Archive of Our Own

After the end, Purah is the first to ask what he wants to do. Hyrule needs rebuilding, but more than that, it needs a leader. Link flexes the fingers of his right hand, presses sharp nails into dusky gray skin. He’ll help, of course—he built an entire village with Bolson over the course of three days. Surely an entire castle town can’t take too much longer than that.

As for a leader, well, the people already chose one. He nods meaningfully at Purah, who blinks through red-rimmed, eyelashed spectacles. “Me?” Nods again, even as she taps—whatever that stick she always carries around is—against her temple. “You sure? You are the prophesied Hero of Hyrule, after all. We could call you the Hero King!”

Nothing could be less appealing. And when she chuckles, deep and gut-wrenching, he realizes it must have shown on his face. Ah…

“No, don’t—it’s refreshing to see what you’re thinking for a change.” Purah adjusts her glasses, squinting up at a sky still illuminated gold even though the sun has very nearly set. Link follows her gaze despite himself. “I think she’d be happy about it, too.”

Above, the Light Dragon weaves high into the sky, leaving a trail of starlight in her wake.

Rebuilding a town turns out to be much slower-goings without magical powers imbued from a being said to be descended from the gods.

“Are you sure you can’t—” Josha asks one day, wriggling her fingers at him while staring pointedly at his arm. Rauru’s arm.

Link curls sharp nails into his palm on instinct, but shakes his head.

The magic is gone.

He felt the moment it left. After Ganondorf was defeated, his secret stone shattered under the Master Sword’s blade, a last earth-rending cry from an inhuman maw that careened Link into the sky. And as he fell in seemingly endless slow motion, he saw them. The spirits of King Rauru and Queen Sonia, finally reunited, hands joined and raised in quiet triumph.

He reached for them and felt a lightness in his right arm. A burden lifted. A kingdom restored. A debt paid.

Goodbye.

Their faces, filled with bittersweet regret, fading.

But Link wasn’t surprised by the sense of emptiness this time. How could he, when he’d already lost the Champion’s abilities—his friends’ abilities—in the same acute way?

He doesn’t remember much after that. Only waking up beside the water’s edge, bathed in the Light Dragon’s shadow, drenched in starlight.

Still, he allows Josha to giddily take a blood sample for research.

Link’s days are spent rebuilding Hyrule proper. Pouring over design blueprints with Robbie. Gathering raw materials in the wilds. Helping clear out any remaining monster encampments from the very last blood moon’s rise. Training a squadron of future Hyrule Knights. Cooking and delivering meals to the frontline crew. Sweeping away the chaff with Jerrin.

“How do you do it all?” she murmurs, resting both hands and chin atop her broom handle. “Surely even the hero of legend should have some limits. I heard you don’t even have, you know, anymore.” Jerrin wriggles her fingers as she says it, jostling her head from side-to-side.

Link shrugs. What can he say? There is still so much more to do.

Above, the Light Dragon circles. Watching. Waiting.

Darkness never quite settles in Hyrule proper these days. (It won’t for nearly a year.)

And though his days are often filled with people, sometimes overwhelmed by them, Link’s nights are spent alone. It would be too difficult for anyone to follow him up to the sky islands, to pick through them one by one until they are all crossed off of his map. So it takes longer than he’d like—breakfast prep starts at five sharp in the Emergency Shelter—but he eventually manages to recover every scrap of ancient text that exists after several weeks.

After that, Link’s nights are spent carefully digitizing each and every piece with the Purah Pad. He figures he’ll send them to Tauro, maybe even Wortsworth to cover all his bases. But his plans are thwarted when Mineru happens upon him one night in the ruins of the Hyrule Castle library.

It probably wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s up to—but she also happens to be the oldest one Link knows. And he knows quite a few.

Her construct head tilts from side to side, whirring in a way that always sounds like a sigh. “You know I told Zelda that to become an immortal dragon is to lose oneself—that to come back from the forbidden act of draconification is impossible.”

Link shrugs. He’s done the impossible twice now. Why not try for a third time now that the world hasn’t ended?

But instead of dissuading him, she clunks over to the opposite side, takes a scrap of ancient writing and folds her body into itself so that her face can sit at a more comfortable reading distance from the table. “You’re the second-most stubborn Hylian I’ve ever met.”

He takes that as a compliment.

Hyrule proper is finally restored after nearly a year, but Link—even with the aid of Mineru—finds himself no closer to the impossible.

And the Light Dragon heads northwest.

So he follows.

Well, first he visits Robbie.

In the middle of the night.

“Completely forgetting about timezones and etiquette!” Robbie screeches in greeting—in the middle of the night—but still immediately ushers him inside because he’s “not remotely dressed for the dead of Hateno winter, this crazy little fool.” Link probably isn’t meant to hear that part.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to bother explaining why he’s here. Befriending geniuses tends to afford him this luxury.

“You’re here about that thing you asked for, yeah yeah yeah? It’ll take a few days to program—what what what is with that look?!” Bushy white brows furrow over eyes that Link has never known were blue. “I almost miss when he was less expressive.” He definitely isn’t meant to hear that part.

“What’s the rush, anyway?” Robbie grumbles, but still stomps his way to a haphazard workbench, fits trusty goggles over his face. “You asked about these upgrades nearly a year ago but they’re only now important?”

