. Ignoring it, he moved on. He searched all the boxes he could. Some were empty, others wouldn’t open. At the end of his search he still had nothing but the Sheikah Slate and the boxers on his otherwise uncovered body. Huffing again, he nearly sat down before an orange glow caught his eye.
In the far corner of the room, another pedestal stood. This one was identical to the first, except it had an orange glow where the lines and dots decorated it. Curious, he quickly descended the ramp in front of him, crossing the room and running up to the pedestal. This time, when he neared, nothing seemed to happen to the pedestal. And this time, when the voice returned, he managed not to jump a foot into the air.
“Hold the Sheikah Slate up to the pedestal.” It said, “That will show you the way.”
He barely hesitated this time, following the voice’s command. When the Sheikah Slate neared the center of the pedestal, a blue light burst from their connection, and he ripped the Sheikah Slate away. The pedestal thankfully didn’t seem to react to his hasty movement, and a tinny voice sounded from the stone. “Authenticating… Sheikah Slate confirmed.”
Again, a large portion of the wall ahead of him rumbled and raised, one column after the other. This time, instead of revealing another room, the wall revealed a tunnel, the end of which was bright with yellow light. Very bright. He held a hand above his eyes to block out the worst of it, walking closer to try and see out.
“Link…” The soft voice spoke. “You are the light—our light—that must shine upon Hyrule once again.” It paused, as if contemplating saying more. “Now go…”
As the echo of the voice faded from his mind, the bright light dimmed to a more reasonable level, and he could see shades of green and blue at the end of the tunnel. Making his way forward, he walked up the stairs, through the hall and over to a puddle of liquid—water, he realized, staring down at the image reflected on its surface. If this was water, what was in that pit?
The boy in the water's reflection had blonde hair that framed his face, rays of light made stray strands nearly glow gold. His face had soft features; a small nose, rounded blue eyes, and full brows. Overall the boy's face was pleasing, marred only by a patch of raised, pink flesh on the left side, which extended past his shoulder and down the side of his chest. He lifted a hand to trail a line of scarring that hooked around the eye, spearing through the brow.
On either side of his head, blue stone rings hung from pointed ears. They were light in color, and matched the inner hue of his eyes. And the blue light of the rooms before. He wondered if that was intentional.
Shaking his head, he continued on toward a new wall. This one had a rough texture to it, and didn't extend to the full height of the hall's ceiling. He placed a hand on the wall, feeling its holes and ledges before hesitantly pulling himself up onto the wall. When his feet had found holds and his full weight was supported he started climbing, movements growing more confident as he scaled the wall, quickly reaching the edge and clambering over.
When he looked up, his breath caught in his throat. Eyes wide, he ran ahead, clearing the mouth of the tunnel and past the greenery at the edges of his vision, sights locked on the horizon. Soon he stopped at the lip of a cliff as he took in the world around him. An expansive forest crowded the door of the cliff he stood on. Mountains surrounded a wide, green clearing. He could see light reflecting off of tiny bodies of water. And at the very center of it all sat a building, dark clouds swirled around its base. The view awed him, and he couldn't help but stand and stare.
As he looked out, the boy recalled the words that voice had spoken to him. And a question overtook his mind.
Was Link his name?
In his first hour awake, Link learned a lot about the world. He spent the first half of his morning staring at distant land, taking in the mountains and valleys, and the couple structures he could just barely see. He turned his head and spotted a long, wooden thing on the ground. Branch. Link picked it up, running his hands along the bark and leaves. He held it out and slashed at the air a few times, grinning. Then he caught a hint of red a ways over by some trees, and he was off.
From there Link ran around and picked up everything he saw; branches, mushrooms, bugs. No rock was left unturned, and no poor lizard left alone. When he had picked the area clean he moved down an overgrown staircase and finally noticed a cloaked figure sat by a strange moving light.
Link took a moment to stare at the burning, crackling fire. Something about the fire stirred an unidentifiable emotion in Link. Something in Link wanted.
Walking over to the figure, Link now saw that he was an elderly man. As he approached, the old man watched him. Neither of them spoke when Link stood in front of the man, the blazing campfire between them. At the edge of the fire was a red, pretty-smelling object. Link made eye contact with the old man as he crouched down and reached for the apple.
Just as he made contact with the soft fruit—
"I beg your pardon! I do believe that is my baked apple! You can’t just go about taking whatever you please!"
