Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Magic portals are the worst way to travel, if you ask Twilight. No matter how many times he comes across one, they never fail to make his hair stand on end, make every instinct in his body scream danger and turn around and get as far away from that thing as you possibly can. He’d happily take the soreness from a full week of riding over the soul-deep, gut-wrenching wrongness of warping if given the choice. 

Not that it really matters what he thinks, in the end. Midna had dealt with the problem by calling him a scared little mutt and yanking him around by the scruff of his neck. Months ago, when he pursued a shadow through a dark portal, he’d done so on the reckless hope that it might lead him back to her.

Instead, he found himself in this new quest, chasing monsters through more damned portals across Hyrule’s history with eight other heroes—most of them barely even adults, for gods’ sake—and, when it comes down to it, Twilight’s not going to put centuries of people at risk over a bad case of the jitters.

He asked Wild about it once, trying to figure out if anyone else in their group wanted to turn tail and run every time a portal appeared. Wild said it was probably “a dog thing,” suggested they pick up the next stray they came across so they could test the theory, and would’ve kept going with his stupid plans if Twilight hadn't grabbed his cloak and flipped it over his head and pushed him to the ground for good measure.

Twilight doesn’t bring it up after that. And whenever a new whirling mass of magic tears through the fabric of time to whisk them away to another era, he doesn’t let his fear show. He gathers his courage and moves forward.

And if some stupid, desperate part of him still clings to the hope that he’ll find Midna on the other side, well. 

He’s gotten good at stifling the disappointment. 

This time, they’re dropped in the middle of an old-growth forest clouded in a thick, unnatural fog. Towering trees form a canopy so dense that it’s impossible to determine the time of day, everything drenched in a pale blue light, like the early morning before the dawn breaks. 

There’s so little to see that Twilight only needs a few seconds to go through his standard checks—he sees nothing immediately dangerous, nothing reminiscent of his own time, nothing that suggests this place has a connection to the Twilight Realm. 

It’s when the nine of them are discussing if anyone recognizes the area and Legend remarks that it seems like a “younger and somewhat less nefarious” version of his Lost Woods that Twilight is struck with the similarity it shares to his own Faron Woods under the shroud of shadow. The air is so heavy with magic he can taste it, bright and sticky as syrup. Strange lights swirl in the mist. He tightens his hold on Epona’s reins and tries not to make it obvious when he walks a little closer than normal to Time, who’s unperturbed as ever.

It’s not the first time a portal’s dumped them in some random forest between eras, and Twilight would bet his left arm that it won’t be the last. It is, however, the first time they’ve been so aimless.

The lack of sun or starlight wouldn’t normally hinder them, but they can’t find a path or any signs of foot traffic, and the forest’s magic is strong enough to warp their navigational tools. The charm-sized compass Legend wears around his neck spins without settling on a spot, and the three other compasses he retrieves from his bag—to much jeering—all point in different directions. 

So they move to Plan B: sending Wild up a tree to scout the landscape. 

Wild climbs like he’s part Faron monkey, so despite the trees’ lack of low-lying branches, it doesn’t take long before he disappears from sight. But these trees must go much higher than Twilight thought. The rest of the heroes are left squandering with no sight or sound of their cook for at least fifteen minutes. Half of them don’t try to hide their pacing and nervous glances; the other half do a poor job of it. Even Time starts to fidget, fingering a tune against his thigh with increasing speed as the minutes drag on. 

Twilight is just about to suggest that Sky climb up on after Wild—Wind would be faster, but Twilight is not risking their youngest—when the rustling of leaves announces his return.

“I think I hate this place!” Wild yells down from some thirty feet above their heads. 

“Not so loud,” Four says. “We don’t know what else is around here.”

Legend snorts. “A whole lotta nothing is what there is. We’ve been here, what, half an hour, and I haven’t even heard a bird chirp.”

“Is Wolfie close by? Maybe he scared them off.” Wind cranes his head around, his dark eyes even wider than usual, like he might find the wolf poking his head out from behind a tree. 

“Wolves would scare off wildlife but not for that long,” Warriors says with a frown. 

Twilight ignores a pointed look from Four; the smithy’s been glaring at him none-too-subtly whenever “Wolfie” comes up in conversation for a month now, ever since Twilight told him that Legend was in on the secret and no, he wasn’t telling anyone else. He turns his attention back to Wild, who’s nimbly weaving his way down through what Twilight thinks are dangerously skinny branches. 

“Cook,” Time calls, “what did you find?”

“A whole lotta nothin,” Wild replies, and then he’s leaning forward from the trunk in an all too familiar way, and before Twilight can yell that he’s at least twenty-five feet off the ground, stupid, Wild leaps from the tree. 

A collective cry rises from the group as they scramble to get out of Wild’s landing zone, and he still nearly whacks Time in the face as he lands and springs into a messy dive-roll through the dirt. Wild lays sprawled on the ground after, breathing a little heavy but grinning. Mud lines the right side of his face in a mirror image of his scars, streaking up from his chin to the red bandana keeping his hair back. “I can’t see for shit with all the fog. It got even worse the higher I got. Are we sure this place isn’t cursed?”

Warriors sighs. “It’s not cursed.”

“It’s definitely cursed,” Sky says at the same time, looking almost queasy. 

“Maybe it’s the fog that’s the problem. We could try burning it,” Hyrule suggests. 

That gets an immediate response from everyone. The No! from Sky and Warriors ring the loudest, but Twilight doesn’t miss the intrigued sounds some of the others make. Wild, still lying in the dirt, looks entirely too thoughtful.

“Look what you’ve done now,” Twilight chides and offers him a hand, which he takes, but then gives Twilight a hard shove once he’s up.

“Do we really need to go over why lighting a fire in this thick of an underbrush is a bad idea?” Warriors scans the faces of their friends and must not find anything reassuring because he’s launching into a lecture not two seconds later, emphasizing each point as he counts off with his fingers. “Okay, first of all, if we have to put out a fire, we have no water except for what we have in our waterskins. And because we have no idea where the closest clean water source is, we have to presume that we have no way of refilling them. Second of all—”

“I have a magic candle,” Hyrule says. “It doesn’t have to be a big fire.”

“—Second of all,” Warriors repeats a little louder, his jaw tightening.

Fighting fog with fire isn’t a bad idea, Twilight knows from experience, but he’s got this gut feeling that flames aren’t the solution here—and if their efforts won’t do anything except maybe start a brush fire, then the captain’s right, and putting their water supply at risk is too big a gamble.

Really, it’s not a fight that needs Twilight’s input. With Warriors and Sky on the same side and Legend looking pensive but blessedly not arguing back, it won’t take long to make the younger heroes drop the idea.

So Twilight keeps his mouth shut and makes his way over to Time. The old man has remained diplomatically indifferent to all the bickering, and he completely ignores them now to rifle through his bag. He pulls out what looks like an oversized purple magnifying glass and holds it up to his eye, turning in a slow circle as he peers through the lens.

Twilight raises his eyebrows in question, but Legend beats him to it. “What kind of contraption is that, old man?”

Time turns his gaze to the collector, blinks, and lowers the lens. “Something useful for determining if the fog is magical in origin,” he says. “There’s no hidden path here. Even if we could burn the fog, we’d find nothing underneath. We should pick a direction to walk and stick to it.”

“I could scout, try and find us a river,” Twilight offers quietly while everyone else starts arguing about which way to go. As a wolf, finding running water would take minutes at most, and they were bound to hit a settlement by following it.

Time frowns. “I think that would be unwise,” he says. “No one should go alone until we know more about our surroundings.”

Twilight can only stare at him. They’ve been in all kinds of dangerous places, and Time’s said no to him scouting exactly once—and that was a later, not an outright no. Magic woods are the old man’s area of expertise, sure, but beyond a stern warning to stick together, he hasn’t said anything about these woods being unsafe. If he knows something, why not share it with the rest of them? 

Time meets his eyes, giving him an inscrutable look that does nothing to quell the panic rising in Twilight’s chest, and pats his shoulder. “We’ll talk later.” Then, louder to the rest of the group, he says, “Which way are we going?”

“You tell us, old man,” Warriors says. “Cook said he doesn’t want to go”—he waves his hand to the left and makes a face—“whatever direction that is, but we have nothing else to go on.”

Time sighs, and Twilight watches as he scans the faces of their friends, then turns his gaze to the surrounding area. If there is something he can sense that the rest of them can’t, it never shows on his face. 

“We’ll go that way,” Time says, nodding opposite of where Warriors indicated.

And so they set off. Time leads the way, Wind and Warriors both gravitating to him at the front of the group. The undergrowth is too dense for them to walk side by side, so they all end up trailing behind the old man in a long line.

Twilight brings up the rear with Epona and a noticeably uncomfortable Sky in front of them. He wheedles Sky into talking about his latest wood carving project, and once Twilight asks him a question about wood types, Sky keeps the conversation going almost single-handedly. He still reaches for the pommel of the Master Sword from time to time, so reflexively that Twilight’s sure he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but he loses most of the tension in his shoulders, so Twilight counts it as a win.

They walk through the forest for hours, and the light never changes. The types of trees and foliage stay the same. They find no signs of animal life. Twilight doesn’t know how Time can keep them going in one direction with no sun or compass to guide him, but he never indicates that they might be off course. He does stop them every so often to look through that purple lens though. Once, he jerks and stares past Twilight for a long while, but he says it was just a trick of the light when the others ask about it. 

It should be an easy day. They don’t run into any monsters, they don’t have a difficult hike—they never find a path, but the terrain is level enough. For heroes who haven’t had a break for close to two weeks, fresh off a grueling trek across Hyrule’s monster-infested era, it should be a relief. 

But something about the woods pricks at all their nerves. Most everyone goes quiet an hour or two after they set off, and conversations don’t pick back up like they normally would. Wild startles at every breaking twig. Legend snaps at Hyrule over something stupid, all bite and no tease, and Hyrule walks ahead with Four from then on. 

Twilight tries to keep his cool so he doesn’t freak Sky out more, but really, he’s antsy as all get out. The need to shift bites under his skin, makes him hyperaware of the Shadow Crystal dragging across his chest with every step. If he wasn’t so damn scared of losing the cursed thing, he’d stow it in his bag, but he holds himself together just enough to avoid that. 

With everyone so on edge and his senses overwhelmed, it takes Twilight a disconcerting amount of time to realize it’s not just the forest’s magic raising the hairs on the back of his neck: They’re being followed. 

It is, as much as he hates to use Wild’s words for it, a wolf thing. It's something that goes beyond the normal instincts most people have—he remembers playing Poe in the Graveyard at night as a little kid, how hard it was to tell when someone was haunting his footsteps and when his mind was just playing tricks. Other people get hunches. Twilight knows, sure as the sun rises, even without seeing or smelling or hearing nothing else. 

Whatever caught their trail isn’t following too closely. Probably not gearing up for an ambush then, if that can be any comfort.

Twilight starts whistling, three long, descending notes before launching into the first work tune that comes to mind. He’s worked out a few codes with the boys who know about his wolf form, short signals he can relay from a distance by howling, but Wild and Four and Legend only know the basics. He and Time have spent much longer developing signals in private, though he’s never had to use the one for "something's following" until now.  

The whistling earns him seven glares in varying levels of annoyance. Wild and Sky are more confused than angry; Warriors and Hyrule look like they want to pull their swords on him. The other three don’t need words to very clearly communicate that they think he’s lost it.

Time doesn’t turn around though. He simply raises a hand up just above shoulder height, the same gesture he uses to call for them to halt. Cut it out, to anyone else who sees, but to Twilight, it says, I already know.

And Twilight has no idea what to do about that.

We’ll talk later. We’ll talk later, his mind chants. If they were in danger, the old man would have clued the rest of them in by now. He wouldn’t let an immediate threat go on ignored for so long, so Twilight doesn’t have to panic—

Epona lips at his hair and breaks him from his spiraling thoughts. Right. Getting all worked up won’t do no good. Besides, if Epona isn’t reacting to whatever’s following them, it can’t be too bad. 

Twilight takes a deep breath and pats Epona’s neck. 

Nothing to do but keep moving forward. 

Eventually, Time has them stop in a small clearing to make camp for the night—or afternoon, or morning. Twilight isn’t sure. The forest is the same eerie blue as when they first arrived, though Time says nearly seven hours have passed. 

After months of traveling together, making camp is something their group has got down pat. When they get the call to stop for the day, the boys normally waste no time before dropping their travel packs and staking a claim on the softest sleeping spots, all while half-heartedly bickering about who should collect firewood and whose turn it is for latrine duty. 

Not tonight though. Time begins his own routine of removing and polishing his armor, and the eight other Goddess blessed Heroes of Hyrule stand in an awkward half-circle staring at each other, no one willing to take charge in such a foreign place. 

Warriors is desperately trying to catch Time’s eye. Wild pulls a frying pan from his bag and looks at it like it might speak to him. Four keeps his expression neutral but taps his foot at a frantic speed. Twilight would usually step up here, but he feels near ready to jump out of his damn skin with the need to shift. Instead, he focuses on getting Epona unsaddled, distracts himself with finding a good patch of grass for her so he won’t fixate on the way all his senses are bristling like an angry porcupine. 

Thankfully, Time doesn’t take long to notice everyone’s hesitation.  

“Best we don’t light a fire tonight,” he says to Wild, gaze flitting across the rest of their waiting faces. His eye seems a deeper blue than normal, almost matching the light of the forest. “Rancher, would you check the perimeter?” 

“Yessir,” Twilight says.

The rest of the boys take it as their cue to settle in. Bags are dropped, boots shucked off. Wind plops down with a groan and doesn’t hesitate to toss one of his shoes at Wild. 

“Please tell me you made it to the market and have something other than jerky in that bag. I’m fucking sick of venison.”

The portal bringing them here appeared before sunrise, well before any market would open and well before most of their group would usually be up, for that matter. Wind knows this.

Still, Wild winces. “I've got apples?”

Wind groans louder and collapses spread-eagle on the ground. 

Once Twilight’s got all of Epona’s gear removed, he heads over to Time, making sure to ruffle Wind’s hair real good as he passes, which earns him a shout and a swat that he’s quick to dodge. 

“You’ll take care of Epona’s dinner then?” he asks Time. 

He gets a snort in response. “Yes, no need to worry. I’ll take good care of your girl.”

Twilight rolls his eyes. As much as Time likes to tease, Twilight’s seen how he fusses over his own Epona. The old man sings to her like she’s a babe in the cradle. Twilight’s nowhere near as bad as him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Just make sure the cook ain’t givin’ her too much sugar again.” He steps toward the trees, eager to finally get a good sense of this place and sniff out their pursuer, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

He turns around. Time’s looking past him, blinded eye open and practically glowing white, his piercing gaze locked on something deep in the trees. When Twilight looks back, there’s nothing but that otherworldly mist.

“See somethin’?” he asks.

Time looks to him, face softening, then closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t stray far from camp, pup. Make a quick sweep, then come back.”

Twilight squints into the trees again. Still nothing. He really fucking wishes he were a wolf already. “Is our friend comin’ to join us, or is it somethin’ else out there?” 

Time hesitates. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Probably,” Twilight repeats.

“Nothing dangerous, at the least,” Time amends. “We’ll talk privately tonight. As I said, as long as no one goes off alone—no one with a normal nose, that is—we should be fine.” 

“Normal nose, huh? So that means you’re all good to scout?” Twilight says, and then he has to duck and run to escape the hand swiping at his head, Time’s laughter echoing at his back as he jogs into the trees. 

Twilight likes to get out well out of earshot—normal Hylian earshot—before changing. He dreams sometimes of one of the boys catching him mid-transformation; having to see the fear and horror from his nightmares play out on Wild’s face was bad enough, and Twilight would do anything to keep it from happening again with someone else.

The fog gives him an extra bit of protection though, and he doesn’t want to test whether Time’s anxiety about the woods is warranted by going too far out. So Twilight walks through the bramble until the clatter of camp is little more than a hum in the background, and after checking again that no one is around, he reaches for the chain around his neck, reaches for that part of him that’s been itching to run off into the trees all day, and lets the magic pooling from the Shadow Crystal wash over him in an icy wave.

Shadow consumes him, and color leeches from the world. 

The first time Twilight was changed into a wolf, he was convinced he was dying. He could feel with a sick, perfect clarity the snapping of his spine, the fracturing of his limbs to unnatural angles, the way his skull and jaw warped as he let out an agonized scream that twisted into an agonized howl. His whole body throbbed for days afterward. Even when the pain faded, he couldn't stop wondering whether he’d ever feel comfortable in his body again, only to go through the same thing once he was turned back into a Hylian. 

Now, transforming is a brief ache that swiftly gives way to overwhelming relief, like diving into the Ordon River before summer’s fully taken hold, when the water still carries winter’s bite. A full-body shock, and the sweet rush of air upon surfacing. 

It’s something he doesn’t want to look at too closely, how heavy it weighs on him when he can’t shift for even a few days. How the thought of being confined to his Hylian body for the rest of his life is now the thing that feels like death. 

The last vestiges of magic fade from his vision, obsidian specks disappearing into the ether, and Twilight has his nose pressed against the ground before he can think to do so, breathing in the rich, tangy earth. He snuffs at the dirt, paws at it like he can uncover all the forest’s secrets right here. The soil is soaked with the smell of fresh rainfall, too strong a scent to come from the humidity of the fog alone, though Twilight is beginning to doubt whether this place ever gets rain.  

Reluctantly, Twilight pulls away to scope out the rest of his surroundings. The light is so strange that the forest hardly looks different. His eyes aren't as sharp and all the greenery is painted in faint yellows and grays, but his vision is still dominated by a sheen of blue, like he’s viewing the woods from the bottom of a lake bed. 

He can clearly hear the ruckus of his boys again, ears twitching as a shrill cry from Legend rises above the others' voices. He lifts his nose higher to get a few good sniffs of the forest air. Strange as these woods are, its smell is familiar, the air saturated in a loamy scent with a sweet, earthy undercurrent of blooming mushrooms. 

His boys must have started dinner right after he left, because he also smells the heady spices of dried jerky and the tartness of apple and pear drifting from camp. There’s something else too past the sweat of Hylian and horse, something creamy and floral. It takes him a moment to identify the smell as palm fruit, one of the treats Wild’s been saving for Wind. 

Twilight shakes his body out to shed the last bit of post-transformation stiffness from his legs, and then he begins his loop around camp. The tension of the day falls from him with every step. It’s easier to relax now that he knows the forest properly—knows that the trees are mostly cedar and maple, knows that it’s early summer by the smell of freshly mature leaves, knows that the magic skipping and dancing across his body feels old and more than a little mischievous, but it doesn’t feel dangerous. It’s nothing at all like the putrid, oppressive magic used by Zant and Ganon, has none of that skin-crawling dissonance. 

But as Twilight lopes through the underbrush, a new problem emerges. He can’t pick up a single trace of a river. His ears twitch, strain to catch anything other than the clamor of his boys or the clanking of the manacle around his leg. There’s no distinct bauble of a creek. He can’t hear the gentle lap of water against the shore either, so no lake. No muggy aroma of a pond, or the scuttling of wildlife, or even the hum of insects. With no wind, he can’t smell beyond two miles, give or take, but his hearing goes much further. For there to be no signs of life in such a large radius… He can only hope that the woods are tricking his senses somehow.  

Twilight breaks into a trot.

He makes it back to his small patch of dug-up earth without smelling or hearing anything unusual, wondering if the thing following them earlier got bored and disappeared. He decides to circle their camp one more time and doesn’t know whether to be frustrated or relieved when he completes the loop without incident. 

Either way, he feels some of that restless energy from earlier creeping back over him, and really, it’s a lot more fun to let out as a wolf than to turn Hylian and spar with Sky until his arms feel like they’ll fall off. So he pushes aside the Hylian voice saying he really shouldn’t linger, and he lets his canine self off the leash. 

And his wolf self, apparently, wants to act like an over excited pup seeing snow for the first time. 

He sprints in a tight circle, round and round until he has to pant to try to cool down. Then he remembers the hole he started on, and he attacks it in earnest. He furiously digs until he hits a root, and he tries to pull it from the ground with his teeth, gnaws and paws at it until his jaw aches and his whole mouth is coated in dirt. 

And the soil is so cool and refreshing, he can’t help but bow and drag his muzzle across the ground, a balm against his hot skin. It feels even better when he flips on his back and wiggles through the upturned earth, and he hits a half-buried rock that feels so damn good between his shoulder blades that he can’t hold in the happy growls and yips falling from his mouth. 

Once he’s scratched that itch, he dives back at the tree root, contorting sideways so he can get at the soil packed underneath it. He’s just getting a good grip on it with his teeth when a chill zaps through him, so shocking that he shakes from snout to tail.

He freezes with half a mouthful of dirt. Slowly, carefully, he raises his head from the ground as the hair on his spine rises up. 

An acrid smell fills the air; something frigid darts across his back like icy rain. 

Twilight hasn’t felt dark magic this potent since fighting Zant. 

He shifts his eyes without turning his head but can’t catch a glimpse of anything other than the fog and trees. Crouched and ready to pounce, he turns around gradually, and his hackles raise further when he still sees nothing. Not a spirit or a Poe then, if he can’t see it like this, but he’s never come across a creature that can hide from his wolf form.

The magic is so strong that his nose feels like it’s been plunged into the frozen waters of Zora’s Domain, and he can’t hold back a violent string of sneezes. When he focuses, though, he can make out other magic steeped beneath the darkness—that same mischievousness from the woods mixed with the scent of ozone, and even more elemental magic buried under that, ocean and fire and earth, so many distinct sensations that it overwhelms him trying to discern them all.

Twilight growls and bares his teeth, facing the trees where the bitter cold seems to seep from. He doesn’t like his odds against an enemy he can’t see, even in this form, but he stands a better chance than any of his friends. 

Twilight crouches low, ready to spring into action at any sign of movement. He waits for the creature to attack. And waits. 

And fuck it, he’s fought against worse odds plenty of times. He leans back on his haunches—

—and jumps two feet in the air when a high-pitched whistle pierces through the silence. One short note followed by a long high note, loud and clear as birdsong. Time, calling him back to camp. 

Indecision tears at him. A whine involuntarily rises from his throat. He almost wishes their pursuer would attack so Twilight could take care of the problem now. 

But Time told him not to linger. His mentor is waiting for him. The creature in the woods smells plenty dangerous, but it hasn’t actually done anything yet, and it doesn’t seem to be moving toward their campsite. Midna used dark magic, and he couldn’t have saved Hyrule without her. And Twilight knows that his own scent is saturated in darkness even with the Triforce’s influence.

Time whistles for him again. Twilight faces the spot where he thinks the creature must be and lets out a deep growl. He barks once—a warning, if he’s understood—dutifully ignores the little voice in his head saying, Oh yeah, that’ll show them, tough guy, and heads back to his boys.

The creature doesn’t follow. Twilight chooses to take it as a good sign. 

He transforms once he’s close enough to hear his friends with Hylian ears. Which, in this case, is still a good distance from camp, because the boys are making a gods-damned racket.

Twilight gets a distracted hello from Four as the only acknowledgement of his return. Everyone else has their attention on Wild and Hyrule, who are circling each other like cats gearing up for a fight in a makeshift ring drawn through the dirt. Hyrule’s removed his tunic and leather armor, down to his pants and undershirt. Wild, the Spirits only know why, has lost all his clothing except his briefs, long blonde hair pulled up into a bun that’s already spilling undone. The two of them wear matching grins, feral and toothy as they scan each other for an opening. 

Just outside the circle, Legend and Wind shout insults and encouragement alike, the sailor shaking a stick as he jumps and hollers. Next to them, Warriors watches the match and puts on a poor attempt at looking serious.

Twilight’s hopes of getting the old man alone sooner rather than later are dashed when he sees Time, Sky, and Four sitting together on a log, munching on jerky and passing around a bowl filled with sliced fruit. Someone—Legend, probably—has stuck a fire rod in the middle of the clearing where the fire pit would normally go, and their faces glow pink from its light. 

The log is plenty big to seat all three of them, but Four has opted to sit on the ground and use Sky’s legs as a back rest, the two of them alternately yelling “Go Link!” between bites of food. Time stays quiet, but he can’t quite hide the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth

In the wrestling ring, Wild feints—right, left, right—and lunges at Hyrule, getting ensnared in a hold. His feet gouge clumps of dirt from the ground as he presses forward, but Hyrule stays steady as a rock. The moment Wild relents, Hyrule twists sharply, and the two boys go flying to the ground.

Legend and Wind riot.

“C’mon cook, finish him!” Wind shouts. 

Hyrule and Wild give new meaning to a tangle of limbs; Twilight can hardly keep track of their frantic scrambling. They look more like pups play fighting than heroes blessed by the Goddesses as they roll around in the dirt. 