Well, he didn’t need a wider range for his sensor back when all he had to do was look up to see her, to know where she was, everpresent.

Link hands him the Purah Pad and, after retrieving the scarf hanging over the whiteboard “lest the fabled hero freeze himself to death on my watch,” heads out to forage for acorns.

Robbie likes fresh milk with his coffee.

Link follows the trail of starlight all throughout Hyrule.

Through Tabantha Frontier, to stop into the Lucky Clover Gazette.

“Coulda told me you were that famous swordsman!” Penn squawks, flapping an accusatory wing in his face. “It’s bad enough that Traysi didn’t say a peep, but you?”

Link shrugs helplessly, and Penn relents. “Yeah, you’re right. Traysi was your boss, too. So what brings you here, partner?”

Penn grants him access to the paper’s archives, and Links spends a few nights holed up in the office, catching up on all the news of nearly a year prior, searching for any hint of the impossible. He only makes it three months in, though, before the otherwise steady hum of the Purah Pad’s sensor begins to recede.

“I’ll keep my ear to the ground for any chirps and warbles,” Penn promises with a feathery salute. “Soar long!”

Onward to Rito Village, where spring is just starting to bloom.

They put on a spectacle for his arrival at Teba’s insistence—it’s not every day the legendary Hero of Hyrule comes to visit, after all. So the entire village comes together to feast on delicately seasoned fish and mushroom skewers, thick and creamy seafood soup, spicy fried wild greens and honey-simmered wildberries. Even the children sing and dance till late into the night, because no one seems to notice that the sun has already set ages ago. Why would they, when the skies above remain brightly gold?

Saki insists that he stay in their hutch for the night, which Link obliges because she and her husband have had quite a bit to drink—the village leaders don’t often imbibe, but Link knows they are dead sleepers when they do.

Unfortunately, Tulin is nothing like his parents in this regard. He flies overhead and hovers before him when Link tries to ease silently out the door before sunrise. “You weren’t going to leave without saying bye, were you?”

He wasn’t. Had just planned an early day of exploring the nearby Hebra Mountain caves, and doesn’t have the heart to say no when Tulin asks if he can tag along. He makes for easy company; fills Link in on all the happenings in the area—from the silly to the mundane because, thankfully, there hasn’t been much hardship in Rito Village since they settled the storm. Tulin also doesn’t ask too much in return, simply delights in the rare chance for exploration.

It’s only by late noon, by the time their grumbling stomachs are too painful to ignore, that Tulin finally trills, “What exactly are you looking for? Treasure?”

Something like that.

Link stays for several weeks this time, long enough to cross all the caves off his map. He leaves the cavern spoils with Tulin, and takes only whatever apples he’s managed to forage as the sensor leads him east.

Past the Great Hyrule Forest, around the crumbling Eldin Mountain range, and through the Akkala highlands to stop at Goron City, where YunoboCo has expanded the scope of their work to include construction.

“Mining wasn’t going to sustain Goron City forever,” Yunobo explains, guiding Link through city streets sheened in a cool and unfamiliar slate gray. “Plus, the non-Gorons who took root here needed more permanent dwellings, so we prototyped a new type of stone—chillstone. And from there we realized that we could really boost the economy by becoming a more welcoming destination for tourists. Folks looking for a nice hotspring vacation without the added fortune spent on flameproof clothing. Or families looking to create new memories together—without the added fortune spent on flameproof clothing. Plus, you could say I was inspired by our adventures together.”

They stop in front of great, slate gray gates. “Presenting: The Ancient City of Gorondia Theme Park!”

Before Link is a massive spectacle teeming with vibrant color and attractions, the star of which seems to be a near-exact replica of Death Mountain, encircled by miles of minecart tracks, all the way up to its peak. “I know you only asked for permission to enter the abandoned mines—And you have it! Of course! Anything for the great Hero of Hyrule!—but I just couldn’t believe your timing! Our grand opening is tomorrow, and I’d be honored if you would take the first unofficial ride of Death-Defying Mountain with me, goro!”

How could he say no? Besides, the Death-Defying Mountain roller coaster reaches such great heights that it sends the Purah Pad’s sensor into overdrive right before plummeting into a thrilling tailspin.

It won’t be the last time Link takes a ride on The Ancient City of Gorondia’s star attraction during his stay in Goron City.

Straight south into Eldin Canyon, then east toward Zora’s Domain, where he arrives just in time to catch King Sidon and Queen Yona heading out on a well-deserved honeymoon.

“You should join us, my friend!” Sidon exclaims, immediately dropping his bags and opening arms wide in welcome. “It has been far too long! What better way for us to catch up on everything that has happened in all our time apart?”

Link glances at Yona for help, but Yona is—fortunately at most times, though unfortunately at this specific moment—exactly like her husband. “Yes, yes! What a wonderful idea, my dear sweet Sidon. I, too, believe our destination would be the perfect place for Sir Link to unwind from his long travels. Let me ask dear Muzu to fetch some fresh garments more befitting the Hero of Hyrule.”