Link startled, snatching his hand back and facing the old man, who now had his head turned to him. A stern expression overtook his face. Soon though, the old man’s frown broke into a grin and he threw his head back, laughing.
“Oho ho! Forgive me—I could not resist pulling your leg.” He ran a hand through his beard, eyes drifting toward the flames. “Please help yourself,” he continued. “An apple and an open flame make for a succulent treat.”
Awkwardly, Link shuffled on his feet. He cast wary glances in the man’s direction. Seemingly ignoring Link's discomfort, the old man spoke again. “It is a bit strange to see another soul in these parts.”
Link wasn’t sure what to say. The man’s words were leading, probing Link to respond. But Link wasn’t a big talker. In fact, he couldn’t remember talking. Ever! Nevermind the fact that he couldn't remember much of anything… Well, now was as good a time as any to try. Link chose to end the unwanted conversation there.
“Bye.”
What Link could see of the old man’s eyebrows shot up, and he remained speechless for a moment. When Link tried to leave, though, the man caught up to his wits and stopped him, holding a hand up.
“Where are you off to now? Is speaking to a strange old man truly such an awful use of your time?” Link could think of a few ways to respond to that, but the man spoke before he could.
“I hope you’ll permit me a question…” He said slowly, voice lilted in question.
Newly interested, Link raised a brow. Taking this as acceptance, the man continued.
“If I may be so bold… are you not chilly?”
The question threw Link. Confused, he glanced down at himself. His bare skin was marred with scars, and standing in front of the old man as he was now, he felt suddenly naked. Link snaked his arms around himself. He was done talking to this man. Without responding, Link walked off, ignoring the old man’s disgruntled response.
The rest of Link’s morning was spent running around collecting whatever he picked up, and avoiding the strange red and blue creatures that kept trying to attack him. At one point, Link had found a couple of the creatures, which he later realized were bokoblins, standing on a hill holding sticks that were bent and connected with a string. Bows. They seemed to be guarding a stone overhang, and Link was suddenly very curious about it.
He neared the bokoblins, and when they spotted Link, they shot arrows at him. Like the fire before, something about them drew Link’s attention. That unfamiliar emotion flickered at the back of his mind again, but Link shook it away, choosing instead to focus on figuring out how to get the weapons for himself.
He spent nearly an hour standing in the monsters’ sight, just out of their range, running around and picking up the arrows they shot at him. Just as he was beginning to think they never would, the bokoblins ran out of arrows and Link let himself double over to catch his breath, sure they would stay where they were.
Link had gathered a hefty bundle of arrows, but he was sore and winded and his mouth felt dry. Still, he wanted to know what the monsters were guarding.
Without weapons the bokoblins were fairly defenseless, and Link was able to get close enough to attack them. Using a branch, he swiped wildly at one of them, making contact a few times. The bokoblin flew back from the force of the final hit, dropping its bow. Link twisted around to hit the other bokoblin and his branch broke, splinters of wood lodging into the bokoblin’s face. While it was distracted, Link grabbed a second branch and quickly finished it off. Its body disappeared in a purple plume of smog, and left behind was one of its fangs and its horn. Link stuffed both of them into his slate’s storage.
Now that he was on the hill, Link could see that there was another bokoblin guarding the overhang. This one didn’t have a bow and arrows, but held a wooden club and shield. Link nearly went over to attack, but stopped himself when he remembered the bow from before. Lying abandoned on the ground behind him, Link thought the bow looked much more like a stick, and he desperately wanted to use it.
Grabbing the bow, Link ran a hand along the rough wood. He tugged the string, testing its give. He stared for a moment, unsure what to do. He huffed in frustration. His lack of memory hadn’t bothered him before, but Link wanted to know how to use this. There were no instructions—unless he counted the bokoblins from before, but… well. Link kicked at the ground, looking back at the overhang. The bokoblin stood just in front of the overhang’s shadow, snorting and sniffing the air. Link considered it for a long while.
…Why not?
Taking a deep breath, Link felt the tension in his shoulders bleed away as he let instinct guide him. He snagged an arrow from his slate and lifted the bow with his left hand. With his right, he knocked the arrow along the string. Raising the bow, he leveled it with the bokoblin and pulled back the string, the feathered end of the arrow parallel to his jaw. Just as he was going to let go, he paused. Slowly, he tilted the bow to the right so that it was no longer perpendicular with the ground.