Amid the shouts and grunts from the ring, Wild yelps. 

“Hey, hey!” Warriors yells. “Hair pulling is off limits!”

“There’s too damn much of it!” Hyrule shouts back, struggling to get a grip on the hands trying to pin him.

“How immoral, captain,” Twilight drawls, making his way over to the spectators. “Playin’ ref on your own bet.”

Legend cuts in, not taking his eyes off the fight, “No, he’s not in til next match. This is between me and the sailor.”

Objections arise from Hyrule and Wild, and Legend rolls his eyes.

“Sorry. Between me, the sailor, and these two idiots.”

Twilight looks back at Time and raises his eyebrows. A tournament organized already? He wasn’t gone that long. Time shrugs in response: What do you want me to do about it?

He has a point. A group of restless teenage heroes is a disaster in the making. He should be thankful that they’re managing to get their energy out without burning down the forest in the process. 

Legend’s hollering brings Twilight’s attention back to the ring, where Hyrule’s managed to pin Wild. Mostly. He’s got Wild on his back, one arm twisted up over his head and the other under his back. The cacophony from Wind and Legend surges as Warriors starts a countdown. Wild bucks and thrashes, slips one of his legs under Hyrule’s arm to kick him off, but then Hyrule plants his knee in Wild’s stomach and his squirming turns desperate.

“Three… Two… One…” Warriors pumps a fist in the air. “Traveler wins!”

Hyrule collapses on top of Wild while Legend whoops. Wind buries his hands in his face and falls to his knees with a drawn-out cry, barely holding the pose for a full breath before he’s back up and belly-flopping on top of Hyrule, who’s yet to move off Wild. The pained oof from the pile of heroes has Twilight wincing in sympathy. 

Then it’s two against one: Hyrule twisting to hold Wind down while Wild rubs his nose in the dirt. But they let off after only a moment, and Wild hoists the swearing sailor up by his tunic to exchange winnings, Wind forking up two small rupee pouches while Wild casually hands over chunks of ruby large enough to buy a pedigree horse or three in Twilight’s time. With the way Legend’s eyes widen, it’s a small fortune in his era as well.

“So, captain,” Twilight says, “which dog did you bet on?”

Warriors grins and throws an arm around Hyrule, ruffling his curly mop of hair. “Winner takes on the hoarder. It’s gonna be a quick match. Right, traveler?”

Hyrule wipes at the sweat on his brow and smirks just as wide. “What about you, rancher? You wanna go a round after I take down the vet?”

Legend, calmly removing his rings and other jewelry and depositing them one by one in his upturned cap, doesn’t react. But Wild does, shouting “No!” almost as soon as Hyrule’s finished speaking.

“No way,” Wild says. “He sumo wrestles with Gorons for fun. He’s banned from all our wrestling competitions, forever.”

Twilight gets a few looks and raised eyebrows at that, and he can only shrug. It wasn’t for fun the first few times, but he can’t deny that he’d gone back more than once to blow off some steam. Wrangling the goats back in Ordon was harder by far, anyway. The Gorons didn’t want to permanently maim him; the goats had no such qualms. 

With one final plink from his power bracelet, Legend finishes taking off his jewelry and wordlessly hands his hat over to Warriors. Expression blank, he steps into the ring, and Hyrule joins him. 

Twilight goes over to Wind and rests an arm on his head just to hear him grumble. “Who’s your money on this time, sailor?”

“I bet against the collector,” Wind fake-whispers. “Mostly to piss him off.” 

To Legend’s credit, he keeps his cool demeanor, almost. Only the small twitch of his lips lets them know that yes, he heard Wind, and no, he’s not happy about it.

The two heroes in the ring plant their feet and square up, Legend taking a boxer’s stance. Wild steps closer to the ring, raising his arm as he counts down. “Three… Two… One… Fight!” 

Wild has hardly dropped his arm when Legend pounces. Hyrule grabs both of his arms, widening his stance and bracing himself for the next move, but it never comes. Legend drops down, going for the back of his knees, and the next second Hyrule is shrieking like a gibdo and falling to the ground. 

The captain and the sailor stare open-mouthed in shock. Even without placing a bet, Twilight feels like he just got hustled. 

In the ring, Hyrule is letting out maniacal half-cries, half-laughs. Legend is on his knees, leaning over the traveler and honest to gods tickling the back of his legs, until Hyrule starts gasping between cries, “Yield—I yield!” 

Looking unbearably smug, Legend gets up. Hyrule is still wheezing on the ground. There are tears running down the side of his face, two clean lines cutting through the layer of dirt and grime on his face, and Twilight remembers the other reason he wants to find a river so bad is so he can bathe for the first time in ten days. 

Legend marches up to the still stunned Warriors and pokes him in the chest. “Pay up, captain!” 

“How?” Warriors demands, even as he roots through his bag for his wallet. “How did you know that, you little weasel?” 

“It’s cause of those fucking chus,” Hyrule groans from the ground.

Legend smirks. “Remember that battle a few weeks ago with the giant chuchus and the dynalfos pack?” 

A collective flinch ripples through the group at the reminder, Twilight included. The dynalfos all had black blood, which meant their group was going to be pushed to the limit even before the addition of three giant chuchus. Hyrule managed to take care of the chus with a few strikes of his thunder spell, but victory was messy. They were all washing chu jelly off their gear for days after that fight. Twilight is still finding pieces of it stuck in his chain mail. 

“Yeah, so,” Legend continues, “while the rest of you were digging out the smithy, somebody was all loopy from overusing his magic and twisted his knee slipping on chuchu guts. And then when I was trying to wrap it for him, he couldn’t hold still because he was laughing too much. I thought it was the magic drain, but when I brought it up later, he told me he’s actually that ticklish all the time.” 

Hyrule’s hiding his face behind his hands now. But his right hand is missing a pinkie and most of his ring finger, so he can’t fully hide the flush of his cheeks. “You can’t tell either of my Zeldas if we see them again. They’ll ruin my life.”

“No one will tell them,” Warriors says.

“Speak for yourself,” Wild says, and then Hyrule is back up and chasing him across camp. 

It’s not like they got to spend much time with the two Zeldas—and how there were even two of them, Hyrule never fully explained, muttering about magic and prophecies before joking that Princess Zelda, at over five hundred years of age, might actually be older than Time. 

Queen Zelda, the one the same age as Hyrule, was small and slim in a way that spoke to a childhood of food insecurity, much like her hero. She presented herself as a stalwart and confident leader, but Twilight could see how she walked a tad too stiff, how all her finery was slightly ill-fitted. She made him think of Colin, of Four and the other young boys when they were forced to play the formal role as the Legendary Hero. Someone too young, given too much responsibility, and trying too hard to appear mature. 

The Princess, despite Hyrule’s jokes, looked no older than sixteen. She wore a mask of innocence over her baby-faced cheeks, an act so adept that Twilight didn’t pick up on it until her childish questioning turned to all-too-pointed probes. He swore her wide eyes could cut through his tunic to the secret he wore around his neck. And her gaze lingered far too long on the curse marks on his face—not with fear or childlike curiosity, but with knowledge. Amusement, almost.  

Twilight was relieved beyond words when they only spent half a day at the castle. 

So it's hard for Twilight to imagine either of the Zeldas engaging in tickling matches, not with how formal and nervous Hyrule acted around them. It reminded Twilight of the groups’ first weeks together, how shy the traveler seemed until he grew comfortable around everyone and his affable nature emerged. But Hyrule speaks fondly of both his Zeldas, so Twilight can only assume that they’re a lot more relaxed in private. 

Hyrule is fast, but Wild can outrun everyone in their group save for Twilight in his wolf form. Wild dashes around the clearing’s perimeter, Hyrule hot on his trail and swearing all the while. Their chase comes to an end when Wild sprints past the log and parks himself behind the old man with a shit-eating grin, a little too proud at how Hyrule hesitates to cross Wild's human barrier, and Time takes most everyone by surprise when he pulls Wild down into a headlock. Hyrule’s too busy laughing at Wild’s squawking to notice when the old man reaches for him too, and then Time’s got them both trapped, chuckling at their cries of protest for a second before pushing them away. 

Twilight thinks that’s it for the wrestling, but they’ve somehow cajoled Sky into joining. Four scoots over so the knight can get up, Sky unclasping his sailcloth, folding it in a neat square, and passing it to the smithy with the utmost care.

And sure, Sky may be one of the slower members of their group, and he may sleep til the afternoon if no one wakes him, but he was the only one who helped Twilight with hauling hay bales at Lon Lon Ranch. The guy is no weakling, and he’s nearly as broad as Twilight. Looking around at the rest of the boys, though, no one seems to share Twilight’s concern. Except maybe Time, who has the same look on his face as when one of them is spouting some batshit plan and he has to politely tell them to shut the fuck up. They hold eye contact for a moment, Time raising one eyebrow, and Twilight can practically hear the old man’s favorite refrain: They’ll learn.

Sky and Legend square up, and Warriors counts them down. 

It’s almost like watching a mirror of the previous match. Except Sky is the one charging forward, and Legend’s brace doesn’t hold when they collide, and the two of them go careening out of the ring for all of ten steps before Legend crumples like an ore deposit under a Goron’s fist. He hits the ground hard and lets out a barely audible gasp as the wind is knocked out of him. 

Sky is on his knees next to Legend in an instant, his hands fluttering wildly above the veteran’s prone form like he can’t decide if it’s okay to reach out. “Oh sh-shit, vet, I’m s-s-sorry,” he babbles. “Are you—shit. I-I thought, I th-thought you—”

Hyrule and Warriors are at Legend’s side a second later, the captain slowly easing him upright. Wind darts forward too, and Twilight has to reel him back in by his tunic, murmuring, “Whoa, sailor, don’t crowd him now.” 

They get Legend sitting up and immediately bombard him with questions, none of which he seems to hear. Instead, Legend clutches at his chest with both hands, fingers curling and uncurling over his tunic like he can wring out the pain like water from a rag, his eyes closed as he lets out faint, pained noises. It’s a long moment before he opens his eyes and longer before they focus, his mismatched eyes—one brown, one an uncanny green—gradually rising to take in Sky, who hasn’t stopped sputtering out apologies. 

“Sweet Golden Three,” Legend rasps. “Next time you try to kill me, just run me through with the sword, why don’t you.”

A collective sigh of relief resounds through the camp. Sky’s hands finally still as he says, “I’m s-sorry. I haven’t wrestled with anyone but my buddy Groose for a while, and h-he’s, uh…” Sky winces. “He’s a bit bigger than you.”

Legend wheezes. “Please shut up.” But then he’s slapping Hyrule and Warriors’ hands away, berating them for fussing, and he reaches out to Sky. “Come on, knight, help me up.”

After a few more assurances that Legend’s fine save for a bruised ego—played off as a joke, but the veteran’s face is pink as his hair—the wrestling match comes to an end, and the group devolves into quieter activities. 

When they’re somewhere safe, most of their nights are spent around the campfire, sharing food and stories and songs. Twilight rarely contributes to the latter, not much for singing solo and really not keen on proving Warriors’ teasing right about being unable to play anything but the banjo and harmonica. Wolfie, on the other hand, loves singing. The fact that his howling is met with near universal disdain, Four never failing to look like he might pop a blood vessel, is just an added bonus. Besides, the old man laughs himself silly every time.

But without a campfire to gather round, they section off into smaller groups. Warriors and the teens get a game of cards going, Sky declining to join so he can write a letter to his Zelda. Twilight passes on cards too, knowing a game with that many people won’t take long to deteriorate into arguments over who’s counting cards (Four and Legend) and who’s cheating (any and all of them, given past precedence). 

Epona’s in desperate need of a good brushing anyway. Twilight eats quick and then turns his attention to his girl. Swamps covered a huge portion of the traveler’s country, and with how little downtime they had, Twilight was barely able to keep her hooves clean, let alone her coat. 

He gets out his brush kit and gets to work. Only a minute goes by before Time joins him. The old man says nothing, just holds out a hand, and Twilight passes over the brush and bottle of detangler for Epona’s mane.

It’s easy to lose himself to the circular brushing movements, to Time softly humming Epona’s Song beside him. It’s the kind of scene that goes beyond the wildest dreams of Twilight’s heart. His living, breathing ancestor at his side, who shares his love of horses, who figured out his darkest secret and nicknamed him pup, who tries to teach him songs he has to pretend not to know, already passed down to him by a specter of the man beside him. 

Twilight trades out his curry comb for a dandy brush. He ignores the gleam of silver catching the corner of his eye, reminds himself that the green he sees on the abandoned armor is a reflection, not encroaching vines. 

They’re about halfway through getting Epona cleaned up when the fighting starts.

“Okay, someone tell me why there are five Jacks in play.” Warriors sounds disappointed, but that might be because it usually takes longer for someone to get caught. 

No one says a word. Then, Four pipes up. “The vet’s been collecting face cards this round.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s fucking rich coming from the guy whose deck we’re using!”

“Cook’s the one who dealt!”

There’s the finger pointing. The raised voices. Then, the violent fluttering noise of cards being thrown, and the cry of outrage from someone—the captain, this time—getting hit in the face by said cards, and that’s his cue.

“So,” says Twilight, stepping in closer to the old man. Sky’s sufficiently occupied with the small riot going on, but Twilight still doesn’t want to chance him overhearing. “What is that thing out there?”

“A Skull Kid, I believe.” Time sections off a strand of Epona’s mane and begins braiding. “Not one I know, or they would have announced their presence by now. I’d have said something, but that’s the easiest way to call attention to ourselves and our valuables. After a day of watching us, they’re bound to grow bored.” 

“How concerned should we be ’bout it in the meantime?”

“For ourselves? Not very. But I cannot say the same for our travel packs.”

The long, thin scars on Twilight’s back smart as if in protest, and he has to force memories of rattling bodies and elongated limbs from his mind. Undoubtedly, the old man is the most familiar with Skull Kids of their group, but he’s also childhood friends with them. Twilight wonders if he’s ever had to deal with an unfriendly Skull Kid before. 

“It felt…” Twilight pauses. “It didn’t feel much like a Skull Kid. Or any of the other forest spirits I’ve come ’cross before. It’s got dark magic. I couldn’t even get a look at the thing, so it’s powerful.”

Time frowns, pausing his braiding, and it’s a long while before he answers. “They are rather talented at finding trouble, sometimes beyond their means.”

Twilight takes a deep breath. “I’d like to go after it again once the boys go to bed. I won’t be able to sleep without knowin’ what’s out there.”

“You shouldn’t start a fight,” Time says. “Especially on your own.”

“I won’t start nothin’. Like I said, I just wanna figure out what’s caught our trail.” 

Twilight looks over to his mentor. He’s on the old man’s blind side, and shadows throw the lines of his face into harsh distinction, curse marks under his eye seeming to bore into his skin as deep as the scar cutting through his cheek. The fire rods flashes red in Time’s good eye as he turns to face him, and for a moment, Twilight is seventeen and a head shorter and scared shitless, with nothing but a shadow and a stalfos to guide him through this new life.

A blue eye looks him over, not with contempt but with concern, and Twilight is brought back to the present. Time takes him in, and Twilight doesn’t know what he’s searching for, doesn’t know what he’ll find.  

Finally, Time says, “I trust you, pup. But I want you to be careful. Woods like these hold deep secrets. You never know what you might find lying in wait.” 

I already found your shade in the woods, Twilight thinks. Nothing could ever be as terrible.

He says, “Don’t you worry ’bout me. I’m carefuller than a farmer pickin’ cucco eggs.”

“If you only knew,” Time says, “how many times I have walked out of the coop with yolk in my hair, you would not find that expression reassuring.” 

Twilight turns to find his ancestor grinning at him, one of the rare smiles that stretch across his whole face and make Twilight wish he could catch a moment out of the air like a fairy and keep it in a bottle for times of need. 

“I dunno, old man. Sounds to me like you need to stop peckin’ at the eggs with your beak.”

Twilight gets an elbow to the side for that, but he also gets a laugh, so it’s worth it. They get back to work, and Epona’s coat is gleaming once again by the time they’re done.

It’s a good night. 

Twilight waits until first watch is well under way to head back into the woods.

By now, all the boys are asleep except for Time, silent and still as an armos as he keeps guard. Normally, Twilight would worry about waking up some of the lighter sleepers—no matter how quiet he is, he’s woken either the traveler or the captain every watch without fail—but the boys are out cold. Two weeks of assigning double watches means everyone is lacking sleep, but it was a necessary evil in Hyrule’s era. They got ambushed at night there more times than all their previous months of travel combined. 

Twilight walks into the thicket, and he’s grateful that whatever is waiting for him, it at least isn’t a lizalfos hidden up a tree wielding throwing axes. 

In hindsight, it’s amazing that Hyrule’s only missing two fingers. 

When Twilight transforms this time, their pursuer is already waiting for him. He clenches his jaw, letting his lips curl and his fangs show as phantom ice rains down on him. 

With a goal in mind, it’s easier for him to push aside the chills racking his body and focus on pinpointing the source of the magic. To gauge the overwhelming cold surrounding him and home in on where it’s strongest, where ice gives way to the storm underneath. 

He smells ashes and ozone. There, at a rock ahead and to his left. Maybe ten feet away, an easy jump if he were to pounce and lock it in his jowls.

But he remembers Time’s words, and Twilight meant what he said about starting a fight. He may not trust the Skull Kids like Time does, but if that really is what’s been following them, he doesn’t want to hurt it.

Twilight takes a step forward. And another when he senses no reaction. 

One more. He pauses, waits, and leaps, and the storm flies away, and Twilight is bounding through the forest after it.

It’s hard, keeping pace with something he can’t track by sound or sight, but now that he’s got a good sense of the magic, it’s easy to trace its source. He’s never far behind. They run, and Twilight feels its power swell, and he closes in, thinking of all the times he's caught one of the Hidden Village cats in his jaws while playing chase and never left a scratch on them, and he skirts around a tree and the creature is just gone.

Not completely—he still feels the ghost of freezing rain coming down on him, so it can’t be too far. He paces in a small circle, stands on his hind legs so he can get his nose as high up as possible. Twilight’s not giving up now, not when he was so close.

He sits back and closes his eyes. It’s not like they were doing him any good here anyway. A cloud of fog wafts through the trees, rustling his fur. He’s content to sit and wait the creature out, let it start moving again so he can track it properly, when an idea from earlier slingshots back in his mind, and huh, maybe that’s not such a crazy idea.

Twilight approaches the tree. He gets up on two legs again, nails of his front paws digging into the bark for balance as he stretches his head up. He sniffs the air again. 

And it’s faint, but it’s there—a storm looming on a branch high above his head, maybe twenty feet up.

He rests back on his haunches. This trick is a lot harder without Midna, and it takes more energy than he likes, but he can make it work in a pinch.

He backs up a ways from the tree. Crouches down again, letting the magic of the Shadow Crystal coalesce around him, and launches forward. 

Twilight lands on the tree branch, and a high-pitched scream sends his eardrums ringing. He startles, and his paws slip from the narrow branch, and he can’t get a grip with his claws and he’s falling, the ground rushing up too slow and too fast, and he has only a moment to think that hey, at least the screeching creature is coming down with him.

He almost manages to catch himself on his back legs. Almost. They slide out from under him on impact, and his side slams into the ground, head smashing against the dirt, and for a second all he sees is white, all senses lost to the shrill ringing in his head. 

His vision takes a long moment to clear, a headache now drilling deep into his left temple, but he can focus his eyes and breathe just fine, so he knows he’ll be alright.

Twilight pulls himself off the ground, trembling only a little, and shakes the dirt from his body. The answering stabbing sensations tell him exactly which spots on his ribs he’ll have to ice later. He's going to have some nasty bruises on his face and chest to explain, but he doesn’t smell any blood. He’s had far worse.

When he raises his head, Twilight is met with the tip of an arrow mere inches from his nose. He follows it back to the tiniest wooden bow he’s ever seen, held aloft by a small figure with a face pale as moonlight and a single, massive eye glowing gold through the gloom. 

No, Twilight realizes, not a face, but a mask. He can see blonde hair peeking out the sides and what he thinks is a green cap under the brim. The pattern painted on the porcelain face seems familiar somehow, and it takes Twilight a second to recognize the Sheikah eye design from the back of Wild’s slate.

A pale hand thrusts the arrow another inch closer to Twilight’s face. 

“Why the fuck are you following me?” A child’s voice cries, and Twilight wonders if he hit his head harder than he thought. 

Still, the gall of that question. Twilight huffs, and he’s thinking about how to change back to a Hylian without getting an arrow through the chest when the child pipes up again. 

“Nine armed strangers appeared out of fucking nowhere right in the middle of my woods. Why wouldn’t I follow you?”

The child adjusts his grip, pulling the bow string back further, and Twilight is so distracted by the fact that the kid can understand him that he can’t even find it in himself to panic about the deadly weapon coming closer to his face.

Talking as a wolf doesn’t work the same way that Hylian speech does. If he thinks too hard about how a growl can translate to a full sentence, he gets a headache. But he never had trouble holding complex conversations with Midna like this, so he only has to whine and tilt his head to ask, You can understand me?

“Duh,” the child drawls. “Nice of you to join the conversation you’re in the middle of having.”

Twilight growls. 

“Yeah, and what kind of idiot can’t answer a simple question? Why are you following me, and what the hell are you all doing here?” 

We didn’t come here by choice, Twilight says. He gives the kid a quick rundown of their quest: the portals dropping him and his friends through time and the overpowered monsters with black blood they’re chasing. As he explains, the bow lowers. By the time he’s done, the arrow is pointed at the ground.

Still, the golden eye bores into him like it can read his very soul, and Twilight has to resist the urge to writhe under its gaze. Beneath the eye, a too-wide mouth curves up in a bloody smile. A small voice from under the mask asks, “How’d you track me though? I know you couldn’t see me.”

Twilight’s learned the hard way that there is no polite way to tell someone that they smell, even if it’s not how normal people mean it. Twilight huffs. I followed your magic. It’s… distinct. 

The kid doesn’t say anything back, but he accepts Twilight’s explanation with a nod. Finally, the arrow returns to its quiver. 

Now that he doesn’t have to worry about getting shot over a sudden movement, Twilight takes the opportunity to turn back to a Hylian. Magic rushes over him like the tide moving out, pouring back to the Shadow Crystal, and Twilight returns to two legs.

Despite the dark magic and the terrifying amount of power emanating off him, their pursuer is, without a doubt, a Hylian child. A boy of maybe ten, if Twilight had to guess. The child removes the mask and hooks it onto his belt next to another mask that looks like it was carved right off a cliff face. Even put away, the porcelain mask’s red pupil seems to track Twilight’s movements. 

As a wolf, Twilight was only a little above eye-level with the child, but now he towers over him. The kid is small and skinny, would seem tiny even if his frame wasn’t dwarfed beneath a too-large tunic. Its reddish-brown fabric is a strange texture, almost like tree bark, and the faded green pants and gloves he wears look like they could be woven from palm leaves. Pale, unkempt hair frames the kid’s face, his mouth turned down in frown. 

Large blue eyes take in Twilight. There’s no trace of fear or revulsion on the child’s face, only curiosity. “How are you doing that? Going wolf, I mean.”

Twilight sighs. He’d rather not get into it, but the kid’s already seen him transform. “It’s called the Shadow Crystal.”

“Can I take a look at it?” 

“No. It’s cursed.”

“So?” The child tilts his head. 

“It’s dangerous,” Twilight reiterates. “The only reason I can use it safely is because I had help.” The kid is still looking at him with a dangerous twinkle in his eye that Twilight recognizes all too well, and he thanks the gods that the pendant is hidden under his tunic. He decides a subject change is in order. “You’re familiar with these woods, right? Do you know where we are?”

The child makes a back and forth motion with his hand. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“We’re in between.”

“Between what?”

The child throws his head back and groans.

Before the kid can insult his intelligence again, Twilight says, “Okay, okay. Do you know the way out?”

“Yeah.” This time, the “duh” goes unsaid. 

“Well, would you help me and my friends get outta here? We’re pretty dang lost and could use a guide.”

The kid’s face turns stony as the mask at his side, and he goes silent for a long while. Twilight’s thinking through which of his possessions he can use as a bribe when the child finally scowls and mutters, “Fine.” 

“Thanks, kid. I owe you one.” Twilight reaches out to pat the kid on the shoulder, but when he’s about to make contact, the kid flinches violently and scurries out of reach.

“Don’t call me that! I’m not some kid!” he snaps.

And Twilight doesn’t need to ask. The answer is in the leather baldric cutting across the child’s chest, a sword pommel of gold and sapphire rising above his right shoulder. It’s in the green cap the child wears, in the power bracelet wrapped around his skinny wrist, in the blue eyes Twilight recognizes from the faces of Sky and Time and his own reflection. 

