Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zelda woke in the sky. Actually, she woke under some kind of tree in a mass of vines and roots that cradled her body like a mother cradled a babe, but eventually, once she managed to pull herself free, it would become clear enough that she was far, far above the ground.

Head, arms, legs… Zelda took a quick inventory of her body: her face was burned from gloom smoke, and her lungs ached from breathing it in, but her clothes had protected her from the brunt of the stuff, leaving behind bloody fingers and scraped knees but little else. She was mostly unharmed— unlike Link, wherever he was.

Her clothes, on the other hand, were in tatters. Her shirt had multiple giant holes that reeked of gloom from where it had splattered down on her, burning down to the wick and exposing her skin, more of a flimsy linen scrap than a blouse any longer. Her boots were toast, completely burned through with gloom, and the falling rocks had ripped a gash down the side of her trousers. She debated stripping down to her shift—it wasn’t like her clothes were doing much for her anyways— and leaving her boots behind. After all, at this point walking in them would just blister her feet, with them as beat to hell as they were.

Zelda granted herself fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds of confusion, frustration, and terror, then stealed herself, squared her shoulders, and stood. Link was somewhere, alone and hurting, and shoe would not abandon him.

The tree roots were low and tangled around her, and Zelda had to crouch to avoid banging onto them. Around her, the air was stale and still. There was movement in the corner of her eye, and she turned, grabbing the first thing she saw, a broken branch, and sank down into the fighting stance Link had drilled into her.

“Hello?” She called out. A squeak answered her. Oh. A mouse. Just a mouse. She was being silly.

The root hairs around her were tightly woven, but Zelda carried a knife in her boot these days, a knife in her boot and hairpins with sharp edges, perfect for going at the eyes or jugular of anyone bigger than her. The latter was a gift from Purah, but the former had been from Link; the sand seal ivory handle was hand carved and the metal was made from the highest quality ore Death Mountain could provide. It had been the first thing he’d given her after the Calamity five years prior, and he had signed something about protection and diligence with awkward, unsure sentences until she had pulled him into a hug, promising to use it well. He’d blushed, smiling.

Things had been rocky those first few weeks, few months even, as they relearned who they were and who they were to each other. A hundred years as a semi-corporeal divine creature was not, well, great for one’s sense of self or mental health, and Zelda had emerged from the Calamity not knowing who exactly ‘Zelda’ was anymore—all her life she’d been Zelda the Princess, the praying failure playing at being a scholar, but now there was no need for prayer and a lifetime ahead of her to dedicate to study. With the guardians deactivated and Sheikah tech no longer a danger to others, there had been intense discussion on what to do with the shrines, towers, and mechanical beasts. It was Link who had suggested tearing them down for good; Zelda had protested, insisting that there was still much to learn, and, deep down, terrified to do away with the Shrine of Resurrection. The idea of the worst happening and there being no backup… but Link had put his foot down there, the first fight they’d had since he woke and she’d been freed.

“Not again,” He’d signed to her, face dark and closed off in a way it hadn't been in a century. “Never again. No one goes in that damn Shrine bed ever again, do you understand? Ever.”

Zelda had always felt guilt before towards what she had done to Link, to his memories, and likely always would, but that night afterward, she’d felt a true shame the likes of which she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She’d done that to him. She’d stolen his memories, taken the agency of his death from him, removed his choice. She’d been terrified that Link didn’t want to be alive, that she’d come downstairs from their shared home in Hateno and find him dead in his bed under the stairs, some ungodly action taken by his own hand. Instead, looking deep into his Hyrule herb tea, Link had opened the discussion, an action so un-Link-like that it startled her. The Link she knew struggled to ask for even the most basic of needs, had signed little to her and spoken never, but this Link, instigating a conversation?

“I think… I think I was awake for some part of it.” Link signed. “Maybe awake isn’t the right word. Aware? Aware my body was fixing itself, that time was passing. It… was unpleasant.”

“I’m sorry,” Zelda had whispered, and Link had looked to her with a lopsided smile, sad, soft, but a smile nonetheless.

“It is what it is. What’s past is prologue, after all.” He’d reached over the table and taken her hand. After that, some sort of understanding passed through them. Link would never be the same man from a hundred years ago, but Zelda would never be the same woman, and together they needed to relearn themselves, and each other.

She invited him to take the first swing of the sledgehammers to the Shrine of Resurrection’s healing bed, and from there the deconstruction efforts began, Sheikah tech becoming the starting point and building blocks for a new civilization, instead of a reminder of an old one. It stung to see the things she’d dedicated herself to studying for so long disappear, but Link seemed to be at peace with the decision, and that made it worth it.

Zelda cut through a small patch of thinner roots, shimming under it on her belly, and found herself in a room of stone, ruined and decrepit but clearly once carved with care. She shook the dust and dirt from her hair and longed for a hair tie as it caught on the burned skin on her face. She pulled the strands from the wound with a hiss before finally ripping a strip of cloth from her already ruined blouse and pulling it up. Her lungs burned as she wandered the room, taking in the ruins, still weak from gloom inhalation. She’d inhaled far too much of the vile stuff while underground and—she looked at her wrist closely for the first time. There was a ring of bruises around it, from the… the hand.

Even now, she was tempted to chalk the hand up to a panic-induced hallucination—but, no, now that she was out of the tree roots, heartbeat achy in her chest from gloom but still steady and calm, the marks on her wrists were clear. The hand, the same thing that had been pinning the mummy down, had grabbed her, hauled her up, up, up as she and Link fell, away from Link, her home, leaving her grasping at air as he fell below her and disappeared into a flash of green and gold. His gory fingers had brushed hers, so close but so far, almost but not enough, and then he was gone, and there had been nothing but the hand.

Where was it? Had it really, what, just deposited her here and left? That seemed unlikely, yet she saw no glowing green or long nails, no matter where she looked.

She was alone. Completely and utterly, alone, high in the sky, with no way down.

She found a chest of clothes hidden in some dusty corner, the metal rusted and falling apart at the seams, but the clothes folded with care. It reminded her so much of the own set of well worn clothes she had left out for Link one hundred years ago that it burned, deep in her heart and gut.

The fabric of the archaic tunic was old and scratchy, but the sandals were in better shape than her gloomed stained boots and the tunic’s color reminded her of Farosh, of Farore, of the Heroes of Hyrule in their green tunics and greener hats—it reminded her of Link.

The thought burned.

She put on the tunic. Beside it was the Purah pad, surprisingly in one piece. She would have expected it to be cracked and abandoned at the bottom of Hyrule Castle forever. She picked it up; it chirped, still open to the photos. The photo of the Zonai relief was front and center, but before that one was a front-facing photo taken not even an hour earlier than that one, back when Link and Zelda had first begun wandering down the tunnels. Link hung off Zelda’s shoulder with a lopsided smile, his hand gripping her cheeks and squishing her face as she rolled her eyes. His hair was wild, his smile free, and Zelda’s heart clenched in her chest like a dead fox in a wolf’s mouth. It had taken so much work to finally see that smile, that broad, uncensored, open face, and now…

Would she ever see it again?

Zelda shook the thought away hard. Of course, she would. She would find him. Nothing would stop her, and she’d soak in that hard-won smile like a drowning man sucked in air. She clipped the Purah pad to her hip, and left the tree and its roots behind, exchanging the ruined stone walls for a free fall into deep, lily-pad-filled waters. The water was cool and crisp, and the air up here was thin, making her already bruised lungs hurt. But she was alive. Link had to be as well. He was a hard man to kill, after all.

She lingered in the water longer than she knew she should have, but in the near weightlessness of thick waters, the lingering effects of the gloom had become clear, and it left her exhausted. The cool water was pleasant on her burned face and scraped hands, and as she floated, she looked at the clouds overhead. Hylians had descended from people from the Sky—the first Zelda and the Chosen Hero may not have founded Hyrule, but they brought her people to the Surface and helped them establish the Hyrulian race as part of the Continent. Her bloodline could be traced back to these very clouds, a Spirit Maiden born for greatness. The sun was a gentle contrast to the cool of the water, and Zelda breathed in the sunlight. It turned the water green around her, and the golden-green shimmer left a bitter taste in Zelda’s mouth, conjuring the image of Link, his face cast in shadow from the gold-green glow around him as he reached out his hand, his fingers burnt and bloody, so close, so close, so close—

Zelda needed to keep moving. She couldn’t rest forever. Link needed her.

She picked up the first sturdy-looking stick she found; if traveling with Link had taught her anything, it was to always be prepared, and her knife, while better than nothing, was still far too small. A tree branch—and its bludgeoning damage—would have to do. She didn’t have anything to use as a sheath, but she did have what was left of her blouse; with quick hands, she made a belt and tied the stick to her side. Inelegant, but right now, who cared?

The island (because it was clearly an island of some kind, a great collection of islands in the sky) was full of flora and fauna she’d never seen before, mushrooms of blue and white, and fish with strange gold fins. The Purah pad stored them happily enough, but Zelda was hesitant to eat anything, lest she get sick and die before she ever even started on her way to find Link. She and Link could experiment with them once she found him; Link was a lover of new foods, and Zelda would happily be his guinea pig once they determined everything was safe to eat. Maybe Link would make her a mushroom risotto with fish stock made from the golden finned fish, or bake a fish pie with glazed mushrooms inside or--

Zelda swallowed. She had to find him first. Then, they could eat their fill of the whole damn sky if they wanted. Zelda ran her fingers over the blade of Link's knife. Where would she even start? She was in the middle of the damn sky, and he had disappeared miles underground. She picked up the pace of her walking, searching the skyline for some kind of clue—there, against the blue, was a towering building of white stone, with an inward curving roof and a giant door of gold leaf, chiseled away by time but still glittering in the midday light. It wasn’t much, but it was a location, a place to start, and maybe there would be someone there who knew something. Suddenly, walking wasn’t enough, and, ignoring the ache of her lungs and pounding of her insides, she broke into a run, dodging through birch trees and orange brush. The thin air was misty and damp, fog and cloud hovering just above the ground, and the terrain was uneven, overrun. Once or twice, she thought she saw a glimpse of something green and robotic through the foliage, but she wasn’t here to explore. Not yet anyway. Once she found Link, they could comb through the area, but for now, Link was most important.

The stairs to the building were cracked, and most of it looked to be purposeful, as if someone had tried to prevent something from getting inside, a last-ditch effort to protect the building. Stones, bleach white and oddly shaped, were scattered about—no, not stone. Bones. A fingerbone here, a tooth there, there was a femur, what might be part of a skull… Zelda snapped a picture. The bones didn’t look to be from modern Hylians, too long and delicate, but if it was Zora then the cartilage would have long since rotted away, and Rito didn’t have teeth. Gerudo, perhaps? She’d come back later with Link and investigate, and then bury them. No matter what they were, they were a person once and deserved to be laid to rest. Zelda had seen death intimately, knew it well, and knew that nothing clung more bitterly to a soul than one's body being forgotten. Whoever these people were, they deserved to be remembered, at least long enough and with enough care to be put into the ground. Unless these sky people preferred to be left out to bleach in the sun, to be one with the whiteness of the clouds above... Zelda bit her lip. It would have to wait. The bones were old, very old, they could wait a few more hours.

Which brought her to the main door. The building was clearly some kind of temple, the door sealed shut from age, and it would likely take a little prying to get open, but if she really put some elbow grease into it—

An electronic beep, shrill against the calm of the day, came from behind her, and suddenly Zelda’s heart skipped a beat. Here? No, it wasn’t possible, they’d fallen to pieces post-Calamity, and then they’d been scrapped for parts. She’d personally seen to their destruction, to ensure they could never hurt another person ever again, Link beside her swinging a sledgehammer with a viciousness that spoke of recovered memories of death and pain. There couldn’t be a guardian here, there couldn’t--!

She turned just as the green robot thing spun at her, a large, sharpened stick in its hand. It was short and stocky, made from some kind of green stone and held together with crackling electricity. Not a guardian. It held none of the grace of Sheikah tech, none of the beauty or elegance—frankly, she somehow managed to think as she tumbled to the ground, cheek bleeding and head pounding, it was quite ugly.

Zelda took a heavy breath and rolled out of the way just as the robot brought its stick down, barely missing her skull, and it snapped on the stone with a reverberating crack. The robot wasn’t fazed by its broken stick, just adjusted its grip and zeroed in on her again.

Zelda drew her own tree branch. She might not be the natural fighter that Link was, but she’d spent the last five years training with him and was fairly confident in her ability to take down one measly robot. It swung again and she ducked under its arm, jabbing forward at the strange orb in the center of its body—a power core, maybe? —and the robot buzzed, sliding apart. It started to rebuild itself when she drew her branch back, but she didn’t give it the time, raising her makeshift bludgeon and hammering it down onto the robot once, twice, thrice until it gave a shrill sound of defeat. It crumbled into pieces, the electricity in it going dark and the core rolling away from the body parts to her feet. Zelda leaned down and picked it up. It was warm to the touch, smelling of crude oil and something uniquely old.

“A Zonai charge,” A calm, deep voice said. Zelda spun to face it, branch at the ready, and found herself looking up instead at a freakishly tall goat-like creature, his large, pierced ears twitching in amusement, the fur across his ornately dressed body a ghostly green. He hovered, arms crossed, and his arm—

“Forgive me,” He rumbled. “I did not mean to frighten you. And please, forgive my constructs. That creature there—there was a time, back when this Temple was still upon the ground, when it was under siege, and the soldier constructs were needed. They defend their home still, not realizing the time to do so has long passed." the goat man in front of her bowed, his prosthetic arm, the very same that had come to her aid underground, held across his chest. "Forgive my manners; I am Rauru.”

Zelda looked the goat man up and down.

“… I am Zelda.”

Rauru’s smile was small and sad. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Zelda wrinkled her nose at the vague reply but turned back to the door. In any other situation, she’d be appalled by her manners, or lack thereof, but right now they were the least of her worries. The gold leaf and beautifully carved designs on the door depicted dragons in a violent, graceful dance, but she took little time to consider them, instead placing her hands on either side of the door’s crumbling frame and planting her feet. She pushed, only to jump back with a yelp as light, red as a sunset and hot as white flame, flickered to life, engulfing the door from top to bottom.

“I think,” Rauru said softly, “we need to talk.”  

---

The goat man—Rauru—was dressed in regalness and fineries that would make even Zelda’s father blush at its opulence because he was, Goddesses give Zelda strength, a king. A dead king, but still a king, and a Zonai one at that. He was a dead king from a time long past, speaking to her through a blood connection because Rauru was not just a king, he was THE king, the first king of Hyrule, sharing her bloodline and her history.

Zelda cursed the mummy for forcing them into such a time constraint because there was nothing more she wanted to do than to sit the Zonai king down and drill into him. What had the past been like? The creation of Hyrule as a kingdom, the uniting of the Continent, how had it started? Where did the Zonai go? What was Queen Sonia the First like? His clothes, were they traditional? His accent, was it typical of the time?

The Imprisoning War—just what was it? Were the murals down under Hyrule Castle true? Could he teach her the language written across the walls?

“I am the source of the right arm that saved you,” Rauru said, and Zelda nodded. She could see that, the prosthetic sprouting proudly from Rauru's shoulder. Would Link need a prosthetic when she found him? Would the gloom from the mummy's attack be too much too-- Zelda shook away the thoughts, covering them with data inquires and curiosities. Science had been her coping skill a hundred years ago, and it would be hers again now.

“So, you’re dead, but you’re still able to interact with the world?” She asked, Purah pad open as she tapped away a quick note.

Right arm—King Rauru the First had prosthetic. Magic? Zonai vs Hylian magic—both ? Neither?

Rauru sighed. “I’m—I’m able to interact with you, within reason, as my blood flows through your— will you stop that?”

Zelda lowered the pad, where she had just crossed out ‘Zonai vs Hylian’ scrawling ‘blood magic’ beside it instead. “Sorry. It’s just—I’ve never met a Zonai before! Or, well, you’re dead, so I’m unsure if that counts.”

“Zelda, your Majesty, I’m sorry but I’m afraid there are more pressing matters—”

“Yes, of course. Link,” Zelda said. She forced the anxiety from her voice. “I think he’s in the building—it seems like the most likely place for him to go, and I can…” she closed her eyes and reached out softly with her heart, pulling from the magic that sat hidden behind her eyes. The magic came easily to her after a hundred years of practice, a hundred years of reaching out to watch her knight sleep in the Shrine of Resurrection, and then to watch Link as he tamed Divine Beasts and gained strength. It was her only distraction from the Beast back then, and now calling to his Spirit was second nature. He glowed, wounded, lost, but alive, just beyond these doors. “I can feel him.”

“This door will only open to those of significant power,” Rauru said, and Zelda lifted her chin.

“I am a very powerful person.”

“Zelda—”

“Step aside. I need to get to Link.”

“I do not doubt that. But… there are more pressing problems.”

“Yes?” Zelda said, trying hard to keep the annoyance from her voice. Rauru was a king, after all, deserving of at least a little respect, even if he was currently a Zonai shaped roadblock in her quest to bring back Link from beyond the door.

“You saw him— your mummy. The Demon King. As we speak his power grows, as does his reach and his minions. He plans to devour this world, and should he regain much more access to his magic, he will.”

“But Link—”

“Is safe. A long way from here, on a quest of his own, but safe.”

“A long way--? He’s right behind this door, I can feel him!”

Rauru’s face drooped. “Zelda. I understand Link is important to you, but you must—”

“I mustn’t do anything you tell me, actually.” Zelda snipped, turning her back on Rauru and facing the door again. She breathed in deep, summoning Hylia's power, and raised a glowing, golden hand. The door sizzled and sparked, glowing brighter, brighter, brighter before letting out a piercing sound and a pulse of energy, and had Rauru not thrown his arm before her, Zelda would have fallen flat on her ass.

“This door requires great power to open. I had… hoped that you would have that power. I was mistaken.”

Zelda shook out her hand, cheeks scarlet, and avoided looking at Rauru, who sighed.

“Sit with me,” Rauru said, settling delicately on the broken steps of the temple. Zelda worried her bottom lip for a moment before accepting defeat and lowering herself down beside him.

“You care deeply for him. I understand why. He is a truly remarkable person.”

