Chapter Text
The whirring Sheikah goggles were passed hand to hand down the line of the two Hylians and one Sheikah gathered at the cliff edge. First Link of Hateno peered through the twin lens, silently frowning at what he saw, then Zelda of Hyrule Castle, murmuring look at that, it must be hundreds of feet across, and finally Robbie of Kakariko Village, the goggle’s owner, confirming what the other two had seen before restrapping the goggles to his face.
“Quite the impressive sight,” he said. “We have long speculated the purpose of the structure since we relocated to Akkala, but I admit we have not been brave enough to approach.”
The group stood on the northernmost cliff face in Deep Akkala, looking out at the silvery Akkalan Sea. The land in this part of Hyrule was abundant and swollen. Thick autumnal trees lined the roads, full with birds and bugs, and where their leaves fell they blanketed the ground. When it wasn’t raining it was thundering, and when the sun appeared it turned the air heavy and hot. During the entire journey northwards, the ground at their feet seemed to be rising, as though leading them somewhere. Zelda had called it an apotheosis. Link had said he certainly hoped so.
And now here it was. The sun was low on the horizon, and where its rays split the fog hugging the water surface, a great monolith made itself known.
It rose out of the sea, maybe one hundred, or two hundred feet high. Half a mile wide, or wider, and who knew how deep. From the vantage point on the cliffs, high pillars and walls could be seen within, packed densely so as to create a maze-like structure. The walls were black, foreboding, and completely unblemished. However long the sea had lapped at the base of the structure, it had not eroded a single grain of its stone. Was it stone?
Zelda pulled her Sheikah Slate from her belt and waited for the screen to flicker on. On the map, she found it - Lomei Labyrinth Island.
“We knew this was here when we departed Akkala Citadel,” she said to Robbie. “But I never expected it to look so unnatural. What purpose could it have, all the way out there? What do we know about the Lomei?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Robbie answered. “If there were records on them before the Calamity, I didn’t come across them. There are none now.”
“We know they built that,” Link chimed in. “Seems like one of yours is stationed there.” He pointed to the faint orange light hidden amongst the labyrinth walls - a Sheikah Shrine.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Robbie harrumphed. “If the Sheikah Monks claimed this labyrinth, then the Lomei have been gone for at least 10,000 years.”
Lomei. Lo-may . Zelda turned the name over on her tongue, testing it, trying to feel the way it might have been said. She felt for a moment that she could breathe life back into that word -- or that name, rather, for it was a name. Just like Hylian, or Hyrulean. An entire people summarised in a few syllables. The desire to know them burned within her.
“I wonder what’s inside. What the Lomei might have left behind,” she said.
“Danger,” Link answered. By his scowl, it was clear he had made up his mind; this cliff was as far north as they would go.
“It is certainly a far distance to travel by paraglider.”
Link’s scowl deepened, his eyes flicking to the paraglider hooked on Zelda’s belt. It was blue, Rito-made, to match the red one that was his own. She’d had it for years, and he’d seen her use it half a hundred times now. Even then, it still made him nervous. Jumping from a tower, or gliding down a sloping hill, or soaring through an updraft were safe enough, though he felt the instinct to warn her, every time, to be careful. But leaping from a cliff over a half-frozen sea towards an ancient, unknown structure?
“It’s dangerous,” Link reiterated, to which Zelda merely rolled her eyes.
Robbie hovered at an uncrossable distance, deliberately neutral but curious enough not to give them their privacy. He wore a small smile but shook his head when Zelda down looked at him. He's right, he mouthed.
Zelda turned back towards the sea, watching the chopping waves, and the faint and perhaps imagined wavering of the monolith.
They had travelled so far, across half the kingdom to find this place; Zelda would not let danger stop them now. She re-secured the Sheikah Slate to her belt, and reached for her paraglider and before Link could protest, she leapt.
Her paraglider caught the wind with a victorious flap of rippling fabric, and Zelda was carried gently across the strait towards the labyrinth. A similar sound of opening fabric followed behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Link gliding along with his own paraglider, his taut frown peeking through the hair that had been blown across his face.
They landed smoothly at the labyrinth entrance. It was little more than a gap in the stone, a small break in a curtain to let them in. A hundred feet below, the waves lapped at the base of the island, and at their feet was a grate, about a foot square, that looked to lead down to an inaccessible underbelly. They had arrived without incident, which Zelda took as proof enough that she was right, actually, and this place was entirely safe.
Looking back towards the Akkalan Cliffs, Zelda waved to Robbie. He returned a quick salute and turned back towards his lab, quickly disappearing from view.
“What do you think he thinks of us?” Zelda asked. It was a strange question. She had known Robbie all her life. In the time before the Calamity, he had been only a few years older than herself, and they had worked together for many years. By the look on Link’s face -- that subtle threading of the brows and a bit lip -- she could tell he was equally perplexed.