Twilight knows. But he wants to be wrong, so he asks anyway, “Alright then, what’s your name?”

“Link,” the child says, and Twilight’s heart drops into his stomach.

He forces himself to smile through the nausea. “Well, ain’t that special. Nice to meet you, Link. I’m Link.”

The child’s brow furrows in suspicion. “Really?”

“Swear it on my mama’s grave.” Technically, he doesn’t know if she’s dead or not. It’s easier to think so, though. When the kid’s glare softens, Twilight says, “You ready to come meet the rest of the gang?”

“Fine,” the child grumbles.

Twilight turns wolf again to guide them back to camp. The kid puts the porcelain mask back on, but Twilight doesn’t miss the look of amazement his wolf form gets before the kid’s face is covered again.

They walk through the forest side-by-side. The child hums as he walks, something that sounds oddly familiar to Twilight but he can’t quite place. Every so often, the kid reaches his hand out toward Twilight and then pulls it back like he can’t control the impulse.

Around the fourth time the child does this, Twilight grunts, It’s fine. You can touch.

A small hand comes to rest on Twilight’s shoulders. A soft gasp, and the hand tangles deeper in his fur, petting down Twilight’s back in slow strokes. 

Hey, Twilight says, what were you doing in these woods before we came along?

The petting stops, the child gripping a handful of Twilight’s fur tight. “I’m looking for something.”

Once we get restocked on food and water, I can help you out, Twilight offers. I can track ’most anything like this.

The hand moves again, pulling something from the thick fur of Twilight’s neck, and then the kid is twirling a long twig right in front of Twilight’s nose, a small leaf fluttering with the motion. “I dunno. You can’t even brush yourself. There’s a whole tree in here.”

Twilight nips at the twig, and the child shrieks. But he walks closer after, practically tripping over Twilight’s paws, and the kid may have rejected Twilight’s help for now, but he’s pretty sure he’ll like this.

Twilight stops and lowers himself to the ground. The kid pauses, and Twilight can imagine the confused glare beneath the mask. 

C’mon, Twilight says. Hop on.

The child still doesn’t say anything, but he only hesitates a moment before climbing onto Twilight’s back. The cold from his magic makes Twilight shudder again, irritating his bruised ribs, but the kid is warm on his back, and Twilight can hear the wild racing of his heart as he leans further in. 

Ready?

“Yeah.”

Together, they make their way through the mist. 

Chapter Text

Twilight stops them a few yards out from the campsite. 

The kid doesn’t pick up on it at first. He digs his heels into Twilight’s side like he’s a horse, and Twilight has to hold back a yelp when he hits a bruise.  

Twilight sits back on his haunches, and the kid slides off his back. 

“Hey!” he yells as he tumbles into the dirt.  

There’s a few things I need to talk to you about before you meet the others, Twilight says. 

The child stiffens. A second later, he’s forcing an air of nonchalance, crossing his legs and leaning in toward Twilight. “Okay? Hurry up and spit it out.” 

Twilight sighs and changes back into a Hylian.

Transforming when he’s hurt is a bit of a crapshoot. Most of the time, he’s not affected much. But other times, shifting exacerbates his injuries, and there’s never any predicting when it might happen. 

This time, it makes them worse. Shadow retreats from his body, magic pulling at bone and muscle as it’s drawn back into the pendant, and something in his chest snaps.

He’s Hylian again, but he can’t bring himself from his hands and knees, one arm instinctively cradling his left side as he gasps in pain. Each breath is fire burning through his chest. It’s not just bruises anymore—cracked ribs are a horrible, familiar agony. The kid is going frantic. Twilight can’t focus enough to make out his words. He bows forward, laying his head in the dirt and trying desperately to get his breathing under control so it won’t hurt so bad.

He gives himself a minute. Then he grits his teeth and pulls himself up, and his side flares again, but the pain is quicker to lessen. A simmer instead of a blaze. 

The child is right beside him, creepy mask clenched tight to his front with white-knuckled hands. The red-gold eye watches on with indifference while two big, blue eyes look up at Twilight with worry. “Why—It d-didn’t hurt you before, you—”

“Happens sometimes.” Talking hurts, but Twilight forces a smile onto his face. “It’s nothin’ serious. Surprised me, is all.”

The kid doesn’t look reassured, but he nods.

“Listen,” Twilight says. He wraps an arm around his side again, lightly, for an illusion of comfort. “Not everyone in the group knows about me. Some of them think the wolf is our leader’s companion that comes and goes. I’d appreciate it if you don't tell no one.”

“Why keep it a secret?”

Twilight can’t help but grimace. “Honestly, I didn’t want to tell anyone. Our leader figured it out. Others found out by accident. People are wary of wolves, and I’ve had bad reactions, so I’d rather no one else find out.”

“That’s dumb,” the kid says, “but I won’t tell.”

“Thanks. One other thing.” This is the harder part. There’s really no telling how he might take it. “The other guys I’m travelin’ with… We’re all Heroes of Hyrule, but we’re from different eras. They’re all Link, just like you and me.”

When the nine of them met, the reactions had varied, once the initial confusion died down. Hyrule shied away, regarding everyone with the kind of suspicion Twilight now only reserves for the traveler’s cooking. Sky had burned with anger, Legend with morbid curiosity. Warriors mostly seemed resigned.

The child only tilts his head in confusion. “All of you?”

“Yeah, all nine.”

The kid wrinkles his nose like Twilight’s dropped something foul in front of him. “It takes nine of you to hunt down a couple of measly monsters?”

Okay, that one’s new.

“There’s a lot of them, and they’re a lot more powerful than you think,” Twilight says. The child crosses his arms and gives Twilight a look that’s somehow both pitying and derisive. “Trust me. You don’t want to cross one of these things alone.”

“Uh-huh.”

Twilight only manages to hold back a sigh because it’ll send his side flaring again. “Right, then. Most of the boys’ll be asleep, but the old man is on watch, so you’ll get to meet him and probably the captain when he takes over. We should try to keep quiet. Some of them are real light sleepers.”

“Yeah, okay,” the kid says as he searches for something in his bag. With a small noise of triumph, he pulls out another mask, this one bright yellow with long, pointed ears: a cartoonish depiction of a Keaton. Twilight wants to ask but thinks better of it. There will be time for questions later.

“Let’s head out then.”

Twilight walks slower than normal to avoid jostling his side too much, and even then, he has to shorten his steps so the child isn’t scrambling to match his stride. But the kid doesn’t walk close like he did before. Instead, he keeps a good six feet of space between them, and he darts away whenever Twilight tries to close the distance. 

Twilight wonders what makes his wolf form different. The curse marks, maybe? It’s about fifty-fifty on whether kids find them awesome or terrifying, though it’s hard to imagine the little spitfire being put off by face tattoos. Was it the transformation? He seemed fine with it until Twilight got hurt…

They emerge from the thicket. The boys are all still asleep, sprawled out right where Twilight left them, Sky’s snores filling the quiet of the camp. Hyrule doesn’t wake—a good thing because he’s slept the least out of any of them recently, but it means Twilight will have to wait til morning to get his ribs fixed. He grimaces at the thought of the long, uncomfortable night ahead, and then turns to lead their newest hero over to meet the old man, only to find the kid stock-still, already staring over to where Time sits on the log.

Twilight is rooted to the ground. He’s never seen the expression on Time’s face before: mouth frozen around a word, both eyes open wide, looking at the two of them like Twilight’s gone and stuck a knife in his chest. 

Sometimes, Twilight can almost convince himself that Time doesn’t share the Shade’s fate. When he’s knelt next to Wind with an ocarina, patiently showing him the fingerings of a new song, or when he’s talking about Malon and unable to keep a smile from his face, it seems like nothing more than a bad joke. How can the man who cares so deeply, who loves so fiercely, be reconciled with the ghost from Twilight’s memories—a desolate specter whose soul rotted in bitterness for ages because he found no peace in life?

Twilight spent the entirety of their first month together trying to find a way for it to be untrue. Every day, he was met with more impossibilities of the Hero’s Spirit, and every time, he hoped beyond hope that one of them could offer an explanation for the dual existence of the Hero of Time: instruments with the power to change the tune of the past; shadows turned flesh and blood; the nine of them, together, a legacy of one soul singing throughout the ages. And every night, he watched firelight make shadows across armor yet to rust, and he heard the voice of his ancestor, Time, the Shade, telling him: This is the truth, and you must gaze upon it with eyes unclouded.

As close as they’ve become, Twilight’s only caught glimpses of the sorrow and regret that will shackle Time’s soul to the earth for centuries beyond his death. Now, he sees it in full—pure, undiluted grief flooding Time’s face, spilling out from depths Twilight can’t fathom. 

Time has never looked so young. 

Twilight opens his mouth to say something, anything. He doesn’t know the words to make this right, doesn’t understand what called forth this deep anguish, but if Twilight has to bear witness any longer he’ll be swept away, he’ll drown, he’ll—

The child rounds on him and shrieks, “Am I being punked?”

Twilight is taken aback. “Pardon?”

“Is this some kind of joke?” the child shouts. He takes another step toward Twilight and raises his fists like he might start throwing punches. The mask does very little to muffle his voice, and Twilight’s head throbs. “Do you think you’re funny? Huh?"

"What?" Twilight takes another step back.

"This is—you, you—” The kid buries his masked face in both hands and wails like a dying creature, wordless and screeching and agonized. 

He only stops when another voice rises above his own—Hyrule, awake and irate and yelling, “What the fuck is going on?” 

Twilight turns to face the clearing and his now very-much-awake friends. Seven pairs of eyes stare at him and the kid, expressions a riotous mix of shock and confusion and anger. Wild, Hyrule, and Warriors are up on their feet, only in their underclothes, but daggers and swords in hand. Some of the others are frozen mid-reach for a weapon, still blinking sleep from their eyes. Sky is half up on his knees, legs all tangled in his blanket, but the Master Sword is drawn, gleaming in the low light.

Warriors is the first to lower his weapon. He drops it, actually, mouth falling open as his sword slips from his grasp. “Little shadow? You’re alive?” he says with something close to awe. “Is it really you, brat?”

“Shadow?” Four springs to his feet.

“Who are you calling a brat, you cake eater?” The child snaps at Warriors. 

The captain’s face crumbles slowly, a cracked sheet of glass splintering apart piece by piece. What’s left is a smile with too many sharp edges to be convincing. “Ah, my mistake. Time travel, you know?”

“That’s not your fucking line!” The kid stomps toward Warriors but then seems to restrain himself. Somehow, he sounds even angrier than when he’d been hollering at Twilight. 

“Rancher?” Wild pleads, both hands wringing the ends of his ponytail.  

“What’s this about a shadow?” Legend demands.

“Can someone explain already?” Wind says.

Twilight is struck mute. He looks over to Time—no longer overflowing with grief but frozen, face a blank sheet. It’s the same distant expression Wild gets when he’s caught in the throes of memory. Twilight doesn’t know what to do, seeing it reflected on the old man’s face.

He turns back to the rest of the boys. His head pounds with every heartbeat. He can’t think. “I—I don’t—”

From the edge of the clearing, Epona rises off the ground. She crosses through the middle of camp, massive hooves gingerly stepping around sleeping rolls and sleepy boys, until she’s standing in front of the child. She lowers her head, huffing at the boy’s neck and hair.

“Epona?” the child says. He takes the mask off, and she sticks her nose right in his face. He giggles and pulls her in closer, dwarfed under her huge head. “What’re you doing here, girl? Who put this shit in your hair?”

“You’re… you’re one of us, aren’t you?” Legend says. He looks horribly tired, and not only in the “I just got woken up by a screaming match after only two hours of sleep” kind of way. It’s a soul-deep exhaustion, and Twilight is reminded again of how lucky he is among his friends, that fate didn’t find him until he was almost an adult. 

But the kid either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care enough to answer, too caught up muttering nonsense to Epona and laughing at how she keeps trying to nab his cap. 

Twilight clears his throat. “Everyone, this is Link. Link, everyone.” The kid continues to ignore them. It’s better than the screaming, at least. “He said he can lead us through the woods.”

No one says anything, the silence hanging over them with as much presence as the forest’s fog. Then, Wind lets out a nervous laugh. “How many Eponas is that now? Five?”

Six, actually, and Twilight has his suspicions about the way Sky talks about his bird. But Wind’s words have grabbed the kid’s attention, and he pulls back from Epona to look up at Twilight, frowning. “Who…?”

“She’s mine,” Twilight says, “but she loves all her boys.”

“Oh,” the kid replies, sounding too small to be the same hellion who was cussing out a group of nine older strangers a few minutes ago, but then Epona succeeds in getting his hat in her teeth, tossing her head back in triumph, and the kid’s focus is back on her. His laughter rings through the clearing as he jumps up and down to try and get his cap back.

“Uh, rancher?” Wild says. “If no one else is going to ask, what happened to your face?”

“Shucks, I’ve always been this pretty.” Twilight tries for a grin, but a nasty stab in his temple ruins it.

Hyrule sighs, stowing his knife back in his thigh holster and throwing on his undershirt before walking over to Twilight. Wild keeps his distance, alternating between throwing worried glances at Twilight and studying the child like he’s a puzzle he can’t figure out.

A bright green glow clouds Twilight’s vision as Hyrule brings his hands to Twilight’s face, placing one on his left cheek and the other over his forehead. The smell of lilies and sacred waters fills the air. Hyrule’s hands are a cool balm, the relief instantaneous. Twilight leans further into his touch as the spike trying to drill through his skull dissipates. 

“Seriously, what happened?” Hyrule asks. 

“Fell outta a tree.”

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” He pulls back, the glow and the fairy fountain smell fading. Twilight sighs and gets a painful reminder on why deep breaths are a bad idea.

“How’s ’bout you tell me more while you fix up my ribs?” Twilight says.

“And what’d you do to your ribs?”

“Cracked at least one of them. It was a tall tree.”

Hyrule grumbles, but he helps Twilight with removing all his layers, and he doesn’t even gripe at Twilight for how slow he goes or how much he whimpers while they maneuver him out of his chain mail. 

Skin contact isn’t necessary for Hyrule to use his healing magic, but he’s mentioned before that it makes it easier. The last two weeks had been rough for everyone, most of them leaving the traveler’s era with a new scar or two as a souvenir, but it must have drained Hyrule a lot more than he’d let on. If their group wasn’t down to just one healing potion, Twilight wouldn’t even ask this of him. But as is, Twilight is a liability to the others, and it’s not the kind of injury he can hide, either. 

They finally strip Twilight of his undershirt. Despite how fresh the bruises are, they’re already darkening, and there are far more of them than Twilight thought. The skin on his right side is mottled in spots of deep red and purple from his hip to just below his collarbone. 

They both sit down. “You ready?” Hyrule asks, raising his hands again. Twilight grabs his discarded obi scarf to bite into and nods.

Hyrule puts his hands to Twilight’s ribs, green light flaring as magic fuses his bones back together, and Twilight closes his eyes and screams through his teeth.

As pain cascades over his other senses, the scent of Hyrule’s healing magic rises up again. Lillies and holy water. The aroma is so strong that, eyes closed, he could be back at one of the Light Spirit’s springs. 

He remembers—fighting Morpheel. A tentacle wrapping around his torso and a sickening crack. Lying on his back in the shallows of the Lanayru Spring after the battle and wheezing desperately, dusty pink fairies floating in and out of his vision like particles in a sunbeam. 

Then—panic filling his lungs when his breaths failed to. The certainty of drowning in open air. Midna, talking him through the agony as fairies stitched his rib cage back together, her voice gentler than he’d ever heard even as he wrung her hand hard enough to bruise down to the bone. 

When he came to, she was right beside him, still holding his hand.

Hyrule whistles, pulling Twilight back to the present. “You got two of them. Clean breaks, though.”

“Fantastic,” Twilight grits out through his bite guard. It mostly comes out as garbled nonsense.

There’s a small click signaling that his ribs are whole once more, and the pain rapidly gives way to a soothing warmth. Twilight groans and spits out his scarf.

Hyrule is still pouring magic into the injury, his brow furrowed in concentration. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his reddened face. The circles under his eyes seem darker than they were before the healing session, Twilight thinks.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay now,” he says, lifting Hyrule’s hands away. 

Hyrule frowns, confused. “You’re still bruised pretty bad. Let me—”

Twilight gently pushes him back. “I’m all good. It hardly hurts.” 

With an unwavering glare, Hyrule flicks him in the ribs.

“Holy Ordona,” Twilight gasps and clutches his side. “Fuck you, traveler. I’m fine.”

“Breathe in for five full seconds without crying and I’ll believe you.”

Twilight lowers his voice. “I know we’ve only got one green potion left,” he says. “It’d be a mighty shame if you wasted all your energy on a coupl'a bruises and someone else got hurt.”

Anger flashes across Hyrule’s face like a bolt of lightning, blazing white-hot for a second before fading. He twists his expression back to something more neutral, but his glare still burns. “Well fuck you too then.” He rises with a huff, kicks Twilight’s shin with half the heat of his words, and storms off toward Wild and Four, who are in the middle of a hushed but tense conversation, given the angry frown on Four’s face. 

Twilight sighs and rubs his leg. He’ll have to find some way to apologize later, once they’ve both slept. And after he helps smooth things over with their newest hero and—well, everyone. 

At the edge of the clearing, the kid tracks Hyrule’s movement with a kind of bland curiosity. He’s sitting with Epona, using her as a backrest as he idly combs out the braids in her mane with his fingers. In front of him, Warriors is trying, and failing spectacularly, to engage the kid in conversation or get even a hint of acknowledgement from him. 

Twilight puts on his undershirt and pendant, tucking the Shadow Crystal safely out of sight, and he’s hardly on his feet when Legend appears at his side, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him away from the others. 

Now that he’s not distracted by pain, it’s like his body has remembered that he took last watch the night before and hasn’t slept in almost a full day. Exhaustion turns his limbs to lead. He has to force himself not to whine. “What is it?”

“It’s—fricking time for the grown-ups to talk,” Legend grits out. He deposits Twilight near the outskirts of camp and goes to grab Warriors and then Time, herding them over in a similar manner as he did to Twilight. Hyrule takes the captain’s place in front of the kid, and he seems to have the same amount of success in getting his attention, the kid’s gaze sliding past him and settling on Twilight. 

Twilight shivers. Somehow, knowing the kid is watching him feels just as unsettling as earlier, being stalked by the unknown. He turns away. 

Warriors starts bickering with the veteran almost immediately, leaning down to Legend’s height so he can argue in his ear as they walk. Time, on the other hand, barely reacts at all. The glassy sheen to his expression hasn’t washed off yet.

Twilight doesn’t know how Legend designated the four of them as the adults of the group—Wild is the same age as the veteran, and Sky is older than them both. There’s an unspoken agreement between Twilight, Warriors, and Time to never mention any “grown-up talk” they have without Legend. 

“Will you—ow, shit—can you slow down for one second and explain?” hisses Warriors.

Legend releases Time next to Twilight and then shoves Warriors hard in the chest. “You’re the one who needs to explain, captain.” Legend pushes him again, and Warriors stumbles back. “What the fuck was that back there? How do you know this kid?”

Warriors groans and drags a hand across his brow. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me,” Legend snaps. 

“Fine—put your hands down! I said fine!” Warriors rubs at his temple and sighs. Then, he pulls his shoulders back and straightens his spine—the perfect posture of a soldier relaying a report. “I told you a bit about the sorceress I fought, Cia. As a Guardian of Time, she had power far beyond any normal sorcerer and she… Her army was built out of monster hordes gathered from Hyrule’s history. But she messed with the past to such a degree that unstable rifts in time formed, and other people started showing up in my era at random. The kid was one of them. We weren’t exactly close, though. I can’t tell you much about him.”

“Did you know he was another hero?” Twilight asks. 

“Yes, I did,” Warriors says. 

Legend hits him again.

“Will you cut that shit out?” Warriors snaps. “We already knew that there are other heroes who haven’t been pulled into this journey. There are both of our predecessors to account for, and the champion brings up the hero before him all the time.”

“Cook never met the guy though,” Twilight points out.

“Don’t you dare try to act like those situations are the same," Legend snarls, his face flush with anger. Then all at once, he backs down and eyes Warriors with suspicion. “Wait, you told me your war lasted three years. Just how long did the kid spend in your time?”

Warriors grimaces. “Two years, give or take.”

“Two years?” Legend says, unable to keep the slight shriek out of his voice. 

Twilight crosses his arms. The veteran is prone to dramatics, and Twilight understands that some secrets need to stay secret, but anger unfurls in him like a slow-burning flame. “Two years is more than some passin’ acquaintance, captain.”

Legend throws his arms up in the air. “How could you not tell us before now?”

“Because our predecessors are dead! That’s what we agreed—the reason they are not here with us now is because they both died fighting Ganon!” Warriors' shoulders slump, and he buries his face in his hands. Twilight looks down and scuffs his boot in the dirt, pretends he doesn’t hear the slight hitch in the captain’s breaths. The pit in his stomach is back.

Warriors is quick to pull himself together. He always is. “I hoped his absence meant he got to retire of his own volition. But I thought it much more likely that if we reunited on this quest, I would be talking with a gravestone.” 

The silence hangs heavy with all the weight of their histories, the victories and losses and near-misses. Beside him, Time wraps his arms around his middle, less like he’s crossing his arms and more like he’s trying to comfort himself. 

Surviving Ganon doesn’t guarantee a happy life, Twilight wants to say. Sometimes the Hero wins, and he goes on to die terribly anyway. But he knows it’s horrible even as he thinks it, and it wouldn’t do anyone good to hear it.

Instead, he clears his throat and asks, “Why shadow?

Warriors blinks. “What?”

“You called him little shadow,” Twilight says. “Think it freaked out some of the boys, given the thing we’ve been chasin’.” 

“Not that kind of shadow.” Warriors grins, just a little. “When we first met, he followed me around everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. He was at my heels nonstop for two months begging to be put on the frontlines and giving me grief about how bad I was at my job. My men started referring to him as my little shadow, and the nickname stuck.”

Legend stiffens. “You just said you weren’t exactly close.”

“We weren’t. It wasn’t like this.” He waves his hand at the three of them, and Twilight knows the gesture encompasses more: the other boys, their camp, the nights spent in each other’s company, warmed by more than just the fire. “We never talked; we argued. Once I finally got it through his head that we wouldn’t put a child on the battlefield, hero or no, he was rather quiet. Someone eventually roped him into helping out in the stables, and after that, I hardly saw him.”

The captain laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it was more like having a wild coyote imprint on me. He only ever showed up when he wanted to yap at me and steal my food. He bites.”

“So you don’t know who he is?”

Twilight startles. Time has broken from his reverie. He’s still holding his middle. For the first time since meeting the man, Twilight thinks his voice sounds small.

Warriors sighs. “All I know is he’s one of the heroes who came before me, and he saved a land called Termina. He became a hero young, maybe even younger than you, old man.”

Time nods. Twilight waits for him to say more, but he falls silent again.

Legend huffs. “I’ve never heard of Termina before.” 

Twilight hasn’t either, though that doesn’t mean much. Unlike the veteran, he never saw a map until he was seventeen.

“It’s just a legend in my time,” Warriors says, “though we should know better than most, to never discount legends.”

Legend finally seems quelled, his face less red and his posture less stiff. Still, he grumbles, “Two whole years and you couldn’t even get a last name?”

Warriors groans. “He doesn’t have one.” Not too surprising, only a handful of them do. “Look, I know you’re obsessed with puzzling out who goes where in history, but there’s nothing I can say about him that doesn’t apply to over half of us. If you want more information, you would be better off asking my old fairy companion or, hell, even my horse. The Goddesses know he talked to them more than he ever talked to me.” 

“Smart kid,” Legend mutters.

“Don’t say that in front of him. He really didn’t like being called a kid,” Twilight says. 

Warriors nods. “As I said, he bites.”

And the next moment, the whole forest gets to hear the kid bare his teeth.

“It’s not my fault you’re all too stupid to find your way around,” the kid hollers at the traveler. “All that magic, and you’re still fucking useless!” 

Hyrule goes rigid. His fingers twitch once toward his thigh holster, and then he jerks back from the kid. He’s got that same look as when Twilight told him to fuck off earlier—the anger just barely kept from boiling over. He stomps to the treeline, gets one foot in the woods before he stops himself, and then whirls around, head twisting as he looks for a private place to retreat in their camp. Not that there is one—Twilight wouldn’t be surprised if the other boys caught more than half of the “private adult chat.” 