“How do you know him?” Zelda asked. Rauru frowned, reaching out with his prosthetic and brushing a piece of hair that had fallen free of her makeshift ponytail behind her ear. Zelda knew she should be more suspicious of the Zonai, that she shouldn’t let her guard down with him, but she was tired, gloom still coating the inside of her lungs. A sudden, horrible thought took hold of her. This mummy, had his influence dimmed her power? Could it do such a thing? Was it possible to dim the power of a Goddess?

“That is not my story to tell,” Rauru said softly, and Zelda nodded. Fine. Okay. Whatever. As long as she could see Link again, she’d let him and his goat king friend keep their secrets. “But trust me when I say: he is safe. I would not send you on another quest were he not.”

“You say quest. This mummy—”

“The Demon King.”

Zelda glanced at the back of her left hand. Her Triforce mark was hidden behind gloom burns, but it called to her all the same.

“They say…” She cleared her throat. “They say that a great Beast rose from the cracks of the earth, before the Continent was even a thought in Hylia's mind, simply a collection of land brought to life by the goodwill of the Golden Goddesses. He coveted a Golden Power and took the form of a monster, crowning himself the King of Demons as he waged war to secure it. They say his name was Demise.”

Rauru nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I am unsure of many things, but I know that the Demon King is not the same creature.”

“When I went underground with Link, we saw Zonai carvings that spoke of a Demon King, during the Imprissoning War. Then… this mummy, he really is--?”

Rauru suddenly seemed his age, exhaustion pulling at his brow. “Aye. He is.”

Zelda took a deep breath. She could feel Link, just beyond the door. She just had to open it, and then he would be here, with her, and they could take on this threat together, just as they always did. Champion and Princess, Courage and Wisdom. Link and Zelda.

“He can help,” She said, and the look Rauru gave her was patronizing in its kindness.

“He will. But not yet. And I know I’m right when I say he would rather be left behind than Hyrule suffer.”

Zelda forced her face to remain neutral, not to show the growing frustration she felt. She wanted to argue that Rauru was wrong, that Link had suffered enough for a thousand lifetimes, that he deserved someone who would abandon it all for him, who would let the world rot over leaving him behind but… but that would have broken Link's heart to hear. The holy power of Hylia in her blood spoke to a destiny to serve the people of Hyrule above all else, as did the sword Link wielded, and to ignore that would be unforgivable to Link. He might deserve to be someone’s first choice, but he would not want to be, and Zelda would—she took a deep, shuddering breath. Zelda would respect that.

“Okay,” she said softly before straightening, smoothing a mask of divinity and royalty over the pain that clung to the fat of her cheeks. “What do you need me to do?”

“When the Demon King first rose to power, Sages from each of the four races rose up to meet him head-on, bringing with them great magical power in the shape of secret stones. Recover the stones, reawaken the reincarnations of the Sages. Only with the stones, the Sages, and your own holy power can you destroy the Demon King—that, and the Master Sword.”

Zelda perked up. “Fi?”

“But you are not yet at a point where you can wield it. If your power was too weak to open this door… well, then I cannot see you wielding such a sacred blade, let alone defeating the Demon King.”

Zelda bit back a snappy reply. She wasn’t stupid—she was fully aware that, however powerful she was, Hylia’s power inside her had dwindled over the years, but the fact of the matter was that it wasn’t something one could turn the knob up on willy-nilly, and Rauru’s insistence that she was incapable because she couldn’t open one stupid door stung.

“There are shrines across this land,” Rauru told her, “Places of sacred light that house holy blessings. Perhaps, through gathering them, your power may grow.”

Great, of course. Just what she needed—more work on growing her damn power. As if seventeen years of it hadn’t been enough—would she ever be done trying to grow the power in her blood? Would enough ever be enough? When would the Gods decide she had worked hard enough? That she had suffered enough? She took a steady breath. No, she needed to stay levelheaded. As… frustrating… as the situation was, now wasn’t the time to get angry.

“There are four shrines across the Great Sky Islands, marked with green spiraling light. Gather their blessings, then return here. Surely the door will open then.”

She stood, turning her back to Rauru and running her hand down the stone doorway of the temple. It shuddered under her light magic, rippling red, and she swallowed. Okay. Okay.

“What was this the temple of, anyways?” Zelda asked. Rauru didn’t reply, and when she looked over her shoulder, the ghost was gone.

Zelda bit back a sigh. Of course, the ghost companion left for her here would have to be a flighty one. Was this how Link had felt when he woke on the Plateau, pointed in every direction by her father on a fetch quest for spirit orbs?

Her father… what would he make of all of this? Probably be disappointed that after all this time she still couldn’t open a door. What would he say to her? She huffed. Drill into her for letting her power dwindle. For not keeping up with her prayers and practices. For allowing things to get so bad, for not noticing the seriousness of the gloom soon enough. For putting aside the crown for so long instead of rebuilding the monarchy as her first action as a free woman.

She didn’t want to be a princess, to rebuild anything having to do with crowns and thrones. The land had moved past the need for a royal family, and had it not been for the insistence of the people around her, she would have abandoned the title of ‘princess’ altogether.

Father would be ashamed of her.

Your father is an ass, a soft, gentle voice that sounded a good deal like Link’s said to her, deep in her head. And you are more than his expectations. Let the dead lie.

Link had gifted her father’s diary that he found in his office in the library, but Zelda never read it. It sat hidden under the floorboard of the house in Hateno along with all the other pieces of her old life she couldn’t bear to look at but couldn’t stand to throw away, with the scraps of clothing she’d found in the ruins of her bedroom, her old crown, her diary, and research journal, and letters between her and the Champions, especially between her and Revali. They had bonded quickly in the beginning, first over a shared dislike of Link, then blossoming into a genuine respect and love for one another, and just looking at his handwriting… it hurt in a way she could not describe.

Revali, Mipha, Daruk… Urbosa… would they be proud of her? Or would they be furious for letting Hyrule fall victim to darkness once again? The thought made her stomach churn, and she quickly turned her thoughts away. Instead, she pulled up the Purah pad, stylist quickly in hand, and opened the journal menu—the ‘adventure log’ as Link jokingly dubbed it. She’d always taken comfort in journaling, ever since she was a child; it helped clear her head and kept her focused.

New Quest: The Closed Door—

Rauru 1^st (goat king (Zonai)) – original owner of right arm.

Must revitalize power to open door to temple*--

*What kind?

Visit shrine (tell link joke about both finding shrines)

She looked up, glancing around—there, to the left, poking just out of the clouds, was a stone structure with a shining green beacon around it. Well. That was easy enough. She readjusted her blouse belt, retied her footwear, whose many straps had begun to slip down, and steadied herself. Four shrines. She could handle that. One step at a time, Zelda, just one step at a time.

Or one fall at a time, as a rock promptly hit her on the back of the neck, sending her tumbling down the cracked steps with a yelp, over the crumbling edges into the water below. She popped up above the waterline with a gasp, shaking her hair out of her eyes, and zeroed in on what hit her—a soldier construct, armed with a rusted broadsword, old wooden shield, a pile of rocks and, beside it, a second one, this time with a red horn, readying a bow.

Shit.

Zelda ducked under the water just as the soldier construct let the arrow fly, kicking through the water as fast as she could behind one the of pillars of the broken steps. The constructs beeped in frustration, and she heard another arrow clink off of the far side of the pillar. Crap, crap, crap—Zelda needed to dispose of them, but it wasn’t like she could swim over there with no cover. She’d just have to trust her upper body strength. She gripped the cracked lip of the pillar with her fingertips, and with grit teeth, hauled herself over. The constructs let out a chirp of surprise and she rushed them, branch drawn, targeting the archer first. Her bludgeoning was inelegant but precise, favoring precession over grace, and the construct went flying as her branch broke on its head. It dropped its bow, and she quickly snatched it up; she was always better with a bow than a sword anyway. Sorry Link.

She pulled back the bowstring, having snatched up the construct’s quiver, and let it fly, straight into the eye of the stick-wielding rock thrower, who dropped like the stones in its hand, before finishing off the prone archer. Soon there was nothing left of them but chunks of green stone, Zonai charges, and the horn of the larger soldier construct. She pocketed it in the Purah pad—who knew how useful it could end up being? —and picked up the broadsword. She needed a proper sheath and quiver and shield bracers; she was running out of blouse to tie with.

The vines wrapped around the trunk of a nearby tree seemed sturdy enough. Hypothetically, if she twisted and knotted them enough, she could make things work…

She shouldered her new bow to the best of her abilities and grabbed her knife. She had just knelt to start cutting when the clinking of stone moving came from her left. She spun, bow at the ready, and the strange-looking construct before her jumped before curling in on itself.

“DANGER!” a robotic voice blared, “DANGER!”

Oh. She was the danger. Zelda lowered her bow. “I’m sorry,” She said softly, “I mean no harm. You startled me. The last construct I saw tried to, well, kill me, I think.”

The construct stood, showing a long, long neck, dangling earrings, and a clawed pair of hands.

“Ah yes,” The construct said, clearing its voice. “The soldier constructs. There was a time when the Garden of Time and Temple of Time were under attack; they were given strict orders to defend them. My Zonai masters created them to eliminate trespassers—it is likely they view you as one. Be on your guard.”

“Rauru said the same thing.”

The construct cocked its head. “His Majesty is dead. You must be mistaken. This Garden was dedicated to him in his absence.”

Zelda frowned. So she really had been speaking to a ghost. “Garden?”

The construct nodded. “We stand in the Garden of Time, home of the Temple of Time; it was used in the far distant past, too long for you to take note of. Many rites and ceremonies of the kingdom were held there.”

“Kingdom? The kingdom of Hyrule?” She said, taking in the Garden with new eyes. Its silence seemed less ominous now, though still distinctly tomb-like.

“As it would come to be named, yes. But it sits vacant now. It is but a lonely place no one visits, an open tomb dedicated to the lost and abandoned. Forgive me. I am feeling homesick for time long past.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Zelda said softly. A robot with emotion? An ability to truly think? She yearned to note it on her adventure log but didn’t want to insult the construct. Could it even be insulted? “It is natural to yearn for what is lost.”

The creature, if it really could smile, seemed to. “Thank you. Your words are kind. As a steward construct, it is my duty to guide and support the people of Hyrule. The times may have changed, but my duty remains the same. I take comfort in your support.”

The steward construct bowed its head. “I know many things about the Great Sky Islands. Ask, and I shall answer.”

“I’m looking for the shrines across this island,” Zelda said. “Can you help me?”

The construct bobbed its head. “That I can. There are many notable things upon the Great Sky Island,” It said, it’s voice taking on a more scripted, automated tone, “our fine mountains, our mining caves, and the Temple of Time, but out of those the most useful are the Shrines of Light, such as Ukouh Shrine to our left, In-Isa by the lake, Gutanbac in the mountains, Nachoyah and—oh!”

A sudden gong rang out and the construct perked up. “It is 19:00. Time for bed.”

It turned around and moved towards a strange glowing pad that had been hidden in the grass.

“Wait!” Zelda cried, and it looked over its shoulder, cocking its head.

“Yes?”

“We were still talking!”

“It is 19:00.” The construct said in response to her as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “The sun will be falling soon. The Garden of Time is a safe place these days, but you would do best to find shelter. Good night!”

“Please, I—”

The construct dropped into a pile on the pad, powering down, and Zelda let out a frustrated groan. There went her tour guide. She looked to her left—Ukouh Shrine it was then.

---

The shrine was bigger on the inside. Zelda knew she shouldn’t be surprised—area squaring magic was one of the most common forms of illusion, after all—but it still took her breath away when the stone of the shrine’s outside melted away at her touch, beckoning her into an elegant green and grey room of magic, the touch of it so light and bright that she felt the place Hylia rested behind her heart perk up like a dog offered a steak.

And, below it, hidden under the folds of Hylia's blessing, an ancient, golden power Zelda didn't often consider yawned and rubbed its eyes. Yes, there was definitely a purifying light in here, she just had to access it.

She walked inside, straight into a glowing, half-corporeal chest. She jerked back—oh. Just Rauru.

“Your Majesty,” She said, and Rauru inclined his head.

“Princess. I’m glad to see you’ve made it here.”

He turned his back to her, gesturing at the wide room with its strange outline. “This is the Ukouh Shrine of Light. Long ago, my people filled these shrines with their light as a sign of goodwill to the races around them. A place to rejuvenate oneself and be at peace. I hope now it can do both for you. I believe this light will amplify the power within you. Reach out with your grace and tell me what you feel.”

Zelda closed her eyes and extended her hand, pushing into the place inside her, under her heart. “It feels warm, calm. Gentle.” She felt something envelop her, first her fingers, then hand, then her arm, up into her chest, engulfing her whole body in its light. It wasn’t Hylia—Hylia’s magic felt distinctly younger than this newly awakened magic, and while this magic was stale from disuse, Hylia's didn’t hold a candle to its brightness, almost blinding in its golden divinity. Surely this couldn’t be the Shrine of Light; this power, it was too intense, too intimate to be simple mortally obtained magic.

“Princess of Light, I am long overdue to speak to you,” A voice echoed, feminine and gentle, and Zelda gasped as the voice tickled her brain. “The power inside you has slumbered long, but I know that together, we can grow strong again. I give you this, so that you may better utilize the power within you. Go, bring peace to Hyrule, little Goddess.”

Then, just as soon as it had appeared, the warmth was gone, leaving just her and the goat king, and when she opened her eyes, gold enveloped her hand like a mother’s hand around her child’s fingers. It tingled, then melted down into her skin.

“Interesting,” Rauru murmured, as Zelda rotated her hand, looking at it from this angle, then the next.

“That voice—did you know it?” She asked, and Rauru shook his head.

“These shrines have been empty for a long time, with nothing inside them but Zonai magic. Whoever spoke to you was not one of us.”

Zelda frowned. It could be a trick, something from the Demon King to make her lower her guard, but… no. No, the voice had felt too warm, too comforting, too loving to be tied to dark magic, even if it was an illusion. Whomever the Voice had been, whatever woman had spoken to her, their intentions were pure. Zelda flexed her fingers. Very well. She’d thank the woman later. For now, she needed to focus on getting inside the Temple of Time.

“So then, that wasn’t the purifying light?” She asked. Rauru’s fingers found the fur under his chin.

“No, I do not believe so. That would be found at the end of the shrine— while they were intended to be a place of rest and rejuvenation, shrines could also be used to grow. To do so, the shrines were built with tests inside to test one’s wisdom, to see if they deserve the power gifted to them at the end. But then, I have faith that you are a wise person.

Zelda could have laughed at that. If only the king knew. “I’d like to think so.”

“Good. Then continue on. I shall see you soon, little Goddess.”

Zelda flushed. “I wouldn’t say I’m a—”

“The name suits you, Zelda. It’s yours now, and I shan’t abandon it.” He smiled and Zelda’s blush grew.

“Very well. Then I shall find the light at the end of the shrine. Till then.” She bowed, and when she lifted her gaze, Rauru was gone.

Zelda righted herself, took a deep breath, and hid it away deep in her chest. Okay. Wisdom. Easy as pie, right? She glanced again at the Triforce on the back of her left hand. The Triforce of Wisdom was far different to use than her own golden power. The power of Hylia, which was passed down through her very blood, was intangible and predisposed. The Triforce of Wisdom—that, that had to be earned. She didn’t know when during her hundred-year imprisonment Nayru, in her Divine Wisdom, decided her worthy, but when she destroyed the Calamity, she had found more than just Hylia in her blood. She was sure she could have sealed away the Beast with just her bloodline’s power, but to annihilate him as she had? That required the power of the Triforce. She still knew, hypothetically, how to use her piece of it, but it had grown dim in her soul ever since that day. Dormant, weak, and, most annoyingly, listless. Despite its refusal to listen to her, she could feel it always, ready to pounce on any evil in their path, but too subdued to do so. She felt surprisingly okay with that up until now; the Triforce was, after all, the Triforce, something beyond comprehension, unlike Hylia’s power, which was rightfully hers to use. If she struggled to utilize it, well, so had Link in the Before, as he so colloquially called it, and she was sure that the Ganons of the past had struggled as well. That was the point of a Triforce piece: suffering bred access to power, courage, wisdom. She could live with never using it again.

Or at least, she had been content never using it again. Now, the thought of its power itched at her brain. If she could use the Triforce of Wisdom alongside Hylia’s power again, like she did on Dark Beast Ganon, then this Demon King wouldn’t stand a chance. She knew it.

Her thoughts drifted back to the woman who had spoken to her. It hadn’t been Hylia—she knew the Goddess’ voice well by now—but it hadn’t been Zonai. It had known her, her power, and yet, the voice was unfamiliar to her.

A thought crept up suddenly, and Zelda’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be…?

No. No, Chosen of Nayru or not, the Goddess had never spoken to her before. Why would She now? Zelda wondered once if the dream she’d had the day before her birthday—before the Calamity—was the Wise Goddess. She was certain now that it wasn’t Hylia. She knew Hylia well enough to recognize her blind and deaf, through magic alone, and Zelda knew the Goddess wasn’t the woman in the dream. Or, as she privately believed it to be, her vision. But she’d given up on that theory; it was silly and childish to think she was important enough for a Golden Goddess to care enough about her to speak to her, even if she was a bearer of the Triforce. She’d put that theory behind her with no small embarrassment, and now she put aside the idea that Nayru, in her Divine Wisdom, would speak to her now. Zelda was being silly. She stepped deeper into the shrine. The walls were simply carved stone, the marble floor echoing under her feet, and she looked up at the never-ending green ceiling in awe. It was beautiful. The Zonai truly were master architects. She came to a room with holes littering the floor, and stacks of broken stone slabs.

Clearly, she had to move the slabs over the floor to cross, but the question was, how?

“Little Goddess,” The voice came again, and Zelda stopped mid-step.

“…Yes?” she answered hesitantly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Reach out your hand, and under your heart. Move the stone with your Spirit.”

Zelda shook out her hand. Okay. Okay. Maybe like Link’s Sheikah slate? Point and think? She reached deep inside her, to the little crevice that her power slumbered in, and coaxed it to the surface. She stretched out her hand over the slab.

“Move?” She whispered, eyes squeezed shut, “Pretty please?”

There was a scrape, and her eyes flew open. The stone had moved. She tried again, envisioning with her eyes open this time the stone moving and coming to a stop over a hole. It did.

It did! She let out an excited, bubbly giggle, reaching towards a second stone. It wasn’t long enough to reach the other end. If only she could connect it to another one… or. Well. It was worth a shot, right? She slid the stone beside another. Nothing happened.