As she doubles back across the bridge, completely at ease derailing her own honeymoon plans, Link glances down at himself and grimaces. His Champion’s leathers are bleached nearly white, covered in grass stains, cavern grime, mining debris, and various dubious substances. Trust Yona to come up with the nicest way possible to not tell him, in so many words, that he’s disgusting.

He also—sniffs—stinks.

But none of the above stops Sidon from giving him the biggest, ground-lifting, spine-crushing hug imaginable.

Yona returns with a fresh set of water-resistant clothing and they set off. First toward Mipha’s Court to pay their respects, then heading further east toward a tiny, private, unmapped island in the Lanaryu Sea.

Link figures he’ll quietly slip away to allow the couple some alone time after a day or two—but it turns out that he is the only one looking for it.

“Dear Link, you must try this crab risotto!” “Let us race to Davdi Island, my friend!” “How did you sleep last night?” Their uncanny ability to speak in complete unison without actually trying to is uncanny, to say the least.

In the end, the only time Link can catch alone is when the pair of them are lulled to sleep by the tide and he can finally go fishing for sinkholes.

Thankfully, Robbie’s new sensor functions even many leagues under the sea.

Hateno Village, again.

He doesn’t enter their house—can’t, not yet—but leaves enough rupees in the mailbox for Clavia.

And, unwilling to inconvenience Robbie again, Link decides to do what he does best. Camps out in the wilds, falls asleep to the rhythmic beeping of the Purah Pad as starlight dances on the backs of his lids.

Through Necluda, toward Kakariko. He doesn’t enter here, either.

Can’t.

Impa was one of only two people he’d ever told about her fate—her ultimate sacrifice—and he remembers the look in those deep brown eyes, after the end, when he returned from defeating the demon king. Alone.

He didn’t have the heart to tell anyone else the truth about the Light Dragon after that.

Not yet.

By the time he’s camping in the Gerudo Desert, he’s so used to being alone and so attuned to the sensor’s steady hum, that he doesn’t even notice Riju until she towers before him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, accompanied by her faithful sand seal, Patricia.

“I had heard rumors that a suspicious blond voe was seen camping in the desert outskirts. This on the heels of another rumor that the legendary swordsman was last seen vacationing with King Sidon and his queen months ago. As you can imagine, I had to investigate these rumors for myself.”

When he cannot offer a response, Riju shakes her head, uncrosses her arms and lets them fall limp by her side. Patricia nudges into her palm. “You at least recall that you are the sole voe exception allowed into Gerudo Town?”

Lowers his head. “I see, so it was on purpose you steered clear of us.” Something falters in her voice—a voice honed to formidable steel, a voice far too young to have commanded armies against an ancient demon’s monster horde—and she sighs. Her next sentence is said not as the chief of Gerudo Town, nor as the Sage of Lightning, but as a little girl who once lost her mother. “I know we were never able to find Princess—”

No, he can’t—he can’t—

The sensor begins to fade, so Link runs.

But the Light Dragon leads him right back to Central Hyrule—

Through the Tabantha Frontier—

Across the Hebra Mountain plateau—

Past the Great Hyrule Forest—

Around the crumbling Eldin Mountain range—

Wait.

He is so stupid.

He recognizes this route.

How could he have forgotten?

Not just a repeat of the Light Dragon’s path, but the route they took after the Second Calamity.

“Although Ganon is gone for now, there is still so much more for us to do.”

But there is no more us.

There is only him.

So Link climbs to the peak of Death Mountain, sits and watches the moon rise on the seventh day of the week, its glow pale and muted against the Light Dragon’s sheer incandescence. And then, he jumps—

—straight into the depths.

He raids every Yiga base, ransacks every abandoned mine, overturns every nook and grove, bargains with every bargainer statue, only to turn up empty-handed every time.

There is no conquering the impossible within the depths, either.

When he finally resurfaces, he is paler than moonlight except the line of faint pink that stretches across his shoulder, that connects milky peach to dusky gray.

And with nowhere else to turn, Link finally heads home.

He doesn’t have a key—doesn’t ever remember having one, to be honest—but a swift kick to the corner of the door does the trick. It also disrupts a thick cloud of dust that stings his eyes and leaves him choked up and gasping, so he leaves the door ajar to air the staleness out. Pads through the tiny exterior and throws all the windows open in an attempt to breathe.

When he’s finally ready to take it all in—the wooden table set with two chairs, its flower vase sitting empty; frames hung all along the walls with pictures so faded he can’t tell horse from Hyrule; shelves and cabinets lined with assorted knick-knacks that hold no fathomable meaning anymore—it hits him.

“Home isn’t a place,” she’d said, once, hanging up that very last picture by their bed, the one he walks toward now, though it, too, has faded beyond recognition. He didn’t understand what she meant back then—he often didn’t, though it never stopped him from listening to every word—but thinks he might get it now.

Link sets the Master Sword against the foot of the bed and wonders if there’s still power, fishes between the mattress and the wall for a tiny cable, and plugs in the Purah Pad. Leaves it on the bed as he glances toward the desk, where her journal sits, undisturbed. He would like to take it with him. Finds an old rucksack beneath the bed and walks over to retrieve it.

Only—

It has been disturbed. There is something on top of it. A folded and yellowed bit of paper with writing. And on top of that, a small blue triangle.

A Hylian blue triangle.