Hyrule seems to realize this at the same time. He makes an irritated noise, then makes for his bedroll and drags it across the clearing as far away from anyone else as possible. With this done, he sits with his back to them all and begins violently shaking out his travel pouch, all his tools and weapons spilling on the ground before him.

Legend sighs. “I’ll talk to him. One of you can deal with that problem.” He gestures over at the kid with a sour expression. Then he starts walking toward Hyrule before wheeling around like he's suddenly remembered something, and he points a finger at Twilight's chest, and Twilight holds both hands up without thinking. “And you! Don’t think you’re in the clear. I know that you and the old man were plotting something before the kid showed up. You’re going to explain, and you better have one hell of a reason for keeping things quiet.”

With a final glare, Legend leaves, and Warriors pinches at his brow. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. “Chin up, captain.” Twilight nudges him with an elbow. “I’m sure our newest hero will warm up to you in no time.”

“That would be the day,” Warriors mutters. Then, louder, he continues, “No, you should talk to him. He doesn’t like adults—sorry, old man—and even if he obviously did not know nor care who I am, we never got along. Also, there’s…” He stops and stares over at the kid, looking troubled, the same face he makes when he’s working through a plan and knows not everyone is going to like it. 

“What is it now?” Twilight says, and he’s thinking he needs to drag the veteran back over to very kindly beat the captain until he spills everything he knows, for real this time, when Warriors shakes his head and sighs.

“He’s just… different. I don’t have the words to explain it, but he seems off in some way.” Warriors frowns. “He looks older, too, than when we met, though I know it makes no sense. I don’t know.” 

“Time flows strangely once you mess with its currents,” the old man says. 

Warriors waves a hand, dismissive. “I know, old man, no need to repeat that lecture. I won’t reveal too much to him, nothing that will endanger the timeline or rewrite history or all that.” Then, he grins, wide and promising trouble to come, and pushes Twilight over toward the kid. “Anyway, have fun, cowboy! Don’t create a paradox!”

Twilight shoots the captain the dirtiest look he can muster. Then, he dusts off his shirt and drags his feet over to the kid.

With Hyrule gone and no other hero brave enough to take his place yet, the kid is back to brushing out Epona’s braids with a single-minded determination. Twilight gets no reaction when he stops in front of the kid, so he nudges him with the toe of his boot. Steely blue eyes whip up and glare at him. 

“What the hell do you want?” the kid says. 

“Don’t be ugly,” Twilight says. “You needa be nicer to my friends.” He sits down, cross-legged, in front of the child.  

The kid looks away. “Whatever.”

“I did warn you about them.”

He sits up straighter. “No you didn’t! You—ugh!” He turns away and buries his face in Epona’s neck. “None of you know dick about shit!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m askin’ for your help to get us outta here.” Twilight gives him another little nudge with his foot. “Still up for being our guide?” And, when he gets no response: “At least to a river? I can’t keep Epona watered with just my canteen.”

The kid rolls back over, his face pulled down in a severe pout. “I can take you to the nearest town,” he mutters.

Twilight keeps himself from smiling. “Thank you, really. We’ll pay it back, somehow.” He gets to his feet and stretches his arms as he yawns, his side protesting only a little at the movement. “In the mornin’, though. This lot needs to get some more sleep.”

“It’s three in the afternoon,” the kid says.

Twilight shrugs. “For us, it’s bedtime.” He turns to his other friends and raises his voice. “Any y’all got a spare blanket?”

Sky, who, til now, has been sitting by himself on the log with the Master Sword in his lap, worrying his fingers over the scabbard’s etchings like it’s a prayer, stands up. “He can take my bedroll. I’ve got the rest of watch covered.”

“Knight,” Warriors says, “it’s fine. I can still take second watch.”

Sky shakes his head. “No. I’m not sleeping tonight.” Then, he faces the child again. “Go ahead. I’ve got another blanket too, if you need.”

Wide-eyed, the kid looks up to Twilight, and he shrugs again. “Best say ‘thank you’ if you don’t fancy sleepin’ in the dirt.”

The kid scowls and mumbles his thanks. There’s no way Sky hears it, but Twilight will take any show of politeness as a victory at this point. 

Everyone starts moving back to their sleeping rolls after that. Legend talks to Sky quick, threatening violence if he doesn’t get woken for third watch, and then drags Sky’s bedroll over to the kid, who responds with another wide-eyed look of confusion.

Sky admitting to not sleeping is a bad sign—scratch that, it’s the town crier in the middle of market street proclaiming imminent doom, but Twilight’s reached his limit of emotionally fraught conversations for the day, and Sky is better at thinking through his problems than most of the young ones, who have to be poked and prodded—sometimes literally, by Wolfie’s snout—into sharing their worries out loud. 

He adds the knight to his list of people he needs to talk to tomorrow as he crawls into his bedroll. Legend, to explain, and Hyrule, to apologize, and Time too—the old man could never be described as talkative, but this bout of silence can’t be good. Maybe it’s the kid’s age, some bad memories dug up from seeing a hero so young. 

He lays his head down, and he’s asleep before his thoughts can chase him further.

Because he wasn’t lucky enough to experience it the first time, Twilight gets jolted awake by a screaming match.

“Give me back my sword!”

“It’s my sword too!”

“You took her out of my bed while I was asleep!”

“Then don't snuggle the sword to sleep like a psychopath!”

Twilight rubs his eyes—with one hand only because, oops, that’s a knife. He tucks the blade back under his pillow, sees Wild doing the same next to him, and stands up to face whatever horrors this new day holds.

No surprise, it’s the child again, standing near Epona with the Master Sword clutched to his chest with one arm, the other holding the scabbard. The sword is comically tall compared to the kid, its blade angled sideways and digging deep in the dirt so he can hold it up by the hilt. 

It is a surprise to see Sky, up and awake and in the kid’s face, full-out yelling. Twilight has never heard him shout, not like this. The only time he’s even heard Sky raise his voice in anger was when Wild pulled some stunt with the sword and hit it on a rock. And it’s obvious that Sky has chased after the kid around a bit, a deep gouge winding around camp a clear record of the pursuit. Standing on the log, Legend is pulling at his hat with both hands and swearing.  

“Don’t go through people’s things like some conniving little imp!” 

Twilight looks to his left and makes eye contact with Warriors. The captain nods once. Twilight rushes over to the kid while Warriors makes for Sky. 

They’re not good for anything but the clean up though, because the kid is already releasing the sword, letting it drop in the dirt and screaming, “Then take it!” He kicks the hilt, and when it fails to move more than an inch, he kicks it again. “Take it!” Again. “It’s not worth shit!” And once more, before Sky is close enough to drop to his knees and scoop both sword and scabbard up into the cradle of his arms.

“Holy shit,” Legend says.

Warriors has two hands on Sky’s shoulders and is leading him away before he can... Twilight has no idea. Sky’s anger has been so rare, so quick to pass, that Twilight doesn’t know what it looks like when he gets pushed to the edge. Against an enemy, sure, he can fill in the blanks. But against a child?

Twilight wants to herd the kid away to talk too, but he thinks he might get snapped at if he gets too close, and he’s pretty much proven right when he reaches out a hand—slowly, so the kid can see—and the kid immediately slaps it away, growling, “Don’t fucking touch me!” 

Twilight pulls back, both hands held up in surrender. “Okay, okay. How’s ’bout we just talk? Maybe somewhere a lil more private?”

“How about no,” the kid says, and then he’s storming over to the log and plopping down in front of it so he’s facing the trees, away from the rest of camp. Legend jumps off of the log like it’s caught fire and scurries over to help Warriors talk Sky down. 

Twilight looks to the rest of his friends. Everyone is awake, once again, but it doesn’t look like Twilight will be getting any help with this. Hyrule shakes his head and signs a furious “No.” Four backs away. Time, when Twilight looks to him, can’t hold eye contact. Guilt twists over the old man’s face before he looks away.

Okay, then. He can handle this on his own. He’s probably got the most experience with temperamental preteens among any of them, and it’s not like adding in the sword, and the Hero’s Spirit, and whatever other battles fate has thrown at the kid will make all that much of a difference. 

Twilight has to swallow down the laughter before he breaks into hysterics.

He goes to the log and sits down on the ground, leaving plenty of space between him and the kid. He gets ignored, of course, the kid concentrated on sorting through his bag until he pulls out the yellow Keaton mask again. With the mask secure over his face, he curls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. 

“I told you to thank the knight for the blankets, not make yourself his new arch nemesis,” Twilight says.

“Fuck off,” says the kid.

Twilight runs a finger through the dirt, traces a series of circles. “I put the sword back in its pedestal three years ago, now. How long’s it been for you?” 

He keeps up his doodling, turning his circles into a rather lopsided cat. It’s not a day he likes to think about, returning the Master Sword to the woods. For the first time, he’d wished the Shade hadn't moved on, hadn’t found peace yet, if only so someone who understood could answer when he’d cried, What am I supposed to do now?

He doesn’t get a response, and the silence stretches for long enough that Twilight thinks he’s gonna need a new approach, until the kid says, all quiet-like, “Two years, I think. I’m not really sure.”

Twilight hums. He finishes the whiskers on his cat, then starts on a picture of Epona. Eventually, the kid continues, “I thought—I needed to test—I… I dunno. It was stupid.”

“It’s hard to let go of, ain’t it? Layin’ the sword and all those parts of yourself to rest.”

“I walked away from it fine,” the kid says, “but seeing it again, I needed… I just needed to see. That’s all.”

Twilight nods. “I get it. But, just lettin’ you know, the knight’s a real good guy normally. All of the boys are. You don’t have to go round stealin’ shit. Just ask next time, ya hear?”

“Yeah, whatever,” the kid mumbles.

Small victories, Twilight reminds himself. “Right, good talk.” He wants to reach out and pat the kid’s shoulder like he would with any of the other boys. He drums his hands across the ground instead, then turns to check in with the other damage control crew. Legend and Sky are still talking, but Warriors flashes him a thumbs up. Relief floods through him, and so does exhaustion. Fuck, he’s tired. 

“Right,” he says again. “How about breakfast? Cook! What’ve we got?”

They end up breaking camp right away, since Time nixes a cooking fire once more, and they eat breakfast on the go—bread, a little stale, and cheese and more dried meat. 

Twilight hands Epona off to Time so he can walk ahead with the kid. For a second, it looks like the kid will put up a fight about not having her up front with them, but he acquiesces once Twilight reminds him why, exactly, they can’t have everyone trailing behind a horse. 

It’s moderately more tolerable than the day before. Twilight still feels a little on edge, but it's nothing to the extent of the previous day. The kid isn’t interested in keeping up a conversation either, mask stuck firmly on his face, so Twilight can relax and let his mind drift.

During the first hour or so of their trek, each of the boys who didn’t properly introduce themself the night before wanders up to talk with the child. 

Wind goes first and lasts the longest. Mostly because he’s able to carry the conversation by himself, and the kid lets him ramble on uninterrupted until the sailor mentions that he’s the successor to the Hero of Time.

The kid stops. “What?”

Everyone behind them comes to a halt as well. “Oh!” Wind says, “Have you heard of him too? I’m the hero who came after him.”

“What?” the kid repeats.

“Um.” Wind looks over at Twilight, like he could possibly be any help. “Ganondorf kind of kidnapped my little sister, Aryll—she’s about your age, I think—”

“I’m not a little kid!” 

Wind blinks. “I didn’t say—”

“And how could you be next?” the kid continues. “Your voice hasn’t even dropped!”

Wind reels back. “Yours hasn’t either!” 

A whistle saves Twilight from what might be the worst conversation he’s ever been stuck in the middle of. “Sailor!” Time calls. “Come back here. Cook has a question about some of your recipes.”

It's a poor excuse, and Wind knows it. He looks between the kid and Time a few times, obviously torn, but Wind looks up to the old man maybe even more than Twilight. He leaves with a huff, still red in the cheeks and scowling.

They keep moving. Four joins Twilight and the child next.

“Why are you like that?” the kid asks, mild. Like he’s inquiring about the weather.

“...Short?” Four tries. “Genetics, mostly. My dad—”

“No,” the kid says. “I mean—the thing. The broken thing. That.”

“That doesn’t help me at all.”

“What’s got you all fucked up?”

Four’s quick to retreat, after that. 

Sadly, the kid doesn’t learn any manners in the next twenty minutes, because when Wild joins them, he doesn’t even get to introduce himself before the kid’s shrieking, “What the fuck happened to you?”

The tentative smile on Wild’s face falls. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like when he’s reaching for words and can’t get them to vocalize. He looks to Twilight, all doe-eyed and hurt. 

“Rude,” Twilight tells the kid. “What’d I say about being nice to my friends? They’re just scars. We all got ’em.”

“Not the scars, everything else!”

“What?” Wild says.

“Come on.” The kid turns to Twilight. “You can’t tell me you haven’t asked. One of you had to have noticed.”

“I don’t think this conversation should continue,” Twilight says.

“Where are you finding these people?” the kid groans.

Wild doesn’t say anything as he leaves. 

When Legend strolls up to them, he knows what to expect, at least. 

“So,” he drawls, “how fucked up am I on a scale of—oh, I don’t know, let’s say, one to nine?”

“You might be funny one day, if you ever learn when to shut the hell up.”

Legend nods. “You know, I’ve been told that before.” 

The kid mutters another insult under his breath.

The veteran, it seems, is immune to jabs and taunts of all kinds when they’re coming from rude children. He sticks to the front of their pack for the rest of their trek, walking in step with Twilight. He keeps mostly quiet too, apparently satisfied with an explanation from the old man about the day before. 

The only one who doesn’t come join them at some point is Time. Twilight can’t help but check on him periodically, but the old man always seems engaged with one of the other boys when he does. 

Their hike is, for the most part, the same as yesterday. Blue light bathes the forest all day; they run into neither animals nor monsters; no path emerges. The kid does lead them on a more winding trail though, changing directions at intersections invisible to Twilight’s senses. 

Legend dares to ask how the kid knows where to go at one point, and he gets a curt response of, “Isn’t it obvious?”

The veteran keeps any further questions to himself, and they trudge on for the next few hours in silence.

There are no warning signs when they come upon the gate. They’re following the kid through the middle of the thicket one moment, and the next, they’re stepping into a small clearing dominated by a crumbling archway, gray stone discolored by moss curving high above their heads. 

Twilight can’t move. Dread zips down his spine, makes his stomach twist. Every instinct that cries out in the presence of a portal comes back screaming tenfold: Do not go through the gate. Do not go through the gate. 

“What is this?” Twilight asks. He can’t take his eyes off of it to see if anyone else is as disturbed as he is. It’s like being in the presence of a predator, too dangerous to look away from lest it strikes.

“Oh,” the kid says. He looks back between Twilight and the archway a few times. “Yeah, sorry. It’s not that bad, promise.” 

Some of the others are talking to Twilight now, asking him questions he can’t focus enough to hear. He shakes his head. To the kid, he says, “You said you would take us to a town?”

“It’s the only way through,” the kid replies. Then, again. “Sorry.” 

Someone puts a hand on Twilight's arm, and he flinches away. It’s Wild, asking him what’s wrong, and Twilight shakes his head again. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

The kid hesitates, doesn’t move until Twilight takes a deep breath and nods. 

They go through the gate. As they move forward, the forest abruptly disappears; the tree canopy disintegrates even as Twilight looks at it, replaced by a leaking stone ceiling. With one foot, he steps on the forest floor. The next, and his step echoes down a stone hall. All at once, the rush of moving water roars in his ears, and a humid, damp smell emerges. 

They’re in some kind of man-made cavern. To his right is what might be a drainage system, a narrow canal cutting through the underground at a vicious speed. Ahead is a wooden water wheel, creaking and groaning as it spins. A wooden staircase curves around the wheel up into the dim. 

When Time is last to emerge with Epona, the gate vanishes, the greenery of the forest fading into an unobtrusive wall.

“Come on,” the kid says, and they follow him up from the depths.

No one speaks. The only sound from them is their footsteps, echoes of boots on stone interrupted by the occasional splash and the rhythmic sloshing of the water wheel.

They make their way up the stairs—wooden, mossy as the stone and rotted in more than a few places. At the top is a door, and the kid removes the mask as he peeks his head out, checking his surroundings a few times before letting the door swing open, and golden sunlight bursts through the gloom. 

They emerge squinting and blinking in the middle of a town. A great wall encircles them in a plaza; an enormous clock tower looms at their backs and cradles them in its shadow. As Twilight adjusts to the sunlight, he feels the ticking of the clock reverberate in his chest.

“Where are we?” he asks.

The kid turns around and grins at him, all teeth. “Welcome to Clock Town.” 

Chapter Text

The walls of Clock Town must have been vibrant some twenty or thirty years ago. All along the sand-colored stone are patterns in dull red and whirling murals in muted greens and blues, the designs worn into banality by the hands of the elements. Wooden merchant stalls line the perimeter of the plaza, most of them empty of sellers and patrons alike, and multicolored, sorely faded bunting crisscrosses overhead from stall to stall. The pendants flutter violently in the wind as dead leaves skitter across the ground. 

At the center of the plaza, a crew of construction workers are laying the foundation of some small wooden structure, their hammers beating against nails in time with the ticking of the clock tower. Past them is what must be the town entrance, two guards stationed some three stories up at the gate towers and two more guards on the ground flanking a great arched entryway. Beyond the gate, green fields stretch out like a vast sea. 

Twilight raises a hand to cover his eyes from the harsh glare of the midday sun. He sees most of his friends do the same in his peripheral. Despite the sunshine, the air is much colder than the mild temperatures of the forest, and Twilight pulls his pelt up higher to protect his neck from the biting wind. 

Legend is the first one besides Twilight to speak. “Clock Town? Where’s that?”

Before the kid can answer, Sky says, “We’re not in Hyrule anymore, are we? This is… someplace else.”

The kid crosses his arms and gives them all another one of those looks that says he’s never had to deal with this level of idiocy before. “No, this is Termina.” 

Confused murmurs rise from the boys as they confer with each other. From the sounds of it, Warriors is still the only one to have heard of the place. 

Twilight clears his throat. “So, how far’s it to Hyrule?”

“I don’t know.” The kid pauses like he's thinking it over, and then he shrugs. “It depends.”

“What does that mean?” Warriors sighs. 

The kid scowls at him and snaps, “It means it depends, just like I said. You’d have to go back through the woods, and there’s no telling if it’ll take three hours or three days.” 

“Wait,” Four says, “then why didn’t you bring us directly to Hyrule?”

Bristling in anger, the child fixes his icy glare on Twilight. “You didn’t say you needed to go to Hyrule.”

“I mean…” Twilight rubs at the back of his neck, feeling the gazes of his friends turn to him. “I, uh, didn’t really think there were other options.”

“Stupid,” the kid mutters. One of his feet taps against the pavement, a rapid and impatient rhythm.

From the back of their group, Hyrule says, “So what, we’re restocking and heading back into the woods?”

“If he’s willing to lead us through again.” Warriors nods at the kid. 

The kid cackles in response, so loud and harsh it makes Twilight and a few other heroes balk. The sound echoes back at them off the town’s walls. “Nope. I’m not a babysitter. Good luck with that though.” He turns around and gives them a lazy wave and, just like that, starts walking away.  

“Wha—hey, wait!” Twilight jogs after him. He looks back to his friends, but none of them follow. 

When Twilight catches up to him in the middle of the plaza, the kid doesn’t even spare him a glance as he marches on ahead. Against the backdrop of the town, Twilight can’t help but notice how strange the kid appears. In the woods, his garb didn’t seem quite so odd. Now, he looks distinctly out of place, like a forest spirit plucked from a tree and accidentally dropped in the middle of civilization.

“Hold up,” Twilight says. “Can’t you take us back? It’s real important that we get to Hyrule. We can pay you if you need.”

The kid freezes mid-step, and his cheeks have gone beet red when he turns on Twilight and snarls, “I don’t want your stinkin’ money!” 

The kid is loud enough that some of the construction crew pauses their work to stare at them. Twilight keeps his voice low and steady. “Whatever you want then. I’m sure we have something you could use. Please.”

At that, anger seems to leave the kid in a rush. He backs down, eyes cast downward, and scuffs one of his boots against the pavement. “Tough shit,” he grumbles. “I can’t get you there.” 

The foreman barks an order at the workers, and the beating of the hammers resume. 

Twilight hesitates. He has a feeling this will upset the kid further, but it’s important enough that he needs to know. “Can’t, or won’t?” 

“Do your ears not work when you’re not a wolf? I said I can’t.” To emphasize his point, the kid finger-spells the word, signing the letters so fast that Twilight almost can’t keep up. “If you need to get to Hyrule that bad, you’re gonna have to find someone else.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry for not listenin’,” Twilight says. “Is there… a reason you can’t go to Hyrule?”

The kid rolls his eyes. “You’re real nosy, you know that?”

Twilight shrugs. “Just curious, is all.” 

“Yeah, well I don’t have time for this. I’ve got shit to do. The inn and stable’s that way.” The kid jerks a thumb at one of the plaza’s exits, and before Twilight can say anything else, he’s running off in the opposite direction, calling, “See ya later, pooch!” 

Gods help him. The last thing Twilight needs is another one of them making dog jokes. 

Part of him wants to chase after the kid again, but he can’t imagine that ending with anything but a fight. Twilight rubs at his eyes and sighs. The town is way bigger than Ordon, but it doesn’t seem as big as his era’s Castle Town. Hopefully the kid won’t be too hard to find if they need him again. 

Some of the construction workers are still watching him, their gazes growing wary as their eyes dart from the curse marks on his face to the weapon on his back. He runs a hand through his hair so it covers more of his forehead, and then he turns back to his friends. 

The clock tower they’re waiting under is a behemoth, dominating the plaza and rising high over the town’s walls. Instead of crowning the top of the tower, the clock face sits more in the middle of the structure, and it’s all the bigger for it. Twilight has never seen a clock face so massive. 

Unlike the other murals, the design on the clock face looks freshly painted, an abstract design in yellow and blue that makes Twilight think of unfurling wings stretching upward. There are no hands on the face; instead, an outer ring lined with dashes and circles and triangles marks the passage of time. Somehow, the clock still makes a perfect tick-tock sound as it turns incrementally. 

None of the heroes have moved from the shadow of the tower, but Warriors has taken the old man aside and is whispering furiously at him, and the rest of the boys seem like they’re torn between eavesdropping on the captain and listening in on Twilight’s own conversation with the kid.

“So, any luck?” Wild asks as Twilight approaches.

Twilight’s grimace is answer enough, and his friends frown and fidget in response. 

Wind is the one who breaks the silence this time. “Then what’s the plan?”

Before anyone can answer, Warriors pulls away from his conversation with Time, leaving the old man glowering at him. Twilight has to stop himself from recoiling at Time’s expression. He hasn’t seen the old man this mad in a while, not since Time stumbled upon half the boys in the middle of a literal pissing contest while they were supposed to be scouting for a safe place to make camp. 

Warriors doesn’t seem any happier, but he still looks back at Time, expectant. When the old man fails to speak up, Warriors sighs and faces the rest of their group. “For now, we stick to the usual plan for when we’re in an unfamiliar place. We’ll scope out the town for information and see if we find any leads on unusual monster sightings. Next time the kid comes around, we can work on convincing him to lead us through the woods again.”

“He told me he can’t take us to Hyrule,” Twilight says. 

“What? Why not?” Legend asks.

Four adds, “That doesn’t make sense.” 

“I didn’t get the story, but he was pretty insistent,” Twilight tells them. 

“No, he was never one to explain himself.” Warriors rubs at his temple. “Standard operating procedure then. We restock, gather as much intel as we can, and adjust accordingly. I don’t know the details, but Termina has seen trouble before, so we may have been brought here for a reason.”

“We should dump our gear and get Epona boarded first. There’s an inn over thataways,” Twilight says. 

The inn is located in the town’s Eastern District, according to the sign at the plaza’s exit. It takes Twilight a few extra seconds to read, the symbols so worn that they’re hard to make out, but he thinks it looks similar to Old Hylian writing. 

The district is closed off by the same outer wall as the plaza and is decorated with similar swirling patterns. Instead of merchant stalls though, the space is lined with larger wooden buildings—shops and game parlors that advertise themselves in colorful, gaudy signs. One building, which Twilight figures must be a bar, even has giant jugs painted across its walls. 

The inn isn’t hard to find, as it’s the first building they come across and has a yellow crescent moon painted next to the door. It doesn’t look like anything special, except for the massive, intricately carved golden bell on its roof, the kind of thing that looks like it should be crowning a temple spire rather than some random little hostel.

Time volunteers to stable Epona, and Twilight follows him to check out the space while all the other boys file into the inn. The stable is small, only fitting three horse stalls, and Epona is the only occupant. It’s a little more run down than Twilight would like, but the trough has fresh water when he checks it, and everything else is clean enough.