“Come on,” she said through grit teeth. “You can do it, I know you can!” There was a flash of gold as power rushed through the stones, and suddenly, they were one.

“Thank you,” she said to the air. “Thank you.”

The air was silent.

---

After that, it was easy to find the other shrines, as well as the new abilities the Voice gifted her. At the end of each was a carving of a Zonai, arms outstretched; while Zelda could feel the light it gave her mingling happily with her own golden power from Hylia, but even more importantly, there was a warmth, a certainness, a sense of power growing and pooling within herself that came from each competition that didn’t feel connected to Hylia at all. It was golden like Hylia, beautiful and warm like Hylia, settled behind her heart, but still so clearly different. Something in her felt changed by the finished fourth shrine, something otherworldly and not tied to Hylia at all.

Oh well. She’d have time to ponder it later. For now, she had the power needed to enter the Temple of Time, reunite with Link—because Rauru was crazy to say he was gone when Zelda could sense him right here—and descend to the Surface just like her ancestors, reawaken the Sages, find their stones, and destroy the Demon King with her knight by her side. Easy peasy.

The island was orange and yellow, devoid of shadows and darkness, and so empty. So very empty. Like a graveyard.

Link had once told her that the Hyrule he woke up in had felt like a graveyard, its tombs hidden by tall grasses and silent princesses, with mechanical beasts as its graveyard keepers. Zelda supposed the steward constructs could be graveyard keepers here, eternally watching over the Gardens of Time. And Rauru could be the graveyard’s token ghost, haunting its Temple.

What a strange thing to have in common: an adventure beginning in a graveyard.

She placed a hand on her chest at the twinge of discomfort there. She needed the time to rest, to sleep off the lingering gloom, but she'd have plenty of time to do that beside Link. They could return to their bed in Hateno, or their shared room in Lookout Landing, or the suite in Zora's Domaine. Somewhere quiet and sunny, where they could drink sundelion tea and plan their next moves as the gloom lifted slowly from their bodies. Soon. Soon. But until then, she stood before the Temple of Time. Its door beckoned her, as did Link’s spirit on the other side. Her heart fluttered with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

“Are you ready?”

Zelda spun—oh. Rauru.

“You have to stop scaring me like that.” She said with a huff, crossing her arms, and Rauru smiled.

“Of course. Forgive me.”

Zelda looked past the stone steps of the Temple, over the pond, and up through the clouds. She’d found the fourth shrine high, high above, after being gifted something she was calleing ‘Recall’ that gave her a power over time that both frightened and awed her. At the far side of the pond slept one of the many steward constructs she’d found scattered about. Rauru followed her eyes.

“Ah. The constructs. The Stewart Constructs were the first to be built. After that, we crafted others suited to different roles. Culinary Constructs, Maker Constructs… I see that they are still at work even now. We originally created the constructs to assist in the building of Hyrule—we were all dearly fond of them. I never imagined they would continue to carry out their assigned tasks to this day. The fact that their labor no longer serves any purpose, yet they perform it still… it is disquieting to me.”

He went quiet, and Zelda wished for a moment to take his hand. Instead, she watched the sun rising over the clouds. Night had come and passed as she traveled throughout the islands, the Purah pad stating that the time was 6:58… 6:59… 7:00… just as it had at 19:00, a gong tolled, or maybe a bell. Zelda was unsure. Rauru’s face was disquieted, almost sad as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, swaying in time with the bells.

“The bells that sound from the Temple of Time rings at a set time each morning and evening. Along with the constructs, Hyrule would wake to the sound of the bell. When we heard it in the evening, we knew it was time to rest. The bell… it was the Garden of Time’s heartbeat. The tree I placed you in—I loved to play there as a child, high above everything else, even when the Garden was still on the Surface. The best view of the Temple was from there. I know you likely didn’t take the time to look before jumping, but it truly is a breathtaking sight. The Garden of Time… it was always quiet, even back then. It was a holy place, a place of reflection and growth.”

 “They sound like glorious times,” Zelda said softly, and Rauru nodded.

“Indeed. But now—the door.”

“Yes, the door. Of course.” Zelda turned back to the gold-leafed door, took a deep breath, and pushed. It opened with such ease that it was as if a door hadn’t even been there. Zelda gasped at the beauty that met her inside, past the door frame. White, perfectly preserved stone walls, gold leaf, and silver as far as the eye could see, cogs spinning throughout the room. But it wasn’t right. The sheer immaculateness of the rooms despite the bones outside, the soldier constructs defending the Temple to the death even millennia later… something terrible had happened here. There was something Rauru wasn't telling her. Not lying, simply... omitting.

Vaguely aware of Rauru trailing behind her, Zelda hoisted herself up over the cogs, only to find herself face to face with a Goddess statue.

“Oh!” She reached out, running a finger over Hylia’s immaculate face. “I didn’t realize the Zonai worshiped Hylia.”

“We didn’t. My wife commissioned this. She was always close to the Goddess—it bothered her that the rest of us Zonai never believed.”

“Queen Sonia the First?”

“The very same.”

“I believe in Her,” Zelda said, “But I do not worship. Hylia does not deserve my veneration.”

Rauru startled, looking at her with surprise, and Zelda squared her shoulders, daring him to speak out against her. Instead, he huffed out a laugh.

“I think my Sonia would have liked you very much.”

Zelda looked past the statue to the door behind it. She could feel Link, so close she could practically taste his Spirit.

“It serves as a test of one’s power and vitality,” Rauru said, “the door, I mean. It is no ordinary door. On the other side is the alter for the Temple of Time, accessed only by the most important of people.”

Zelda took a steadying breath, reached out, and planted her palms on the door. She reached out under her heart—it was heavy, hard work, the door fighting her every breath, and she worried she might not be able to open it for a good long moment before something ancient, something bright and powerful lit up inside her. Just for a moment, a millisecond, but enough to throw the door open.

The view was breathtaking. Up here, there were no distractions, nothing but rich, golden light, and it made Zelda wonder if the Sacred Realm looked just as serine.

“Good,” Rauru said, sounding genuinely pleased. “I know you are far from recovered from your time underground but this… it speaks of good things. Zelda… your Majesty…” He knelt before her, taking her hand. He could only touch her with his prosthetic, and even then, the touch was almost imperceptible, but it was touch all the same.

“I won’t pretend to understand Hylian customs or beliefs,” Rauru said, “but I know there is a great power in you that, when actualized, will save us all. But you must first let it grow, blossom—go to the shrines. Awaken the sages and recover their stones. Grow your power. Find the Master Sword—with all of this, I believe… no, I know, that you will defeat the Demon King.”

“Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

“Because I am. Though our time together has been brief, I am honored to finally meet you. Link… every word he spoke of you was true.”

“Your Majesty—stay. Come with me. We can be of use to each other.”

Rauru smiled. “I am honored to call you kin, princess, and to have been of some assistance.”

Zelda searched his face for any more answers, any comfort, but mostly, Rauru just looked tired. How long had he been underground, attached to that thing? How long had he waited for someone to come along and aid him?

“I’m sorry I was so late,” she whispered, and Rauru hovered a hand over her cheek.

“Think nothing of it.”

Zelda closed her eyes. She could feel Link at the altar, so, so close, but—but it felt wrong. He felt wrong, and she had been so desperate to find him that she had pretended not to notice, even to herself.

“He isn’t here, is he?” She said softly, and Rauru shook his head.

“He left you a message.”

Zelda opened her eyes so fast that the light of the Temple dazzled her for a moment. “What? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Find Fi.” Rauru said softly. “You will need her.”

“… That’s it? That’s the message?”

“That’s it. And… and he said to tell you he was sorry. And that he loves you very much.”

And then the goat man was gone, a whisper on the wind, and Zelda was alone on the edge of the sky. She sat, legs suddenly shaky, and looked up. The sky was an open ocean above her, and the sun was soft.

Above her, a dragon flew. She knew of the three Spring Guardians, Farosh, Dinraal, and Naydra, and had spent much time around them, having practically lived in their Shrines for her whole life, but legend also spoke of a fourth, more elusive beast. Seen only once every century, the dragon soared high above the clouds, too high to be documented, but low enough to inspire fables. A creature of strength and silent majesty, never making a single sound; now that she was closer, she could make out more detail.

The dragon was surprisingly small, almost short, with a lean body of forest-green scales. Its mane was wild, like it was caught in a perpetual storm, and scars, gashes, and knicks littered the dragon’s belly and back. Its horn was a beautiful swirl of green and gold, almost resembling the chipped edge of a blade, and its eyes…. Pale blue and blinding silver with golden lashes and so deep Zelda thought she could lose herself in them. She twisted her neck to follow the dragon as it twisted silently in the sky.

It—oh.

It was missing an arm. Its left upper arm was gone, the stump rotted and infected looking, and Zelda’s heart sank.

“You poor thing…”

The dragon cocked its head, almost as if it could hear her, which was ridiculous, as it flew in lazy circles a good solid 90 meters above her. Zelda stood and crept closer to the Temple’s edge.

“What happened to you, big guy?”

The dragon, understandably, said nothing.

“All our other dragons have names, but no one’s ever named you anything,” Zelda said softly. She craned her head back. Something… was something in its head? No, there couldn’t be. Maybe a second horn…?

“You’ve seen great battles,” she said, “clearly, you’ve earned the chance to be venerated. And yet, you stay silent above the clouds, not a word. I know a man like that. Years ago… so many years ago, he was silent. Not a word, not a sound. So much was at stake, the end of the world breathing down his neck… he felt he had to be stronger, steadier than everyone else, and silently bear every burden. It was hard, getting him to communicate. We’ve come a long way, and he’s finally starting to express himself. I’m so, so proud of him…” Zelda took a deep breath. “Are you the same?”

The dragon blinked owlishly at her, and she laughed. “Look at me. A hundred and twenty-one and I’m already speaking like an old sap. And you, you big beast. I bet you’re a sweetheart under all those scars and scales, aren’t you? A silent dragon. Fancy that!”

 If Zelda didn’t know any better, she’d say the dragon smiled.

“Do you like that? The silent dragon?”

The dragon rolled through the air, tossing back its head in a wordless cry, and the clouds below it split as if it had asked them personally. The silent dragon spiraled up for a moment, before shaking suddenly, opening its mouth in a silent scream. It was… in pain? Zelda watched helplessly from the Temple as it squirmed in pain, and realized with a sinking gut just how festered the dragon’s shoulder wound was. It needed treatment—it was, frankly, disgusting to look at, but Zelda had no idea if it was fresh or not, or even how to tend to a dragon. She whistled, reaching out a hand, but it thrashed from its place in the sky far from her, scratching at the shoulder with its horn, splitting the raw skin. One drop, two, seven—blood slowly dripped from the ripped skin, falling to the earth below and Zelda watched in pained awe as the shoulder began to glow and the rot retreated. Not gone, but contained, and no longer bleeding.

“Incredible…”

 One of her tutors, back when she was still a princess whose life was nothing but studies and prayer, had told her that sages and prophets would be granted visions of the past by ingesting dragons’ blood. For a morbid minute, Zelda wondered what would happen if she tasted the silent dragon’s blood. Would she see what it saw, the worlds it had watched rise and fall over millennia? Could a mere mortal handle such knowledge?

The silent dragon made one last circle overhead before disappearing into the clouds. Zelda shook out her hands and bounced on her toes. Before her was the largest drop she’d ever seen.

Well. It was now or never.

She jumped.

Quest: The Closed Door

Complete

Chapter Text

Zelda landed in Bottomless Pond with a bone-shuddering splash, a half day’s walk from Lookout Landing, and thought for a moment she was seeing things. Hyrule Castle… Her old home, the crown of Hyrule, was in the sky, miles up, a stain on Hyrule’s usually peaceful skyline, and the sight of the gloom seeping out from under it, circling around, was enough to send a wave of guilt so strong that she doubled over as she crawled from the pond, pushing her head between her knees.

Looking at the sheer magnitude of the castle’s destruction was beyond comprehension. This was worse than the Calamity, worse than the malice and guardians that had coated it, worse than a century she spent suffering inside—worse than all of it, and it was all her fault. She wanted to investigate under Hyrule Castle, she wanted to dig deeper, she asked the questions, she approached the mummy, she, she, she, and now… now the air smelled of gloom, of burn and rot, enough to send her leaning to the side and emptying her already very empty stomach. All that came up was dry bile, and it made her head pound. The air seemed to smell worse. Could the gloom really be so strong in the castle to waft this far? Or, had the gloom begun to seep from the very earth?

She looked up, past the castle, to the rocks and stone that hung in the air. Islands, like the one she’d been on; forgotten Zonai civilization, once high above the clouds brought low to the skyline by the Demon King’s power. Above her, clouds had begun to gather, and she let out a shaky breath as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Good, maybe some rain would wash the stench from the air.

“Say, ma’am!” A voice called, and Zelda looked away from the skyline to the two men on horseback coming her way. “Ma’am, you need to seek shelter—the rain will come soon, and you’ll be a sitting duck in the gloom.”

Gloom? But those were storm clouds, weren’t they?

The men approached, and she realized with a sigh of relief that she recognized them: Drozer and Burwar.

“Ma’am—your Majesty?” Drozer spluttered. “Is that really you?”

Zelda stood and squeezed the water from her hair, hoping the two soldiers didn’t notice the puddle of vomit beside her.

“It is,” Burwar cried. “You’re back!”

“Drow, Burr, what’s going on?”

“You’re about to be caught in a gloom storm is what’s going on. Come, Purah’s still at Lookout Landing, waiting on the search party. She’s been worried sick—we all have been. Where on earth have you been?”

Zelda struggled to process Drozer’s words. “Search party?”

Burwar blinked incredulously. “But of course. Princess, you and Link have been gone for two weeks, ever since the castle rose into the sky—the whole continent is a tizzy looking for you.”

Two… two weeks.

If Zelda had anything left to throw up, she would have vomited again.

---

Lookout Landing was in hysterics when they arrived, the normally hours-long trek on foot taking significantly less as the two men pushed their horses as fast as they could go.

“GO, GO, GO!” A soldier yelled as they pulled in under Lookout Landing’s drawbridge. The Landing had stakes drawn into the ground, and archers at the ready. What in the world? Hyrule Field was a safe place now, and Lookout Landing may have soldiers on the lookout, but they were there for monster pest control more than anything, not as actual fighters. Why on earth was the man armed? “Into the emergency shelter!”

“Wait! We need to see Purah—”

“You know she won’t leave that lab until the Princess and Link are found—”

“Hello,” Zelda interrupted, and the soldier, Scropis, stared at her, gobsmacked.

“Princes! Where on earth have you—you know what, tell me later, a storm is coming and we need to get everyone downstairs. Where’s Link?”

Zelda opened her mouth but found the words ‘he’s missing’ curled up tight in her chest, refusing to be moved. Scropis’ face widened in horror.

“Oh Gods, he’s dead, isn’t he…?”

“He’s alive!” Zelda rushed to answer, hopping from the horse, “I swear, he is, just missing. I’m looking for him.”

“Well, you better find him, because we need the Hero of Hyrule right about now,” Scropis huffed. “Drozer, Burwar, go put the horses away, then get downstairs. Princess, please, we need to get somewhere safe.”

“Safe--? This is Lookout Landing, it’s the definition of safe!”

Scropis sighed. “These have been a hellish two weeks, my lady. Let us just phrase it like that. Please. Into the emergency shelter.”

There was a rumble of thunder, immediately followed by a scream of lightning, and the sky opened up—but, instead of rain, droplets of liquid gloom and gloom hail rained down, searing into Zelda’s skin in an instant. She yelped, and Scropis sighed, grabbed her wrist—“Forgive me, my lady”—and dragged her towards the center of Lookout Landing.

“Wait!” Zelda yelled over the gloom rain, “Purah! Where is she?”

“In her laborat—”

Zelda had already twisted her wrist from Scropis’ grip, covering her face from the gloom with her arms and yelling a thank you over her shoulder before bolting to Lookout Landing’s tower. The emergency shelter could wait—she needed answers, and Purah would most certainly have them. Scropis cursed after her, trying to flag her down, but Zelda was already gone, into the thick of the rain, gritting her teeth against the burning raindrops as they seared into her skin with each touch. She could smell her hair burning, and feel grooves being burned into her arms as the gloom ran down them, but it was a short run to the lab, and Zelda could travel Lookout Landing blind—she had helped design it, after all.

The lab at Lookout Landing was simple wood and repurposed Sheikah parts, as was all of Lookout Landing, but it carried a quirky charm that only Purah could bring to a building. Zelda pounded up the steps two, then three, at a time before throwing herself on the sliding door. Locked. Well fuck.

“Let me in!” She yelled over the howl of the gloom, pounding on the door. “I need to speak to Doctor Purah!”

“Why on earth are you not in the shelter?” A familiar voice lisped as it opened the door. A child stood in the doorway, Sheikah, dressed in traditional clothes with a raincoat pulled over it, voice slurred from her missing front tooth, and already too big eyes made bigger by round spectacles.

“… Princess?” Josha breathed, eyes widening. “Doc! Doctor Purah! Princess Zelda! She’s returned!”

There came a sudden crash from inside the lab, then a bang, and then Josha was being shoved aside.

“Purah,” Zelda breathed, “Oh, thank goodness.”

Purah stared, dumbfounded, uncaring of the sizzle of the rain, before pulling Zelda into a tight hug.

“Come on, come on, inside, before you burn to a crisp!” She shouted over the rain, shoving the door shut behind them. “Josha, fetch Zellie a towel. And some bandages. And some sundelion tea. And—you know what? Draw a whole bath.”

“But—” Josha whined, and Purah shhh-ed her.

“Quiet. The adults are talking.”

Josha stuck her tongue out at Purah, who stuck hers out back, before stomping up the stairs. Purah sighed, squeezing Zelda one last time before pulling back and punching her hard on the arm.

“Hey!”

“Two weeks! Two weeks I have searched for you and Linky, dealing with all this Upheaval shit alone, and then you come sauntering in and all you have to say is ‘thank goodness.”

Zelda opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, feeling rather like a chastised child.

“Thank you…?” She offered, and Purah punched her again.

“Where’s Linky?”