The note reads, I found this while cleaning out the well. I thought you might appreciate it, if you ever come back here. —Clavia

He reaches for it with trembling fingers, nearly wipes it off with the front of his shirt, but decides to root around for something cleaner. A bit of cloth folded neatly beside her reading glasses; he uses it to rub the pin spotless. When he bends one point of it, he’s surprised—and overwhelmed and grateful—that it doesn’t snap completely in his hands.

Brittle, but still functioning.

Fastens it into his hair and feels it tug against the skin of his temple.

Heart full, he realizes he has nothing to offer the mayor’s wife in return for this kindness, nothing to barter for his sheer gratitude, hopes he can pay her back, one day. For now, Link brushes the note aside to retrieve the journal beneath, watches as it flips over to reveal more writing on the other side. A different shade of ink, darker and noticeably fresher than the last.

This strange stick was also left in your mailbox. I don’t know what it is, but I brought it inside just in case.

A stick?

Link glances to the other end of the desk, where indeed lies a strange stick. Looking at it now, he still has no idea what it is.

All he knows is that it is Purah’s.

The Purah Pad’s screen flickers in his periphery, before lighting up completely blue and cheerfully beeping: Updates Complete! The date refreshes on the spot and with it comes an unexpected realization—he has been gone for over five years.

His fingers are slow and clumsy over the buttons after years of disuse, but he eventually finds the map—also updated and wholly unfamiliar once he filters out thousands of crossed-off cavern entrances. Navigates to the Lookout Landing Skyview Tower, but it is no longer in service.

So Link runs.

“It’s about time,” Purah wheezes when he slips through her window in the middle of the night. No pleasantries, all business, as always. She’s hooked up to so many contraptions and devices that he fears getting too close might affect the machinery somehow. Purah reads his hesitation and chuckles. “It’s just fluids and monitoring—check it.” As if to make her point, she wrenches the IV out of her arm and unhooks the rest of the wires one by one, despite his hands raised in protest.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She waves him off, but would be much more convincing without the gut-wrenching cough that follows, that rattles the bones beneath such frail, blue-veined skin. “A body can only withstand so much change. I should have figured this was the case, but still wanted just a bit more time. And for what—to waste away in a hospice?” Link probably isn’t meant to hear that last part, muttered with a pang of regret he’s never known from this indomitable woman.

“Well, now that you’re here, let’s get to the old Skyview Tower. It’s almost time.” When he hesitates again, she laughs, throaty and hoarse. “Oh, Linky, don’t make that face. Just think of it as my last request, yeah?”

No one in all of Hyrule could be heartless enough to say no to that.

So Link carefully scoops her up, blankets and all, and heads out into the night. It takes quite a bit of time—he walks slow and steady despite her grumbling to pick up the pace—but they manage the journey, and he deposits her gently onto the platform when they arrive.

“So, what finally reached you?”

He retrieves the stick from his bag and she chuckles into an aching wheeze. “Ah, figures. We thought you might go home eventually.” When he offers it to her, she shakes her head. “Nope. I wanted to leave it to you—” she trails off, glancing at his face. “What is it? You mean, you don’t know what it is?!” Never has. She laughs again, but this time it rings with youthful energy. “It was the first thing Impa ever made with her own two hands. Well, not this one, per se—this one she gave to me after the Calamity’s end—but back then, when we were both little girls tinkering in our father’s lab, she created this. A flute.”

Purah takes it from his hands and places thin, wrinkled fingers over the grooves in the body; mimics blowing into the top of it, where there is a tiny flat opening. She hands it back over and grins at the solemn look on his face. “Nope, Impa doesn’t want it. I asked. You’re the last to come see me, you know.” That she was holding stubbornly on to be seen goes unsaid. “There’s not a lick of musical talent in our direct family line, anyhow. But Paya thought, surely you might…well, now, why don’t you give it a try?”

Link has never played a musical instrument in his entire life, but when he lifts the mouth of it to his lips, something stirs in the deepest well of his soul. A melody begins to flow unbidden, comes as naturally to him as breathing. As fighting. As surviving.

“Thanks, Linky.” Purah leans against him as the notes wash over the silent, sleeping world. And then, a familiar hum creeps into the music. He lowers the flute from his lips as she sags against his shoulder, breath slow and fading. “I really wanted to see you both, one last time.”

Above, the Light Dragon surges into view, painting the sky in golden starlight, even though the sun has long since set.

Of course.

“There is still so much for us to do. And so many painful memories that we must bear.”

How could he have forgotten?

“I believe in my heart that if all of us work together—we can restore Hyrule to its former glory. Perhaps…even beyond.”

Hyrule is more than a castle and its town.

“But it all must start with us.”

It is a kingdom.

So Link turns off the Purah Pad’s sensor and lives.

For Hyrule and for all of their people.

He’s there for Tulin’s coming of age ceremony, a Rito ritual that hasn’t been practiced in hundreds of years, since well before even the Second Great Calamity.

There was a reference to it in one of the old journals found in a Hebra Mountain Cave, and when Tulin asked his parents about it, they—along with the rest of the village elders—were able to scrape together enough bits of folklore told in their youth to paint a full picture of it. A depth-defying obstacle course set high into the sky, requiring mastery of both wing and bow in order to make it safely through to the other side.