With one last deep breath, Link flexed his hand open.
The arrow flew swiftly, darting through the air toward the bokoblin at breakneck speed, lodging itself squarely in the monster’s eye. Link’s heart fluttered as he watched it happen, pride flooding his being. With one loud, shrill warble, the bokoblin fell to the ground, becoming another cloud of purple smog, nothing but its weapons and a couple of fangs left behind. Link took a moment to revel in the thrill of his victory.
Monsters defeated, Link gathered what remained and finally went up to the overhang, which seemed to actually be a huge pile of rubble that had fallen into a vague arch, inside of which he could see a faint orange glow. Making his way over, Link realized the rubble had parts that looked remarkably like the place he woke up in. And in the very center, there was another pedestal.
As he drew close, the pedestal made a sound, and a tinny voice like the one from before spoke. “Place the Sheikah Slate on the pedestal.”
Link cautiously peered around the pedestal, searching for the source of the voice. The pedestal itself looked identical to the ones from before, only it already had a hole carved out for his Sheikah Slate. Orange light pulsed in the hole and the indentations around it, but no part of the pedestal indicated a source for the strange voice, so Link gave up that particular search.
When he set his Sheikah Slate against it, the pedestal latched onto the slate and did a reverse motion to the pedestal from before, swallowing the slate to seamlessly meld with the stone of the pedestal. The whole face of the pedestal glowed a bright orange before settling, and a small blue eye appeared at the center of his Sheikah Slate.
“Sheikah Tower activated.” The voice returned. “Please watch for falling rocks.”
For a moment, Link stood there in baffled silence. Then, the ground rumbled and shook, forcing Link off balance. He fell, hitting his back and head hard against the ground, and a sharp ringing overtook his ears. He cried out in pain, hands flying to cover his head. The rumbling continued for a while, and then the world around Link exploded into a thousand pieces of flying rocks, and though Link knew in the back of his mind that it was the rubble, at that time he swore it was actually just his head shattering into tiny pieces. He squeezed his eyes shut.
When the world stopped moving, Link stayed still. With a groan, he uncovered his head and shifted into an upright position, gently rubbing the back of his head. The ringing sound slowly faded, leaving Link with nothing to focus on but the pain in his skull.
Pushing himself to his feet, Link stood and stilled himself from swaying, managing not to throw up. Glancing around, Link gasped.
Around him, the world was vast and far below. The platform he stood on was now high in the air, having turned into a very tall tower, and the view from so high was breathtaking.
The pedestal emitted that strange sound again. “Distilling local information…”
A giant stalactite above the pedestal lit up blue, giving off a strange sound that gradually raised in octave. At its tip, a drop of blue liquid—like the liquid he woke up in—collected, growing until it was too heavy to hold itself up. When it fell, it landed directly in the center of the pedestal, throwing out wisps of blue light, and turning the orange of the pedestal blue.
“Regional map extracted.”
Focused on the change in color, Link was startled by the pedestal raising his Sheikah Slate. Grabbing it, Link looked over the changes. He turned to find his way off the tower when a whisper reached his ears.
“Remember…”
Whipping his head around renewed the pain in Link's skull, and he pressed a hand to the back of his neck to try and soothe it passively as he looked (carefully, this time) for the source of the soft voice. “Try… Try to remember…”
Glancing around, Link's gaze locked onto the dark structure in the distance with strange spikes surrounding it. At the heart of the darkness, a bright golden light beamed. Instinctively, he knew it to be the source of the voice.
“You have been asleep for the past one hundred years.”
Yet again, rumbling shook the land. Link steadied himself against the pedestal, dizzied and not trusting that he would be able to stand on his own.
“The beast…”
The building in the distance began to flood with a dark mist, and from the mist rose a long, curling creature. It writhed around the castle, coiling as if poised to strike.
“When the beast regains its true power, this world will face its end.”
Link watched in awe as the creature opened its gaping maw wide into the sky, as if tasting fresh air for the first time. A piercing shriek bellowed from it, and Link's head exploded in pain once again, taking him to his knees.
“Now then, you must hurry Link.” The light at the center of the darkness brightened until it was blinding. Link averted his eyes. “Before it’s too late.”
The golden light faded. When he was sure he could handle it, Link stood and watched, captivated at the sight before him. He couldn’t be sure which he was more amazed by; the serene urgency the light's voice inspired in him, or the foreboding calm of the dark storm. Two opposing forces merged to create a single beautiful scene.