Zelda couldn’t help it. Her face fell. She like to think of herself as a strong person, but she’d just missed two weeks of her life, all while Link was who the fuck knew where, and now her kingdom that she had suffered horribly to protect and save was in shambles. The first tear was quickly wiped away, but the second slipped by, dripping off her chin, and Purah tutted, pulling her into a much gentler hug.

“Oh, love…” she whispered, running her hand through Zelda’s hair as she rested the other between her shoulder blades.

“I don’t know where he is…” Zelda whispered, her breath shuddery and weak. “One moment he was there, and then… we were… we were under Hyrule Castle. It was going so well, until we—I – saw a light in the distance. I made him follow me to go look at it, P, I made him do it. And there was a mummy, and he wanted to turn back but I went and looked anyway… it came to life. The mummy, it came to life, and it attacked with gloom and burned Link’s arm off and shattered the Master Sword, and then the room was crumbling and the floor fell out from under us and Link fell into the cracks and just… vanished.”

She couldn’t help it anymore, couldn’t hold it back, just rested her forehead on Purah’s shoulder and let herself cry like she wasn’t a hundred and twenty-one but seventeen, in a princess dress and a crown, crying over fathers and responsibilities while Purah held her at the royal tech lab.

Zelda didn’t know how long she cried into Purah’s clothes, wetting the white and red fabric with her tears and snot, but eventually, she tired herself out and simply rocked with Purah, letting herself melt into the older-younger woman’s touch.

“So let me get this straight,” Purah said, words tough but voice kind, “when you and Linky went under Hyrule Castle, you discovered a mysterious mummy, which suddenly reanimates. Then Linky falls into a fissure and vanishes… that must have been when the castle rose, the ruins fell, and the chasms opened."

“Chasms?”

Purah’s face darkened. “Much has changed since you vanished, my lady.”

She reached out and brushed a finger over a gloom burn on Zelda’s cheek, and Zelda hissed.

“Josha, where’s that sundelion tea?” Purah yelled, and from up the stairs, Josha yelled something back, voice too muffled to make out.  

“The tea will make you feel better, and help with the burns. It does wonders for gloom inhalation.”

“Great,” Zelda said with a bitter sigh. “My lungs are on fire.”

Purah frowned and took her hand. “A lot has happened in two weeks, old friend. They’re calling it the Upheaval. The castle rising up… the ruins falling from the sky… chasms opening up and swallowing people. And I’m sure your mummy is tied to it.”

“It is. I spoke with someone on the Great Sky Islands. A ghost, who said the mummy under the castle was the same Demon King who fought in the Imprisoning War—the one from the old scrolls we used to sneak into the library after hours to read together.”

Purah tapped her lip.

“The Demon King… are you sure this ghost can be trusted?”

“Positive,” Zelda said, straightened, “He was my kin.”

Purah raised a perfectly plucked white brow. “Really?”

“The first king of Hyrule, Rauru.”

Purah whistled. “Well then. So we’ve got a Demon King, regional phenomenon, and a missing swordsman…”

Zelda narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by ‘regional phenomenon?”

If Purah’s face could get any darker, it would have. “Ever since the Upheaval, terrible things have been happening, and the races of Hyrule are just as affected by it as we are here in Central Hyrule.”

Zelda went quiet. More and more problems just seemed to be building up. She didn’t have time to save the races, find the Sages, and the stones, and Link, but… but perhaps they all went hand in hand. Maybe the problems plaguing the races were caused by the Sages and their stones. Maybe by helping her people, she could save her people. And maybe… maybe she could find Link along the way.

“The bath water’s still too hot, but it’ll be nice soon,” Josha said from the bottom of the stairs. “Please, come with me, my lady.”

“None of that ‘my lady’ nonsense,” Zelda said with a strained smile, “but, thank you, Josha.”

Josha brushed off the request. “Of course.” She offered a hand and Zelda stood, looking over her shoulder to Purah, who waved her on.

“We’ll talk soon,” Purah said, “have a nice bath.”

Zelda took Josha’s hand and let the little girl lead her up the stairs to the bathing room. The bath barrel was steaming, and beside it was a neat pile of bandages and a cup of tea.

“Here—” Josha began on the tie in Zelda’s hair. Zelda made a face.

“Joshie. I can do it.”

“But—can I at least brush your hair?”

Zelda tilted her head and pursed her lips, pretending to deeply consider the innocent, rather adorable request. “I supposed—if! You tell me more about this Upheaval.”

“Deal!”

Josha pulled her onto the wooden floor, positioning Zelda between her tiny legs, and handed Zelda her tea. Zelda took a long sip. The sundelions did wonders for gloom poisoning, and for the first time since she woke up, she could breathe.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Hmm…” Josha immediately caught on a knot, and Zelda suppressed a flinch. Link was always painfully careful with her hair, treating it like something special, something precious—Josha simply yanked as she spoke.

“So, you and the swordsman went under Hyrule Castle two weeks ago—”

Zelda’s stomach still lurched at the words ‘two weeks’. Had she been asleep on the Great Sky Island that long? Had her gloom poisoning been that bad? Or did time move differently above the clouds? She remembered one night and one night only passing… So, Link had been missing for two weeks then, and not a day and a half. Two weeks without her, Goddesses knows where, badly injured and alone. What if he bled out? What if gloom poisoning took him? What if, when she finally found him, there would be nothing to find but bone? Her breath started to quicken. Oh, Gods, Gods above, Link was probably dead unless he found immediate medical attention. Just being around that much gloom had knocked her on her ass for days, and she was supposed to believe he would survive that arm injury? She killed him. She wanted to go below. She wanted to explore. She wanted to investigate the mummy. She killed him. She killed him. She—

Josha pulled on a strand of hair. “Everything is going to be okay, princess,” Josha said in her ear, the little girl’s breath tickling its point. “Two weeks isn’t as long as it seems, and we have search parties and everyone on the lookout. Everyone is looking for the two of you—well, not you anymore, but you get my meaning.”

Zelda took a deep, settling breath.

“Right. Of course. Thank you, Josha.”

“No prob!” She went back yanking the brush through Zelda’s hair.

“The day you went underground, there was a massive earthquake. Now, I haven’t really been around an earthquake before, but the Gorons in Lookout Landing said it made Death Mountain’s eruptions look tiny. So, make what you will of that. The earthquakes opened chasms, bottomless pits that opened into underground caverns of nothing but gloom. Clouds rolled in as gloom rained down and ruins fell from the sky. Then Hyrule Castle started floating—it seemed to be the cataclysm for all of it, and people started to call it the Upheaval. Guess they needed to one-up ‘the Calamity’ in badass names.”

“Language, Josha.”

“Right. Sorry! Anyways, I’ve been doing studies on the chasms, and the gloom, just trying to keep my hands busy while we looked for you, but it’s actually unbelievably interesting—the gloom can infect monsters without killing them, making them smarter, stronger, more aggressive; that’s why we had to make fortifications, a boss boko let an assault on Lookout Landing. Can you imagine? I wanted to help, but they put all the kids in the emergency shelter… and then there was the problem of the decayed weapons. The gloom—it’s everywhere, in the water, in the air, in the plants, it’s everywhere. You can get sick just from standing outside too long now, and when the castle rose, gloom carpeted the earth for a good day or two. We were all stuck inside, it was suuuper boring, and when it finally left, all our weapons decayed. We haven’t found a single blade that survived.

There isn’t all bad stuff—the Ring Ruins in Kakariko are super cool, and the Zonai team is looking at them. And there are all sorts of cool stuff in the chasms! Though, Goggles won’t take me with him on his expositions. What an asshole.”

“Josha!”

“What! He is! But that, that’s about it, I think? It feels like a lot, but mostly we’ve been stuck inside hiding from the rain or the gloom fog or the blood moon.”

Zelda felt her blood go cold, clogging her veins and arteries. “Blood moon?”

“Um-hm,” Josha said, “A big one, just a few days ago! It seemed to be part of what made the monsters so much stronger, but no one listens to me, so no one’s investigating that.”

“I’ll tell them to,” Zelda said softly, standing.

“Gonna take that bath now?”

“I really shouldn’t—there are so many important things to do, and—”

“My lady,” Josha said, “I mean this in the nicest of ways: you smell really bad. Please take the bath.”

Zelda flushed. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

Zelda gave a discrete sniff of the hem of her tunic. Yep. Well, that was humiliating.

Josha raised on her tip toes and gave Zelda a kiss on her cheek. “Have a good bath, Princess Zelda. We can discuss the look for Link when you’re squeaky clean.”

---

“I want to look under the castle,” Zelda said to Purah and Josha as soon as she finished the fastest bath she’d ever taken, bundled in a pair of the spare clothes she always kept at Lookout Landing for times spent visiting. They stood outside the lab, watching everyone slowly leave the emergency shelter, gloom rain having passed and gloom puddles now needing to be mopped up, all three nursing sundelion tea. Zelda longed for a cup of Link’s favorite Hyrule herb instead.

“Absolutely not.” Purah replied, “Captain Hoz has already begun his expedition. He doesn’t need any more hands.”

Zelda scoffed. “Hoz tries his best, but he’s far from perfect. He always needs more hands.”  She said, and Purah rolled her eyes.

“At least let me check in with the search team there. See what they know—I have a right to be kept in the loop!”

“Zelda, the last time you went down there you went AWOL for two weeks and Linky disappeared. I’m happy to help you look, away from the castle.”

Zelda crossed her arms, not caring how childish she appeared. “Purah, I’m not a child anymore.”

“I understand that. But you are also the head of the rebuilding efforts for an entire country.” Purah said, pushing her glasses up her nose with her recorder. “Take my bed upstairs. It’s getting dark, and you must be exhausted, not to mention still recovering from gloom poisoning. Take a break. Relax. Linky will still be there to look for in the morning.”

Except, a horrible voice in the back of Zelda’s head said, he very well might not be. With that arm…

Zelda forced a bland, pleasant smile. “Of course, Purah. You’re always such a voice of reason. I’m still feeling quite ill; I think I’ll lie down.”

Purah eyed her warily. “Uh-huh.”

“Yup!” Zelda downed the rest of her tea, handing Purah her cup, and patted Purah’s cheek. “Third floor, correct?”

Purah glanced down at the tea cups, then up to Zelda. “… f\Floor three, yes.”

“Amazing. Goodnight!”

Zelda made a point to stomp up the stairs and ladders to the top floor of the lab and make as much noise as possible as she hopped onto the bed, musing the covers and stuffing some pillows under Purah’s thick quilt. The woman's diary sat on the side of her bed, and, feeling spiteful, Zelda flipped through it. Nothing interesting. Fine by her.

Zelda waited for exactly 38 minutes—the average time it took her to fall asleep—to pass, before sliding open the screen sliding window and almost falling back on her ass in surprise at the owlish face staring out of the dark at her.

“Hylia’s tits, Josha,” Zelda hissed and Josha grinned. “How on earth did you get up here without me noticing?”

Josha raised a white eyebrow. Right. Sheikah. Zelda sighed, standing back up. “I need to leave.”

“I know. I want to come.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Then I’ll call Doc.”

Zelda paled. If Purah found out she’d sneak out then Zelda would be absolutely grounded. She may be a hundred and twenty-one, and Purah only physically nineteen, but the woman was still technically over a hundred and fifty and had helped raise Zelda for a good period of time, and Zelda wouldn’t be able to hold out against Purah’s ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ eyes.

“No! No, no, no, please—“

“Then I’m coming with. We’re going to Castle Town, right?”

Zelda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was how Purah (and Impa, and Urbosa, and honestly, probably Mipha) felt with her, wasn’t it?

“Yes. Come on. Quiet.”

“I’m not the one who has to worry about being quiet,” Josha said in a singsong voice, and Zelda flicked her ear.

Josha was much more graceful than Zelda as she climbed down the side of the lab wall, Zelda taking a much longer time to shimmy down the gutter. Josha made a point of tapping her foot and checking her pocket watch; Zelda stuck her tongue out at her.

It was hard to keep up with a Sheikah. They moved with silent grace, not a sound coming from their footstep or breath, and moved far faster than any Hylian could, and Josha was no exception. It was obvious the girl was slowing down for Zelda, which was a tad embarrassing, but mostly Zelda just wanted to get back under the castle.

Hyrule Castle Town was just as barren as it had been five years ago. Zelda had made no effort to rebuild it, or the castle. That age of Hyrule was dead, and it would be best, be kindest, to put it to rest. Still, as she looked out over the ruins that had once been her backyard, she couldn’t help but ache.

A memory sat at the base of her skull, and she tried desperately to ignore it as Josha took her hand and led her towards to search committee.

Castle town had been grand once, the great main gates covered in carvings of the five races living together in harmony—a Hylian girl on a horse here, a giant fish there, a Goron in the corner, so on and so on. The flags still hung from the flag poles, tattered and faded but still bearing the crest of her family.

When she and Link had first returned from Mount Lanayru to Castle Town the first day of the Calamity, the portcullis had been half risen, held up by the charred remains of a stampede. Dozens of people desperately trying to flee the guardian lasers and flames overtaking the city had fought one another to get to the entrance, only to end up pinning each other in place and sealing their doom. In the century since then, the bodies that covered Castle Town had been removed and laid to rest, the ash and bone brushed away, but the sight still lived in Zelda’s mind daily.

Josha squeezed her hand as they moved through the streets. Zelda closed her eyes. If she held her breath and pretended she didn’t smell the gloom, she could put herself back in those bright, happy days, surrounded by the sounds of children playing, of stray dogs and cats, of hagglers yelling about their wares alongside the roads, of music and laughter. There, on the east corner, by the cathedral, there had been a caravan with an old man that sold colorful little puppets on strings, and across the road, a man and his son who sold masks…. She knew what happened to them. She’d seen their bodies as her and Link… Her and Link…

She’d screamed Link’s name in rage and despair as he kept a firm grip on her, dragging her through the flames and corpses of Castle Town, guardians on every side. She had wanted to turn around, to help, but Link refused. A child—a child had been hit, right in front of her, and Zelda had been frozen at the sight of his little pink intestines, and fell to her knees, her brain so hazed with panic that she thought if she just packed them hard enough, prayed deep enough, she could bring him back.

Link had wrapped his arms around her with a hiss and hoisted her up, ignoring her screaming mantra of “we have to go back, we have to go back, we have—”. Her breath had been hot and terrified on his skin as she clawed at his eyes, his mouth, anything to get him to put her down. 

“I need you to look at me and listen.” Link had signed, his face cruel in its determination.

“We need to get you somewhere safe. We’ll follow the waterside path to Fort Hateno and load up on supplies, then move through Kakariko. We’ll evacuate every noncombatant we can and take every Sheikah soldier we can and move to Akkala. The Citadel will offer safety for the citizens and the soldiers can help reinforce the fort. No one will be able to get past that stronghold. I promise.”

“And what about you?” Zelda had whispered tears falling, and Link had kissed her forehead, the first softness he’d shown since the guardians awoke. In that moment, Link the Champion, the Knight, the Hero, who had been hauling her around was gone, replaced by Link, her friend.

“I’ll be by your side, always.”

“Princess?” Josha said softly, squeezing Zelda’s hand, and she jumped.

“Sorry,” Zelda said, flushing. “Got lost in time for a bit…”

Josha nodded, leaning her head onto Zelda’s hip. “That’s okay,” she said softly. “You aren’t the only ones. The Sheikah… they still think about it too.”

Zelda cleared her throat. When she looked out over Castle Town, it wasn’t brightly colored with childhood, or burning with Calamity. It was a graveyard, just like it always was, and always would be.

…Except for the stone structure hidden in the ruins, a green beacon of light rising from it.

A shrine…

“Huh…”

Josha looked at where Zelda was staring. “Oh, that? Those fell outta the sky at the beginning of the Upheaval. We think there is something inside but we haven’t been able to crack them open.”

“They’re shrines, left by the Zonai,” Zelda said softly, “filled with light.”

“Zo-nnnn-ai” Josha said, rolling the word in her mouth. “You know, your research team is over the moon about the falling ruins. We’ve got so many task forces, I’ve lost track. The search committee, the monster-control crew, the Zonai research team—hey! Zelda!”

Zelda, who had started drifting to the shrine, looked over her shoulder. “Go tell Hoz we’ll be there soon. I need to check something…”

She wasn’t sure why she felt so called to the shrine. She knew, obviously that she should at least try to gather them, but mostly the thought that the Voice from the Great Sky Island might be waiting for her, might speak to her again… it was a pleasant thought, a warm one, that spurred her on. She wanted to hear that Voice again, be called sweet names and be spoken to softly. The Voice made her feel important, special. It made her feel warm. Behind her, Josha was talking, but Zelda had long stopped listening. She placed her hand on the shrine and it hummed under her touch. She reached out with the power under her heart, and the humming turned into a singing, and the stone split open, beckoning her inside.

“Kyonois…” She breathed, the shrine’s name seeping softly into her brain. “Combat training…”

“Zeldaaaaa,” Josha whined, but Zelda was already walking through the door. It closed up behind her, leaving her alone in the shrine’s dim green light, and Zelda tilted back her head to the infinite ceiling.

“Hello?” She called out. “Voice? Are you there?”

Silence. She sighed. She shouldn’t leave Josha out there in the ruins alone, should just come back later, but… well she was right here already…

Suddenly, a soldier construct, different than one she’d ever seen before, came barreling out of the dark. It was missing arms—wait, no, holy shit, its arms were materializing in long chains out of its side, connecting to the blade left on the floor.

The only blade.

Combat training. Well, that was going to be awfully difficult with no sword.

The construct barreled at her, swinging wildly, and she ducked out of the way. It turned on a pin, surprisingly graceful for something so ugly, and pounced. Zelda didn’t move out of the way fast enough this time, the simple blade hitting her shoulder. Surprisingly, it bounced off harmlessly—a training blade.

Thank the Goddesses.

Zelda stepped back, circling the construct. She needed to get that blade somehow—or. Or.

Alright, little Goddess, she thought to herself, let’s do this. She reached deep under her heart, pulling and pulling until warmth flooded her blood, gold flowing through her veins, weaker than it could be, but still deadly. Not Hylia, but something old, ancient, that called to her by name. She held out one hand, envisioning a shield that materialized before her. The construct rammed her, but she held her ground. She yanked power into her hand and threw it out; the golden flash enveloped the construct with a BANG, and the robot exploded, showering her with robot pieces. The Zonai charge alone remained intact.

She flexed her hand, looking carefully at her palm. She hadn’t used magic like that since… since a while, that was for sure. She was rusty. Too rusty.