“It would be good for younger generations to become better prepared to project our village,” Tulin said, sagely, and he and his friends immediately set to work.

His ceremony won’t be the last one held in Rito Village—Tulin will make sure of it—but it will be a good long while till someone is finally able to beat his record time. (Link will be there for that, too.)

He’s there for the very first Lurelin 500, cheering from crowded stadium seats that line the entire perimeter of the waterway. It’s a fierce competition of some of the most imaginative racing vehicles ever to exist—one looks like a giant hand—but Tali and Shabonne have a clear technical edge. They’re neck and neck for the last stretch of the course, just one twisty turn before coasting toward the finish line, when Tali edges Shabonne out. And then—

“What’s this?!” Bolson cries over the loudspeakers. “It looks like Tali has drifted too close into the buoy line! Her fan is stuck!” The crowd explodes into a collective gasp. “She’s trying to rip the line, but those buoys are certified Bolson-construction, oh my! You’d need the Master Sword’s blade itself to cut her free—stay right there, pal! No meddling in a race!” Link meekly sheaths his sword and settles back down, just as Bolson’s voice picks up again. “Looks like Shabonne finally caught up and she’s—slowing her vehicle down?! It looks like she’s trying to help? Tali is not having it, though! They’re arguing—ladies this is a race!!!”

Laugher ripples across the stadium—longtime Water Rally fans are no strangers to the fiery hot tempers of the pair of Gerudo racers. “Wait—it looks like—yes! Cloyne from the Lucky Treasure Shop has passed them both!” He clears his throat. “Okey-doo, what an excellent time for a sponsor break. You don’t even need rupees to try your luck at the Lucky Treasure Shop! Check it out after—maa! How charming! Shabonne has pulled Tali onto her vehicle and they are in hot pursuit of Cloyne now! There’s still quite a distance between them, but they’re gaining and—”

Silence but the whipping of water as everyone—even Bolson—holds their collective breaths.

“—they did it! Shabonne and Tali take the win together!” The crowd explodes into celebratory cheers.

It’s the only Lurelin 500 to ever end in a tie.

He’s there when Koyin finally emerges from her kitchen after weeks of isolation—her parents were so worried, how would she ever find a husband at this rate—with a brand new recipe.

Hateno Cheesecake is, unlike its key ingredient, a dish that is not before its time and is an instant smash hit. It’s not long before every region is creating and distributing their own variations on the recipe all over Hyrule.

Hateno blue cheese, however, does take a bit more convincing to become palatable to the masses. Link, however, loves it from the funky first bite.

He’s there for the Ancient City of Gondoria Theme Park expansion—all four of them.

When the park’s overwhelming success resulted in consistently sold out daily tickets, it also, unfortunately, resulted in a ticket-scalping black market. They tried to decrease entrance fees in retaliation, but the black market continued to thrive because there was just too much demand and not enough supply. Increasing the daily ticket allowance would lead to an overcapacity in the park, which would then result in unbearable queue times and an overall terrible experience.

Naturally, the only solution was to expand.

But the expansions being homages to all the homelands of the sages who helped to save Hyrule? That was all Yunobo.

And though Link has enjoyed all the new attractions several times over—Rito’s Airdrop, the Gerudo Bumper Seals, and the Zora Lazy Hotspring River—he’s rather partial to the miniature recreation of Hyrule Castle. When he’s older and less agreeable to dizzying heights, he’ll spend most of his time sitting within its attached hothouse garden, full of silent princesses in bloom.

He’s there at the Dondon Sanctuary in Faron every month, dropping off as many luminous stones as he can carry.

Though it is a sanctuary in name alone at this point. The Dondons are plentiful now, roam far and wide across the entire subtropical forest.

He’s there for the grand opening of the Hyrule National Museum in Kakariko, built just beneath the remains of the Floating Ring Ruins.

It starts with five exhibits.

The Calamity Ganon Tapestry—preserved and donated by Impa, a Sheikah heirloom depicting the events of the First Great Calamity. On the left of the tapestry, behind a glass display, is an exact replica of Revali’s Great Eagle Bow and Urbosa’s Scimitar of the Seven; on the right, Daruk’s Boulder Breaker and Mipha’s Lightscale Trident. Below the tapestry is a memorial honoring the Champions’ heroic sacrifice.

The Zonai Legacy—an abundance of artifacts and information crowdsourced by the entire Zonai Survey team.

A Loop Through History—a collection of all the Zonai writings from the Ring Ruins, with pictures by Link, translations by Tauro, and annotations by Paya, all housed in a circular enclosure designed by Hudson. (Though he really would have preferred some sharp angles.)

Messages from an Ancient Era—the complete set of twelve stone tablets carved with ancient Hyrulian text that loom over its visitors. The tablets are preserved in specially-fortified cases—courtesy of Robbie—that can perfectly mimic and maintain the air temperature and pressure of the sky islands. On the wall beside each of the tablets is a plaque with Wortsworth’s original translations from the era of the Upheaval. (In time they will also be joined by his 10th and 25th anniversary retranslations.)

The Imprisoning War—a small collection of three photographs, the only surviving images of a now lost mural depicting events leading up to the event. Donated by and dedicated to Princess Zelda of Hyrule.