Before, when they were on their own, Link didn't truly care for either. The voice that woke him and the shadowed castle, both only as interesting as the land around him. But now, as he witnessed the last rays of light twinkle out, and the swirling darkness retreat into mist, Link thought that they complemented each other nicely.
Eventually he tore himself away from his thoughts, and started to descend the tower he found himself on. The journey was easy, finished in minutes almost as if he’d done it before. When he reached the bottom though, Link hardly had the chance to step away from the tower's base before another familiar voice called out to him. Swinging his gaze around, Link looked up to see the old man from before falling slowly out of the sky, and landing right in front of him.
Annoyance flickered in him and Link nearly groaned, but held back from it, even if barely. His head throbbed as he listened to the man explain the towers and the shrines, and agreed to go check out one of the shrines in exchange for the paraglider. When he managed to escape the conversation, Link sped to the shrine nearby, slipping past the bokoblins and into the shrine as quickly as possible to get away from the old man. Something about him just… irked Link.
When he completed the shrine and unlocked access to the magnesis rune (he could move things! Without touching them!), he made his way back out to confront the old man, who stroked his beard and talked about how 'it wasn't a big deal' as he shorted Link of his paraglider. Link was angry, but he restrained himself, and agreed to go on to the other shrines.
Link desperately wanted to explore that vast world he had gotten a glimpse of, and he wouldn’t stop until he could. He would make his way through each of the three other shrines and unlock their runes. And after that he would set out to get one thing; that paraglider.
After completing the shrines on the Great Plateau, Link was forced to search for the old man. After checking the little camp he'd been at before, he saw the guy at a decrepit temple that was probably as old as he was. The (surprisingly spry) old man, had made his way to the very top. Link grumbled as he made his way over to see the man, who—based on their two previous encounters—likely wouldn’t even keep his word and give Link the paraglider. Still, Link wanted to be able to explore, and he would have a terrible time doing so if he couldn't get off the plateau. So to the old man he went.
Making his way onto the roof of the weathered temple, Link paused. Across the roof inside a crumbling steeple, the old man stood by a wooden chest. The man was surrounded by an eerie blue glow. It was different from the kind he had seen on the pedestals—this glow came from small blue fires that circled the man. Link backed away a step, a sense of dread creeping through him.
But Link wanted that paraglider.
Shaking his head, Link took a deep breath and marched forward.
And Link, one dreadfully long speech later, learned two things: the old man was actually the ghost of a king to a long since decimated kingdom who expected Link to defeat a ‘calamity’ and save his daughter. That, and Link had terrible patience for people who were rude to him. Or ordered him around. Or maybe he just didn’t have patience for people. He hadn’t really spoken to enough of them to be sure.
Either way, after that unbearably long speech, of which Link only paid half attention to, the old man directed Link to speak to an ‘Impa’ in Kakariko Village somewhere east. Link said nothing as the man droned on, but he had already decided that he would not be doing that. In fact, Link thought the flat-topped mountains to the west looked pretty interesting.
Link wasn’t sure how he knew what east or west were, but he was thankful that he did. It made ignoring the old man easier.
When the ghost king finished speaking, he finally made good on his word and gave Link the paraglider. Then, he disappeared in a flash of that blue fire, as if burning away. Link stood silent, staring at the now empty space the man had occupied.
Jerk.
Shaking any thought of the man away, he opened the chest beside him. Inside was a bow, not unlike the one Link had taken from the bokoblins. The bow had smooth wood with metal components at either end, and another stretch of metal in the middle, where Link’s hand rested. Picking it up, Link tested the weight of the bow in his hand. It was nice.
He swapped his bow for the new one, and promptly slung it around his shoulders in what felt like an instinctive motion. Peering around the ruined tower, Link determined there was nothing else worth taking, and walked over a broken window that faced the front of the temple. In the evening light, he took one last look at the world, ignoring the dark mark the castle made on the scene. Link was itching to explore this strange land. He wondered what he would find.
Of course, he had to get down first.
…
Yeah, why not?
Link leaped from the window.
For a moment, he was weightless. Air filled his lungs and enveloped his being and Link swore he was meant to be there, high up above and happy.
Then he fell.