Still, when she finally found the Zonai statue at the end of the shrine, taking up the light it offered her, she felt stronger. Her connection to Hylia felt bubbly, rejuvenated, but that other, holier, more mystic magic inside her, the kind she hesitated to acknowledge, even with it branded on the back of her hand, pulsed, whispering praise she couldn’t quite here.

Are you growing? She wanted to ask, are you blooming? But it felt wrong, presumptuous. She let the thoughts of Triforces and Nayru lie and left Kyonois behind.

---

Josha’s foot was tapping a mile a minute when Zelda emerged from the Shrine.

“I cannot be-lieve you left me!” She said, the words coming out more like a whine than a hiss, her age showing through her crossed arms and lippy pout. Zelda ruffled her hair and Josha swatted at her. “Did you find anything cool in there?”

“Religious power,” Zelda said dryly, and Josha wrinkled her nose. Most Sheikah Zelda knew were deeply religious, so Josha always made a point to be very loud when it came to her atheism. That was part of why Josha had taken such a shine to Zelda: the Princess of Light, the holder of Hylia’s Golden Power, a woman who bore the Triforce and had spoken to Gods, chose not to venerate the Gods of Hyrule? Not to worship them, not even a little? To Josha, meeting Zelda had been a cornucopia of new theology she’d never even thought possible.

The Sheikah…  Their relationship with Hylia, and most of all with the Royal Hylian family, was a complicated and, frankly, bloody, one. The Hyrulian Royal family had all but created the Yiga with their reactionary, conservative politics 10,000 years ago. The history of the Sheikah’s dedication to Zelda’s family was one of blood, greed, and manipulation.

 Legends said that the first Sheikah served Hylia, the name Impa even coming from the protector of Hylia, who had fought beside Her and safeguarded Her in both Her first life, and second life as the first Zelda. The Sheikah covered their face to honor that Impa, who sat so close to Hylia’s right hand that she burned her face on Hylia’s glory.

What came next may have been wiped from the history books of your average Hateno school girl, but not the lessons of the royals. Why build an army or police force with your own people when you had an entire race so dedicated to Hylia that they would pledge their allegiance to your queen and her holy power? Who needs Hylian spies and assassins when you can make the Sheikah do it? Who needs prisons when you can bastardize Sheikah temples?

Here is gathered Hyrule’s bloody history of greed and hatred.

Bloody history indeed. Her family—centuries, centuries ago, but still hers—had feared what they created, feared the Sheikah’s power, their magic, their technology, and gave them a choice: Destroy your technology. Bury it deep in the ground. Abandon magic, your culture, your way of life. Become simple and controllable again. Or die.

Those who refused, died, with the few survivors eventually making the Yiga Clan, but for the rest? A cultural genocide carried out by their own hand.

Still, still, after it all, the Sheikah followed Zelda, and worked tirelessly to rebuild the kingdom that had nearly eradicated them. Josha blamed Hylia for their destruction, and so chose not to believe in her. Zelda, personally, thought Josha should blame her, but she’d had a similar conversation with only one person, Paya, and she had taken it… badly.

Zelda had learned quickly to keep her opinion regarding the Sheikah to herself.

“It’s not your place,” Paya had told her coldly. “These are issues for the Sheikah to discuss, define, solve, and live with on our own. This is our history, and just because you feel guilt in being on the oppressive side doesn’t mean you tell us how to live our lives.”

Zelda had never, ever seen Paya angry before, nor had she since, but the conversation still kept her up at night.

“Hey, look!” Josha said, pointing at a figure further into Castle Town. “Hey, Oliff!”

Josha grabbed Zelda’s hand and yanked her along, calling out to the dark-haired, mustached man. The soldier’s spear in his hand was rotten and rusted—decayed—and his body was wound up tight, jumping when Josha called out to him. Josha let go of Zelda’s hand and ran to the monster hunter, leaving Zelda to jog after with a loving shake of her head. Kids, huh?

Oliff crossed his arms. “Little girl, what do you think you’re doing out here? This is a dangerous place, missy.”

Josha put her tiny fists on her hips. “I’m not alone, I have the Princess with me. Besides, Lookout Landing is boring, all the fun is with the gloom and chasms over here.”

Oliff blinked. “Princess…?” He looked up from Josha’s tiny height, finally noticing Zelda, who waved. Oliff gasped, dropping to one knee, spear falling to her feet with a clank.

“Your Majesty! Is that really you? When did you get out from under the castle? We’ve been worried sick!”

Zelda poked him playfully with her foot and extended a hand. He took it, cheeks flushed.

“I’m so ashamed, I’ve been supposed to be on watch duty here this whole time, and I didn’t see you at all. My sincerest apologies. And to think that I’d really thought I’d been getting serious about my training…”

Zelda glanced to Josha, who rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine, truly, Oliff. I’m just glad to see you safe during all this moroseness.” Zelda said, face falling into the kind, blank mask of a princess. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be herself with the more traditional monarchists, it was just, well, easier. When she destroyed the Calamity, they came and saw Zelda the Princess of Light, not… not Zelda. Link didn’t like it when she went blank like that. Zelda personally thought it might be a trigger for him, and she knew he thought she was being hypocritical when she tried so hard to coax his real face out from under his mask, but he just didn’t get it. It just wasn’t the same as his own blank, emotionless disguse.

“Captain Hoz doesn’t know that you’re back, does he, your Majesty?”

Zelda shook her head. “We were hoping to aid in his look for Link.”

Oliff’s eyes went wide. “He’s… he’s not back?”

No, he wasn’t. He was gone, alone, abandoned, and she needed to find him, need to—

“No, he’s not,” Zelda said blandly, her voice sweet but ultimately dull. “But I have faith that Captain Hoz will have a lead.”

Oliff nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. Come, I’ll take you to him.”

“That’s really not necessary—”

“This is a dangerous place, my lady. Allow me, please.” He extended an elbow and Zelda bit back a sigh. She took it.

Oliff made bland, awkward small talk the whole walk to the first gatehouse, everything from flowers to little birds he had seen on duty to lemon bars his sister baked him—simple, easy topics unlikely to offend her ‘delicate sensibilities’. Not for the first or last time, Zelda wished she’d left the title of Princess at Calamity Ganon’s feet. Josha kept glancing up at her with a knowing look, and Zelda looked back with a stern warning in her honey-sweet gaze, daring Josha to do something rude, or stupid, or both.

The stench of gloom grew thicker in the air as they walked. Back in Hyrule Field and Lookout Landing, the air carried it, foul and rotten, but still weak on the wind. Here, the smell was enough to burn Zelda’s eyes, and as they approached, the gloom grew even thicker. She’d thought the gloom had been bad in Hyrule Field before she and Link first decided to go underground, but this? This was worlds away from anything she’d ever seen. At least it was only in the air; malice had littered everything, air, water, grass, and stone, and no step was free of it. That wasn’t to say gloom wasn’t dangerous—even if you didn’t touch it, being exposed for too long meant walking away with a nasty headache, difficulty breathing, weakness and wooziness, and in worst cases internal decay.

And if you did touch gloom…

Zelda blinked away the image of Link’s gory arm. Fine. He was fine. He was fine. He was—

The first gatehouse came into view and Josha took off, her hand in Zelda’s, and Oliff yelped, shouting at the Sheikah child to slow down.

Zelda had never been more grateful for the eleven-year-old.

Captain Hoz was a dark-skinned man with a soul patch who always wore his great-grandfather’s old knight’s helm, one of the few left from the Calamity. He was gruff, but polite, with a deep love for Hyrule that had made him the clear choice for the head of Lookout Landing’s branch of the Hylian militia. He was a bit grumpy, but always kind, just as his kin had been a hundred years ago. Link had known his great-grandfather well, not that Link knew it, and Zelda respected Link enough not to tell him. What Link remembered, he remembered, and he’d made it very clear that it would be on his own terms at his own time. Zelda, being the one who had hurt him in the first place, knew she had no right to say otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” Hoz grunted, not looking from his spot on the gatehouse’s roof. “But I’m in the middle of something. Please—” He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes went wide. “Your Majesty?”

Zelda waved. Behind her, Oliff had just caught up, panting.

“Oliff, you big oaf, why didn’t you tell me the Princess had returned!” Hoz shouted, and Oliff winced.

“I was bringing her over--!”

“Forgive him. I was a little anxious to see you and ran ahead,” Zelda said. “Here, I’ll come up and we can talk face-to-face.”

“Wait, Princess, let me climb down—”

Zelda unlatched the ladder and began to climb. From here she could see the true devastation of her home as it hovered amongst the clouds. Red gloom hovered as a mist over everything, the smell absolutely nauseating, and as much as Zelda liked to claim the castle had never been her home, it hurt to see the place she had been raised in, ate meals with her father in, wrote in her journals in, decimated in such a way.

She pulled herself up onto the gatehouse. Hoz helped her to her feet, brushing off her knees for her before taking her hand and patting it.

“You’re alive,” He said, “and in one piece. I cannot express my relief enough. Where is Link?”

“Missing,” Zelda said, taking back her hand. “I’ve come to assist in the search.”

“He left you behind?” Hoz said, voice an octave higher, and Zelda winced. “That dog! That cad!”

“Link was injured,” Zelda interjected, her smile even more forced. “He fell. I’m hoping he managed to find his way out on his own.”

“… Oh. Of course. My apologies.”

“CAPTAIN! YOUR HIGHNESS!”

Hoz and Zelda turned below them, Oliff was pointing at the castle, at the entrance to the Sanctum, the same place that had held her for a hundred years. And there—!

The figure looked unwell. His skin was pale from gloom exposure, dark circles deep as fists and dark as bruises, grey around the edges of his mouth. His blond hair was flat and dull, and he wore strange clothes not unlike Rauru’s own. His feet were bare, and his left arm…

Link’s left arm was gone.

“Link!” Zelda shrieked, jerking forward, and would have fallen if not for Hoz’s hands. Link looked at her, straight at her— no, straight through her, with no love or light in his eyes, just exhaustion and something else, something dark that unsettled her. What had happened?

He looked away, before turning on his heels and marching back into the Sanctum, only to dissolve into gold-green light before passing through the doorway, just as he had when facing the mummy. Zelda’s gut plummeted.

“Link!” She shouted again, “Link, we’re here, we’re right here!”

“He’s gone.” Hoz said hesitantly. “You saw that as well, right, your Highness? Saw Link turn into light? This… this is an emergency of a situation. Someone needs to let Purah know as soon as possible.”

Zelda slunk down to the ground, suddenly uncaring of the eyes on her. It was as if he didn’t even see her, despite his eyes glaring into her own. She hadn’t seen him so cold and lifeless even when they had first met, and he refused to look her in the eye. It was like… it was like looking into the eyes of a doll. Someone gently helped her to her feet, and down the ladder. Zelda was aware of someone speaking but didn’t hear their words. Someone, Josha most likely, took her hand and began to lead her back to Castle Town. Away from home—away from Link, her home, most of all.

What had she let that mummy do to him?

“Well? Did you find anything?”

Zelda’s head jerked up at the unfortunately familiar voice. Dark skin, white hair, youthful face holding very, very old red eyes which were now looking disappointedly at Zelda—Purah. Well, shit.

Purah shifted her weight to her other hip, arms crossed and face cold. “I hope it was worth climbing out my bedroom window.”

Zelda winced. Josha let go of her hand and took a large step to the side, behind Oliff.

“And don’t think I don’t see you too, missy. You and I are gonna have a talk later.”

“Purah,” Zelda said sheepishly, “Don’t be mad with Josha, she didn’t know any better—”

“Oh, yes, she did. And so did you, young lady! What if something had happened? We just got you back! I cannot believe—actually, I can one hundred percent believe you did this, but still! You can’t just—”

“Something did happen, ma’am,” Hoz said, and Purah huffed. “We saw Link.”

Instantly, Purah’s deminer changed. “You—you saw Linky?”

“I saw him,” Zelda said, “at the Sanctum. He looked… unwell. And he just… he looked right through me. And then he turned into light and just… disappeared.” She waited for Purah to laugh, to accuse her of lying, but instead, the Sheikah woman just tapped her recorder on her chin.

“I’ve got to say, Princess, there’s never anything normal when it comes to you two, is there?” She sighed, uncrossing her arms. “But if you’re telling me that’s what you saw, then I believe you.”

“You—you do?”

Purah smiled, and while her eyes still carried annoyance, it warmed Zelda to see. “Of course, I do, Zellie. So then, it seems like we’ll need to change our approach. Link is gone, okay. He’ll turn up somewhere—he’s a hard man to get rid of. Until then, you said your ghost granddaddy gave you some quests, right?”

Zelda nodded.

“Then we’ll start there instead and keep our ears out for clues as we do. I’ve already got a few regions in mind to start exploring in the morning.”

She offered a hand to Zelda. “Come on. Get some rest for real this time. I’ll get you an adventure pack and a paraglider and you can leave come first light.”

Zelda hesitated for a moment, looking over her shoulder. She could see the Sanctum from here. Link was nowhere to be found. She took Purah’s hand.

---

Zelda sat on Purah’s bed for real this time, boots off and hair braided for sleep. Josha had bandaged the gloom burns on her face and hands from the mummy and her shoulders and arms from the gloom rain and made her one last cup of sundelion tea, and with that, Zelda could feel the last of her gloom poisoning drift away. Thank the Goddess for that. They had established a game plan of sorts, and tomorrow morning she’d set off for the Zora, paraglider in hand, then the Goron, the Rito, and finally the Gerudo. Zelda flipped open her Purah pad and chewed on the tip of the stylus for a moment before opening the adventure log.

New Quest: Crisis in Hyrule—

Upheaval: Caused By Demon King (most likely)

• Castle rose.
• Chasms
• Gloom
• Ruins fell (Zonai)
  • Check ruins in Faron, compare?

New Quest: Find Link—

Went home went to castle. Search party (gone two weeks) (asleep for two weeks? Time different in sky? Did Rauru know??) saw Link in sanctum.

Looked… dead. ill. Didn’t even seem to look at me disappeared. Keep ear out. Check stables? Lucky Clover Gazette might have info.

Zelda flicked her pointer finger across the screen, opening to a new section.

New Quest: Regional Phenomenon

• Hebra (Rito) blizzard
• Lanayru (Zora) water poisoning
• Eldin (Goron) poisoned food supply
• Gerudo Desert (Gerudo) sandstorm

Zoea first. See if King Dorephan has news…. Visit mipha memorial?

Zelda nibbled on the stylist again, tapping her finger on the edge of the pad. Finally, after a long, long moment of hesitation, she opened a new note.

Link,

Things are so strange without you around. I’m debating leaving you a few notes, just so you can catch up quickly once you return. Would you like that?

It’s odd, how I could go a hundred years alone without a care, but now just a day or so without you is… difficult. Or two weeks. I don’t know which. My gut says I was only in the sky for a day and a half, but everyone else… I wish I could ask Rauru.

Rauru! I have to tell you all about him—the Zonai I met in the sky! You won’t believe it, but I have Zonai blood in me! I know the skeptic in you is laughing, but it’s true! He says you know each other—so did time really pass without me? Just who is he to you?

I miss you

Where are you?

I’ll find you. I promise.

Yours,

Zelda

Chapter Text

Zelda had learned one thing on the road by midday: she did not like traveling without Link. Zelda was an independent person, more than capable of taking care of herself, including during travel, but she’s become too used to his gentle presence, his knowledge of the wild that he was always happy to share, and, frankly, far too used to his Sheikah slate.

The Sheikah slate was one of the few Sheikah artifacts left from before the Calamity—Link was fiercely protective of it, even if its use was much more limited without shrines or Sheikah Towers around. He was a wonderful photographer with a love of goofy, front-facing photos, and had dozens of them hung on the walls of their house in Hateno. He used it for a myriad of things: keeping track of new recipes, jotting down where to find certain ingredients, photographing new flora or fauna—and using it to write down memories, big and small, as they came to him, just in case something horrible happened. Zelda knew that Link pretended not to care about how much he was missing, just as she knew how much he did care. Link was adamant that he was not the Link of the Before, and he was solid in his own identity, but Zelda knew the blank spots still unsettled him.

The slate was back in Hateno after the screen cracked during a rather disastrous diving competition against Sidon into East Reservoir Lake off of Shatterback Point, a place aptly named for shattering the backs of nonZora who jumped off of it. Link had smacked his head into the side of the lake’s cliff, much to Zelda’s horror, trying to take a front-facing photo of him ‘totally demolishing’ (his words, not hers) Sidon. He’s smacked his noggin, breaking his nose and brow bone and cracking the screen of his slate on a rock.

He’d been more upset over the damn slate than his gushing nose, bemoaning his precious tablet between sips of heart elixir as Zelda set his nose. Sidon—the loveable bastard—had laughed, as if Link wasn’t covered in blood. So, for now, the slate was unusable, at least until Robbie figured out how to get it running again. Zelda loved her Purah pad, don’t get her wrong, but it was no Sheikah slate.

Especially, she thought with a grumble, looking at the mass of black on her screen, because the Sheikah slate wasn’t still in beta testing and therefore, had a map.

Hyrule’s landscape, and the people living in it, were changing with every year, making cartography vital. Link’s slate was self-updating, making it the most reliable map on the entire continent, but even after five years of studying it, Purah and the like had yet to recreate the unbelievably sophisticated mapping system. Which led instead to the development of the Skyview Towers. The one in Lookout Landing had been finished just before Link and Zelda’s ill-fated plunge, and Link had taken much delight in being launched into the air and rocketing down to the ground. Meaning she had a map of Central Hyrule, and Central Hyrule only.

That would be her first order of business. Get a map of Lanayru.

Zelda wiped her brow. Gerudo Valley may be hot, but Lanayru was humid, humid, oppressive, and chock-full of mosquitoes until you got past the first few bends of the Zora River into the blessed cool waters of Zora’s Domaine. Zelda missed Zora’s Domaine—aside from Hateno and Lookout Landing, she and Link spent most of their time there. It was an easy place to be; there were people there who knew her, loved her, remembered the life she had left behind, and while it could be exhausting to have to play the part of princess more often there, being able to speak to King Dorephan and Sidon, two people who had seen the fall of Hyrule first hand, was a blessing. She worried that it might make Link feel inadequate, like the both of their shared experiences weren’t enough for Zelda, but Link had promised her with a cheeky smile that as long as she didn’t resent the time he spent being Sidon’s ‘best-est of friends’, he would forgive her.