Twilight finishes his inspection and makes to head back to the boys, but he pauses in the doorway. Time’s already got Epona in a stall and her gear hung up, and he murmurs endearments to her while scratching at the spot behind her ears that she loves. 

Everyone in their group will get snappish if they go too long without a break from the others, and solitude has been in short supply lately. A little time to himself would normally put the old man in a better mood, but something about the kid’s appearance has clearly bothered him, and Twilight doesn’t like the idea of Time wallowing out here all by his lonesome. 

Twilight raps his knuckles against the door frame to get Time’s attention. “You doin’ okay, old timer?”

Time pauses his ministrations and gets an annoyed snort from Epona for it. That pulls a smile from him at the least, and he resumes his petting. “I’ve got her, pup. You can go join the others.”

Twilight hesitates. He wasn’t asking about boarding Epona, and they both know it. He stands there a little longer, waiting for the old man to say more, but Time’s attention is back on Epona, and he offers nothing else. 

The last thing Twilight wants to do is push and upset Time further. Maybe a little break really is all he needs. Twilight sighs. “Alright then. Holler if you need me.” 

Time waves at him without turning back. 

When Twilight enters the inn, he’s hit with an overpowering wave of musty air. The smell tickles at his nose, and he has to rub at it to hold back a sneeze. The inn lobby is a small, square room with a green bench along one side and an L-shaped desk on the other, which all of his friends are currently crowded around. The walls are painted a nauseating green, and the few drooping plants scattered around the room do nothing to liven the place up.

Tacky decor aside, the place isn’t all that different from the dozens of shitty inns they’ve stayed in the last few months, save for the row of giant, elaborate masks hanging up over the bench. The faces are almost frightening, the features stretched to grotesque proportions. None of them look much like the kid’s porcelain mask, but they put Twilight on edge in the same way. He pats at his chest, checking that the Shadow Crystal is still safe under his tunic, and then steps forward to join his friends.

The younger boys are circled around Legend, who’s clutching a ring of small, golden keys and distributing them to the others. There must not be enough copies for all of them because Wind is engaged in a passionate argument about how trustworthy he is with a severely unimpressed Four. Warriors, meanwhile, is handling the check-in and laying on the charm to the innkeeper at the desk, a woman about their age wearing a plain but fine dress in brown and blue. She fiddles with the bag of rupees Warriors has dropped on the desk, only stopping the nervous movement every so often to tuck her dark auburn hair behind her ears, her chin-length locks short enough that they won’t stay put. 

She’s finishing up an explanation to Warriors about some upcoming festival—apparently, they’re lucky to arrive this week because everything next week is booked—when Twilight elbows his way to the desk next to Warriors. The woman’s eyes go wide when she sees the curse marks on Twilight’s face, and he puts on his best, kindest smile.

“How do you do, ma’am?” he says. 

“Oh—er, hello!” the woman replies. Her eyes drop to somewhere near Twilight’s chin, determinedly not looking at any of the markings. “Welcome to the Stock Pot Inn!”

Warriors pats Twilight’s shoulder. “Cowboy, this is Anju. Her family owns this fine establishment.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Anju.” Twilight offers Anju his hand, and she hesitates a moment before shaking it. “I hope these boys ain’t been givin' you too much trouble.”

Anju coughs. “No, none at all.” She looks between Twilight and Warriors and then at the rest of the heroes. “Are you also—um, Mister Link said you’re one of his younger cousins?”

It’s their standard story. Twilight doesn’t think the nine of them look all that alike—Sky and Wind have darker complexions than the rest of them too—but there’s enough similarity that they get questions.

“He’s my little buckaroo,” Warriors says, the absolute jackass. 

Twilight stomps on the captain’s foot with his heel, but the bastard doesn’t even blink. Warriors is barely even older than Twilight—a year at most, if Rusl’s right about his age. “Yes’m. The eldest is gettin’ our horse stabled, but he should be in soon.” 

Anju pushes her hair back again. “Well, I hope your family enjoys your stay with us, though it’s a shame you won’t be in town for the carnival. The young ones would love it, I’m sure.”

“Speaking of,” Warriors says, leaning further on the desk, “you wouldn’t happen to know a young boy also named Link, would you?” 

“Oh!” Anju perks up. “You know Link?”

“We’re distant family,” he replies. Twilight thinks the captain is going to get an earful about that from the kid, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. 

Anju nods and meets Twilight’s gaze for the first time. “Now that you say it, I can see the family resemblance. You two have the same eyes.” 

Behind them, the other boys have gone quiet—not intruding on the conversation, but not making for their room either. 

Twilight asks her, “How long have you known him?”

“One year now, I suppose. He came to town right before last year’s carnival.” 

“Any word on his parents?” Warriors says. 

Anju’s face falls. “No, he told me he had no family. I was hoping you might know what happened.”

Twilight shakes his head. “We didn’t know he was here until yesterday.” 

“It’s such a shame. He’s just the sweetest little boy.”

One of the teens makes a choking sound, which is swiftly followed by a soft thump and a chorus of shushes. 

“Yes, it’s just terrible," Warriors continues as if nothing happened. “You know him well then?”

“He comes by every few days to help with the chores,” Anju says. “He likes working in the stable whenever we have guests with horses, and other times he’ll help me with the sweeping or the laundry. But I’ve had a hard time getting him to open up to me. He’s frightfully shy, you know?”

Twilight thinks of the child who didn’t hesitate to pull a weapon on him, who seemed to have no problem with telling them all, loudly and colorfully, how inadequate they are, and he can only respond, “Mm-hmm.”

“He talks to me and my granny more now, but he won’t say more than two words to most, including my husband. I’ve been trying to get him to sleep here more often, but he rarely ever does. I know he doesn’t shelter at the orphanage. One of my friends lives out in the country, and he stays with her some days, but he won’t tell either of us where else he goes.” 

Anju leans in closer and lowers her voice. “He didn’t say as much, but he’s been on his own for quite some time. Several years, I believe. A few of us around here keep an eye on him and do for him what we can, but… Well, short of tying him down or involving the town guard so he can’t come and go as he pleases, we don’t know what else to do.” 

Twilight and Warriors share a long look. The captain’s mouth thins, but he turns back to Anju and says, “I can’t say he’s very fond of us right now, but we can talk with him. Make sure he’s being safe, at the very least.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.” Anju clutches both hands to her chest. “Truly, I can’t thank you enough. It would ease my mind so much to know he’s not sleeping out in the cold, especially with winter on its way.”

“We’ll try our best, Missus Anju,” Twilight reassures her. 

With that, he and the others take their leave and head to their room on the inn’s second floor. The stairs groan something fierce as they climb up, and Warriors fills him in on the details Twilight missed about their accommodations. The inn serves them breakfast and dinner, but they’re on their own for lunch. The door to the side at the top of the stairs goes to the rooftop terrace. There’s indoor plumbing, which shocks Twilight—in his time, he’s only seen it at Agitha’s and the newly restored parts of the castle—but if they want more than a bucket of water and a washcloth to clean up with, they’ll have to go to the bathhouse. 

Twilight steps around a particularly gruesome looking stain on the floorboard. He waits until the boys start chatting again to ask, “So, what’re our chances of convincin’ your shadow to stop wanderin’ around like a lil ruffian and let Missus Anju adopt him?”

“Short of chaining him down?” Warriors scoffs. “You would have an easier time wrangling a dozen wild horses and training them to live indoors.”

“Champion could do it, I bet.”

“Without breaking a bone or concussing himself in the process?”

“Well, maybe.”

The second floor is a narrow, dimly lit hall with six doors. Warriors leads them single-file to the room at the very end, which has a small sign labeling it the Poniard Parlor. He unlocks the door, and they all follow him in.

Their room is painted a deep blue, and the two small windows at the far end submerge them in murky light. The space is dominated by four bunk beds, two against the front and back walls, with a mismatched quilt thrown over the blankets on each bed. Near the door is a small, square table with four wicker chairs. Wind slumps into one of them and lets out a squawk when it overbalances on the back leg. Sky and Four drop their gear on the table and sit down slower next to the sailor.

There are tiny nightstands crammed between the bunk beds, and the only other furnishing is a table under the windows at the opposite end of the room, which on closer inspection from Twilight seems to be a home shrine. On the wall above the altar hangs yet another mask—plain white porcelain, featureless save for two narrow slits for eye holes. Hazy yellow light washes over the shrine, which is adorned with candles and prayer cards and long-dried flowers, little trinkets and stick-legged figurines and clouded vials. A few half-burned sticks of incense are scattered across the altar, ash mingling with dust and stinking up the whole room. Twilight can’t hold back a string of sneezes at the scent.

Legend takes one look at the shrine and winces. “Yeesh, I’ve seen better kept altars in a ghost’s house.”

“Why would a ghost keep an altar?” Wild asks, squeezing between Twilight and Legend so he can take a look.

Legend shrugs. “I don’t know. Why does a ghost need a house in the first place? Poor thing couldn’t move on.”

Wild reaches toward a bottle holding a yellowish liquid, and Twilight slaps his hand away.

“Now, the inn doesn’t have an extra cot for us,” Warriors tells the room at large. Hyrule, already lying face-down on one of the beds, lifts his head up from the pillow. “That means two of us will need to share. Any volunteers?”

If they were going by size alone, Wind and Four should be the ones sharing, or at least bunking with one of the others. But Wind kicks in his sleep like mad, and Four, though he’d never admit it, needs his space in order to get a good night’s sleep. 

Wolfie ends up snuggling with Wild about twice a week anyway. So when nobody jumps at the idea of sharing a bed, Twilight heaves a sigh and says, “Alright, cub, looks like it’s you and me.” And before Wild can say or do anything else, Twilight wraps his arms around the younger hero, twists around, and throws them both into the nearest bed. They crash into the mattress with a resounding thud and a yelp from Wild, and Twilight rolls them over atop the blankets once more for good measure.

“Get off! You—” Wild tries to squirm out of Twilight’s grasp. “I hate you, you stupid asshole!”

“Aw, I love you too, pumpkin.” 

Wild jabs his elbow into Twilight’s stomach, and Twilight lets him go to clutch at the sore spot. Wild huffs and moves to the edge of the bed to start finger-combing flyaway strands of hair back into its ponytail. Without looking back, he mutters, “I call the left side. You get the side against the wall.”

“Fine by me.” Twilight crawls over so he can sit next to Wild and gets elbowed again, but this time there’s hardly any force behind it. After, Wild scoots closer and rests his head on Twilight’s shoulder. Twilight runs his hand over the top of Wild’s head, he can’t help but smile when the teen melts further into his side. 

From the other end of the room, Wind groans, “You guys are gonna make me take a top bunk, aren’t you?”

“I’m not moving, and none of you can make me,” Hyrule says, his voice slightly muffled from the pillow. 

“I don’t mind sleeping in a top bunk,” Sky offers. 

“Come on, sailor.” The captain musses Wind’s hair. “You wouldn’t make our old man climb up one of those rickety little ladders in all that armor, would you?”

Wind ducks his head and swats at the captain’s hand. “It’s not like he sleeps in the armor! And you could sleep up there too.”

“Oh no, I’m much too tall for that.”

“The beds are the same length!”

“It’s okay, sailor,” Twilight says before they can take that argument further. “You can snuggle up with me and the cook over here.”

Wind responds with his middle finger.

Once the sleeping arrangements are sorted, they start planning out the rest of the day. As tempting as it is to make for the bathhouse right away, they decide that getting to the shops before everything starts closing for the night is more important. They dump their swords and heavier gear, divide up into smaller groups, and agree to meet up at the baths an hour before dinner.

“Do not leave the town,” Warriors reminds them all for about the fifth time once they're gathered by the inn entrance. “We wait until we have more information about monster activity to go outside the walls. Are we clear?”

Twilight rolls his eyes, and Warriors gets a few other mumbled agreements in response from the other boys. Hyrule has already turned his back, heading to the Western District with Legend and Four. Wind runs off toward the stable to collect the old man—if anyone can cheer Time up, it’s the sailor and his infectious energy. 

Twilight and Wild head to the main plaza, Wild clutching a ripped-out page from his journal with his shopping list and Twilight toting a woven basket big enough to carry the sailor—which Wild has banned, after they put a crack in the handle from the last time. 

They stop at a produce stand first. It’s attended to by a little girl perched on a tall stool, her legs swinging back and forth while she looks them over curiously. She’s dressed in hand-me-downs, maybe from an older brother, her patched pants a little too short and the sleeves of the shirt under her tunic rolled up into thick lumps around her wrists. The only thing that looks new is the bright green headband keeping her dark blonde hair off her face.

“Y’all here for the carnival?” she asks, taking a crunching bite out of a carrot.

Wild is carefully examining the yams, his mouth pinched in a way that says he’s not happy with the selection, too focused on sorting through the pickings to make chit-chat. 

Which is why it’s Twilight’s job to do the talking on these trips. “Naw, we’re just passin’ through,” he replies. “What’s your name, little miss?”

The girl kicks her legs a little faster. “I’m Isa. Who’re you?”

“Call me Scout. This here’s my younger cousin.” 

Isa finishes off her carrot, green eyes flitting over Twilight’s obi and wolf pelt and curse marks, and she throws the stalk under the stall. “You talk funny. Where’re you from?”

“We’re from Hyrule,” Twilight says. 

“Hyrule?” She gives him a blank look. “Is that from across the ocean or something?” 

Twilight glances at Wild, but the other hero doesn’t notice and begins dropping potatoes in their basket. “Yeah, it’s pretty far off.”

“Do all of y’all out there have tattoos like that?”

Twilight’s about to say no before he remembers Time’s own curse marks. “Some of us,” he tells her.

“Wow.” Isa’s eyes have gone wide. “Did it hurt?”

It took Twilight a while to figure out that using the Shadow Crystal had, quite literally, left its mark. Telma was the one to point it out to him, and he had spent the next few hours secluded in his rented room with a washcloth and a pail of water, rubbing at his face until the skin was raw and blood caked under his nails, only stopping when Midna held the bucket over his head and threatened to dump it all over him if he kept at it. He woke up the next day with some awful scabs, and as the skin slowly healed, he found the curse’s imprint looking perfectly untouched, still dark as freshly spilled ink. 

Twilight shrugs his shoulders. “A little bit.”

“Wow,” Isa repeats. 

The basket is getting heavy now, filled about halfway with carrots, radishes, onions, and a whole bushel of greens. Wild starts sorting through the yams again and lets out a mighty sigh before adding a few to the rest of their lot.

Twilight hadn’t planned on asking, but Isa looks to be about the same age, and he figures it can’t hurt now that Warriors has talked to Anju. “Say, we got a little cousin who lives ’round these parts. His name’s Link. Do you know him?”

“The kid with the weird hat?”

“That’s him alright.”

Isa groans. “My friend Romani’s been talking my ear off about him for months. All I ever hear from her is ‘Grasshopper this’ and ‘Grasshopper that’ and ‘Look at this bow Grasshopper made for me!’ He’s so freaking annoying!” She cuts off with a dramatic huff, but she perks up the very next second. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be taking him with when you leave town, would ya?”

She and Beth would either be best friends or oil and water, Twilight thinks. He has to force himself to keep a straight face. “We ain’t decided on nothin’ yet, sorry.” 

“Aw, shoot.” She slumps down and eyes their basket, which must have half her stock in it by now. “Y’all really got the rupees for all that?” 

Wild takes over the conversation from there, haggling with Isa over the prices and trying to convince her to discount the potatoes. 

“They’ve already got eyes!” he exclaims.

“Well, you ain’t using yours, that’s for sure. They’re perfectly fine!”

Wild manages to talk her down three whole rupees for the lot, and Twilight understands why she’s trusted with the stall alone. 

“Don’t try that at the butcher’s shop. He’ll gut you,” Isa warns Wild as they’re leaving. To Twilight, she waves and smiles. “Bye Scout! Don’t leave town without coming by again, ya hear?” 

“Sure thing, Miss Isa.”

They head over to a stall selling seafood next, which is attended to by two red-headed merchants in colorful silks. Twilight hangs back a bit and lets Wild do this shopping alone, the smell of fish potent even from a distance. Combined with the odor of the rest of the town, that cloying smell of too many bodies crammed in too small of a space, it leaves Twilight feeling vaguely nauseated.

It’s a good chance for him to talk with the guards at the town entrance, or so he thinks. The four guards are all crowded together up in the gate tower now. From below, Twilight can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but he can hear how tense their voices are, and he decides it’s a conversation he’d best not interrupt.

With nothing else to do, Twilight just stands there, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. He’s thinking of going back to talk to Isa more when he hears a high-pitched bark, and he turns to find a little white dog trotting toward him. A ratter, from the looks of it. The dog’s head doesn’t even reach his knees. It sniffs at his boots for a minute before rolling onto its back, dark eyes staring up at him in expectation, and Twilight smiles as he kneels down to rub its belly. The dog kicks its leg so hard it loses its balance, and Twilight can’t help but laugh. 

“Where’d you come from, huh?” He scratches under the dog’s chin with his other hand, and its tongue lolls out the side of its mouth. “Don’t tell me your name is Link too.”

When Wild returns and sees Twilight's new friend, he rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving the dog any of our food.”

“I ain’t said nothin’ bout that.”

“You thought it. I could practically hear you.” Wild picks out a carrot from their basket and starts munching on it as they head for the butcher’s, the dog following at Twilight’s heels. Wild’s still got his mouth full when he starts talking. “One of the fishmongers, Haleh, said the roads have been a bit rougher as of late.”

“Any strange monsters?” Twilight asks.

“Not quite. They’re bolder than usual but not any stronger, apparently. She seemed more annoyed than concerned about it.”

Twilight hums in response. Long as their group has been chasing their mysterious foe now, they’ve yet to find any real pattern to how it affects the lands it travels to. Sometimes, the black-blooded monsters have been terrorizing folks for weeks before the heroes arrive, and other times they find themselves in places that have known nothing but peace for ages, the people blissfully unaware of the shadows creeping ever closer to their doorsteps. Twilight would like to take Haleh’s words as a good sign, but he knows all too well how quickly these things can change. 

They have to go to the Western District for the butcher’s shop, and unlike the wide open spaces of the main plaza and Eastern District, this one is a single long road curving up a low hill, a mix of shops and apartments rising up along the town’s outer wall. A few little kids are playing kickball about halfway up the road, shouting and laughing as they chase each other. 

Twilight and Wild don’t learn much of anything from the butcher, who glares daggers at them any time he’s not cutting them slices of meat. Twilight has to ask him directly about monster sightings, and the man only tells him that there have been more guay swarms in Termina Fields, and they best keep their rupee purses extra close when they leave town.  

The dog is waiting at the door for them when they leave the shop. Its tail thumps against the cobblestone when they exit, and Twilight wishes he didn’t need both hands to carry the basket so he could hold the little pup. 

It’s late in the afternoon now, the sun low enough that the walls cast deep shadows onto the walkways. They walk in the few remaining slivers of sun to soak up the last of the day’s warmth as they head back to the inn. When they get there, the dog runs off, barking its little head off, to chase some birds pecking around the middle of the square. 

Wild’s got a very particular system for keeping inventory of their food stores, one that Twilight is not allowed to help with, so it takes them a while to get everything stored away, and by the time they make it over to the bathhouse, their friends are all in the water.

The main part of the bathhouse is one large room, a square pool in the middle with steps descending into the shallows. Light streams down generously from a dozen high windows, throwing rippling reflections onto the walls making the water almost sparkle. It’s nothing like the fancier baths in Twilight’s Castle Town, the nicest of which has a whole fountain in the middle, but the floors and walls are at least free of mysterious stains, and he can feel the heat rising off the water the moment he steps in the room. The air is so thick with humidity that he’s sweating before he can even get his pelt off. 

At this odd hour, the bathhouse is empty of other patrons. Twilight and Wild step into the water by Wind, and the sailor remarks, “You two took a long time.”

“If you didn’t have a bottomless pit for a stomach, we’d have been quicker,” Wild says back. 

“I’m growing! What’s your excuse?”

Wild grins. “I’ve got a hundred years of eating to make up for, squirt.”

Wind splashes him. 

Next to the sailor, Four makes a displeased face and scoots away. Twilight sits down between the two of them, and the smithy’s eyes trace the long, thin scar running from Twilight’s chest up to his neck, just missing the jugular vein. Twilight knows Four’s been itching to ask about it for a while now, but when Twilight raises his eyebrows at him, the younger hero is polite enough to look away. 

Twilight sinks into the water and lets out a sigh of relief. He gives himself a minute to just sit there and soak, leaning his head back so he’s half-submerged and the voices of the other heroes are muffled by the water, and when he feels exhaustion threatening to overtake him, he grabs for his bar of soap and begins the tedious process of scrubbing two weeks of grit off his body. 

Most of the others are done bathing by now—Legend and Time are still washing off, but the rest of the boys are just lounging about. Sky is drifting in the middle of the water in a dead man’s float, and Hyrule might even be asleep with how still he is, sitting on the first step at the other end of the pool with his head tilted back and eyes closed. 

Warriors is sprawled out next to the traveler, arms stretched back across the pool’s edge. His face is bright pink, and his hair is curling just a bit around his ears, the way it does only when it’s freshly washed. He catches Twilight’s eye and asks, casual, “Anything to report?”

“We got robbed at the produce stand,” Wild gripes.

“Not much to tell,” Twilight replies. “Heard some rumblings about the roads bein’ a bit more dangerous, but nothin’ about monsters with black blood. We didn’t see a potion seller neither.”

“The town doesn’t have one,” Four says. “We asked around. There’s a shop south of here, but it’s in the swamplands.” 

A few groans—no one’s eager to traverse through a swamp again, not when they’ve barely cleaned off all the gunk from their most recent trek.

Sky stands up and goes to sit down next to the captain. “It’s a two or three hour trip one way.” He gestures at Warriors. “We bought a map of the town and one of Termina. We couldn’t learn much from the mapmaker though. He was kind of… uh, he was a strange guy.”

Legend snorts. “Stranger than us?”

Warriors grimaces. “The man had no interest in talking about anything other than fairies. Apparently, there’s a fairy fountain somewhere around the town, but he had no idea where it might be, and the knight and I found no clues in our own search.”

“The fountain’s entrance is hidden in the park in the Northern District,” Time says. Everyone looks over to him, but he pays them no mind, head down and methodically scrubbing at his nails. “But it’s of no matter now. The Great Fairy who guarded it has abandoned the grounds. The waters retain some traces of magic, but no fairies linger.”

“Of course you found it,” Warriors mutters. “Why did we even bother looking without you?”

“You didn’t tell me!” Wind cries out.

Twilight turns to the sailor in confusion. “You weren’t with him?”

“No, we were—um, we kind of split up.” Wind winces, then barrels on ahead before anyone has the chance to admonish him. “There was this group of kids who offered to show me their clubhouse, but they wouldn’t let the old man come with us because he’s, you know, old. Older, I mean.”

Hyrule doesn’t open his eyes, but he laughs.

“A clubhouse,” Warriors repeats and crosses his arms.

“It wasn’t a normal clubhouse!” Wind says. “They’ve got this whole tunnel system that goes under the town and the fields outside of it. And the club leader, Jim, he knows a ton about the town. He’s even friends with the new Link!”

“So, what did you learn?” Legend asks.

Wind squirms. “Well, he talked a lot about the carnival that’s coming up. The gods they worship here are called the Four Giants?” He looks around at the others, but no one shows any signs of recognition. “Anyways, Jim said that on some nights, you can see one of the giants standing on the top of the clock tower.”

“Does it do anything?” Four inquires. 

“Well… not really.”

Warriors sighs. “That’s all well and good, but did anyone speak with someone from the town guard?”

“They told us to get lost,” Legend grumbles. 

“Same here,” Sky says.

“The ones at the city gate were all busy,” Twilight adds. 

Wind sits up a little straighter. “Jim told me that most of the guards hang out at the milk bar at night, including their captain.”

Sky lets out a loud groan. Warriors scowls as he says, “We can’t get in. The bar is members only at night, and the manager was less than forthcoming about how one becomes a member.”

“So we sneak in.” Hyrule sits up, finally abandoning his attempts at resting. “Not like we haven’t done it in other places.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a big space,” Sky tells him. “If we tried to talk to anyone, the bartender would see us.”

They all fall silent at that, some of them obviously thinking hard on how to best break in without being noticed. Twilight doesn’t like the look on Wind’s face in particular. 

Then, Time clears his throat. “I can get two of you in.”

“What?” 

“How?” Warriors demands.

Time shrugs. “I asked the innkeeper where the members of the guard frequent, and then I spoke with the barkeep, who was in need of musical entertainment for tonight. As a performer, I’m allowed two guests.”

“You couldn’t have led with that?” Warriors says.