Gravity yanked him into a plummet, and every nerve in his body jumped to life. Panic clawed at Link’s throat, forcing him to shout out while his heart exploded into action, thumping hard against his ribs as he watched the ground speed toward him. All he could focus on was its rapid approach— and his imminent death. Link scrambled for a moment before his hand brushed against the handle of the paraglider, and Link whipped into action.
Time stood still and everything in his mind blanked as he pulled out the paraglider. Single minded, Link threw his arms out, hoping. The paraglider snapped open, halting his descent just in time to avoid collapsing into a heap of broken bones.
Landing roughly, he stumbled over jellied legs before righting himself, pushing hair out of his face as his hand slapped his chest, assuring himself of the solid flesh that covered his heart, keeping it in place. He stood there for a moment, feeling the ba thump ba thump beneath his skin as he caught his breath. Adrenaline still pumping through him, Link felt a wide grin creep its way onto his face.
This would be fun.
From there, Link headed toward the setting sun.
The stone brick path at the base of the plateau quickly turned into dirt, and then to gravel as Link made his way through the canyon beyond the plateau. He walked for a while, but just as the sun had fully set behind the horizon, he came across a fork in the road. The path to the right led to the edge of a green clearing lined with large trees. The other veered left, toward those tall, flat-faced yellow mountains.
Link took the right hand path. As he cleared a short hill, he could see the beginnings of light peeking out through the dark. From his place around the bend, he could hear the faintest sound of voices and laughter. A nice smell wafted through the air, and Link’s stomach growled. He sped up.
Turning the corner, Link was met with a large wooden building. The building was shaped oddly, with a round base supporting a weird roof that had two large holes like eyes. It looked almost like some kind of creature, and Link wondered what its purpose must be. The building’s center was lit up, bright like the orange glow of the shrines.
In front of the building a group of figures were gathered around a fire, some sitting and others standing. One of them stood stirring something in a pot above the fire. They grinned at a small figure that ran over to them, shouting about something being ‘ready yet’. Link couldn’t hear the taller one’s response, but the small one—a child, he later realized—pouted and plopped on the ground beside another figure who patted their head. They spoke with clear voices, unaware or uncaring of the monsters Link knew must lurk somewhere in the distance. They seemed comfortable.
One of the standing figures turned their head and spotted Link. They said something to the group behind them, and suddenly all heads were facing Link. A few of the other figures quickly hopped up, herding the child with them as they hurried into the building. The remaining figures also stood, but stayed where they were. The one who first saw Link spoke again with the one who had been cooking before marching over to Link, hand resting on an object by their waist.
The person called out to Link as they neared, an angry look on his face. "Stop right there!"
The man’s tone of voice gave Link pause, and he stopped moving. That… didn’t sound welcoming. Anxiety curled in Link. Maybe he should talk to them? He cleared his throat. “Uh, hi?”
“State your business!”
Link blinked. “What?”
The man only seemed to get angrier, and his body tensed, making Link tense. He spoke again. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m… walking?”
Frowning, the man stared Link down, apparently considering him. “Where are your clothes?”
“Clothes?”
Link’s questions only seemed to irk the man. Behind him, a couple of other men came closer. They held long metal sticks. Swords, Link realized. Discomfort stirred higher in Link, and he took a step back. The man zeroed in on the motion and took an aggressive step of his own.
“Did you bring bananas?” The man snapped.
The man's harsh voice startled Link, and he nervously rested a hand on his slate where it was attached at his hip.
“What’s a ‘banana’?”
The man yelled and drew the sword at his waist. All three of the men charged at him, and Link scrambled away. They shouted, their words and curses unintelligible. Link stopped listening and booked it back the direction he came, turning before the fork to head down the left path. The men followed him, swiping their swords at his back. One made contact, shallowly slicing his arm and Link ran harder.
They crossed a hilly field, and Link was beginning to think that the men would kill him when he caught sight of a cliff ahead. The cliff was connected to a strange grassy platform on top of a stone pillar, connected to the cliff by a narrow wooden bridge. And Link had no better ideas.
When Link reached the entrance of the bridge the nearest man lunged, swiping the tip of his sword across Link’s back. Crying out, Link tripped forward, falling hard against the wood. He rolled down to the middle of the bridge, landing on his front with his feet dangling over the edge of a very long drop. Digging his nails into the wood, Link kicked himself away from the edge and shuffled to the middle of the bridge, twisting around to face the men. The men didn’t follow Link, stopping short at the mouth of the bridge. They stared down at Link, standing stiffly. None of them were as red-faced and winded as him, but still they made no move to cross onto the bridge, as though there were some invisible barrier. Which Link knew wasn't there, or his head would hurt way worse than it did right now. The man who first confronted him stood the closest, and Link could hear him yelling.