Link had tried, once, to memorialize the rest of the mural—to finally reveal her incredible sacrifice to all of Hyrule for generations to come—but found that everything below the former castle had disintegrated to dust.

It was Impa who then suggested, gently, one small addition to the exhibit. A small display case—seemingly empty to most eyes. But those of the most pure and discerning of hearts might notice a single horn, aglow with gentle starlight. The plaque beneath reads: May the light always shine over the glory of Hyrule and beyond.

He’s there when the museum, too, proves so successful that—taking a page from the Ancient City of Gondoria Theme Park—expansion is the only natural solution, and countless new exhibits take up either permanent or temporary dwelling in due course.

Misko’s Treasures—a collection of the great bandit Misko’s most fashionable finds, unearthed far and wide across Hyrule.

The Colossal Fossils—an exhibit years in the making, collecting and mounting the remains of the great leviathans found in East Akkala, Hebra, and Eldin, sponsored by leviathan enthusiast Loone.

The Mysterious Eighth—an explosive exhibit detailing the truth of the mysterious eighth heroine of the Gerudo, with documented proof of his existence and later erasure from history, compiled by renowned archeologist Rotana.

Kilton’s Traveling Monstrous Extravaganza—a great spectacle of lifelike figures long extinct from Hyrule lands, curated by monster connoisseur Kilton, himself. Every monster is labeled with detailed explanations about their natural habitat, diet, way of life, and common personality traits. Except for one. But while some might recognize the tiny, pearlescent blue statue as the Satori of myth—or by its affectionate nickname Blupee—this one is simply labeled Brother.

The attached museum gift shop sells all manner of paraphernalia for each of the exhibits: Misko costume jewelry, DIY mini fossil kits, Gerudo stellae plushies, and tiny collectable monster action figures—gotta collect them all! The inventory changes with the seasons, with the exhibits, with the times, but one item that always remains in stock, without fail, to confuse generations of Hyrulians to come, are Kakariko’s original ring garlands. Still hand-crafted by Koko herself.

Link doesn’t know why he feels compelled to buy one every single time.

He’s there at the Hateno School every year to give a special lecture about the Imprisoning War, the Calamity, and the Upheaval, to ensure that future generations won’t deny the sacrifices made by their ancestors. So that history has a chance of not repeating itself.

After that, they go out into Uma’s garden to learn how to forage and farm the land, and also how to cook a good meal from its bountiful harvest.

Over the years the kids go from awe-inspired to skeptical—such is the cyclical nature of life—and it’s only when he pulls up a sleeve to reveal his right arm in all its dusky glory that some kids finally believe him.

But soon even that won’t be proof enough. Which is when Link starts sponsoring trips to the Hyrule National Museum, accompanying Symin as a chaperone every year.

He’s front row center at nearly every Stable Trotters concert—even the super secret dive shows that take place at a Stable chosen at random in the middle of the night.

Pyper keeps him well informed, and Link is usually seated right next to Haite, whose cheers are always loud enough to scatter any and all fireflies in the area.

He’s there for every one of Cece’s latest fashion trends—from mushrooms to pumpkins to a special cheesy collaboration with Koyin to even a full green bodysuit with a pointed hood and brown leather boots, apparently inspired by a man who once claimed to be the very reincarnation of a fairy, Kooloo-Limpah.

Link declined modeling for her that year.

He’s even there when Cece announces both her retirement from the fashion world as well as her successor to Ventest Clothing—none other than her most skilled protege, Lasli. (Sophie retires with her, and her posture seems to better for it.)

It’s always difficult to take up the mantle of a predecessor—especially one that is so revered and loved throughout the world—which is maybe what inspires Lasli’s first fashionable hit. A literal mantle of overflowing lavender, decorated in stylistic renderings of fungi.

He’s there when Mattison marries, not a son, but a dottir—Gunnarsdottir, to be exact. The ceremony is held in Tarrey Town’s townhexagon, in the same exact location as her parents’ wedding so many years ago. Hudson is a blubbering mess as he walks her down the aisle, and even stoic Rhondson’s eyes are watering by the time she draws back Mattison’s veil—it’s the same one she wore, so many years ago, after all. After the vows are exchanged, the brides kiss beneath a scatter of starlit flower-petal showers.

Link snaps the perfect picture and commissions Grantéson to paint an exact replica while they’re off on their Gerudo Town honeymoon. But their real present isn’t just the painting—it’s the entire house that overlooks Tarrey Town.

When asked if he’s sure, he shrugs, positive. He doesn’t really need a home anymore. When’s the last time he’s ever stayed in place?

He’s there for every one of his friends, in the end, too.

Spends a week with Robbie patiently jotting down all his natterings as Jerrin sweeps the kitchen spotless while Grantéson works on bringing some of his existing prototypes to life.

He’s working on a miniature version of an ancient Sheikah guardian now, a pet project that began sometime after the Second Calamity, before falling by the wayside due to the Upheaval. It was an idea that the Princess once expressed a great interest for, and upon re-remembering this fact, Robbie was so frenzied they needed to physically restrain him from jumping out of his bed and onto his workbench.

For a man well over hundreds of years old, he had a somehow surprisingly unsurprising amount of fight left in him.