Time’s expression tightens, just a little. “You didn't ask.”

The next few minutes are spent quibbling about who should go, all of which turns out to be moot when Time reminds them that only Sky, Warriors, and Twilight are old enough to accompany him anyway. 

Sky concedes his spot without anyone asking. “I don’t speak soldier like you do,” he tells Warriors. At Twilight, he smiles wryly. “And I don’t get on with strangers like you, either.”

Twilight tries to hide his surprise at that. Sky can be a little shy at times, but people don’t look at him and get scared. Before Twilight can say anything though, the conversation has already moved on. 

As much as Twilight would love to stay here and let the hot water turn his muscles to jelly, Hyrule and Wind are getting fidgety, which means it won’t be long before the other teens grow antsy as well. Twilight finishes washing off all the grime quick as he can, and then he’s the first one to drag himself out of the water. The other heroes take that as their cue to get moving. Everyone dries off and gets dressed, and there’s only a minor scuffle between Legend and Warriors when the veteran whips the captain with his towel a little too hard. 

Compared to the warm, steamy air of the bathhouse, stepping outside feels like a cold slap in the face. With the daylight nearly gone and Twilight wearing his thinner summer tunic, the weather feels near frigid. Twilight shivers as the clock tower chimes in the sunset hours. 

He pauses outside the door to throw the hood of his pelt up, but when he makes to catch up with the rest of the group, a hand at his elbow stops him—Legend, biting at his lip. The veteran’s eyes flick to their friends, then back to Twilight, and so Twilight hangs back from the others, waving Wild ahead when he stops to wait for them.

Legend looks up at Twilight, studying him for a long moment. Then, he asks, “Have you heard of bombchus?”

“Huh?”

“Bombchus,” the veteran repeats. “They’re a kind of self-propelling bomb, great for exploding targets at a distance.”

“Sounds sorta like a bombling, but those will try to attack you first. Why d’you ask?” Twilight says. 

“There’s a bomb shop on the west side of town.” Legend keeps his voice low, but his eyes might as well be sparkling, and it’s an obvious effort to contain his giddiness. “I had to run interference on the smithy and traveler to keep them from noticing it. Anyways, the shop stocks bombchus. I haven’t been able to find a place that sells them outside of Labrynna, so I bought out their stock.”  

“And may the Goddesses protect us all,” Twilight says.

Legend glares at him. “You’ve gotta help me keep the others away from there. If one of those maniacs gets a hold of these—or, goddesses forbid, the champion—we’ll be leaving ten-foot craters everywhere we go.”

“Alright,” Twilight agrees, trying not to think about the weeks he spent in Kakariko Village a few years back, silently helping Barnes rebuild his storage shed while the man vented about the monsters that blew it up. He kinda figures that’s it for their chat, but when Legend makes no move to join the others, Twilight says, “That all you wanted to talk about?”

Legend lets out a breath. “No, we have a problem.” Seeing Twilight’s skeptical expression, he says, “Not like the bombs, a real problem. We need to figure out what to do with the kid.”

Twilight stiffens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hold your horses, cowboy. It’s nothing bad, but, I mean—” Legend groans. “Look, the kid’s a hero, right?”

“Right…”

“So, he’s one of us, right? You think any of the guys we’re traveling with could learn about the black-blooded monsters and not go chasing after them?”

Oh. Twilight feels his stomach drop. “But... I don’t think he likes us enough to go travelin’ with us.”

“He likes you, and that’s enough,” Legend says, and he’s already continuing on before Twilight can ask if he’s really so sure about that. “We’re going to leave here—in a few days, a few weeks, it doesn’t matter—and when we do, he’s going to want to come along. We couldn’t do anything about the sailor being pulled into this mess, but now we’ve got a choice.”

Twilight closes his eyes and takes a few big, deep breaths, counting out the inhales and exhales like Midna used to do for him. Legend’s right—of course he is. Here’s their veteran, who’s faced Ganon and his minions more times than any of them, who jokes about being the Goddesses’ errand boy with a little too much bitterness, and when faced with the mere shadow of a threat, did he turn away? Was there ever a world where he could, where any of them could? 

Twilight opens his eyes. “Shit.” 

The veteran gives him a sad smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m not saying we need to come up with a solution right now, but we’re going to be forced to make a decision sooner or later. The others just haven't realized it yet. The captain’s too hung up on the kid not recognizing him, and I don’t know what’s going on with the old man—that’s your problem, by the way—and the younger ones haven’t thought that far ahead, I think.”

Twilight has to swallow past the lump in his throat a few times before he can speak. “Do you think—would it be easier to keep him safe if he was with us, ’stead of bein’ all on his lonesome?”

“I don’t know.” Legend rubs at his temple and lets out a soft laugh. “I don’t have a single fricking clue. He’s used the sword and saved this place, so he can hold his own, but…” He takes an unsteady breath and looks away. “It’s bad enough that half of us got sent off to fight at twelve and that the sailor has barely hit puberty, but now—he’s just a kid. He’s a little kid, and I don’t, I can’t—”

Twilight cuts him short by pulling him in close and wrapping him up in a hug. Legend freezes for a second, but then he’s melting into the embrace and burying his face in Twilight’s chest. Twilight holds him tight, leans down to press his face against the veteran’s still-damp hair, and breathes in the sweet smell of his shampoo. Apple blossoms, Legend had once said, as a reminder of home, and an uncle now long passed. 

Legend clings to him so hard that Twilight is sure a seam in his tunic is gonna tear, and he can’t make himself give a single shit about it. They stand there, Twilight slowly rocking them back and forth and biting back apologies he knows the veteran neither wants nor needs, until they’re both breathing steady and the world feels a little less like it’s falling. 

When they finally pull apart, Twilight doesn’t comment on how Legend wipes at his eyes. Twilight waits until Legend is ready, and then he slings an arm around the veteran’s shoulder, and they make their way back to their friends side by side.

Chapter Text

Twilight and Legend catch up to the other heroes in the inn’s dining area on the first floor, which isn’t much more than a single long table with benches squeezed into what must have been a storage room at some point. There’s only one other guest—a Goron wearing a blue cap and a bow tie at the farthest end of the table, who offers them pleasantries but is otherwise engaged with a stack of diagrams spread out before him.

The dinner isn’t anything fancy, just beef stew with bread, but it’s Twilight’s first hot meal in more than a week, and the smell of it alone makes his stomach twinge in hunger. He’s so excited, in fact, that he doesn’t think anything of how quiet his friends are as he grabs his food and sits down next to Wild. He’s got more important things to focus on, like dipping one of his rolls in the broth and devouring it as fast as possible.

After, he takes his first spoonful of the stew, and it’s—well, okay, it’s kind of bland, and the potato definitely didn’t get cooked all the way, but at least it’s nice and hot, and he thinks it’ll taste a lot better with a bit of the meat.

He gets a piece of beef in his next spoonful, and he chews. And chews. 

And he keeps chewing until he manages to half-choke it down his throat, coughing from the painful scraping sensation. When he composes himself, he looks around to the rest of his friends and finds none of them—save for Wild and Hyrule—eating from their still mostly full bowls. Time doesn’t even have a serving of stew, just a roll he’s picking at absentmindedly while Wind tracks his movements with a look that’s reminiscent of a starving animal. 

Across from Twilight, Sky stares down at his dinner like he’s mourning it.

Twilight puts his spoon down, the clang against the table catching everyone’s attention. “Y’all couldn’t’ve warned us?” 

“Give it here,” Wild says. Twilight pushes his bowl over, and Wild starts shoveling stew in his mouth without preamble. It shouldn’t be surprising—Wild was the only one to eat Hyrule’s cooking, after all—but Twilight’s stomach still flips at the sight, half in disgust and half in jealousy. 

There’s a loud slurping noise as Hyrule finishes the last of his broth, and when he’s done, he swipes Legend’s portion without a single word of protest from the veteran. “I mean, it’s hot,” Hyrule says between spoonfuls. “It could be worse.”

Legend scowls. “Okay, but shit’s hot when it comes out too. That doesn’t make it edible.”

“Please,” Sky groans, “we’re eating.”

“No, we’re starving,” Wind laments. 

Twilight chucks his other roll at Wind, the bread making a very satisfying thwop as it bounces off his forehead onto the table. The sailor rears up to shout at him, but when he sees what Twilight threw, he lights up like Twilight’s gone and given him a whole pie. 

“Boys,” chides Time. He doesn’t use his authoritative voice though, sounding more distracted than anything. 

He’s hardly touched his bread since Twilight sat down. Twilight taps his spoon against the table to get Time’s attention, then asks, “Old man, where’s your poison?”

“Oh, yes.” Time clears his throat and looks away. “I was hungry much earlier, so I ate dinner while I was at the bar.”

“Lucky bastard,” Warriors mutters.

Once Wild finishes off Sky’s bowl, they all clean up and go back to their room, where Wild begins distributing rations without needing to be asked. 

“Champion, I love you,” Warriors says when he receives his portion of dried meat and fruit. “Have I ever told you how much? You’re my favorite Link by far.”

Wild rolls his eyes. “I’ll talk to Anju about using the kitchen if you promise to shut up.”

Warriors shuts up. 

After everyone finishes eating, for real this time, Twilight goes to grab a pail of water from Anju, and they prop up Time’s mirror shield on a nightstand as an impromptu shaving station. Twilight shaves and gets dressed—losing his pelt and also his obi, since he hasn’t seen anyone else wearing one—and then contents himself with lounging across one of the beds with Legend and Wind, who are taking turns lobbing increasingly creative insults at Warriors about how vain he is. Twilight would join them, but the captain has this fancy aftershave that smells real nice, and he’d like to keep being allowed to borrow it. 

Still, Warriors spends an absurd amount of time fussing with his hair and the lay of his scarf in front of the mirror. Twilight’s just starting to feel a little drowsy from lying in a comfortable bed for too long when the captain deems himself ready, and then he and Twilight and Time bid the teens farewell and head out. 

The bar isn’t more than two dozen steps from the inn, the buildings only separated by a stone staircase to the district’s upper level, so they don’t have to go far. Stationed outside the bar’s door is a large man, taller even than Time, who takes one look at the three of them before nodding and stepping aside. Whether the guy recognizes Time from earlier or whether the old man just has that effect on people, Twilight isn’t sure.  

It's a little surprising to find that the bar is subterranean, the door opening to a flight of stairs that leads down to a lounge in front of a small wooden stage. But the ceiling and upper stairs are clouded in a haze of smoke, and Twilight's barely gotten both feet on the stairs before he’s choking on the heavy stench of tobacco, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from losing his dinner. He freezes, stomach rioting from the noxious mix of smoke and bile coating his mouth, the rest of his body both too hot and too cold at the same time. If he moves, he’ll puke all over his boots, he’s certain. 

Warriors makes it down a few more steps before he notices that Twilight isn’t following. He turns, confusion melting into a kind of fond exasperation as he gives Twilight a once-over. 

“Come on, cowboy,” he says, grabbing Twilight’s free arm. “Smoke rises. You’ll feel better as we go down.” He gently tugs at Twilight’s arm until Twilight takes a step down, shaky as a newborn foal. 

The captain’s right—as they descend, it becomes easier to breathe, and the smoke gives way to the more familiar and bearable scent of stale alcohol seeped into wood. With all the time Twilight’s spent at Telma’s the last few years, it practically smells like home. 

The bar isn’t a very big space, but the high ceilings make it feel much larger, and the jagged streaks of light coming off the multicolored glass lanterns that hang overhead give it an almost otherworldly feel. The place is absolutely packed too. Every table in the lounge is taken, and there’s a small mob gathered around the bar counter to the right of the stairway—and Twilight has to do a double take because, yes, the counter really is painted in black and white spots like a cow’s hide. 

There’s only one barkeeper, an older man with a thick mustache and a booming laugh that carries over the din of the crowd. Despite how busy it is, he moves around with an easy confidence, juggling conversations and empty glasses as he slides mugs of ale across the counter to waiting hands, hardly looking back whenever he has to grab a bottle from the massive shelves behind him. 

While Twilight simultaneously gawks and attempts to count the number of bottles—Telma would be incredibly jealous of the selection, he’s sure—Time pushes his way through the crowd to the counter. The barman shouts at the sight of him, greeting him like he’s an old friend. Surprisingly, Time greets the man just as warmly, though he's much more subdued and quiet about it. 

Warriors takes Twilight’s elbow again and drags him up to the bar next to Time. Twilight’s still trying to regain his bearings as they rush through introductions, and then the barman is pushing three overflowing pints toward them, and Warriors is guiding him through the mass of people once more, this time making for the cluster of tables in front of the stage. 

There’s hardly an empty seat in the house. Warriors, to his credit, hesitates only a moment before leading them to a table occupied by two men and asks to join them. The men aren’t wearing the full armor that Twilight saw on the on-duty guards, but they’re both in quilted gambesons, and there’s a padded coif laid across the middle of the table. 

One of the men is older, probably in his forties or so, and has the most perfectly trimmed goatee Twilight’s ever seen. He grabs the cap and puts it to the side. “Apologies, we finished our shift with the town guard not long before coming here.” He holds his hand out over the table. “Viscen. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

Warriors, fancy city boy that he is, introduces himself with his last name, and Twilight gives them his usual moniker, Scout. The first time all the heroes visited a town together, they’d learned that it was even more confusing for other people to meet more than two Links at the same time, and they’ve avoided using first names when out in groups ever since. 

The other man, Emery, is closer in age to Twilight and Warriors. He’s draped across his chair, the top two clasps of his gambeson unfastened to tease a small triangle of chest hair, his dark locks spilling out from a messy ponytail. Emery is quick to laugh and quicker to rope the two of them into conversation. Warriors answers questions about where they’re from and what’s brought them to Clock Town while Twilight sips at his drink, grateful to have something to wash the awful taste out of his mouth. 

“So, how’d you get in?” Emery asks, smiling at them so brightly that Twilight would be tempted to think it’s a front, if not for the genuine warmth in his hazel eyes. “Mister Barten’s pretty stingy on giving out memberships, so we rarely see visitors from outside Termina here.”

Warriors gestures to the stage, where Time’s running through scales on his ocarina. “We had an in.”

With a few more flourishing notes, Time finishes his warmup and sits in a spotlit stool at center stage. Under the bright light, with his pale hair and beige tunic, he looks almost ghostly. A few discontented murmurs arise from the tables around them, no doubt people wondering about this strange man with stranger tattoos, and on his face no less. Viscen is subtle about it, but Twilight still catches him looking back and forth at Twilight and Time’s markings, probably trying to compare them. Twilight takes a swig of ale and does his best to ignore it. Unless the man happens to be a mage or an expert on cursed artifacts on top of his guard duties, he’ll write it off as a foreign quirk like most others. 

Up on stage, Time man doesn’t react to the whispers. He scans the crowd, softening from his standard neutral glare for just a moment when he sees Twilight and Warriors, and then, without preamble, he brings the little blue ocarina to his lips and launches into the jauntiest tune Twilight’s ever heard him play. 

It sounds like one of the pub songs he’d hear at Telma’s, nothing like what the old man’s played before. By the second verse, Time’s got half the crowd clapping along to the beat. By the fourth, people are out of their chairs and pairing off to dance in the little space in front of the stage. One woman even climbs on stage, waiting for Time’s nod of assent before starting a complicated jig that sends what sounds like the whole bar hooting and hollering. 

“I’ll be damned,” Viscen says, nudging Emery with his elbow. “This is a first generation Indigo-Go’s song, isn’t it? I can’t remember the last time I heard it.”

“You’d know better than me, cap. I haven’t listened to anything but the new gen.” Emery nods over at Warriors and Twilight. “What about you fellas? Either of you want to weigh in on the age-old debate of which Indigo-Go’s generation is better?”

Warriors and Twilight meet eyes for a moment, the captain’s slight frown the only clue that he’s just as lost. Twilight shrugs and says, “Can’t say I’ve heard of them before, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“We’ve both been on the road for quite some time,” Warriors adds. 

Emery gasps. “What kind of backwater swamp did you two crawl out of where there’s no Indigo-Go’s music?”

Viscen leans forward and shakes a finger at them, his serious tone belied by the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now, all you need to know is that this new generation never would have made it big if they hadn’t started by covering the first generation’s catalog. Don’t listen to anything else this fool tells you. He’s crushing on the new lead singer so hard that it’s knocked all sense from his head.” 

Emery lets out a bellowing laugh. “Shoot, can you blame me? The only thing prettier than Lulu is her voice.” He winks at Twilight and then raises his pint. “How about a toast? To good music and good company.”

“Here here,” Warriors says.

Twilight meets Emery’s gaze and smiles back. The four of them clink their glasses together, and Twilight downs the rest of his drink.

While Emery goes to get them another round, Warriors turns the conversation toward military matters. “So, Captain Viscen, is it?”

The man sits up straighter. “Captain Viscen of the Clock Town Guard, yes.” His eyes narrow, just a little. “You’re a military man as well, I take it.” 

“Captain Hargrave of the Eighteenth Division of the Hyrulean Army, at your service,” Warriors says with that smarmy smile that never fails to make Twilight grit his teeth. There’s nothing but droplets left in his glass, but Twilight raises it to his lips anyway, just so he won’t scoff or roll his eyes at all the posturing. 

“Hyrulean? You two are a long way from home then. I don’t believe I’ve heard of that land before.” Viscen strokes his goatee before turning his gaze to Twilight. “How about you, son? Are you part of this Hy-ru-lean Army as well?” He draws out the syllables of the word, like he’s still trying to wrap his mind around not only its pronunciation but its very existence. 

Twilight bites back his instinctive disgust. “Naw, nothin’ like that. I’m jus’ a ranch hand.” Zelda had knighted him at some point, given him some long title in an attempt to disguise the fact that the new hero was an orphan with nothing to his name—and not even a full name, at that—who’d been pulled from the dredges of a province that most of Hyrule-proper was happier overlooking. But as long as he keeps skirting Zelda’s attempts at holding a knighting ceremony for him, he can go on pretending it never happened. 

“We’re distant relatives,” Warriors adds in, preemptively answering the question that’s drawing lines on Viscen’s brow. “There are some family matters we need to settle, and it’s taken us on quite the journey. In fact, I believe you might be acquainted with one of our cousins here.”

Before they can get into that, Emery returns with a tray of four white drinks. This time, Twilight can’t help but blanch. “For the love of all that is good and holy, don’t tell me you bought us a round of milk punch.”

Emery laughs at him as he hands everyone a glass. “It’s the Chateau Romani special. You can’t come to Clock Town and not try it. It’d be criminal.”

The drinks are served in smaller whiskey glasses, not pints, for all that it’s worth. Twilight lifts the drink to his face to get a whiff and—yes sir, that sour aroma is nothing other than milk punch. He’s had it at Telma’s a handful of times, but she’d made it by mixing milk and rum with vanilla, cinnamon, and a few other spices before pouring it over ice. Not his preferred order, but he can drink it. Clock Town serves milk punch the same way Time had prepared it back at Lon Lon Ranch: milk and whiskey on the rocks, with maybe a sprinkle of sugar, and absolutely none of the other flavorings that make the drink edible.

“If you’re tryin’ to kill us, I’d rather take this outside,” Twilight says. Under the table, Warriors stomps on Twilight’s toes. Twilight hopes the guards think his grimace is just in reaction to the cocktail. 

The other men just laugh at him more though. “No, he’s right,” Viscen says. “It’s the house special. People come from all over Termina to try it.”

The people of Termina need to learn not to ruin good whiskey by dumping it in milk, Twilight thinks. Still, if he learned anything from his experience at the ranch, it’s that the one thing worse than milk punch is warm milk punch. 

Best to get it over with then. Twilight raises his glass. They say cheers, clink their glasses together, and knock ’em back. 

Twilight gets a little more than half of his down before he has to stop. Viscen takes the gentleman’s approach and sips at his drink like it’s a fine wine, while Warriors chugs the whole thing in a single gulp. Twilight’s not even sure if the captain tasted it going down, but that might actually be the best strategy when it comes to this concoction.

The bar erupts into a round of applause as Time finishes his song. Instead of playing another one, though, he starts asking the people up front for requests, and that gets all of them shouting at once. 

For all the Shade’s grief at not being remembered, Time isn’t one to bask in attention. He doesn’t let anyone in their group refer to him as the Hero of Time—Twilight thinks he never would’ve revealed his title at all if it weren’t for the fact that half the heroes had heard of him. And while he took on the role of their group’s de facto leader in stride, he’s always been more than happy to let Twilight or Warriors speak for the group when needed. The old man just doesn’t warm to strangers easily, not unless they’re children or have a horse in tow.

So it’s almost hard to recognize the man on stage, at ease in a way Twilight hasn’t seen since they were at the ranch, beaming and cheerful as he chats with the crowd, all while a few dozen other strangers scream at him.

Emery even gets into it, cupping his hands to shout, “Closer to Brine! Closer to Brine!”

Slowly, the rest of the crowd picks up the chant. The floor vibrates from stomping feet. Time has to wave them down to get it to stop, and then he has to wait another whole minute to start the song because they’re cheering so loud. 

Time plays maybe half a verse before people start singing along, and when he gets to the chorus, the whole damn bar has joined in. Not just singing, but shouting, a cacophony of voices so loud that Twilight thinks the boys at the inn must be able to hear the words. 

It doesn’t help that the alcohol is hitting him at this point too, Twilight’s thoughts stumbling against each other and causing a pile-up as he tries to work through the scene before him. The only consolation is that Warriors seems just as baffled by all this as Twilight. He’s good at schooling his emotions, but Twilight’s known him long enough now to read the slight arch of his brow as a vehement what the fuck. 

Viscen and Emery throw their arms over each other’s shoulders and sway to the music. Twilight goes for another sip of his drink, remembers what’s in the glass far too late, and has a split-second debate about whether he’s willing to spit out his drink in front of men they’re supposed to be getting information from before deciding it’s better to take the goat by the horns and finish the thing off. It gives him something to do for the remainder of the sing-along, at least. 

Twilight waits until the song is done—the final note drawn out to the very last bit of breath—and for the raucous applause to die down before he picks the conversation up again. “So, those Indigo-Go’s shows must be a pretty wild shindig.”

The smiles evaporate from Viscen and Emery’s faces in an instant, and Twilight’s stomach twists at the reaction. Before he can correct his verbal misstep, Viscen says, “They haven’t performed in quite a while, not since last year’s carnival. Their guitarist was in some accident and…” He grimaces and takes a long sip of his drink before continuing. “He and Lulu had just become parents too, the poor woman. I can’t imagine the band will be playing again any time soon.”

“I don’t know about that. All the rumors say they’re making a comeback at the carnival next week.” Emery grins at Twilight. “It’ll be a party like you’ve never seen, that’s for sure.” 

Viscen shakes his head. “Don’t let these nice young men get their hopes up, now. Toto hasn’t visited Clock Town in months. Whoever started that rumor was telling tales.” 

Warriors clears his throat. “We don’t plan on staying long either way. We could only book our room through the day before the carnival, and we might leave sooner if we can get everything taken care of in a timely manner.”

“You’re leaving that soon?” Emery gasps. 

“We’re only meant to be passin’ through,” Twilight says. The other two men share a long, wary look, and he adds, “Unless it ain’t safe to travel, for some reason.” 

An unspoken conversation passes between Viscen and Emery, a back-and-forth made of the tiniest expressions—a quirk of the lips here, a twitch of the brow there. Emery keeps shooting glances at Twilight and Warriors, and eventually, Viscen lets out a sigh and motions for them to lean in close. 

“Now, I’d appreciate it if you don’t spread this around to others,” Viscen starts, speaking as quietly as possible against all the clamor. “A few days ago, a large pack of wolfos attacked the Mountain Village to the north of town. The village population is quite small, and we only have one guard stationed there. Up until now, it’s all we’ve ever needed.”

At the mention of wolfos, Twilight shudders. The bar is plenty warm, but he wishes for the comforting weight of his pelt anyway.

Warriors’ voice is deceptively mild when he says, “Where I’m from, it’s not uncommon to run into wolfos in the mountains. Was the pack really that large?” 

“Small groups of two or three are common enough.” Viscen rubs a hand across his forehead. “This pack, though, was made of over a dozen wolfos. I’ve never seen such a thing in my time, nor could I find reports of anyone spotting more than five wolfos together in the files from my two predecessors. But what’s even more worrisome was the monsters’ behavior, I’m afraid.”

“What happened?” Twilight asks.  

“They were relentless,” replies Viscen. “The pack was spotted in the early evening, so the village went into lockdown overnight. Come dawn, the wolfos were still circling the village. I’ve heard of the beasts stalking a lone traveler, and there are occasional attacks on the village outskirts, but nothing has ever been this blatant or prolonged.”