“—Yiga scum! Get back here, you coward!”
Link scooted back on all fours, keeping his eyes trained on the angry men. When one of the men in the back pulled out a bow, Link quickly stood and ran further across the bridge, not daring to look back to see if they would follow. The angry man’s voice slowly grew distant as he crossed onto the odd platform.
“If I ever catch you back here, I’ll cut you down! You won’t see another sunrise, you traitorous pig!”
The men didn’t follow. Link took the blessing for what it was and picked up his pace, getting as much distance between him and the other hylians as he could.
Link should have stayed on the bridge and braved the arrows; it would have been an infinitely smarter decision than this.
The psycho swordsmen, Link begrudgingly admitted, had the right idea. After making his way across a second and third bridge, Link came face-to-foot with a giant sleeping hinox. Its ugly form took up half the platform. Link froze, and held his breath as he carefully skirted past it, stopping twice when he thought it was going to wake, but each time it only turned or shifted. At one point the giant creature turned its head in Link’s direction, breathing out of its mouth in a heavy snore. Its breath stunk of rot, and Link struggled not to throw up as he finished passing it, scurrying across the next bridge as quietly as he could.
The grass on this side of the bridge was yellow, as if to blend in with the mountains around him. Link thought he'd be safe to rest for a moment. He doubled over and clutched his bleeding arm, hissing as it stung. His back hurt, and he was certain the droplets rolling down his spine weren’t all sweat.
But then, a group of bokoblins riding horses spotted him and started trying to shove spears into his sternum. Link had to run, swerving back and forth to avoid sharp spear tips and crushing hooves until he could take cover in a cave, the narrow hole of an entrance too small for the horses to follow, and for whatever reason the bokoblins refused to dismount them. They shoved their spears into the hole and Link had to press his back flat against the rough stone of the cave wall to avoid losing an eye. The cuts stung, and were likely covered in dirt.
After what felt like hours, the bokoblins finally lost interest in him, leading their horses away, maybe back to where they had been keeping watch. Link decided to wait longer to be sure. In the meantime, he tried to look at the wound on his arm. He turned his arm this way and that, hissing when he pulled at the skin, but it was no use. The cave was too dim, and the cut was too inconveniently placed.
Since he couldn’t do anything to help it, Link chose to ignore the pain, focusing instead on getting out of the cave. Peeking out of the entrance, Link looked around. The moon wasn’t full enough to provide much light, but Link thought he could just barely make out the silloughets of the mounted bokoblins in the distance, back to circling the entrance of the yellow clearing.
Ahead of him, Link could see a path in the clearing that led between the mountains. Short patches of yellow grass spotted the clearing, and in the darkness of night Link figured they were the best thing to cover he would get. Carefully, he inched over to a long patch of grass and started his journey toward the heart of the tall golden mountains ahead.
Avoiding another wandering pack of bokoblins, Link nearly didn't see the hylian crouched against a tall tree. A lantern in the grass by their side gave them away from a distance. Wary, Link backed up, glancing around him. The only other paths he could take were through the lower clearing where the bokoblins were wandering, or back the way he came. Where there were more bokoblins.
Weighing the options in his mind, Link huffed. Steeling himself, he continued down the path, keeping a cautious eye on the person.
As he approached, Link began to think he’d be able to pass the hylian and rush away without incident. But the hylian had apparently been watching him as he came by, because he quickly stood and waved his arms, calling out to Link.
"Hey! Hey, you there! Weirdo! Come here!"
The man threw his arms wildly over his head, looking ridiculous, and Link would have laughed if he wasn’t so worried about an attack. Link backed away.
Seeing this, the man threw his hands out in front of himself. "No! Don't go! I want to talk!" He waved his arms again. "Come! Sit!" As if to demonstrate, the man plopped down into the grass, still motioning his arms in circles.
Link wasn't sure this was a good idea, but the man’s shouting had drawn the bokoblins’ interest, and Link didn’t think he could handle running away from another set of spears. And Link was tired. Slowly, to avoid drawing more of the bokoblins’ attention, Link walked over to the man and crouched well out of his reach, but still comfortably within the lantern’s light. The guy grinned at him, and his dark eyes sparkled with glee. "So, what's with the nudist look you've got going on?"