“As a Sheikah, I mean,” Zelda clarified. “What do you think he thinks of us, the Hylians?”
“I don’t know if he thinks anything.”
“He does. If not him, then his people. We’ve never asked.”
Casually, but pointedly, Link placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face inwards, towards the winding corridors of the labyrinth. “I always forget what exploring does to you,” he smiled. “It makes you question everything.”
“I’m a researcher, shouldn’t I do that?”
“One question at a time,” Link looked back towards the cliffs, which were as sheer as they were tall, “Like how do we leave ?”
Zelda hummed in agreement. “I admit I did not think of that.”
She ran a hand over the mouldy stone, uncovering some of the patternings underneath. Under her palm, two loosely carved spirals were revealed. They seemed familiar, though she couldn’t remember from where.
“Let’s look around, at least, Link. The Sheikah Shrine must be at the centre.”
For two, perhaps three hours they walked, hands to the left wall to make sure they explored the labyrinth’s full extent. They found little; a handful of already opened chests, a dead guardian (along with a few dead Skywatcher Guardians that were resting atop the maze’s high stone walls), moss and more moss. Link admitted that he had come here once and only once before. He had found and plundered a few chests (“Nothing in them that I didn’t already have”), tiptoed around the Guardian Stalker guarding the labyrinth and then left out of frustration.
“The map was no help,” he added in justification. It was not often that he gave up.
“Well, some of the walls are false,” Zelda noted as they passed under an archway. She pointed to the map on the Sheikah Slate. “See? You can’t see it here. It’s as if we simply passed through.”
“Anyway, I didn’t want to mess around, at the time,” He loped an arm around her shoulders. “What in this maze could be more important than rescuing you?”
Zelda gently pried herself free. “I’m flattered, but if the Sheikah put a Shrine here, in one of the most isolated parts of Hyrule and at the centre of a Guardian-protected labyrinth, then perhaps it holds something important.”
As she said this, the centre of the maze finally came into view. Up a flight of stairs and in a central dais, the low glow of ancient stone and magic could be seen. Link jogged happily over to the Shrine and patted the console at its entrance.
“Why don’t we find out?” he grinned.
“Why don’t you find out?” Zelda corrected, handing him the Sheikah slate with a sigh. “I know these weren’t built for me.”
Link returned in less than five minutes, carrying what looked like some ghastly wild animal under his arm and wearing a sheepish grin.
“Well?” Zelda asked impatiently.
“There was a monk named Tu Ka’loh, a chest and... this !” he held up the wild animal, which Zelda realised then was nothing but a helm. An ugly, grotesque helm, with a thick red mane sprouting from a painted skull that had tusks like a boar. She could have stamped her feet.
“That’s what we came here for?! A helmet?”
“Maybe this is what the Sheikah think of us,” Link said with a laugh as he put on the helm. He raised his hands, clawing the air. “Grrrr …”
“At least let me take a photo for the compendium. Don’t smile,” Zelda was giggling now. “I said don’t. This is serious. This is research.”
Shaking from her laughter, Zelda took the photo and read the description: Armor once favoured by an ancient warlike tribe from the Faron region. It was something to go off at least. Faron was known for both its tumultuous history and lack of records, perhaps causally related.
They quickly exited the labyrinth and found a swift updraft pouring through the grate by the entrance, maybe twenty feet high. It must have been the passage back to the Akkalan cliffs. Zelda readied her paraglider, and as she fiddled with the clasp at her belt, she couldn’t help but ramble.
“I still don’t understand. Why was this labyrinth built at all? Why put a shrine here? There’s so much to ask that I don’t know even where to start.”
Link was unphased. “Maybe it was just a trial, like the others.”
“Unless this was used for something else,” Zelda frowned.
Her paraglider ready, she went to step onto the grate. But where the grate once had been was an unseen void, and in an instant she was gone. She plummeted down through the gap, air escaping her lungs in a shrill scream. There was a cry out from above – Zelda! -- but her instincts took control, and she thrashed her paraglider open just in time to slow her fall. She landed on cold, hard stone, rolling clumsily across the floor. Dizzied, she pulled herself up and to her knees, finding a panicked Link landing beside her. When he saw that she was unharmed, he turned his attention to the room around them.
It was dark and cavernous, barely illuminated, the vast empty space broken up only by what seemed like shadowy, organic forms.
Forms that, one by one, began to awaken, their bodies flashing blue and then orange, red beady eyes filling the space like stars. Guardians. A horde of hidden, living Guardians. Not possessed anymore by Ganon since his defeat, but not dead either like so many were -- and so in silence, the Guardians looked on at the benign pair who had landed in their domain.
Neither Link nor Zelda could move. For a minute neither could breathe.
“I suppose this is it then,” Zelda whispered.
Link nodded. “Something else.”