“That’s not even the worst of it.” Emery’s posture has gone rigid, his eyes darting around like he expects one of the wolfos to leap out from one of the tables. His voice trembles when he says, “The monsters wouldn’t die.”

Twilight’s heart races. It should bring him relief that they’ve found a lead this early. The faster they can track down the black-blooded monsters, the faster they can eliminate the threat. No need to waste days wandering about in search of a trail like they have in other places. 

Still, tension grips Twilight and refuses to let go. It’s a two-fold clutch of fear and anger, and if he didn’t feel bound to their circle of confidence, he’d slam the rest of his drink back just to give his hands something to do. 

He wonders how many children live in the village. Ordon also had lockdowns when wolves were spotted too close to town. Those first few years after he was taken in, it would take Rusl hours after the all-clear was called to coax Twilight out from under his bed, too paralyzed with fear to move within sight of a window, certain that the sound of his footsteps would summon the monster once more. 

Warriors speaks, and Twilight remembers to breathe in. “What do you mean, they wouldn’t die? 

“Just that,” Viscen says. “Blows that should have been fatal didn’t even hinder the beasts. There are two blacksmiths who live in the village, and though they’re not part of the guard, they’re adept at swordplay. One of them stuck a blade through a wolfos’ throat and thought that was the end of it, but the beast nearly took off his leg after. He only survived because he was close enough to the forge that the other blacksmith could drag him inside while my subordinate created a distraction. It took another full quiver of arrows to finally bring the monster down. That was the only wolfos they killed. ” 

“Were there any other casualties?” Warriors asks. 

“Thankfully, no. The lockdown kept all the villagers safe until reinforcements arrived.” Viscen lets out a heavy breath, and for the first time since the conversation began, the frown eases from his face. 

The average soldier from Twilight’s era wouldn’t stand a chance against a single black-blooded monster, let alone a dozen. Despite himself, he’s impressed. Viscen must put his guards through one hell of a training regiment. “Well, it’s good to hear that no one else got hurt,” Twilight says. “How many troops didja need to get rid of them all?”

The two men freeze at his words. Viscen closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Now see, that’s our other problem.”

The man pauses to gather himself, taking a long drink from his glass. Twilight itches with anticipation. He feels something pinch his thigh, and it’s not until the captain nods at his hand that Twilight realizes he’s been tapping his fingers against the table. He makes himself stop, then bounces his toes against the inside of his boots instead. 

Viscen clears his throat before continuing. “By the time our unit arrived, the entire pack had been eliminated. Their remains were burning on a pyre not far from the village. None of the villagers saw the assailant, and the only clue we found were some unusually large footprints.”

“It was one of the Giants,” Emery says, fast, like he can’t contain himself. “Those footprints? Twice as big as our largest guard’s boots. They say the Giant of the North sleeps under the snowdrifts of the mountain. It must’ve heard the cries of the villagers and come to their rescue.”

Viscen sighs. “If this was some sort of divine intervention, you’d better pray it wasn’t the Giant. Only the end of days will rouse the Four Giants from their slumber—that’s what my old man always said.” 

“How ominous,” Warriors remarks, echoing Twilight’s own thoughts. For a moment, he wonders if the tracks could be Yeti prints, but none of the other heroes have seen one, and Twilight’s not confident Yeto or Yeta could handle a black-blooded monster on their own. But if that meant the gods really were rising up to smite these monsters, the shadow they’ve been hunting might be even more powerful than they feared. 

“It’s all just legend, nothing to worry about,” Viscen says, finally leaning back in his chair. The rest of them follow suit. Emery rolls his eyes at Viscen’s words, but he doesn’t contradict the older man. “Now, what’s this about you two having family here?”

Warriors nods. “Ah, yes. We recently became aware that a younger relative of ours has been staying in Clock Town the last year. I believe you may know of him, a young boy named Link.”

“Link?” Emery exclaims, and then he throws his head back and cackles. “Not that little rascal!” He stands and shouts toward the crowd of people at the bar. “Hey! Hey, Mutoh! Get over here! You’re not gonna believe this shit!”

Warriors keeps smiling, but the expression is strained. “I apologize if Link has caused you any trouble. I can assure you, we only learned of his whereabouts—” 

“No, no, you hush up.” Emery cuts Warriors off with a wave, but his tone is mild. Really, he looks pleased as punch. Viscen is the one rolling his eyes now, but it doesn't wipe the small, amused smile from his face. 

Two men approach their table. One is a short, stocky man with a thick frown and an even thicker gray mustache. It takes Twilight a second to recognize him as the carpenter’s foreman he’d seen earlier in the day. The other, younger man is wearing a velvet purple tunic—the same shocking shade as his hair, pulled back into a neat ponytail—and intricately embroidered undershirt, with fine leather boots so unscuffed they have to be brand new or hardly worn. Either way, the outfit costs more than all of Twilight’s yearly earnings. 

The rich guy hangs back, watching them as he lights a pipe, even as Emery beams and motions for both of them to come over. “Mutoh! I’d like to introduce you to my new friends, Mister Hargrave and Mister Scout.” 

Twilight and Warriors say hello, and Mutoh crosses his arm and lets out a grunt of a noise that might be a greeting, if Twilight were feeling extra generous. 

Undeterred, Emery continues saying, “We were just chatting about what brings them to Clock Town, and it turns out they have family here. You wanna take a guess at who they’re related to?”

Mutoh arches a bushy eyebrow in response.

“These fellas are related to your favorite member of Jim’s little gang—Link!” 

For a second, Mutoh doesn’t react at all, and Twilight wonders if the man didn’t hear Emery. Then, Mutoh’s face goes redder than a ripe cherry, and he throws out his arms and lets out a horrendous squawking noise that sounds like it should be coming from the mouth of the unholy offspring of a crow and a seagull. “That little imp! If he even thinks of showin’ his face at my construction site, I’m gonna knock ’im into the middle of next week!” He pounds a fist into his hand a few times. “That damned hooligan! I’m gonna… I’m gonna—”

“What’d he do?” Twilight asks. The other boys love a good prank, and he can guess that the kid is no exception, but he can’t imagine some silly tricks causing this kind of reaction. Then again, Emery’s turning almost as red as the foreman from trying to hold back his laughter. If Mutoh did this all the time, well. Who could resist such an easy target? 

Mutoh splutters. “He—that boy sold his soul to a demon, I’m tellin’ ya!” He makes that awful noise again, and Twilight winces. “All that nonsense with last year’s carnival only started when he showed up. My tools and quills have been disappearin’ whenever he’s in town. And don’t get me started on that thing he hangs around! They’ll bring the wrath of the gods down on us—you’ll see!” 

With a heavy sigh, Viscen drains the rest of his glass and rises from his seat. “Mutoh, we haven’t had a chance to chat about your construction plans for the carnival, have we? I need a refill. How about we talk it over while I order?” He begins guiding the still-tirading Mutoh away. As Viscen passes Emery’s chair, he swats the side of his head and mutters, “Next time he comes in raving, you have to deal with him.” 

Once the men are out of earshot, Emery collapses face-first on the table in a fit of laughter. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself!” He raises his head, still wheezing a little and wiping tears from the corner of his eye. “He’s just too easy to wind up. The way he talks about Link, you’d think the kid killed and ate his family. It never gets old.”

Warriors' whole body has gone tense. “Did he—did Link ever do anything to him? Was there something that happened at last year’s carnival?”

“The carnival last year… Well, the week leading up to it was a bit of a shitshow, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Emery snorts. “Mutoh likes to blame it on Link since that’s when he first came to town, but the kid had nothing to do with all that mess. Mutoh’s getting old too, going a bit senile and losing track of all his stuff. ’Stead of getting an assistant or taking responsibility to fix the problem, he’s gone and decided that Link’s a thief and reports him to Captain Viscen whenever another one of his saws or drafting kits goes missing.”

Warriors relaxes, just a bit. “Were there any similar incidents with monsters, like the one you described before? Is this an annual occurrence?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Emery says. “It was a string of bad luck during the busiest time of year, is all. We had a lot of unusual weather, a little spike in crime, and to top it all off”—he points at the man in purple and raises his voice—“this fool went and skipped town right before his wedding!”

The rich guy shakes his head and exhales a cloud of smoke. He walks over and sits in the chair Viscen vacated, looking over Twilight and Warriors with dark eyes that give nothing away. His pipe is that same deep brown color, carved into an angular, squarish skull design with a toothy smile that stretches around the bottom of the bowl. The man taps the stem of the pipe against his mouth before speaking. “And to think this was such a pleasant night before you decided to run your mouth, Lieutenant.” 

“Aw, c’mon.” Emery grins and shoves the man’s shoulder. “I’ll stop teasing you once you stop tip-toeing around the truth. Your mother spent too long berating me and Viscen over your disappearance for you to get all tight-lipped on us.” 

“It was a very long series of misunderstandings, as I have previously stated.” The man takes a long inhale of his pipe and turns his inscrutable gaze toward Twilight and Warriors. “My name is Kafei Dotour. And you are?”

Warriors introduces the two of them while Twilight tries to figure out how to cover his nose without looking rude. He ends up putting his elbow on the table and leaning his chin against the heel of his hand, which doesn’t fully keep the foul taste out of his mouth, but the smell of his leather gloves masks the worst of it. 

He’s already resigned to awkward mouth-breathing for the time being, but when Kafei raises his pipe again, Warriors interrupts him. “Sorry, but my lungs are rather sensitive from my military service. Could you not smoke at the table?”

Kafei’s eyes dart between the two heroes, clearly not buying that Warriors is the one bothered by his smoking. To his credit, he puts the pipe down anyway, its hollow eyes staring at Twilight from across the table. “Yes, my apologies.” He turns to Emery. “Did you have a reason for setting off Mutoh, or were you just getting bored with the evening entertainment?”

“Oh, you’ll get a kick out of this too,” Emery replies. “These two are Link’s family.”

“Distant relatives,” Warriors corrects.

Kafei’s eyebrows shoot up. “I wasn’t aware he had any. He told my wife he has no living family.”

“Yeah, well…” Twilight rubs the back of his neck. “We didn’t know he was livin’ out here til a few days ago, is the thing. It was a surprise to all of us.”

“Do you know him well?” Warriors asks Kafei. 

Before the man can answer, Emery bursts out laughing. “Shoot, will he even talk to Anju if you’re in the same room yet?”

“We’re working on it,” Kafei grumbles. To Warriors and Twilight, he says, “I’m afraid the boy is not too fond of me. He’s grown close with my wife, Anju, who you may have met at the inn. Everything I know of him gets relayed to me through her. She likes to dote on him. ”

“At least he’s not glaring at you anymore,” Emery says.

Kafei’s mouth twists into a wry grin. “No, he still does, but not in front of Anju.” 

“He doesn’t like most adults,” Warriors says.

“I think my problem, more specifically, may be that he is in puppy love with my wife.”

That pulls a loud laugh from Warriors, but Twilight grimaces. Beth went through a phase of very openly crushing on him back before Zant’s invasion, and he remembers how difficult it was to gently let her down without offending her—especially when Ilia was around to encourage her antics. Then again, he doubts Link is wedding planning and asking for Anju’s input, which was one of Beth’s favorite things to do.   

“He’s a good kid though,” Emery says. “He runs messages for Viscen a lot, and I see him here every week helping Cremia with the delivery.”

Kafei sighs. “I don’t disagree. I just wish Captain Viscen could get him to the orphanage so Anju would stop fretting.” 

Their conversation is cut off by Time calling for the final request of the night. There’s a long back and forth between him and a couple at one of the tables before he starts playing, and when he does, it’s that same song Emery asked for earlier. Warriors excuses himself to go buy them another round, leaving Twilight alone while the rest of the bar explodes into another sing-along that’s even louder than the first. The dancer from before gets on stage again too, this time with a partner who twirls and lifts her around the stage.

Emery is dragged into a much drunker group at the next table over, and then it’s just Twilight and Kafei, who may be the only other person in the bar besides Twilight and Warriors not joining in on the merriment. The man doesn’t disguise the way he studies Twilight now, his eyes lingering on the curse marks, but his expression doesn’t give much away. A snide comment sits on the tip of Twilight’s tongue, but he bites it back and distracts himself with watching the dancers. 

Luckily, they’re not left alone for too long. Warriors returns with their drinks—just plain whiskey for the two of them, Ordona bless him. Time finishes his set to an ear-splitting round of applause, and Emery comes back to their table shortly after.

The spotlight above Time cuts out, the lower lights switching back on at the same time and returning the bar to its earlier haze of color. Time startles at the change, blinking slowly and scanning the crowd a few times, looking like he doesn’t quite know what to do next. Twilight waves at him to catch his attention and gets a small smile in return.

After tucking the ocarina back in his bag, Time climbs off the stage and makes for their table. He stops behind Twilight and Warriors, a hand on each of their shoulders. Twilight pats Time’s hand and cranes his head back to look up at the old man, grinning even as his head spins a bit. He might be a little drunker than he thought. “You sure put on a show! I don’t think they’ll be lettin’ you leave town without an encore.”

“Where did you learn all those songs anyway?” Warriors asks.

Time shrugs. “The phonograph was playing their music while I was here earlier.”

“You played all that after listening to the Indigo-Go’s once?’ Emery says, no small amount of awe in his voice.

Kafei adds, “You must have quite the ear for music.”

Time shrugs again, not meeting either of their eyes. Twilight squeezes his hand and then tells them, “You give this guy three notes, and he’ll play the whole night long. There ain’t an instrument we’ve found that he can’t learn.”

“He certainly puts your grass whistling trick to shame, cowboy,” Warriors says.

Twilight waves him off. “C’mon, captain, don’t be ugly. I’d try learnin’ the pipes again, but y’all didn’t seem to like that too much.” The five-horned pipe set Time has is huge and ridiculous and, in Twilight’s hands, an instrument of torture. Last time he got ahold of them, Wild, Sky, and Legend had teamed up to throw him in the nearby river. They would’ve thrown the pipes in after him too, if the old man were a little bit less intimidating. 

Time ruffles his hair, and Twilight tips his head back again. “I take it the two of you had a good night then?” He speaks a little slower, more careful than before. Twilight can hear the real question there, and he knows Warriors does too. Did you find a lead?

Warriors nods. “Yes, I’d certainly say so.”

“We’re all right fine and dandy ’round here,” Twilight adds. 

“That's good to hear,” Time says. “I need to speak with Mister Barten, and I expect I’ll head out after. You boys feel free to stay and have fun.” The old man musses Twilight’s hair again before he leaves. Twilight watches him weave through the crowd over to the bar. A few people approach Time, looking eager to talk, but he doesn’t spare any of them more than a moment before moving on. 

Twilight frowns. They haven’t had a night to relax away from the other boys for a while now. He didn’t think Time would be so quick to leave. 

“We gotta figure out what’s up with him,” Twilight comments.

“Good luck with that,” Warriors says. “He’s going to be even more unhappy when he hears we’re staying in town.”

Twilight spares a glance to Kafei and Emery, but they’ve picked up the earlier argument about which Indigo-Go’s band is better. “Whaddya mean?”

The captain sighs. “Earlier, when you were talking with the kid, he said he wanted us to restock and get back on the road right away. He got a bit testy when I told him how stupid that plan was. I convinced him we needed time to rest, but I believe he was hoping we would leave in a day or two. Now we have—well you know.” He makes a flourishing gesture, presumably encompassing both the monster hunt and the situation with the new hero. 

“Huh,” Twilight replies. Without the kid to guide them, he can’t imagine why Time would be so eager to return to the woods. He racks his brain, but his thoughts are getting muddier, and all he can think of is the look of pure devastation on Time’s face when he first saw the young hero. 

Twilight stands, only a little unsteady. He grabs his whiskey and takes another sip. “I’m gonna talk with him.” 

Warriors raises his glass and gives him a skeptical look. “Best of luck, cowboy.”

The bar is considerably less crowded than before the show, but most of the stools at the counter are still taken. Twilight’s grateful that the one open seat is next to where Time is standing and chatting with the bartender, now with a small rupee purse in hand. Twilight slides into the seat, catching the end of the bartender gushing about Time’s performance.

The bartender acknowledges him before Time does. “Hello, young man. You’re here with Mister Lon, I take it?”

“Yessir,” Twilight says.

The man nods while he wipes off the counter with a rag. “I hear you won’t be in town for long, but while you’re visiting, you and your friends are welcome here any time.”

“You’re too kind,” Time deadpans. 

The bartender cackles. “I’d have you play every night if I could. We haven’t had a show this good in a long, long time.”  

“I’m afraid our schedule won’t accommodate that, but I’m honored.” 

The bartender’s cheer is undeterred. “Let me get you a drink on the house, at least. Have you tried the Chateau Romani special?” 

Time averts his eyes. “Ah, thank you, but I was going to retire for the night.” He pats Twilight’s back. “He can have my drink, if that’s okay with you.”

“Only if you’re sure,” the man says. 

“C’mon, won’t you stay? Jus’ for one drink?” Twilight says. It takes conscious effort to keep from sounding too pathetic. He’s not sure how well he hides it, though, because Time’s expression softens.

The old man hesitates for a long, drawn-out moment, but then he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, pup. I’m all worn out from the last few days. You stay and have fun with the captain tonight. Next town we stop in, we’ll make time to hang out, just the two of us. That sound alright with you?”

“Alright,” Twilight echoes. 

Time glances back to their table, where Kafei and Warriors are still sitting. Emery is up and making his way to the bar with an empty glass. In Twilight’s former seat is a woman with green hair so bright he has to do a double take to make sure he ain’t seeing things, and standing behind her is another woman with deep blue hair. Between the two of them and Kafei, Warriors’ blond locks look out of place.

Time tips his head toward the table. “Make sure he doesn’t drink himself silly.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I got ’im. You go get some sleep, old timer.”  

Time reaches out, and Twilight expects another shoulder pat or hair tousle, but something flashes across his face, too quick for Twilight to catch, and Time drops his hand instead. He says goodbye to the bartender, tips his head at Twilight, and then climbs the stairs and disappears from Twilight’ sight.

Twilight sips at his drink. The bartender is giving him some knowing look that Twilight doesn’t like, so he drinks a bit more. Unperturbed, the man asks, “So, what can I get for you?”

This monster hunting quest of theirs hasn’t offered their group many opportunities to hang out at bars like this. Twilight’s getting close to the edge of how drunk he can get without suffering a hangover the next day. He passes the glass back and forth between his hands, watching the whiskey slosh around. The last few days may have been stressful as all get out, but he’s got too much shit to deal with tomorrow. If he’s going to talk, actually talk, with Time or Sky or any of the other boys, he wants to have his wits about him. 

Twilight eyes the vast array of bottles on the shelf. Half of them he can’t even name, and there’s one Twilight swears is actually glowing green, the light blinking in and out like a firefly, but that’s surely a recipe for disaster. He sighs. “How’s ’bout you top off my glass and we’ll call it even?”  

“You sure that’s all?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The bartender fills his glass and then goes to make the rounds, starting with Emery’s order. By the time Emery’s got his drink—another of the Chateau Romani special, the Spirits help him—the stool next to Twilight has opened up. Emery doesn’t hesitate to take it, grinning at Twilight as he sits. “Not going back to our table, then? Mind if I join you?”

Twilight looks back to their spot. It’s just Warriors and the two women now, and with the way the captain’s smirking and leaning in toward the woman with the green hair, Twilight thinks he’d best not interrupt. 

“Go ahead,” he says. “I think if I tried sittin’ there now, he’d kick my shins black and blue until I left again.”

Emery laughs, his eyes crinkling, and Twilight smiles back at him over the rim of his glass. Emery asks, “So, that other guy you were with… was that your boyfriend? Husband?” 

Twilight chokes on his drink. 

Emery gives Twilight a few firm slaps on the back as he coughs and sputters. “Fuck, no! He’s— no!” he manages between another round of coughs. Acid burns in his chest and mouth, and he pounds a fist against his chest to try and clear it while a small, hysterical part of his mind tries to imagine the reaction he’d get if he described their relationship honestly. He’s family, a couple hundred years removed, he’d say. He taught me how to hold a sword. He’s my soul in a past life, the only blood I’ve ever known. I have more nightmares about his death than my own.  

“No,” Twilight repeats. “We’re not—we’re kin. He’s my kin.” 

“Sorry, my mistake,” Emery says. “You two must be real close.” 

This time, it’s not the drink that stops up his throat. “Yeah, we are.” 

Thankfully, Emery doesn’t linger on it. “Do you have one, though? A boyfriend?” He pauses. “Or girlfriend?”

“Nope, neither.” Twilight takes a long sip of his whiskey to push aside thoughts of a cackling laugh and shattering glass. 

Emery scoots closer to him, smiling wider than he has all night. 

Twilight knows this song and dance. It’s been a while, but he got plenty of practice at it during the height of Castle Town’s reconstruction. After defeating Ganondorf, he’d spent a short, painful two months in Ordon before returning to the city, and by then, Castle Town was flooded with young men and women desperate for work. He’d bunked at Telma’s bar between running errands for Zelda and the resistance, and there was never a shortage of other lonely patrons looking for someone to spend the night with. 

It helped, was the thing. He didn’t sleep alone for more than a year while hunting down the Fused Shadow and the Mirror of Twilight, Midna always close by or, toward the end, curled up against him. On his own, he couldn’t stand the silence and stillness of an empty room. He needed the steady rhythm of someone else’s breathing to lull him to sleep—or, barring that, he needed to be so wrung out that he couldn’t fight it when exhaustion overtook him. 

It helped, until it didn’t. 

But it’s been a while, and Twilight can’t deny how pretty Emery looks when he's smiling like that. So when Emery moves in close enough that their knees touch, Twilight lets him. They talk, and they laugh, and at some point Emery ends up with an arm slung across Twilight’s shoulder. 

When there’s a small rush and the bar gets crowded again, Twilight lets Emery guide him to a quieter corner, a little nook under the stairs. It’s still within full view of the bar, but the lights don’t quite reach here, giving them a little shadow of privacy. There’s not much space for the two of them, and Twilight lets Emery pull him in close, leaning against each other while a hand rubs up and down over Twilight’s arm. 

And when Emery puts a hand under Twilight’s chin, Twilight lets him tilt his head up and slot their lips together in a gentle kiss, soft and tentative, a question all on its own. Emery keeps the kiss short, but when it ends, he doesn’t go far, his breath hot against Twilight’s mouth. Emery waits there after, not asking for anything more, but the moment stretches on long enough that, eventually, he starts to step back, just a little. 

Twilight fists the front of his jacket and pulls him down into a bruising kiss. 

He loses himself a bit, after that. Emery presses his tongue against Twilight’s lips, presses Twilight’s back against the wall, presses a leg between Twilight’s own. Their kisses deepen, mouths moving together in a desperate rhythm, and Twilight shivers. Emery’s tongue in his mouth is warm and bitter and not nearly enough. Desire pools in his gut, leaving him lightheaded and hot all over. He doesn’t remember the last time he wanted someone this much.

Twilight gets a hand in Emery’s hair and tries to bring him closer. There’s not an inch of space between them, and it’s not enough. He wants to be kissed harder, held tighter. He needs something beyond skin contact. Needs to melt into another body and be enveloped so completely he loses his sense of self. 

Emery moves his mouth to Twilight’s neck, and Twilight gasps, shivers at the small scrape of teeth against his skin. Emery moves the collar of his tunic aside and kisses downward, each touch searing, until his hand finds the raised skin near Twilight’s collarbone, part of the scar that tears across his chest and comes within a hair's breadth of the artery on his neck. One of his closer calls, a slash of Zelda’s rapier that was meant to slit his throat, and he hadn’t been fast enough to dodge it, not completely. 

Twilight shivers again. His hands flutter across Emery’s chest, trying to anchor himself and not being able to settle. He tugs at Emery’s hair to guide him away from his neck and back into a bruising kiss. Twilight bites his lip and cants his hips up, trying to get lost in the heat. 

His neck is cold. His heart is flying. He can’t feel the rest of his body. 

There’s a thumb rubbing back and forth across the scar in what should be a soothing gesture. Ilia, worrying a hand over the newly healed skin and looking at him with fear, then anger, and finally sorrow, when he wouldn’t tell her how he got it. Zelda, tightening her lips at the sight, knowing and not needing him to confirm. Midna, free of her cursed form, wiping the blood away with her long, slender hands—the same hands that pulled him in close and cupped his cheeks as she kissed him, the same hands that pushed him away and shattered the connection between their worlds, between them.

Twilight shudders, hard. Emery breaks the kiss and moves back, confused and frowning. The lights from the bar catch in his eyes, turning hazel into amber.