Confused, Link replied. “The what?”
The guy snorted, waving a hand up and down in Link’s direction. “Yannow, naked? You’re in your briefs and nothing else, there’s gotta be a good story to it!”
Glancing down at himself, Link shrugged. "The clothes were old."
The guy raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on his knee as he leaned back. “‘The clothes were old’?” He repeated in disbelief. “What, you woke up this morning and saw a hole in the ass of your trousers, so you thought you’d ditch them entirely?” He barked out a laugh, throwing his head back as he guffawed. Link stared at the guy’s feet, a strange heat rising to his cheeks as the man’s laughter drew out.
The guy slapped his knee a couple times, his laughter fading into punched-out wheezes. “Wow,” He said simply, composing himself. He eyed Link.
“You're pretty bold to be running around like that,” He started. “Most people would at least wear some trousers or shorts, or something.” He smiled at Link, a glint in his eye. "I like that. Bold is good around here.”
"Really?" Link looked at himself again, running a quick finger along the line of his arm, brushing against the edge of the cut. The man's eyes tracked his movement.
"You aren't from around here, are you?"
Link met the man's gaze. "I don't know."
Surprise graced the other guy's face before easily shifting to curiosity. "Oh? Sounds like you do have a story." Link shook his head. "Well," the man continued, unruffled. He reached into a bag by his leg, pulling out a bunch of yellow fruit. "You could at least spare some time to eat, right? Mighty bananas okay with you? Haven't got much else."
The word ‘eat’ appealed to Link very much, thank you. But ‘banana’? Not really, given what had happened the first time he heard it. Still, Link was hungry and food was food. Tilting his head, Link held a hand out. The man tore a banana from the bunch and dropped it into Link’s waiting hand. He turned the fruit over, examining it. The banana itself was very yellow, with a green tinge to it at one end. A glance over to the man showed Link how to open the fruit, and after peeling the thick skin in four segments Link followed the man’s lead and took a large bite.
It was good. Sweet, with an almost grassy aftertaste. Link finished it quickly, easily accepting the second proffered fruit. As they ate, the man observed Link, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, when Link had finished the second fruit, the man spoke again. “What’s your name, traveler?”
Link stayed quiet, busying himself with licking his fingers for any lingering flavor. The man chuckled.
“Yeah, guess that’s fair. My name’s Col.” He stretched out a hand toward Link, letting it hover in the air in front of him. Link wiped his fingers against the dry grass as he stared at it. When he glanced back up to the other man, they met eyes. Col seemed to take Link’s confusion for something else, or maybe he didn’t care, because he leaned over fully to wrap his hand around Link’s wrist, thumb resting against his pulse point. Their gazes remained locked, and Col’s smile stretched wider when Link did nothing in response. He asked again.
“What’s your name, friend?”
And something about that word—how it rolled into the night air like a promise, or how it wrapped around Link’s mind like Col’s hand on his wrist—made Link lean forward and shrug away his concerns. It couldn’t hurt, to share this much.
And oh, how wrong he’d been.
The past couple days at the ranch had been some of the most peaceful and carefree days the Chain had had in weeks. Simple chores and easy afternoons beat fighting monsters and setting up camp any day, in Hyrule’s opinion.
In the morning they were sent out to work around the ranch, each of them finding something they could help out with. They spent the day outside, and took a small lunch in the yard before getting back to work. When the sun started to disappear beyond the horizon, Malon asked Hyrule to fetch the boys for supper. He made his way through the ranch, calling out to Legend and Warriors as he passed the field, and Sky on his way past the cucco coop. When he reached the barn, Hyrule rounded to the back where he found Four working intently on creating a horseshoe. Hyrule waited for him to reach a stopping point before announcing himself and supper, and leaving Four to his own devices.
Entering the barn, Hyrule took a moment to let his sight adjust to the change in lighting, but he soon spotted Wind and Twilight just about finished with their work. Twilight turned away from the horse he was petting when he heard Hyrule come in. "Hey! That time already?"
Hyrule nodded. "Malon wants us to wash up and head inside."
"Ooh, what'd she make?" Wind's voice called out, strained. Looking over, Hyrule saw Wind turn a corner while hauling a crate of carrots, swaying from side to side. When he tried to step onto the main platform he tripped, exclaiming as he barely managed to catch himself before falling. The crate, forgotten in Wind's moment of panic, tipped dangerously to the side. Hyrule rushed over to stabilize it. Wind grinned sheepishly and thanked him.