He only settled down when Grantéson promised he would finish it in his stead.

And when the diminutive guardian finally opens its clear blue eye, it immediately blinks. Over and over and over again, skittering about the room as shutter-clicks fill the air.

Robbie wheezes in delight. “A picture-taking companion. She always said it was a shame she could never capture you both.”

He leaves them with several dozen pictures of “his incredibly handsome, genius face”—eyes shining bright blue; grin wide and absolutely shit-eating.

King Dorephan’s funeral is a great wake that lasts a month of full Zora pomp and circumstance. The entire domain mourns the passing of their former king by crafting garments full of adornments, everyone—from the oldest to the tiniest wellspring. At the end of a month’s time, the garments are collected directly by the current King Sidon, who scatters them along the outer circular bridge. The rest of the kingdom watches from above as he lights the pyre with a ceremonial torch, catching the entire ring in a blaze of offered glory.

Link holds Yona’s hand until the last flame flickers, until Sidon’s water gently washes over the ashes.

(Somehow old Muzu will outlast them all. It is perhaps only for that reason he’ll uncharacteristically reach out to Link before Yona does.)

He spends three months in Kakariko, glued to Impa’s side.

“Ahhh, you don’t have to go through all this trouble,” Impa chuckles, her tiny hands completely enveloped within his as he sits by her bedside. But he does, because he’s still so very sorry.

“I’m sorry,” she cuts in, a circular conversation they’ve been having since he arrived. “I was too engrossed in my own research to restore the princess that I failed to consider your feelings. That more than anyone, surely you needed—we all thought of you as infallible, the Great Hero of Hyrule…”

He will never let her take responsibility for his own actions, so their conversation cycles again.

Still, they have enough time to create a wealth of new memories, take so many pictures with the help of the diminutive little guardian—“Terrako,” Impa says suddenly, one day, when they are picnicking on the outskirts of Kakariko, shaded from an otherwise blistering summer sun, bathing in starlight. “She told me a story about a little guardian she once met.” Link follows her gaze toward the sky. “I believe she called him Terrako. It seems a fitting name for this one, too, no?”

Terrako vibrates gently under her touch. And then, without warning, starts to trill—to sing.

Impa’s brown eyes widen. “Oh my…if I’m not mistaken, that’s—”

A lullaby. One that Zelda used to hum under her breath every night before drifting to slumber. The same one she used to hum whenever she was nervous, but trying not to show it. Whenever she was trying to be brave.

Of course. How could he have forgotten?

It’s the same song that welled up from deep within, all those years ago at Lookout Landing. The same song he plays now with Purah’s flute, crafted by Impa.

When the last of the notes fade, she is still against him.

Paya doesn’t cry—refuses to—instead spends the rest of the starlit evening recounting the happiest memories of her grandmother, tucked neatly against Tauro’s side. But it’s just as well, Link cries enough for all seven of them.

She finds him there later that night, still rooted in place, staring up at an incandescent sky.

“Terrako sang the children to sleep—he ended up conking out right beside them, so I left him to charge in their room.”

Link nods and notes that even Paya’s eyes are red-rimmed now. She was trying so hard to stay strong for all of them, yet all Link could do was cry for hours on end. He feels a flash of white-hot regret that she quickly shuts down. “Please, don’t ever regret expressing your feelings, Master Link.” So many years ago she could barely look him in the eye, and now here she is, the chief of Kakariko Village, comforting him on the eve of her own grandmother’s passing. “If anything, the only regret grandma ever expressed was that she could never encourage you to feel more. She always wished this life could have been kinder to the boy who would become the Great Hero of Hyrule.”

He blinks away the sting in his eyes.

“Oh! I’m sorry! But grandma considered herself very blessed to be a part of your life, a part of all of our lives. She said she could die with no other regrets after meeting her great-grandchildren!”

Because even where there is death, there is always life, stubbornly blooming from its ashes.

And babies.

So many, many babies.

He was there for the birth of Paya and Tauro’s impish little triplets, all named after the greatest, and most eccentric of Sheikah inventors—Purah, Robbie, and Impa.

While he missed the birth of King Sidon and Queen Yona’s first wellspring—Mipha—he makes sure he is there for the rest—Dorephan, Muzu, Sidon II, and the youngest, Link.

He is there when Tulin surprises them all with the sudden appearance of a fledgling—Kyofu—the first of many orphans he decides to take under his wing.

He is there when Riju has her first and only daughter—Zelda, heir to the Gerudo throne.

In fact, he is there for every Gerudo birth, ever vigilant, always breathing a quiet sigh of relief when the doctor announces the arrival of another healthy baby vai.

He is here now, deep in the center of the Great Hyrule Forest, sitting before the Great Deku Tree, to commemorate a birth. A korok is born once every hundred years, a rare and blessed occasion for which all the children of the forest will pilgrimage back home in celebration.

It begins with opening remarks from mayor Chio, who invites everyone to rest and rejoice, to reunite with their forest brethren.

Next, a feast of delicious, suspicious, but never malicious spores cooked up by Natie—copious amounts of mushroom skewers seasoned with rock salt, mushrooms steamed and fried and honey-glazed, and one blue-cheesy risotto specially prepared for Mr. Hero.