The distant past…
When the doors of the Elder’s House open for Monk Koshia’s arrival, the gathered crowd falls into silence.
Koshia’s face is hidden beneath his wide ceremonial hat that dwarfs his thin frame. The only sound is the tinkling of its bronze adornments as he approaches the dais on the far side of the room. Without warning the doors to the house close with a snap, like a whip. I feel it go through us. The Faronites in attendance manage to sit still as well as quiet, waiting for Monk Koshia to begin the proceedings. Even so, the air is rank, pressed in close. The odours come in tiers of strength and repugnance. The smell of sweat and blood is first; it permeates the warriors that have come to meet us. Then, cured leather and the smoke that made their tunics, the resin and dye used to paint their bodies, the faint mustiness of the lynel fur they wear. Many of them have rotten teeth, their breath smelling of meat and fermented milk.
It’s so different from the blank way Kakariko usually smells to me. Outsiders complement us on how clear the air is here, and how much they like the earthy pines or the feel of straw at their feet. But I was born here, so these things are commonplace to me. Instead this new landscape of odours, fragrances even, that the Faronite tribes have brought upon us is somewhat...alluring.
After a few moments of silence, Monk Koshia gathers his hands into his sleeves, clears his throat, and smiles. I feel the room ease. He’s good at that. The Faronites watch his every action, waiting for hostility, but he never gives it. All Monks learn to keep their exterior as clear and inscrutable as possible. We are not the soulless servants the outsiders think us to be, but something more like vessels, like unused parchment to be filled only with the necessary candour. We cannot be questioned because we say nothing except the Goddess’ will.
Koshia speaks slowly and quietly, such that I sense our guests leaning forward. “Elders, Kin, honoured guests, I give my respects to you and to our ancestors come to witness this gathering. We meet on ancient land to settle an ancient dispute and rekindle a partnership, and for this blessing, we give thanks and praise to our shared Goddesses.”
As he speaks, I take stock of the room. The Faronites fill most of it, sitting cross-legged on the floor. It seems like only their leaders and perhaps some of their respected warriors are here. By their subtly different armour, I can see that multiple tribes are in attendance. The Zonai are closest to the front in green, the best armoured, then the Lurei in red, kitted out for warmer weather. The Thyphlo as well, hidden at the back, and then spotted among them are the Lomei, the nomads, wearing purple. There are others too that I cannot name, or cannot recall the names of. The Monks in attendance sit on the dais, and I am slotted in among them. Lastly, our Elders are seated along the back wall, framed by a huge tapestry depicting the map of our Kingdom. Normally, they lead all discussions about the future of our tribe, but in this case, that discussion has already taken place. By the Elders’ decree, we will make peace with the Faronites, and unite to combat the looming threat of Ganon’s return. Numerous such pacts have been made so far, and many peoples have committed to aiding the preparations for the fight.
It is the Monks’ duty to oversee then what form these preparations will take. Of course, not all of us attend this meeting. There are too many of us to name, let alone fit into this small house, and so only the most senior are here. But my teacher, Ka’loh, snuck me in to observe.
Koshia continues on. “As you know, the Seer has been given a prophecy of a coming calamity, which we know to be the return of Ganon. Our records of the past calamity and its defeat are scant, but what we know is that Hyrule endured. Legend states that a Princess with a great power and a Warrior wielding an ancient Sword are the key to driving the evil back. In this present day, we are blessed with a Princess skilled in the sacred magics, but we are yet to find our Warrior or his blade. In his absence, we need strong fighters, of which I’m sure the Faronites can provide. This Warrior may even be among you, which would bring a great deal of honour to your people.”
I think it absurd that these assorted brutes from the south could be Hyrule’s salvation, but I do not speak. Such an opinion would add nothing, and I’m not even meant to be here.
Instead it is my teacher, Ka’loh to stands to speak. He bows quickly to Koshia.
“Revered Elder, if I may speak?”
Koshia ushers him on.
“Faronite structures fill our landscape, some thought to predate even Hyrule itself,” He turned to the tribes. “We know of your prowess and skill in masonry, and with our new unified Hyrule, we could supply you with the materials needed. What if your people were to construct something; a fortress perhaps, to aid in the fight.”
There is a sudden wave of chatter that passes through and between the Faronite tribes. Despite their lack of a single leader, within minutes the Faronites are in immediate agreement. As I scan the crowd a second time, a face catches my eye. A young man, wearing a red-fur headdress, made from the skull of a highlands boar. He is whispering and grinning with friends seated all around him. There is so much joy on his face, and so much excitement. I am captivated by it.
He sees my staring and returns it with a wide smile. I should look away, but I don’t. Is he truly looking at me? As if in answer - the young man winks.
I look away and empty my thoughts, my hands shaking in my lap.
I am a Monk, I tell myself. If not by choice then by destiny. I cannot want. I cannot need.
And then the moment passes.