Twilight shoves him further away. “Shit shit shit.” He’s breathing too fast. It doesn’t feel like he’s getting any air at all. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? What do you need?” Emery reaches out but thankfully aborts the movement before making contact. He leaves his hand there, hovering between them. “Can I… How do I help?”

“No, no, I—” The air in his lungs runs out, and Twilight cuts off with a desperate gasp. Emery is still looking at him, far too kind and concerned, and it makes the panic squeezing his chest tighten its grip. “I gotta…” Run, his mind supplies, the thought repeating again and again with increasing frenzy. “Sorry, I—I gotta go.”

Emery steps aside, saying something, but Twilight doesn’t hear what it is. He’s already making a beeline for the stairs. Not quite running, but hurrying. 

The hand that grabs his forearm just before the stairwell hits him like a shock arrow. His arm jerks, disjointed from the rest of him. He needs to run, he needs—

“Rancher?” 

Fuck. Twilight forces his body to still, feeling his mind step outside himself.  

“Rancher, what’s wrong?” Warriors shakes his arm a little, and Twilight flinches despite his best efforts.

Twilight hadn’t seen the captain order another drink while sitting up at the bar, but he’s sloshed. The violent flush of his face is clear even in the low light, and his eyes don’t really focus as he looks Twilight over.  

“Needa piss,” Twilight manages to say. Warriors’ whole face twists in confusion, like Twilight’s gone crazier than a shithouse rat. The quiet part of Twilight’s mind takes over then, grabbing the captain and gently pushing him in the direction of the bar. “Go get some water. You’re drunk as a skunk.”

Warriors does a jaunty little salute and obediently walks toward the counter. 

When Twilight hits the staircase, he has to stomp down on the instinct to take the steps two at a time. His world narrows to the doorway and its promised reprieve. 

Opening the door feels a bit like getting dunked in ice water. It’s enough of a shock to clear some of the haze from his thoughts, but it also quickens his breathing. He quietly thanks the gods that the bouncer is gone and looks frantically for some sort of safe haven.

There—the wide stone stairway separating the bar and inn. Not the most protected area, but it’ll do. He stumbles over to the steps, gets himself up high enough that he won’t be seen if someone else comes out of the bar, and then slumps against the wall with his head buried in his knees. 

Finally alone, he lets himself fall apart.

Some time later, once the hyperventilating has passed and he’s breathing normally again, he uncurls from his pitiful ball of misery and sits up. He’s shivering more, but now it’s from the cold and dry sweat and not the panic. Twilight wipes at his eyes with his sleeves and starts mentally pulling himself back together. It’s unlikely that all the boys will be asleep, and he’d rather not look like he's just obviously had his worst breakdown in months when he faces them. 

Leaning back, he studies the sky to quell his racing mind. The stars are different here. He can’t find any familiar constellations. A waxing moon shines bright above the clock tower, almost three-quarters full. When they’d left Hyrule’s era a few days back, it had been a new moon. Last time he’d been in his own era, it had been—well, he doesn’t know. It’s been months now. He can’t remember. 

A movement near the top of the clock tower catches his eye, and he squints, trying to make out the shadowy form. It’s too out of place to be part of the structure. It’s almost… almost like a person’s silhouette. 

Wind’s words from earlier flash through his mind, children saying they’ve spotted a giant on the clock tower at night. Twilight stands and tilts his head for a better view, but he can’t make out any details in the dark.

The bar door creaks open, and Twilight jumps at the noise. It’s the dancer and her partner, the two of them arm-in-arm and huddled close. Twilight makes his way down the stairs as they head up, exchanging good nights with the couple and feeling a stupid amount of relief when his voice sounds mostly normal. 

By the time he looks back at the clock tower, the silhouette is gone. 

When Twilight gets back to their room at the inn, he finds Legend, Four, and Wind sitting at the table with at least half a dozen maps spread out before them, the three boys nearly knocking skulls as they huddle close to scrutinize some detail on the parchment. Because no one can ever be normal, Twilight also finds Wild and Sky sitting on the floor, each of them leaning against a bedpost, which they’re bound to by a thick rope tied around their wrists. Sky has passed out, head slumped back against the wooden post and mouth wide open. Wild is holding his hands up close to his face, his brow furrowed in concentration as he studies the mass of knots binding his arms and hands together. 

Twilight closes the door. “I don’t wanna know.”

“The sailor’s teaching them about knot tying,” Legends says without looking up from the maps. 

The room has a candle holder by the door and another on the opposite wall, which offer a modicum of light, but not enough to read by. To brighten up the room, the boys have gone and strung up a lantern above the table from the ceiling. It’s someone’s magic lantern for sure; the light it gives off is too strong and far-reaching for its minuscule flame. Compared to the dim light of the bar, it’s a little headache-inducing. Twilight squints against the brightness as a small pain builds up behind his eyes. 

Wind pulls back from the table, bumping his head against Four’s along the way, and the two of them exchange dirty looks. The sailor is quick to drop it though, and he beams over at Twilight even while he rubs at his temple. “I’m using Tetra’s method. To learn how to tie a knot, you need to learn how to untie it first.”

Twilight turns his gaze to Wild. The rope winds up his forearms and goes over his wrists, stopping around the first thumb joint. Beyond wiggling his fingers, he can’t have much use of his hands. Twilight says, “If they’re gonna untie it, shouldn’t they be able to use their hands?”

“Pssh.” Wind dismisses the idea with a wave. “That’s too easy. They won’t learn if there’s no challenge.”

Before Twilight can make some crass remark about tossing infants in the water and expecting them to swim, Wild speaks up, though he also doesn’t bother looking away from his own object of fascination. “I’m so close. I almost have this.”

“He’s been saying that for the last hour,” Four mutters. 

“You ain’t joinin’ in on the fun then?” Twilight asks. 

“He’s a dirty cheat!” This, apparently, is worth Wild’s attention, and he turns away from the knotwork to glare at the smithy.

Four lets out a long sigh. From that alone, Twilight can tell the two of them have had this argument a few times already. “Sailor said the first one out of the ropes won. Besides the magic ban, he never said anything about the method of getting out.”

“Yeah, and how’d you manage to do that?” Twilight pulls out the last chair at the table and slumps into it. They’ve got the map that Sky and Warriors bought of Termina in the center, a mini map of Hyrule in the corner, and a whole bunch of others he doesn’t recognize spread out like they’re trying to connect puzzle pieces.

Four shrugs, going for casual but doing a terrible job of holding back his smirk. “I told the collector I’d pay him twenty rupees to untie me.” 

“Cheater!” Wild repeats. 

Twilight looks at Legend, who just shakes his head. “I may not be a pirate, but I’ve done enough sailing to know not to fuck around with those knots.” 

“And I told him he couldn’t use magic to burn my good rope,” Wind adds.

“Yeah, and that.” 

Twilight hums in response, scanning the beds for a familiar head of curly hair and not finding it. “And our traveler is missing because…?”

“He’s fine!” Four blurts out, which immediately sets alarm bells ringing in Twilight’s head.

“He’s doing his usual spiel,” Legend says. “You know, talking with Anju, checking the inn for secret passages and cursed items, that whole thing.”

That explanation calms Twilight more. Hyrule gets a little paranoid about staying in towns, for reasons he’s yet to explain, and won’t sleep in an inn until he’s checked the place from head to toe. Twilight thought he’d have finished that by now, but he must have been helping with the map project. 

Still, that leaves one person unaccounted for. “What about the old man?”

“What about him?” Four says.

Twilight frowns. “He left the bar a while ago, said he was tired and comin’ back here. Y’ain’t seen him?”

Legend shakes his head. “No, he hasn’t been back since the three of you left.” 

“I think he kinda wants to be left alone,” Wind mumbles. His gaze is turned down, but it doesn’t hide the slight pout on his face.  

From the floor, Wild says, “Did you check the stable? He’s probably singing Epona a lullaby and tucking her into bed.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Twilight replies. He’s not sold on the idea, but he knows Wind is right about Time wanting space. It’s one more thing Twilight will have to bring up with the old man when they have a chance to talk in private. He scoots his chair closer to the table and starts studying the maps. “So, what’ve you got all of these out for?”

Four rolls his eyes. “Someone thinks it’s suspicious that a completely different land doesn’t have any Hyrulean landmarks on its map.”

“It doesn’t make any damn sense!” Legend exclaims, slapping the table. “I’ve got over twenty maps from five different countries in my bag, and none of them share a single geographical feature with Termina, not even the ocean.”

“Maybe they’re named somethin’ different in your time,” Twilight says.

“The maps from my era don’t match any of yours either,” Wind adds. 

“No, that’s the thing.” Legend jabs his finger at the center of the Termina map, where Clock Town is printed neatly. “This is written in Old Hylian. I’ve cross-referenced half the characters on here with my translation book, and they’re the exact same. But whenever I mentioned Hyrule to one of the shopkeepers, they looked at me like I’m crazy.” 

“You are getting a little crazy over this,” Four grumbles. 

Legend’s eyes narrow. “I’m not! Something weird is going on here, and you know it.”

“Of course there is!” Four snaps, his whole demeanor going icy in a way that takes Twilight by surprise. “I never said you were wrong. I said you should drop it until we have more information. Everything about this quest—everything about us—is weird and doesn’t make sense, and this place is no different. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, and it might not even be that.”

“Hey now.” Twilight lays a hand on Four’s shoulder and gets glared at for it. “No need to get all feisty.” 

Wind says, “Yeah, maybe we finally found a clue about the shadow! We won’t know until we investigate more.”

Four slouches back in his chair and crosses his arms, his expression gone stony. “All I’m saying is, we won’t get anywhere by interrogating random civilians about linguistics.” 

Legend springs to his feet. “I was not interrogating—” 

Before he can finish, the door slams open, Hyrule crashing into the room at a full run. He throws his whole body against the door to close it, stretching his arms out across the wood like he’s expecting something to try and break it down. Panting and wild-eyed, he looks like he's just outrun a lynel. 

Twilight is on his feet before he can think. Two other chairs scrape against the floor as the others stand. Wild lunges against his restraints and ends up in an awkward crouch while Sky blinks himself awake. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Twilight fumbles for his knife, wishing his sword wasn’t at the bottom of their weapons pile in the corner. 

Hyrule doesn’t respond right away. He studies each of their waiting faces before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is dangerously quiet. “Why did none of you warn me?” 

“Warn you?” Twilight repeats.

“Huh?” Wind says. 

“About what?” Legend asks. 

“The bathroom!” Hyrule hisses. “It almost grabbed my ass!” 

“The Goron?” Twilight ventures. As far as he knows, there aren’t any other guests staying here. 

Hyrule gawks at him. “No, not the Goron! The spirit haunting the fucking toilet downstairs! I went in the bathroom and thought, sure, it kinda looks like someone got murdered here, but I wasn’t expecting to run into a ghost!”

Sky, fully awake and aware now, says, “Wait, was it shaped like a hand?”

Hyrule’s face turns beet red. “Couldn’t you have said something before I almost shat on it?” 

“No, no, I haven’t seen it here—I swear!” Sky squirms, trying to stand up, but he can’t get further than a kneel. “Did it talk?”

“Did it ask you for paper?” Legend asks.

Hyrule screeches like a tea kettle. 

There’s a flurry of motion as the boys race around the room: Wind untying Sky and Wild, Legend digging through his bag for paper scraps, Four rifling through the weapons pile while Sky yells that they don’t need their swords. Hyrule watches them scuttle around, growing visibly less tense as his anger cools to annoyed disbelief, and he eventually unsticks himself from the door to sit besides Twilight.

Then, there are five heroes gathered at the door, Wild and Four looking determined but curious and Wind almost vibrating in excitement, like the traveler told them someone left a pile of gold downstairs. Sky and Legend seem to be comparing experiences between shooting explanations at the others. 

Twilight calls out, “Y’all sure it’s safe?” Hyrule hadn't said anything about weapons, but Twilight can’t help but imagine a scythe emerging from the toilet.

Legend waves him off. “We’ve got this.”

“It’s not a dangerous spirit. I promise,” Sky assures him, which does a lot more to put Twilight at ease. 

He sighs. “Alright then, have fun.”

Once the others leave, Hyrule asks, “You’re not going too?”

“I ain’t sober enough for this shit,” Twilight tells him. The chilly air and shock of Hyrule’s entrance did a lot to clear his head, but exhaustion is creeping in quick. Getting out of his chair to go downstairs sounded about as fun as going cliff climbing with Wild right now. “Why don’t you wanna join?”

“I don’t fuck with spirits unless I’ve got no other choice.” 

“Well, I don’t blame you for that.” Twilight can’t say he disagrees with the traveler either. 

Hyrule groans and drops his head on the table. “I’ll never be able to take a dump in peace for the rest of my life.”

Twilight rubs his back and coos, “You poor thing.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hyrule grumbles, knocking Twilight’s hand away as he sits back up. “I ran into your little shadow, by the way.”

“You did? When?”

“Just a bit ago, outside the inn. He kinda cornered me.”

Twilight frowns. “What for?”

Hyrule shrugs, fiddling with the lacing at the front of his tunic. “He had a lot of questions about my magic. I don’t know. It was weird.”

They’re interrupted by the door opening again, but it’s not one of the boys returning like Twilight expects. Time cranes his head around, looking for the others. “Did you lose them all?”

“Toilet haint,” Twilight tells him.

“Ah,” Time replies, so casually that Twilight wonders if he’s part of Sky and Legend’s weird club. “And our captain?”

“Havin’ a real good night,” Twilight says, and then he yawns so big his eyes start watering. 

“You look like you’re ready to drop, pup. You should get to bed.”

“You first, old man,” Twilight says back. He’s not meaning to snipe at him, but Time winces a little anyway.

Even so, Time is right. The three of them get changed and crawl into bed, and the other boys come back shortly after. Twilight hears them reassuring Hyrule that the bathroom is safe to use again, and there’s a back-and-forth with Sky and Legend explaining what the thing is, but their voices melt into an indistinct buzz before long.

There’s a dip in the bed beside Twilight, the click of the magic lantern shutting off, and then a chorus of the boys saying goodnight. Twilight considers replying, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to find his voice. Opening his mouth suddenly seems like a lot of effort.   

He’s asleep before he can decide either way.  

Next to their newest, tiny hero, Midna looks like she could be a giant. 

The child hardly comes up to her stomach. It’s the kind of thing Twilight would love to give them shit about, if only he could keep pace with them in these woods.

Save for their voices, neither of them make a sound as they make their way through the thicket. Midna doesn’t bother with shoes even here, and the mossy ground absorbs the sound of her footsteps. Her clothes flow behind her like they’re enchanted in regality, immune to the mundanity of tracking dirt or snagging on branches. 

She looks almost exactly the same as the last time Twilight saw her. The half-light of the forest makes her blue skin glow, her orange hair blazing like a comet’s tail. She is beautiful, unearthly, terrifying. In the echoes of a memory, Twilight can hear Rusl recounting ghost stories to a younger version of him and Ilia, tales of children who were lured into the woods by the lights of the will-o’-the-wisps and never seen again. It occurs to him that if she’s a specter, he doesn’t care. He’ll follow her to whatever end. 

The child, on the other hand, moves through the woods with the quiet ease of a predator returning from the hunt. He has to jog to keep up with Midna’s long strides, his head turned up at a neck-breaking angle to argue with her, yet every movement is liquid, is instinct. His feet know the path without sight. 

The forest isn’t as kind to Twilight. He can’t seem to stop tripping and stumbling over the foliage: vines, branches, overgrown roots. Whenever he thinks he’s found a clear route, a new obstacle emerges. Midna and the child remain perpetually out of reach, never less than a dozen feet ahead of him. 

Twilight steps around a brush, and then pain ensnares his right leg. He wants to ignore it—the mist is growing denser, Midna and the child threatening to disappear from his sight with each passing second—but when he tries to move forward, he meets resistance, and he’s dragged to the ground. 

It’s a branch from a barberry bush, coiled around his leg like a snake. His pants offer no protection from its thorns; bloody spots bloom along the fabric like a pox. Twilight pinches at one of the thorns embedded in the meat of his calf, grits his teeth and closes his eyes as he pulls it out and—he pulls, and keeps pulling, and what emerges in a gush of blood isn’t anything he’s ever seen before, a thorn long and thick as one of his hunting knives, dark with viscera.

His heart flutters and tries to fly out his throat. He presses a hand against his mouth so he won’t vomit. If all the thorns are this big, there won’t be anything left of his leg by the end, just strands of tattered skin flapping over the bone. He has no bandages—where is his travel pack? Why isn’t it with him? His dagger is gone too. He’s going to bleed out. He’s going to die. 

The voices are growing fainter. He doesn’t have time. If they go too far, he’ll never be able to find them again. She’ll be gone forever, again. 

Twilight reaches for the bit of branch that isn’t impaling him, the long tendril trailing back to the rest of the bush. His gloves are nowhere near thick enough for this, but he doesn’t give himself another moment to panic or hesitate. He wraps his hands around the branch and yanks at it with all his might.

He can’t hold back his scream. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, hot and itchy. He squeezes his eyes shut and ducks his head against his chest, gasping through the pulses of agony in his hands. When he can catch his breath, he makes another heave, his palms flaring as the spines dig in deeper, and he's met with resistance once again. 

The wood is growing wet and slippery from his blood. There’s no time. Another cry slips from his lips as he tightens his grip, and he wrenches at the branch with every ounce of strength in his body, digging his heels in deep and gouging up bloody clumps of earth in his desperation. 

It’s like trying to reel in a loach with a rod made of hooks. Just when he’s sure the skin of his palms will tear clean off, when he’s sure he’ll have to mourn Midna all over again, something snaps and gives way, and he’s falling back as the branch is ripped from its core. 

Twilight wastes no further time, clawing to his feet to chase after the distant hum of their voices. But try as he might, he can’t manage more than a hobbled excuse of a jog. His leg burns with every step. He limps and trips through the bramble, his hands leaving bloody stains on every tree and bush he uses to pull himself forward.  

The clanking of armor announces the Shade’s presence long before he comes into view. Twilight isn’t sure where the Shade emerges from—he’s alone one moment, and the next, the Shade is walking beside him, his long strides effortlessly matching Twilight’s desperate lurches. Despite his size, the Shade maneuvers through the forest with the same grace as the child, every movement flowing like water. 

The clearing appears just as unexpectedly. Without anything to steady himself, Twilight tumbles to the ground on all fours. There’s a final clank as the Shade halts, looming behind Twilight’s prone form. Twilight doesn’t turn, but the weight of the Shade’s gaze is physical, keeping him down.

Midna and the child don’t react to Twilight’s graceless entrance. The two of them are still sniping at each other, now in front of a crumbling stone archway. 

“I told you, it’s the only way though,” the child snaps.

“We can’t leave it here,” Midna says. 

When Twilight tries to call for her, his voice fails. A pitiful croak is all that emerges from his mouth.

The child says, “I’ll go first.” 

He doesn’t hesitate; the child walks through the gate, and in a blink, he is gone.

Twilight tries to speak again, and what falls from his lips aren’t words, but a high-pitched, animalistic whine. He drags himself toward her with red-stained hands. He makes the noise again, louder. Midna is only a few feet away. She has to be able to hear him. Why won't she look back?

But Midna doesn’t acknowledge him. She steps forward, one foot under the gate and one foot still in the clearing.

Behind him, there is the shink of metal sliding against metal. 

Midna turns. For the first time since she destroyed the Mirror, their eyes meet. Her sunset-fire eyes soften. Her lips purse around an unspoken word, a hand lifting from her side. 

Twilight opens his mouth—

And the archway crumbles. Midna is gone.

The Shade raises his sword—

Twilight wakes up choking on her name.

He lies there, gasping and panting, staring at the shadow of the bunk above him as his mind attempts to reorient himself. He is sleeping at Clock Town's inn with eight of his fellow heroes. Midna is four years gone. The Shade is at peace, his flesh-and-blood progenitor sleeping in one of the beds in the same room, unaware of his fate to come.

Twilight sits up. Next to him, Wild is awake, his gaze tired but steady. He mouths, slowly, Bad dream?

Twilight sighs and ruffles Wild’s hair. Sorry, he mouths back. He climbs over Wild to sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to make too much noise and wake anyone else, and grabs for his boots. A finger pokes his side, and Twilight turns back to Wild, who’s leaning up on his elbow now.

Keeping his voice as low as possible, Twilight whispers, “I just need some air. Go back to sleep, cub.”

Wild stares at him for a while, like he’s going back and forth on whether or not to argue. Finally, though, he nods and lays his head back down. Twilight strokes his hair again before tip-toeing out of the room. Wild may be a light sleeper, but he falls back asleep easily enough. The two of them have long come to a truce, too, about not getting worked up over accidentally waking the other. It happens too often to bother with excessive apologies. 

Out in the hallway, Twilight slumps against the wall, and, for the second time this night, he buries his face in his hands and tries to remember how to breathe. 

A lot of the other heroes have trouble sleeping. It’s one of the things they don’t really talk about. The mundane similarities are easier to acknowledge—the Epona thing, the shared propensity for music and gambling, the fact that Twilight has never been around more lefties in his whole entire life. 

Wild and Warriors wake up crying or shouting from nightmares so often it’s become routine. Hyrule will rouse to sounds no louder than a mouse’s squeak. Sky, despite the shit they give him about how much he sleeps, is never well-rested. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Time and Legend hardly seem to sleep. Legend doesn’t bother to hide his bouts of insomnia, choosing to stay up and read or help cover watch. But Time has never breathed a word of his struggle to the other boys, and Twilight only knows about it because no matter how good Time is at pretending, it’s impossible to fake that kind of thing around a wolf. 

In comparison to the rest of them, Twilight sleeps like a baby. He doesn’t have as many nightmares as he used to, and the ones he does have tend to be far less violent. But in a perverse twist, he dreams of Midna more and more as time goes on. Never as they were before—her presence is always accompanied by the aching certainty that she has left him once already, and their reunion is his final chance to make things right. 

Even in his dreams, she leaves him. His heart can’t imagine a world in which she stays. 

To really dig in the knife, his dreams always strip his anger away. He’s flayed raw, left only with longing and desperation sloughing off of him. It’s a mortifying glimpse into the lengths he might go to keep her at his side. How thoroughly he would debase himself, how he’d grovel and beg, if only she would promise to never leave him again. 

It’s humiliating. It leaves his chest aching for hours after he wakes. 

The only thing worse is realizing she’s still gone. 

Twilight raises his head, letting it fall back against the wall with a quiet groan. There’s no chance of him falling back asleep, not like this. When they’re camping, he’d usually read by the fire or go run around in his wolf form. It’s too dark out here for reading, and transforming in a town that’s on high alert for a wolfos attack is bound to get him shot. 

Then again, the old man mentioned a park in the Northern District. If it’s big enough, Twilight won’t have to worry about running into anyone, and he can gather more information from the animals there. 

It’s a better plan than sitting in the hall for the rest of the night. Twilight stands and stretches, wincing at the twinge in his ribs—he’ll need to make sure he only sleeps on his back the next few nights. He heads down the hall to the stairs, trying to keep his footsteps quiet, but the floorboards creak no matter how lightly he steps. 

It’s not until he passes the doorway to the patio that he hears the voices. One deep, one higher-pitched and childish. Neither are loud enough for him to make out what they’re saying, but their words are tense, heated.

Twilight’s pretty certain he recognizes both, but it’s still a shock to step outside and find the kid and Time in the middle of an argument and practically nose-to-nose, the kid standing atop one of the tables so he can glare down at the old man.

“—how irresponsible it is to—”

The click of the shutting door cuts Time's rant off, and he and the child turn, eerily in sync, to give Twilight twin looks of disdain. 

“Uhh… y’all good out here?” Twilight says.  

Time’s quick to smooth his expression into something neutral, but the rest of his body remains rigid, almost radiating anger. “Rancher, what are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I was goin’ to the park to scout,” Twilight replies. “What are you two…?” He doesn’t finish the thought. It’s not even the question he should be asking. He understands that he’s walked in on some sort of fight, but he can’t begin to imagine what they’re arguing about or why they’ve chosen to do so in the middle of the night.

They both cross their arms. The kid fixes his sneer on Time again, his face so full of scorn that Twilight’s almost worried this could turn physical. 

Time, however, ignores the younger hero. His eyes flit from Twilight’s face to the ground, his mouth parting as he fumbles for words. Eventually, he just shakes his head.

Twilight swallows past the lump in his throat. “What can I do to help?” 

The kid turns away. Pain flashes across Time’s face, and he shakes his head again before walking to Twilight and laying a hand on his shoulder. It’s maybe the first time that the gesture doesn’t feel reassuring. 

“It’s fine, pup. You don’t need to worry.”

Time says nothing more, and Twilight watches him go inside and close the door. 

When he turns around, the kid has already disappeared.