"I don't know," Hyrule said when he was sure they wouldn't have to clean up a ton of spilled carrots. "She didn't say, but it smelled good. I think it's some sort of soup."
Wind playfully whined. "Again?" Twilight, who had walked over to them while they spoke, swatted the other boy on the back of the head. "Ow! I'm just saying! We've had stew the past four days!'
"Any of Malon's food is good food."
"And to be fair, two of those days weren't her cooking." Hyrule added.
Twilight made a face at the memory of Legend's attempt at a vegetable stew the other night. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'll be lucky if I can ever stomach cabbage again."
Rubbing his head, Wind rolled his eyes. "It's not like yours was any better. I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to put the mushrooms in last."
"Mushrooms don't take long to cook."
"It was mushroom stew!"
"Well, it's not my fault the mushrooms were so big!"
"It was mushroom stew!"
They continued to argue over what was and wasn’t an appropriate addition to a stew even as they walked over to the cozy little farmhouse. As Wind made his way in, Twilight caught Hyrule’s arm, and pulled him aside. When Hyrule shot him a confused look, Twilight frowned.
“Are you alright?”
Hyrule… didn’t understand. Clearly Twilight realized as much, and he clarified.
“It’s just, I don’t know. I almost feel like I'm forgetting something. I’ve asked everyone, but they don’t—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Sorry, I guess I’m being paranoid.”
Hyrule frowned, brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”
Twilight shook his head again, brushing the question off. “It’s nothing, I just wanted to check in with you. C’mon, let’s go eat.” Twilight ducked into the house, leaving Hyrule alone outside to wonder. He shook his head. They all had their anxieties, Twilight had probably just needed to be reassured of something. Hyrule made a mental note to talk to Time about it and went inside.
He wiped his boots clean at the door. Wind had apparently picked up where he and Twilight had left off on their argument, and Hyrule veered away from the increasingly heated debate, choosing instead to settle himself into a seat at the table by Legend, who was deep into his own conversation with Four.
“I’m just saying, it’d be pretty cool.”
“Sure, but its practically impossible to temper metal to be that thin. Not that it is impossible, its just not worth the effort. Besides, it’d be pretty useless. The only thing you could use it on would be cobwebs.”
“I can think of a few things I could use it on,”
“What are we talking about?”
Four turned to him with a lax nod. “Legend wants to know if a sword can be made as thin as parchment. I say no, not unless you were willing to spend more than a few sleepless nights in the forge.” He narrowed his eyes at Legend. “Which I am not doing.”
Legend threw his hands up. “I didn’t even say anything!”
“You were thinking it.”
Before either of them could start their own debate, Malon began setting bowls around the table, and Sky leaped up to help. The boys all rush to take their seats, accepting their servings with many ‘thank you’s to Malon. At that moment, Time came downstairs and joined them, kissing Malon’s cheek as he went. Wind and Legend mimed at gagging, to which Time raised a brow. He snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her close and nuzzling her cheek as she giggled.
Twilight abruptly stood. “Nope!” He said, taking his bowl and stomping out the door. Wind was quick to follow.
Warriors smirked. “Didn’t take him for a prude.”
The rest of the Chain and Malon laughed, and Legend rolled his eyes at Time’s attempt to embarrass them. They all chatted as they ate, going over their days and telling stories that Malon hadn’t yet heard. Wind and Twilight came back in after a bit and joined in, and Wind regaled Malon with the tale of how he scaled a sacred tower and defeated the tower’s guardian—a strange creature consisting of a floating head and hands. Malon in turn shared stories about Time in his youth. Apparently, he’d had some sort of vendetta against signs and had been forced to fix a good few that he had cut down, back in the day.
At the end of the evening the boys helped clean up, and Hyrule dried the dishes Malon washed. When they went off to bed, Hyrule laid on his sleeping roll in one of Malon and Time’s spare rooms with Legend and Sky beside him, their mumbled ‘good night’s lingering in the air. As he drifted off to sleep, Hyrule was thankful to have his brothers.
But when he woke up in the middle of the night from already-fading night terrors of a red haze and bright blue eyes, heart hammering and breath rattling out of him in heaving gasps, he can’t help but wonder why something felt like it was missing.