Link hadn’t taken Sidon’s engagement well. He insisted he was upset because Sidon hadn’t even mentioned Yona to him, Sidon’s best friend, until the time Sidon and the stingray Zora were engaged, but Zelda, personally, thought Link was jealous of having to share his time spent with Sidon with someone else. It was sweet, like a toddler jealous of the new baby in the house.

Zelda swatted the mosquito that landed on her cheek, seeing blood when she pulled away her hand. Gross. Slowly but surely, just as the sun above her moved from morning to midday, the terrain went from marshland to hill country, then finally to the cool, luminous cliffs of Zorana. She’d set a good speed for herself; at this rate, even on foot, she’d be at Ralis Pond, the base camp for Upper Zorana Skyview Tower by nightfall. She could sleep there and be at Zora’s Domaine by midday tomorrow!

Zelda smiled, feeling quite satisfied. Piece of cake. She was pretty good at this adventuring. Two could play this game, Link!

She opened the Purah pad.

Link—

How long did it take you to get past the Lanayru wetlands the first time after you woke up? I need to know if I can brag about my good time or not. I hope where ever you are, it isn’t humid, and there aren’t any stinging bugs

“—elp!”

Zelda stopped in her tracks, looking up from her pad. Was that…? The sound came again. Yep, that had to be someone calling for help. She scanned the horizon, heart picking up. Hills, wetlands, cliffs, as far as the eye could see, with so little tree coverage that it was easy to see the remains of a campsite from here—and the sign of struggle. Zelda broke out into a jog, knowing better than to wind herself if she was walking into a trap.

“—elp!”

The voice was muffled, as if coming from underground. Zelda racked her brain for any caves in the nearby area. She remembered spelunking through a cave system near Boné Pond, a large, shallow body of water ideal for catching frogs, but Link had disposed of the monster camp there ages ago. It should be safe, there should be nothing dangerous here—

Except, there had been a blood moon, hadn’t there? The first one in five years.

Zelda broke into a run. Boné Pond’s cave system entrance wasn’t visible, and Zelda was beginning to think she had misremembered it as she hauled herself up onto the hill, until she realized why she couldn’t see it—a monster camp had been built on top, a surprisingly sophisticated stone construction that cut off entrance to the cave. Zelda swore. She knelt down close to the ground and listened. She could hear monsters, boko most likely, deep inside the caves. She risked sneaking forward and peeking through the wood slats. There was something in there, that much she was sure of. 

Zelda squeezed through a crack in between two stones, and sure enough, under some loose wooden panels was a thin crevice that opened into a sheer drop. Zelda leaned over, pressing the side of her face to the entrance and listening. There was the snort of bokoblins, sure enough, as well as muffled cries and whimpers. The person weakly called out for help a third time, only to yelp at the clang of metal and the snarl of a boss boko. A boss boko? Well, that was unfortunate. So then she was looking at three, maybe four red boko as well as the civilian.

Zelda took a deep breath. Each moment she waited was a moment the person below—one of her people—was closer to a grisly end. Though, she’d never heard of bokoblins taking prisoners before, even boss bokoblins. Usually, they stuck close to their campsite, springing on unlucky travelers, though attacks had been rarer and rarer as of late. To capture someone… that spoke of an intelligence she did not associate with bokoblins.

Zelda steeled herself, and squeezed her legs and hips through the crevasse, till only her arms were holding her up. She allowed herself a brief second to be frightened of the drop, then steeled herself, and let go.

It was a longer drop than she thought it would be. She managed to flip open the paraglider at the last second, saving her from breaking her neck, but she still landed in a heap on the floor of the cave. There were not three to four red bokoblins: there were five black bokos, with a looming black boss chewing on what appeared to be a human thigh, gore and sinew dripping down its jowls. The bottom of the cave was disgusting; instead of being littered with trash and animal parts, it was full of bloated, picked-apart corpses.

Zelda gagged as she breathed in the smell of fresh gore; none of the bodies looked old enough to have been dead more than twenty-four hours, but they were all in pieces, the reason of which was clear—the red and stickiness around each bokoblins’ mouth and claws. Zelda knew that during the Calamity, monsters feasted on dead human flesh, but after its influence disappeared, the monsters became more like rabid animals, stupid and hungry, but not bloodthirsty. This? This was worse than the Calamity’s monsters. Those were gore-hungry, but they never stockpiled bodies, and… Zelda’s eyes found the large metal cage in the corner, holding a dark-haired man with a darker mustache. And they never did something as intelligent as repurposing metal to make traps. Josha had mentioned that the monsters had come back smarter, stronger after the blood moon, but this?

This was a whole other beast.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” The man cried, instantly shaking the stunned bokoblin from their surprise; the black bokos squealed as the boss bellowed, calling for action. Zelda realized at that moment that she had only a bow. She dove for the weapons sitting against the wall, decayed and mismatched but still something, but she was too slow, the five black boko getting to them first. Fuck, then she needed the high ground. Somewhere to snipe down from. The boss stood, dropping its kill, towering a good foot over Zelda. It was easy to underestimate boss bokoblins’ strength. They were huge and fat, yes, but under that fat was thick, defined muscle that made each blow devastating. It lunged and Zelda darted back, pulling her bow from her shoulder.

 The first black boko dropped, her arrow sprouting from its eye. There was a chorus of squeals as the bokoblins surrounded her, encroaching closer and closer; Zelda tightened her hold on her bow.

“Behind you!” The man shouted, and Zelda spun just as another bokoblin charged, boko reaper in hand, tripronged horn just missing her belly. Zelda cursed the close quarters. A bow was no good here. Usually, bokoblins were slow-moving creatures, heavy, and easily distracted, but these seemed to be coordinating with each other, squealing orders in their language. Zelda hooked a boot in the metal cage, hoisting herself up on top of it, and readied her bow. She let the fletching fly, and the arrow buried itself in one bokoblin’s eye, then another. They might be stronger, smarter, but their weak points were the same, the headshots serving as critical hits. Soon all that was left was the boss boko.

Except something wasn’t right. The smell of gloom, of rot and decay, filled the air, slowly at first, then enough to burn her lungs, and the air grew red with gloom mist. The boss bokoblin looked at her and almost seemed to laugh. The cave grew darker and darker, the feeling of dread in Zelda’s chest growing. No, it couldn’t be—it was midday! But, sure enough, the bodies of the other bokoblins began to twitch, before rising up with pig-like squeals. All five of them were back, and Zelda was almost out of arrows. They breathed in the gloom, seemingly revitalized, energized by it, and in Zelda’s horror she’d let the boss boko leave her sight.

Zelda cried out as the boss rammed the cage, sending her tumbling over the edge. It grabbed her by the hair and pulled her against it with a gleeful grunt. Zelda gagged—the smell of death hung off of it like a wet blanket, and the gore of its mouth smeared across her face. It hoisted her up with pathetic ease, its free hand grabbing hold of her throat while the one holding her hair let go to grab her bow, twisting her wrist and wrenching it free. It squeezed its thumb into her windpipe, hoisting her high enough that her feet no longer brushed the ground. Zelda wheezed, trying desperately to gulp in air she didn’t have.

Something warm pulled at her. Use me, a golden feeling begged from behind her heart, use me! Zelda reached out under her heart, but instead of Hylia’s power rushing out to greet her, the older magic hidden deep in her pulled her into a tight embrace. She kicked the boss boko hard and pressed her hand to his chest. The back of her hand burned, a fire inside her leaping to life and singing for joy, and a golden light exploded outwards. The boss boko didn’t drop her—it simply ceased to exist, exploding into ash as the wave of gold light ripped through the cave, vaporizing the other boko. Zelda dropped, wheezing, and brought a hand to her throat.

That… that was not Hylia. It, it almost felt like…

Zelda looked at the back of her left hand. It looked normal, but something in her still trembled with excited power. She took a deep, shuddering breath, before remembering the man in the cage.

“Are you injured?” She called through the bars, and the man shook his head.

“That was amazing,” he breathed, “My savior” Zelda shook off discomfort at his words. She wasn’t a ‘savior’, she was a person simply doing what was right.  “Now, can you get me out of here?”

Zelda circled the cage. It was sturdy, large, with bars of metal held in place with some kind of material she didn’t recognize. She pulled; not a budge. She kicked it. Nada. Well, she could try one thing…

Zelda had had plenty of time to ponder the gifts that the Voice in the shrines had given her. She’d even nicknamed them: Ultrahand, Fuse, Ascend, and Recall. She focused on envisioning the bars of the cage snapping apart, then reached inwards and pulled. The bars creaked, groaning under her magic, before snapping, bars going flying, leaving her standing before an open cage. The man clapped.

“What a magician!” He said, squeezing between the open bars. Zelda could have laughed at that. Oh, if only he knew.

“What on earth happened?” Zelda asked, looking over the man for injuries. The last thing she needed was another Link, who had a nasty habit of insisting a major gash to the stomach was ‘no big deal’. The man flushed.

“I’m Hino,” he said, “May I know my savior’s name?”

“Zelda.”

Hino brightened. “Like the Princess!” Zelda nodded. Hino—the name sounded familiar. Maybe Link mentioned him before?

“Well, Miss Zelda, I’m a researcher, looking into the newer developments in the monster world post Upheaval. It is, unfortunately, not the safest of professions.”

“This ‘daytime blood moon’,” Zelda said, looking up to the daylight coming from the hole above them. The daylight that was supposed to be safe, “I’ve never seen one before.”

Hino nodded solemnly. “This is the second one of its kind these past two weeks. I’ve been calling them bloody suns. A truly fascinating situation, if only it didn’t have such unfortunate consequences. Are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m fine,” Zelda snapped, though in truth she was quickly beginning to feel far from fine. Her head was achy, and she felt dizzy, but mostly just tired, a quickly growing bone-dead exhaustion that was becoming worse. “I… I think I need to sit down,” she said, admitting defeat, and Hino pulled off his jacket, placing it on the floor over the blood and monster ash, and helped her to the ground. Fuck, her head hurt.

“Here, take this,” Hino said, passing over a fairy tonic, and Zelda gratefully took it. She took a deep swing, and the sweetness was pleasant as it coated her tongue. “I had hoped if I studied the monsters’ ecology, I would discover something,” he continued, “but I got too close. And here we are.”

Zelda nodded and immediately regretted it. Ow. “I’ve never heard of bokos taking prisoners.”

Hino nodded, “taking prisoners, attacking villages unprovoked; their aggression is unlike anything I’ve seen, even during the Calamity…” Hino took a deep breath. “I’ve heard reports of them… eating people alive. I’d only heard of monsters eating the dead, never….”

Zelda grimaced, the fairy tonic suddenly tasting foul. How could so much have gone wrong in two weeks?

Was this how Link had felt, waking up after a long slumber to a violent, chaotic world?

Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, it was squashed by a wave of guilt. Link had died, had needed a hundred years to be healed, had lost everything—she’d been asleep in that tree for two weeks. She still had her friends, her people, her memory—how dare she compare herself to him?

“One person’s suffering does not negate another’s,” the Link in her head said. It was a frequent conversation between them, Zelda feeling guilty for her cushy time holding back evil incarnate for a hundred years compared to Link’s literal death, and Link feeling guilty for sleeping, regardless of how awful that near-awareness had been, for all that time and only spending one year fighting. Funny, how they so easily gave each other advice and then refused to follow it for themselves.

Hino sighed. “We should leave soon, ma’am. Who knows how frequent bloody suns are—there isn’t exactly a lot of information so far.”

Zelda nodded, downing the last of the fairy tonic and handing the bottle back to Hino, who pocketed it.

“Where are you going?” He asked as Zelda wiped the last drops of sugary tonic from her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Upper Zorana Skyview Tower,” She replied, “Then from there, Zora’s Domaine.”

Hino winced. “You’re a braver adventurer than I,” he said, and Zelda frowned.

“I’d heard the water was poisoned, but surely it hasn’t gotten that bad?”

Hino offered a hand to Zelda, who took it and let herself be hauled up. Hino picked up his jacket, grimacing at the gore clinging to it, and dropped it back onto the ground.

“It’s more than poisoned water—” he said, testing the wall for handholds. “Toxins are falling from the sky. It’s like the very sky in an infected wound and puss is leaking from it onto the ground below. It kills everything it touches; if you ask me, part of the sludge is mixed with gloom. There’s no other way it could cause such damage from touch alone. Burns and sickness everywhere, and the Zora, they’re the worst off. The water is so vile that one drop with burn you down to bone, and outside of the water the sludge is just getting thicker and thicker. And, I’ve heard whispers of ‘land sharks’ that have been targeting any Zora who tries to flee.” He clicked his tongue. “Those poor people.”

Zelda’s stomach turned. She’d been gone for two weeks, and already the Zora were suffering on such a scale. Sidon, Yona, King Dorephan, the children and elderly of the Domaine—the image of their scales burning, melting, covered in toxic sludge ached, impossible to ignore, and Hino awkwardly patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. The Princess and the Hero will fix it soon enough. They always come when things seem at their worst!

Zelda snorted. “Right. Of course.”

“Do you need an escort to the Skyview Tower?” Hino asked though he looked very much like he did not want to provide one.

“Are you headed in the same direction?”

Hino shook his head. “Hoping to reach Kakariko and the Ring Ruins there. Marvelous stuff, those ruins, who knows what kind of answer they could provide!”

Kakariko… in her own rush and anxiety, Zelda had completely forgotten about the Sheikah Village. How was Paya handling this? And Impa, was she well? Zelda’s heart clenched in discomfort. What a friend she was, forgetting to even check in on some of the people closest to her. Hino touched her arm.

“Ma’am, you should forget about the Zora and come with me. It’ll be much safer, and the Ring Ruins are quite a sight to behold, or so I’ve been told.”

Zelda shook her head. “I can’t. I have to help.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the wisest decision, but if you’re determined…”

Wisest. Ha. Hino began hoisting himself up the wall, quickly pulling himself up over the first ledge and leaning over it to offer a hand to Zelda, which she politely took, letting the man help haul her over the edge, even though she was more than capable of climbing a wall herself. Together they took turns inching their way up the cave wall and helping the other up, until they had both squeezed themselves through the top opening of the stone monster camp.

“Are you sure you know the way?” Hino asked, and Zelda pointed to the horizon, where the Skyview Tower sat proudly.

“Walk straight.” She said, and Hino laughed.

“Alright, alright,” Hino suddenly grabbed her hand. “Be careful, alright, miss? The world is changing. There are worse things than gloom rain and bloody suns now.

Zelda squeezed Hino’s hand. “I will be. And do the same, friend. I won’t be there to pull you out of a scrape next time,” she said, and Hino smiled.

“Of course, Miss Zelda.”

---

Zelda missed the humidity of the Lanayru Wetlands. She missed the humidity, the stale air, hells, even the mosquitoes, because at least then the worst smell was standing water and old moss, not the putrid bouquet of gloom and toxicity that made up the sludge. Hino was right—it was falling from the damn sky, like hail, except deadly, plant life sizzling and dying the moment the shit touched it.

The grass, which not even an hour ago, back when she’d been near the mouth of Zora River, had been green and lush, was dead. Fried to a crisp, all by the puddles of gloomy sludge that sat, stinking and rotten, across the hillside. Deer and field mice alike lay dead across the ground, smoking with toxic burns. When Zelda had let her curiosity get the best of her and touched a fingertip to the foul-smelling stuff, it had burned her skin bad enough to see the yellow of fat, and not even twenty minutes later it had been red and swollen with infection. She wished she had saved the fairy tonic; she couldn’t afford to lose a finger.

She’d found a cave at Ralis Pond—now more resembling ‘Ralis Shit Hole’ than a pond—and had tried to wait out the sludge, hoping it would come in waves, but it had come down in hard, steady clumps, the cow paddies of the sky. She had had two options: leave the cave, and somehow climb to the Skyview Tower without being cooked, or find a cave system that would lead up the cliff face that housed the Tower.

Actually, there had been a third. Wander the cave system until she felt she was deep enough, reach up, and channel the Voice, Ascending up through the cave roof—just a few meters in front of Skyview Tower. She’d felt rather clever thinking that one up. 

The Tower reeked and Zelda found herself digging through her Purah pad for her archaic tunic and ripping off a strip of the hem just so she’d have something to cover her face with and keep her from breathing all this in. The door was fried, so cooked with sludge that it fell apart in her hands. The sludge was beginning to burn a hole in the floor—she carefully stepped around it.

The terminal lit up a cheery blue when she tapped the Purah pad to it, and the little chirp made her heart burn with longing. This was Link’s job; Purah had instructed him to figure out the ‘Tower situation’, and he’d been ecstatic to do so. Zelda could tell that her friend was burnt out. He wasn’t made for politics, and while Zelda might not be in court, rebuilding Hyrule was an inherently political act, one that required thought, tact, and patience—Link, on the other hand, would much rather have been running half-naked through Satori’s cave systems, at one with the world there. The Skyview Towers had been an ecstatic compromise. He’d only opened Lookout Landing’s map so far, but the laughter that bubbled out of him as he came flying back down on his paraglider, the very image of the Wilds, had spoken of a quest he was very much going to enjoy.

And now Zelda was doing it for him. She took a deep breath and stepped on the floor mechanism. It rocked slightly under her weight before guardian arms began rising from the floor, taking hold of her pad, attaching the information feed wires to her waist, and sending her up on the count of one, two—

She was already moving up before the terminal said three. She steeled herself, legs shaking at the rattley launch, and squeezed her eyes shut against the flashing lights. The Tower hummed and sang with electricity before the top lid opened and—boom!

Zelda was free-falling.

No, Zelda was free-flying.

She couldn’t help herself. She giggled, giggled, as the wind lapped at her face, covering her with kisses. The air was clean and clear up here, not sour and rotten with sludge, and with the ground below her, she could see a world above the clouds. Islands as far as the eye could see, spheres and pyramids and ruins and traces of an entire civilization. She could see movement on them—something alive? Could it be possible? — and as she hurtled by them, the smell of sundelion was a sweet, homely comfort.

Zelda held out the Purah pad, and it lit up as it took in the Sky and Surface below, making adorable clicking and squeaking noises before signaling her to let the cord fly back down. The map appeared with a bright ‘ping!’ showing everything from the Veiled Falls to Rutala Dam to Zora’s Domaine—which Zelda could see clear as day from here. She let the information feed drop down, and let herself fall, just for a few seconds, just to feel the wind caressing her face a little longer.