Then, Walton’s scavenger hunt sends everyone scattering across the woods. Maca finds the Forest Dweller Sword, Zooki finds the spear, and Daz stumbles into the shield—literally—in a mad rush out the Inn after oversleeping.

Finally, Hestu gets his maracas out—filled to bursting—and begins to shimmy and shalakala around the bonfire, joined by Pepp, Kula and Tasho. They dance from dusk to dawn, till there is nothing but embers as the sun breaks on a brand new day.

And then, from the ashes blooms a tiny sprout.

Not a single yah or pyah can be heard as the koroks gather round, just the distant echo of pinwheels whirling and swirling without wind, without breath.

The bud emerges, the stalk rises, a scatter of fluffy white flower-seeds and from within wakens—

The Great Deku Tree once explained that koroks have always been born the color of nature; the yellow-greens of earth and grass; the red-browns of dirt and dust; the gray-blues of sea and sand. The color of a newborn korok is said to be an omen of the next century to come.

The last was born in shades of deep malice red.

—a korok the color of sky. With a leaf of incandescent starlight.

The koroks rally and cheer around their new sapling, bouncing it into the air—once, twice, thrice and it flies. They all fly. Pinwheels whirling and swirling away, away, until there is but the distant echo of laughter whistling in the wind.

“But what can it mean?” The Great Deku Tree asks, long after his children depart, sounding—for once—genuinely perplexed.

Link certainly doesn’t have the wisdom of a great spirit who has watched over Hyrule since time immemorial, but he has a hunch.

This korok was born the exact shade of Champion blue—Hylian blue.

The Great Deku Tree rumbles softly at that. “Well, well. I take it that the sword that seals the darkness will return to my care once more?”

Link nods, fits the Master Sword back into its resting place, and hopes it won’t need to awaken for a very long time.

Then, he disappears into the Deku Tree’s navel, where he pushes through a small thatch of leaves, pulling himself up with his arms.

“Mr. Hero!” Oaki greets cheerfully. “What brings you to my secret room today?”

Link reaches trembling fingers toward his temple—bends one point of a now faded blue triangle—and unfastens the clip from his hair. Kneels toward Oaki with his palm outstretched.

“Ooooh,” the little korok coos appreciatively. “So pretty!” When he doesn’t remove his hand, Oaki tilts his little leaf face. “You want me to keep it here?” Link nods.

He’d already left Purah’s flute and pad, Robbie’s goggles, and Impa’s hat, to Paya and her children; Zelda’s journal to the daughter named in her honor. But somehow he hadn’t been able to part with this last piece of her.

Somehow, he likes the idea of it being a secret to everybody. That is, except for Clavia, to whom he left everything else.

Before he leaves, he takes one last lingering look back. It is amazing that despite how much the world has changed around him, despite everything, the Korok Forest looks exactly the same as that first time he ever drew the Master Sword and he became, overnight, the legendary swordsman; that last time he drew it after the Great Deku Tree watched over its renewal.

If he closes his eyes, he can still picture her there, by his side.

Perhaps this, more than anything, is why Link has spent his last few months here.

But for now, it is time to move on.

A rustle and Peeks peeks over the edge of great, gnarling tree roots, catches his eye and waves. Warbles sweetly, “See you next time, Mr. Hero!”

Link waves back and disappears into the fog of the Lost Woods.

Two more stops to go.

It’s been some time since he last visited, so he has quite the stash of crystalized charges for the steward construct northeast of the old Skyview Tower. “This is a crystal refinery.”

It tilts its head to the side—almost as if confused—when Link also lays his battery pack into its outstretched hands. Still, it continues, “I would enjoy further visits from you.”

Till next time.

At last he finds himself alone within the ruins of the Hyrule Castle library. But not for long.

“So you’ve come at long last,” Mineru says, her construct head whirring in a way that still sounds like a sigh. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”

Link shrugs. He’s lived a full life—long enough for memories of his past to become immortalized in song, penned by an infamously wandering Rito minstrel—had to. It was her very last request.

“Protect them all!”

He hopes he’s fulfilled his promise.

“You were never going to change your mind, were you.” It probably wouldn’t take a genius to come to this conclusion—but she also happens to be the oldest one Link knows. And the last. “Yet you still made me wait all these years.”

Ah, he hadn’t really considered that. But Mineru cuts him off. “Do not apologize. I was simply holding up my end of a promise to do everything in my power to help her hero.” Whirrs softly, gently, in a way that sounds almost like a laugh. “I was wrong—perhaps you are the more stubborn Hylian by far.”

He takes it as a compliment. As a farewell. She removes the spirit stone from her body and it immediately collapses into itself, though her hand remains outstretched toward him. Mineru’s spirit smiles wistfully before fading completely away, leaving him alone once more.

She warned him, of course she did, that to become an immortal dragon was to lose oneself completely.

But Link didn’t fear such a thing. How could he, when he’d already lost half of himself so many years ago, had lived an entire lifetime without her?

He’s ready to become whole again.

And in his last conscious moments—as his eyes sting and warp and widen, as his mouth stretches wide into an immortal smile—Link reminds himself to do what he does best, just one last time.

Follow the light—

—and finds Zelda