A shadow passed over her, and Zelda looked up to the best of her ability. Long emerald green scales, green-gold spikes across its back, a missing leg: the silent dragon. She couldn’t see its snout from here, just the underbelly as it flew high above her, not making a sound.

“Have you come to enjoy the wind, too?” Zelda shouted over the whistling winds that surrounded the dragon, catching her clothes and hair as it supported her. “It’s breathtaking. The Sky Island’s drop simply cannot compare. Do you come here often?”

Silence. Zelda laughed, imagining Link rolling his eyes as she made small talk with a dragon known for never making a sound.

Link…

The thought of him brought an awareness of a feeling that she’d missed almost under the wind—Link. Wrong, twisted, too hot, and too bright, but still his aura, his Spirit, and Zelda searched the ground wildly. Could it be that Link was on the same quest, waiting for her to meet him at Zora’s Domaine? He felt so off, his magic so misshapen, like someone had grabbed hold of his Spirit and twisted, and it left a pit of fear in her mouth. He was fine, he had to be fine—

A screech broke through the air’s song, then three, and Zelda looked around; there, barreling for her, were three yellow and red-winged aerocuda. They spun, screeching, and Zelda’s eyes widened. She scrambled for her paraglider, the skyline no longer relaxing as the flying monsters honed in on her. Aerocuda had impeccable eyesight, never missing with their spinning attacks, and her only hope was to get to the ground, fast.

Suddenly the wind whipped up, blinding her; the silent dragon raised its tail and swung it, knocking the three aerocuda into each other and out of the air, snapping at them with its long, needle-like teeth.

Did it protect her?

Zelda would have been touched, had the sudden change in wind movement not thrown off her center of gravity and sent her hurtling towards the ground.

She could see the entrance to Zora’s Domaine getting closer, closer, closer—normally, she could aim for the water for a safe landing, but it was black with sludge and floating fish and waterfowl. One touch would surely kill her. Instead, she forced her paraglider into her hands, wincing as it yanked on her shoulders when it caught air and managed to slow down just enough to only bruise and not break as she smashed into the foliage of a tree, tumbling down its side onto a heap in the rotten grass before the arched bridgeway into Zora’s Domaine.

Zelda rolled onto her back, panting. Above her, the silent dragon was almost too high in the air to see.

Thank you?

 “Oh, sweet Hylia, are you alright?” A voice called. Their Hylian was accented with Zora lit. Zelda rolled over—oh. Chroma. A friend of Link’s.

“Z-Princess? Princess Zelda?” Chroma cried, rushing to Zelda’s side. “I saw you fall, good Gods above, that must have hurt! Come, let’s get you to a healer.”

“I’m fine, Chroma,” Zelda said gently in Zora. She made a point to speak to her people in their own language, instead of insisting Hylian be the default for her Continent. It was the least she could do—it wasn’t ‘politics’, it was basic kindness.

Zelda tried to stand and Chroma shushed her, cradling Zelda in her arms and standing instead. Zelda flushed. Chroma was small for a Zora, with smooth, dark red scales and an underdeveloped crest, but she was still two feet taller than Zelda, with thick arms and long legs. Zelda probably weighed as much as a tadpole to her, she thought with a hot blush.

“What on earth were you doing up there? We’ve all been worried sick! People from Lookout Landing came searching weeks ago, but we’ve been so busy with all this horridness that we haven’t been able to help. Surely, you’ve seen the sludge…”

Zelda grimaced. “Aye. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately indeed—Your Majesty! Your hand!”

Zelda glanced down at her finger; last she had checked it was red and clearly infected, but now the skin past the bandage was swollen and irritated, black creeping through the veins. She’d know it had hurt, but she hadn’t realized it…

“Did you touch the sludge, your Grace?” Chroma asked, and Zelda nodded.

“Shit! I mean, shucks, forgive my language. Those burns spread, your Grace, and they spread fast. We need to get you to a healer at once!”

“Yona—” Zelda said, wiggling out of Chroma’s arms as they reached the entrance to Zora Square. “Get me Yona, need to talk with her.”

“Nu-uh! Not till I get a healer.”

“Yona is a healer!”

“What am I?” A gentle voice said. Lady Yona— thank Nayru.

Coming from a sect of oceanic Zora deep off the southeastern coast, Yona had been arranged to be betrothed to Sidon since last year, but had only recently met him face to face. Ocean Zora and River Zora had always had their differences, ones that had constantly bordered on the edge of war when Zelda was still in line for the throne, but, in an almost comedic example of a ‘silver lining’, the suffering the Continent faced during the Calamity had brought them together. It seemed all it took for the two groups to lower their spears and remember they shared the same blood was an apocalypse. There had come a tentative truce, then a peace treaty once the Calamity was annihilated, and now, five years later, a marriage to finally seal the deal.

Yona was kind, mature, and serious, and Sidon loved her deeply, though Zelda was unsure if it was truly romantic love. They meshed well, Sidon’s high energy intensity and near puppyish nature mellowed and matured by Yona’s intelligent eyes and soft but closely controlled emotions, but Sidon always compared her to Mipha when he and Zelda spoke, leaving Zelda suspecting that the Zora Prince was more interested in a friend than a lover. All things considered, an arranged marriage that ended in friendship was a goal well scored in the game of life; plenty of royals spent the rest of their lives with people they hated, bound together by the chains of an arranged marriage, so to genuinely enjoy one’s company, to care for them, even if it was without the bond of romantic connection? Well, that was a victory if there ever was one.

Regardless, Sidon and Yona’s marriage was none of her business—something Link had yet to learn. Her knight was fiercely protective of his best friend and insisted that Yona had yet to prove she was deserving. Yona didn’t seem to mind; in fact, she seemed to find it sweet that Sidon had a friend who would go toe to toe with his soon-to-be wife just so he’d know Sidon would truly be happy with her. Yona didn’t try to appease or impress Link (She was far too level-headed and mature for that) but she treated him with kindness and grace, something both Sidon and Zelda appreciated.

“Princess Zelda…?” Yona breathed, standing beside the truly sullied statue of Sidon and Link that took up most of Zora Square. “Is that really you?”

The Zora woman rushed to Zelda, who Chroma hand finally put down, and squeezed her tight. She smelled of burn cream and sludge and looked exhausted, her crest drooping and her eyes red, her skin dry enough for her green scales to begin to flake.

“Yona, it is good to see you,” Zelda said into Yona’s shoulder, squeezing her one last time before pulling back. “It’s like this whole continent has gone to hell.”

Yona stared at her slack-jawed. “It is you. It is—they said you were missing, we have been looking everywhere. Link was worried sick!”

Zelda froze. She expected to feel joy at that, a jumping ecstatic joy in her chest, leaping and bounding at the news that Link, her Link, was here at the Domaine, perhaps not even a minute away yet—yet when she reached out, his light was wrong. It felt twisted, and deformed, like someone had tried and failed to replicate the magic inside him, like something inherent to him was missing. It was cloudy, far away; Link had left, and he was in danger.

“Where is he?” She demanded, grabbing Yona’s shoulders and nearly shaking her, ignoring the pain in her hand.

“I—I do not know. He came to the Domaine asking desperately about you, demanding to know where you had gone. Oh, Princess, he looked terrible. Sick and pale, and he—he was missing an arm? He was in complete hysterics, but still so cold at the same time. Like looking into the eyes of a dead fish. Princess, what happened?”

“Where is he?”

“Princess, you are hurting me—”

“Where is he?”

“I do not know! He went to speak with His Majesty, King Dorephan, but the two vanished once the sludge became overwhelming. Please, your Grace, my shoulders—”

Zelda let go and stepped back. “I—I’m so, so sorry, Yona, I, I don’t’ know what came over me.”

Yona gave her a sad smile. “You are forgiven, friend. These times… they take their toll. Please, just tell me, what happened?”

Zelda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I… it’s complicated. But something deadly and dangerous awoke under Hyrule Castle, and Link is in danger. The whole Continent is.”

Yona’s hand found her cheek. “And yet again you have been forced to step up. Will the Gods ever grant you rest?”

“So no one has seen him since?”

Yona shook her head. “Not a soul. I’m sorry. Maybe he spoke to Prince Sidon before he left?  Prince Sidon is doing vital work at the water source in Mipha’s Court. You know the spot: at the top of Ploymus Mountain. He will be delighted to see you, your Highness. He has been working himself to the bone; what he needs right now is a friend.”

“Thank you,” Zelda said, “I will be sure to be one.”

Yona glanced over Zelda, taking her in, and gasped at the sight of her hand, now swollen and pulsing, the blackness in the veins even darker.

“Good heavens! Dear princess, why didn’t you say anything? Come, come, to the infirmary.”

Yona took her other hand and led her, not to the actual medical wing that Zelda knew, but to the communal sleep pools down behind the square—had the need for medical attention become so great that not even the wing could handle it?

Yes.

Yes, that much was clear as Zelda entered the communal sleeping pools. They were packed, dozens of Zora per pool, with healers scrambling to provide aid. Yona sat her down and returned to her side with a bowl of fresh sparkling water.

“With some calming magic and a bit of alchemy, and fresh water, we have been able to draw the gloom out,” She explained, placing Zelda’s hand in the bowl and running glowing fingers over it. Zelda groaned in relief, not realizing just how bad the pain had been until it was gone. Yona laughed.

“Happy to be of aid, Princess Zelda.” She said, “I know I’m no Lady Mipha, but I try my best.” Yona’s eyes went wide. “Lady Mipha! I finished repairing Link’s engagement armor, but he was too hysterical to speak to long enough to bring it to him,” she said, standing. “Here, I’ll go fetch it and you can give it to him!”

Yona stood, scurrying away. Zelda leaned back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. No one made a move to greet her or make small talk, or even acknowledge her presence. Good. She hadn't the energy for the princess mask right now. Instead, one hand still in the healing waters, she slipped the Purah pad from her wrist and grabbed the stylist.

New Quest: Sidon of the Zora

• Post upheaval: sludge (muck + gloom) burns, infects, kills
  • Zora Domaine through Lower Zorana, not wetlands affected

Sidon: at Mipha’s Court, may have seen Link?

Link:

            Seen in Zora’s Domaine. Unwell. Upset, ‘hysterical’, missing (w Dorephan)

 Zelda glanced around—the other Zora were paying her no mind, and Yona had yet to return. She bit the tip of the stylist, then tapped it on the screen.

Link,

Are you well? It doesn’t sound like it, and that frightens me. Your arm… I am so sorry. Had I not gone near the mummy, you would still have it. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I pray you forgive me all the same. They said you look ill. You were so out of sorts at the castle. Why didn’t you come to me? Are you angry with me? I would be angry with me. Bloody suns, gloom rain; I have truly destroyed this continent once again haven’t I? I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so

I saw the dragon again today! It is the smallest dragon I have ever seen, so short! It protected me from a trio of monsters—that, or it was protecting itself and I happened to be in the way. Still, I’d like to think it protected me. I’ll take a picture of it if I see it again to show you. You’ll be so jealous! I know how much you love dragons.

Zelda looked up as Yona approached, a blue bundle in hand. Zelda put away her pad, and Yona held out the bundle—Link’s Zora armor. Seeing it hurt.

Mipha… what would she think of all of this? Zelda suddenly found she missed her quiet wisdom and unwavering bravery. The armor was a poor substitute.

“Wait a bit longer for your hand,” Yona said, “and then please, go see my betrothed. He needs a friend right now.”

Zelda nodded. “Of course.”

---

Zelda couldn’t help but smile as she passed the statue of Link and Sidon in Zora Square. It helped push the image of the dead-eyed, pale, and waxy Link at Hyrule Castle coming in hysterics to the Domaine, begging to see her and being turned away, only to vanish into the night, out of her head. It was an image that was frankly, a little disturbing. Link was many things, but hysterical was not one of them.

The statue was covered in sludge, but the outline of Link, clinging to a heroically swimming Sidon, bow drawn, shock arrows at the ready, was clear. It had been erected to celebrate the first year after the death of the Calamity, a reality that, at the time, hadn’t fully sunk in for Zelda or Link. It was strange, how time seemed to move both too slow and too fast in that first year, her soul not used to being corporeal, let alone a person. The nightmares, the hallucinations, the delusions, and paranoia plagued her near daily, and she had expected over and over for Link to leave her behind, for him to give up and throw his hands up and declare her unsavable, that despite the year he spent freeing the Divine Beasts, she was too lost of a cause to bear with.

“Just hate me!” She sobbed one night, Link holding her arms to keep her from clawing imaginary malice off her flesh, “I’m fucking crazy, and you’re wasting your life on me! Go be happy! Just hate me and leave me and be happy!”

Link had taken her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, gentle and soft, and tucked her head under his chin and hummed a lullaby she hadn’t even known he remembered.

“Never leaving.” He’d said hoarsely, the first words he’d said in a week. He spoke more than the Before, but still kept his words under lock and key more often than not back then. “Stuck with me. No buts. Love you, no matter what.”

He’d held her and rocked her until she slept, and when Zelda woke that morning, it was to a plate of freshly baked fruit cake and an energizing honey crepe to help with the after-breakdown exhaustion.

Link was much less… vocal about his struggles, but small things still made themselves clear. Obsessively documenting his day, in case he ever forgot it again. Hoarding food, extreme paranoia from  Yiga centered stories he still refused to tell her. The nightmares. While Zelda thrashed and cried in sleep, he went stone still, stiff as a board, the only sign of distress being his wide open, wet eyes.

He hated having his head submerged in water, reminded of a century of half awareness in the Shrine of Resurrection's watery bed, and it broke her heart to know she was the reason why.

She shook away the unhappy thoughts and looked at the towering sculpture. Link had been very upset when they first told him they were moving Mipha’s statue, and when they told him what they were replacing it with—told, not asked, because everyone knew Link would never deny Sidon anything but was as easily embarrassed and humble as a clam—he’d gone bright, bright pink.

“Won’t it be lovely, you and I, together?” Sidon had said, near vibrating with excitement, and through grit teeth Link had agreed. Sidon and Zelda had laughed about it later, about Link’s red face and forced smile and utter embarrassment as he posed for the statue, and had it been with anyone but Sidon, the gossip might have seemed cruel, but Sidon couldn’t be unkind to Link even if he tried.

Zelda unscrewed her canteen and poured it out over the statue. It didn’t wash away all the sludge, but it was a start. Satisfied, she started her hike up to Mipha’s Court. And a hike it was; the mountain had once housed a lynel, and… a sudden horrible thought hit her. They’d had a blood moon and two bloody suns. What if the lynel returned? Link had beat it into submission years ago, but could a blood moon revive something that had been dead for that long? Surely they would have evacuated Mipha’s Court if that was the case, right?

Zelda picked up the pace. She could go even faster if she could travel by waterfall, but that would mean wearing Mipha’s armor, and that just felt wrong. It wasn’t meant for her. It was made with Mipha’s love for one person and one person only.

Zelda was sweating by the time she finished her hike, and the cleanliness of Mipha’s Court was amazing. The water was clear and cool, the plants alive, the soil soft and damp but not soiled with sludge. How…?

There, in the center of the main plaza of Mipha’s Court, was Sidon. He was off-color, his scales dry and cracking, and sweat dripped down his crest—all dangerous signs of magic exhaustion in Zora. He stood in knee high—near chest high for her—water, arms stretched out, and magic rippled from his hands. She knew he’d been experimenting with magic as of late; shark Zora tended to be magically inclined, and being royal made that all the more likely, and Sidon had been experimenting with water manipulation. If the magic exhaustion clearly written across his brow was anything to go by, he had succeeded. He was surrounded by guards, who rose their spears when they saw her, only to promptly lower them.

“Princess Zelda!” one guard, Gruve, called out, dropping into a bow, and Sidon glanced over his shoulder at the commotion. He gasped, eyes going wide, and his hands fell as he turned to look at her head-on. He took a hesitant step.

“Zelda—is, is that really you?”

Zelda waved, suddenly feeling quite out of place. “Hi, Si.”

“Oh, thank Jabu!” Sidon cried, rushing to her and grabbing her by the waist, hoisting her up, and spinning her around, the grip on her vice tight. “It is so, so good to see you, my friend. I’ve been worried sick thinking about you and Link missing out there in all this madness.”

He gave her one last, bone-crushing squeeze.

“Now tell me, “He said, taking her hands, “what in Hylia’s great ocean is going on?”

Chapter Text

Zelda first met Sidon of the Zora when she was six years old. Zelda had been a sickly child, plagued with headaches and nausea that often left her painfully underweight and unable to leave bed, so her time spent in court was little and her time spent visiting the leaders of the realms was none. Her first time meeting the Zora royal family face-to-face was… was mother’s funeral.

It had been a grand affair, and Zelda didn’t remember a moment of it, just remembered drifting on clouds, not sure where she was as her head floated around fuzzy nothingness. Shock, dissociation whatever it was, it stole the last time she saw her mother’s face from her. Her mother, also Zelda, just as every firstborn princess was, hadn’t been a classical beauty. That, Zelda was told, had been her father, before wrinkles and a mighty beard turned Rhoam into an old man. She had often been told she looked just like her father did when he was younger, the same round face and broad nose and honey blonde hair, which made her increasingly uncomfortable as she grew. She only had one thing from her mother—her eyes.

Queen Zelda was laid to rest on a bed of silent princesses, back before years of industrialization made them scarce, and Zelda had spent the wake afterward in a pool of static, nodding numbly and taking the hands of important people from far and wide who came to pay their respects. Urbosa had been there, at her side the entire time, an elegant wolf serving as her protector and anchor. King Dorephan had been unable to attend, sending in his place his children, and Urbosa had made sure the two Zora royalty were always in arms reach, hoping that someone Zelda’s age might help her survive the night.

Mipha was quiet, polite, clearly comfortable in court—more so than Zelda, that was for sure—and while Zelda had seen her across a treaty table or at a party once or twice, they had never spoken. The Zora princess proved to be kind, and had it been any other gathering, Zelda would have gladly seen it as the start to a friendship. And then, there had been Sidon.

Queen Eleta of the Zora passed before Sidon’s egg hatched, so the prince had never known a mother, just a doting sister and loving father and plenty of nannies. He hadn’t quite understood Zelda’s grief, and was so young that he stuck out in court like a bright scarlet sore thumb, and had suctioned himself to Zelda’s side. He’d made her smile once, despite the odds, and from there Zelda had decided it would be her duty to protect the little tadpole from the harsh realities of Hylian court as much as she could.

Now, at around a hundred and five years later, she still held true to that promise, even if there wasn’t a court to protect the man from any longer. That was one thing she selfishly allowed herself to be happy about when it came to her lost century—that when she was freed, she was able to find Sidon again all grown up.

“Now tell me,” Sidon said, “what in Hylia’s great oceans is going on?”

His scales were cold against her hands, but disturbingly dry. Whatever magic he was doing, he was clearly overdoing it, and needed to take a break desperately.

Zelda bit her lip. How was one supposed to even go about explaining this kind of situation? Sidon frowned, and his scaly hand came to rest on her cheek.

“Please, friend, we’ve been worried sick. News came from Lookout Landing that you and Link were missing, and with all this otherworldly nonsense occurring immediately after, well… it was easy to fear the worst.”

Zelda took a deep breath. “Link and I went down to a recently discovered passage under Hyrule Castle to investigate a possible answer to the growing gloom problem.”

Sidon nodded. “And, knowing the two of you, I take it that was when the castle rose into the air?”

“There was something under the castle,” Zelda said darkly. “A mummy creature that came to life. It attacked us, destroying Link’s left arm and causing an explosion that shook the castle and. Well. You’ve seen it.”

Sidon let out a bitter chuckle. “Aye. But Link—where is he? Usually, one of you is not far behind the other.”

“I was hoping you’d know. He vanished under the castle; I saw him once after, on the castle grounds in the sky, but then he vanished again—Yona said he came to the Domaine looking for me, and went to speak to your father, only for the both of them to disappear.”

Sidon’s clawed hand drifted from her cheek to his sharp teeth as he nibbled on the claw tips—a terribly unregal habit he’d had since he was a little tadpole.

“I am afraid I know little about the goings on in the Domaine currently. I have been stuck in my sister’s court helping clean the water in any way I can.” He said.

‘I can tell,’ Zelda was tempted to say. ‘because you look like you’re about to keel over.’ But that would be unkind, especially with things the way they were now.

“Still, to think something like that could take place beneath the castle… forgive me, princess, but sometimes I think it would be better to tear the place down. After so much death… I would be unsurprised if the dead had laid a curse upon it.”

“Afterward, I awoke on an island in the sky, and spoke to a ghost of sorts who claimed this mummy is none other than a Demon King who terrorized early Hyrule, back from the dead.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Sidon said with a sigh. Zelda was surprised for a moment at his quick acceptance-- but then, this was Sidon, who always gave his whole heart to his friends. “The sky… this sludge comes from the sky, these islands fall from the sky, the castle rose into the sky… I keep wondering if the sky is the key to everything we face—I have a hypothesis that a sky island is producing the sludge and it is falling from there, instead of out of the clouds like some foul mockery of rain. When the Upheaval first transpired, I sent Jiahto, a historian friend, to investigate. He has claimed to have found destroyed monuments from the sky. I’m impressed by his past findings, but alas, I am not at liberty to leave this spot. I alone am uniquely qualified to deal with the sludge affecting the Domaine.”

He summoned light back into his hands, running them over the water that had become increasingly cloudy as they talked. It bubbled, before splitting, the brown fizzling away in a surge of bubbles.

“As you know, Zelda, I have been experimenting with the powers so uniquely tied to shark Zora and my own bloodline. With the help of some of my mother’s old journals, I have been building a skill unlike any seen in a long, long time. The ability to manipulate water and its very properties. You see, dear friend, this place has become the source of the waters that sustain Zora’s Domaine. I alone am able to strip the sludge from the water and keep it clean. If I cease, then the sullied water will flow below into my beloved home, and there will be… there will be much pain and suffering. I cannot afford to leave here, no matter what.”

Zelda’s eyes went soft. “I understand, Sidon.” Because she did, oh Gods did she understand. Uniquely qualified with the magic to hold back your people’s destruction, leaving you frozen in place to the point of illness as you worked to hold back the end of your kingdom? It was painfully similar to her own fate five years prior.

“I wonder… you said Father and Link were last seen together? Neither is the kind to skirt responsibilities; perhaps they are working together to get to the bottom of this sludge, and by clearing the Domaine, you can find Link!”

Zelda nodded. “It’s the most sensible lead I have so far.”

“Father was planning on speaking to Jiahto at Toto Lake,” Sidon said. “I guess you would find the three of them there still. And—I must make this clear, Zelda. I am truly happy to see you again after such a long time apart. Could I, I would come with you in a heartbeat. But please, you must find Link. I’ll never forgive you if I never get to see my dearest friend again!” The last sentence was said with a cheeky smile, but there was a truth to the words, a fear that neither or them wished to voice.

 Zelda forced a laugh.

“Yona gave me his armor,” She said, voice sobering. “I would hate to never have the chance to see him in it.”

“You spoke to Lady Yona?!” Sidon squeaked, and Zelda nodded.

“She’s been helping the injured in the Domaine. Why, is something wrong?”

“I…”

Sidon began nibbling on his claw again. “Well, I, I haven’t exactly spoken to her much since the sludge appeared. She just returned from a long trip home and things have been…. A tad awkward. We have barely spoken since she arrived. Do not misunderstand me, she has been an immense help in easing the suffering here, and I am so grateful for her kindness, but… Zelda—it is brutal being left here, unable to help. Please, let me know if I can help you in anyway or if you make any headway with Jiahto.”

“Sidon—” Zelda started, but the Zora let out a flare of power and turned his back to her. Zelda sighed. He was still a tadpole at heart, wasn’t he?

---

Toto Lake was a small lake filled with ruins and now, copious amounts of sludge. Zelda’s legs burned. She was a fit woman, and well used to traveling on foot, but upper Zorana was a hilly, cliff filled region, and by the time she made it from Mipha’s Court to the lake, her calves were on fire. She settled under a tree, tipped back her water canteen, remembered she had poured out most of it on Link’s ridiculous statue, and made a face. Hindsight 20/20, she supposed.

The sludge was so thick here that it was unavoidable, hissing and sizzling at the leather of her boots as she struggled to walk around it.

“Jiahto?” she called out. She didn’t know Zora civilians and their names as well as Link did, but she recognized that one. An elderly Zora of blue and grey scales who had served as an archivist back before the Calamity and had taken a particular interest in the study of the Sheikah and their relation to the Zora of old, much to younger Zelda’s delight. Now, however, they spoke little, Jiahto more concerned with preserving the story of the Zora of times long past, from the Floods of Faron to Great Jabu Jabu instead of any Sheikah and still holding quite the grudge against her knight.

“Jiahto, it’s Zelda—Sidon sent me!” She trudged through the muck with a grimace, scanning the disgusting waters. Just black and brown, as far as the eyes could see, and the yellow of dead, fried grass. Not a single piece of green remained, and the water was dark and cloudy. “Jiahto?”

There was a sudden splash to her right, and Zelda spun. There, crawling out of a watery sludge pit, was a Zora—elderly, blue and grey scales, badly injured from sludge: Jiahto. Zelda let out a strangled gasp and rushed to his side. “Jiahto? Oh Hylia above, here, let me, save your strength.”

She linked her arms under his armpit, but Jiahto began to flail, beating her with weak, trembling fists.

“Come to finish the job, have you?” He shrieked, pounding on her chest, “Come to finish me off? Well, I won’t down that easy, you traitor!”

Zelda nearly dropped him back in the sludge as he thrashed. “Damn it, Jiahto, it’s me, it’s Zelda! I’m—fuck—trying to help!”

“Get back!” Jiahto screamed, “Back! Back!”

Zelda finally hauled him out of the sludge, and the Zora promptly turned his head and bit her forearm, hard enough to draw blood. Zelda yelped, dropping the man, who struggled to his feet, grabbed a rock, and chucked it at her head. Zelda dodged easily—after all, Jiahto was old and injured—simply staring at the Zora in bewilderment. She held up her hands and took a step back.

“I stepped back, see? Back. You’re okay. No one is going to hurt you, least of all me.”

“Tell that to your bastard of a knight!” Jiahto shrieked, throwing another rock. It bounced harmlessly off Zelda’s shoulder.

“What—Link?”

“Yes, ‘Link’, you sent him here to kill his Majesty, and now you’ve come to off the witnesses!”

“I—I’m sorry, what?” Zelda looked at Jiahto in bewilderment, and the Zora met her eye with a fierce glare. “I’m sorry, but I—I don’t understand. Sidon said King Dorephan had been with you to investigate the islands, and that Link likely tagged along—”

“Bah! Tagged along? That bastard summoned a sludge demon to kill me! Well, us, but also me! General Bazz killed the thing, but not before him and the rest of us being wounded by it and your knight! I knew that boy was no good, even if everyone else claimed to have forgiven him!”

Zelda took a hesitant step closer, and Jiahto scrambled back.

“Back!”

“Okay, okay! I’m not moving! Just, just tell me what happened.”

“As if you didn’t orchestrate it. Everyone knows that boy does whatever you tell him!”

Zelda took a deep, deep breath. She was the head of an entire effort to rebuild a country, she could easily handle one disgruntled Zora, if she just stopped to ignore his growing insults of her best friend.

“I’ve been with Yona and Sidon since I arrived—”

“That’s Lady Yona and Prince Sidon to you!”

“Of course. Forgive me. I’ve been with Lady Yona and Prince Sidon since I arrived this morning, and I haven’t seen Link in two weeks. Regardless of what he did, I am simply here to help. The Domaine is suffering, and I’m here to fix it in any way I can.”

She dodged another rock.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“I… I have Link’s armor, from Lady Mipha, retrieved from Lady Yona’s own hand. Would she have entrusted me with such a gift if I was untrustworthy?”

“You could have lied.”

“Yes. I could have. But I didn’t, because as the Princess of Hyrule, its people, including the Zora, mean more to me than anyone or anything. I owe the Zora for their role in defeating the Calamity. Lady Mipha was, and Prince Sidon both is, a good friend. King Dorephan has done more for me than my own father. To betray their trust—may Hylia strike me down where I stand.”

Jiahto swallowed thickly before finally lowering his next rock. “You’re not here to kill me?”

“Heavens no, Jiahto, I would never. I swear on the Great Jabun.”

Jiahto’s eyes widened. Jabun, the protective deity of the Zora, may be discussed casuallt by his people, but still, to swear on the Great Fish—that was a promise of great significance, especially when spoken by a friend of the Zora like Zelda, who knew just how important the Great Jabun was.

Jaitho fell to his knees and Zelda rushed to catch him. She hoisted him into her arms, pained at his fishbone frailness, and nestled the old man to her chest.

“It’s alright,” She said, “I’ll get you to Lady Yona and you’ll be just fine.”

“No time,” Jiahto croaked. “He’s out there—if he finds the Pristine Sanctum then we’re all lost. Prince Sidon, take me to Prince Sidon.”

“Sir, you need a healer—”

“That knight almost killed one royal today, I will not let him kill another!”

Zelda’s confusion was almost as strong as the dread in her blood. Link, sick, one armed, hysterical, was concerning, but even at his worst he would never, ever raise a hand to any innocent person, let alone King Dorephan, who had welcomed him into his home as a second son! Something was wrong—Jiahto was clearly confused, delirious in his injury, because Zelda knew that Link would rather die than raise his hand to a Zora.

Something was wrong, deeply wrong. She needed to find Link, and she needed to find him now.

Except she had an old man in her arms covered in sludge burns. That was slightly more important at the moment. The old Zora groaned, skin bubbling from sludge, and Zelda had to resist the urge to scrape it off of him, knowing that touching it would only hurt her, and then they’d have a whole other mess. She could try and rinse him out in the water? … the currently horribly contaminated water. That would just kill him faster. Great thinking, Zelda, truly you are the bearer of Wisdom.

Zora were a naturally lightweight race, their bones made primarily of cartilage, and even Sidon, as massive as he was, was lighter than he looked. It was easy enough to carry Jiahto in her arms—getting him to Mipha’s Court, however? That was quite a hike, nothing but marching along the only clean waterfalls in the Domaine, dodging sludge on the the ground and falling from the sky all the while.

Wait.

Clean waterfalls. She had Link’s armor. She could… no, no, it would be wrong. That was Mipha’s last gift to him, Link’s only thing to remember her by, a treasured possession he protected with his life. She couldn’t betray his trust and put it on the minute he turned his back! Except Jiahto was going from blue and grey around his gills to grey and gray, sludge coating more of his body than not, and scales were beginning to flake off. He needed help, and if he wouldn’t let her take him to Yona, then the clean waters of Mipha’s Court would be his only hope, and time was not on their side.

She put Jiahto down. The Zora groaned, reaching for her, and she murmured apologies as she pulled the Zora armor from the Purah pad, pulling it over her blouse. It hummed in her blood, like taking a drink of ice cold water before turning into a gentle, warm heartbeat over her own. Mipha’s magic, present from her scales even a hundred and five years after her death. She’d never worn it before. It fit awkwardly; Link was shorter than she was, but his shoulders were broader, and her torso was longer. It had been made to Link’s exact measurements, down to the 1/32^nd of a centimeter, and she could tell. Carefully, she scoped Jiahto up again, this time positioning him on her back.

“Can you hold on tight?” She asked, and the Zora grumbled a ‘yes’ in her ear. Zelda broke into a sprint. She was panting and dripping sweat by the time she reached the first waterfall, and it towered above her with an intimidating height it didn’t have before. Good Gods, she was going to scale that. She took a deep breath, tightened her grip on Jiahto, and plunged into the waterfall.

The water was icy, cold enough to take her breath away, and it clung to her strangely, like it was magnetically attracted to the armor.

It occurred to Zelda that she had no idea how the armor worked. She stepped out of the falls into the shallows. The waterfall met the pond underwater—maybe she needed to as well. She took a deep breath, sucking in air, before diving head first into where the falls met the pond, grip tight on her passenger. She surged upwards against the current, kicking hard, before suddenly, her body broke through the water. She clamped her mouth shut, squeezing her eyes shut. The roaring water both pushed up and pulled down on her body, Link’s armor radiating warmth, and there was a strange, fluttering feeling in her gut as she bested gravity. Her lungs didn’t burn, didn’t even ache, as if there was simply no need for air, but she kept her mouth shut, terrified to suck in water, until finally the waterfall spat her out and sprawled into the next pond. Zelda gagged on new air, hauld herself up, and kept running. She had no idea if the water had washed any sludge from her passenger, but she wasn’t about to stop to check. Up another waterfall she went, feeling a tad safer this time. This armor was Mipha’s love, her lasting legacy. She wouldn’t make Link something that would let him get hurt; still, the fear of falling, of drowning, was impossible to avoid. The third waterfall was the largest, and the constant flow of water was making her dizzy, and by the time she reached the top, her shoulders burned from Jiahto’s weight. But she could see Mipha’s Court, as well as a very concerned looking Sidon, leaving behind his post to rush to her side, just in time for her to drop to her knees and roll Jiahto from her back. The Zora grunted as he hit the ground and Zelda winced.

“Sorry,” she squeaked, rushing to his side and helping the old man sit up. The fresh water had done his pallor good, washing off some of the muck, but still, his burns festered.

“Zelda?”

Zelda glanced over her shoulder to where a bewildered Sidon stood, bewilderment turning to alarm as he took in the burned Zora before him.

“Good heavens, Archivist Jiahto, what happened? Here, Zelda, bring him here—please, of course—into the water.”

Zelda scooped up Jiahto again, carrying him carefully into the deepest point of the pool in Mipha’s Court.

“There, there, Jiahto, old friend, I’ll make sure you’re good as new,” Sidon said, kneeling at Jiahto’s side. He raised his hands over the wounds, and the water raised from the pool to circle around Jiahto. Black oozed from the burns into the water, swirling around like kicked-up silt, before separating from liquid and solid, the sludge evaporating out of the bubbles into the air as black and brown mist. It wasn’t healing magic like Mipha’s, the burns were still very much present, but the poison and infection were gone, purified by Sidon’s magic. It was, in a word, beautiful. The scientist in Zelda yearned to poke and prod, to ask Sidon more questions, to see just what exactly he could do, but now wasn’t the time or the place.

“What on earth happened?” The Zora Prince asked, looking between Zelda and Jiahto.

“Her knight is a traitor, that’s what!” Jiahto spat, and Sidon’s face darkened.

“That’s quite the accusation, Jiahto,” he said, voice calm and collected but still cold. He ran his hands over the burns, searching for any lingering sludge.

“He is! His Majesty, King Dorephan, Muzu, General Bazz, and I were observing the stone carvings that had been revealed by the falling ruins, and then up comes your precious Hylian, demanding to know where his princess was, and when we had no answer for him, he summoned a monster to attack us! Were I not there to jump in front of His Majesty, and Bazz and Muzu not there to take him to safety—”

“My father—he’s safe? Is he injured? What kind of monster—”

Jiahto’s face darkened. “Some strange sludge spitting creature. It fled when his Majesty defended himself, your cowardly Hylian following close behind, but it still… it still managed to strike him.”

Sidon’s red scales went grey.

“What do you mean?” He said, voice coming out as a strained whisper.

“The sludge monster caught him around the middle. I do not know how bad the injury was, but Muzu was in a frenzy trying to haul him to the Pristine Sanctum on his own.”

Sidon’s gills were grey-green as he sat back into the water, jaw slack.

“He had to… he had to go to the Pristine Sanctum?” Sidon’s voice had the barest shake to it, and Zelda’s stomach twisted at the sound of it. Sidon was anything but a shaky man, always strong and unwavering. For something to truly destabilize his impenetrable foundation…  

“What is in the Sanctum?” She asked softly. She placed a gentle hand on top of Sidon’s own, and he shook her off. She pretended it didn’t sting.

“A safe place for—”

“No!” Jiahto shouted, grabbing desperately at Sidon’s arms. “He’s her knight! She could be in on it!”

“Jiahto,” Sidon said, carefully peeling the old Zora off of him, “Her Majesty carried you here on her back, to safety, without a second thought. I would trust her with my life.”

Jiahto’s face twisted.

“My Prince—”

“I trust her with my life.”

Jiahto swallowed before sighing.

“The Pristine Sanctum,” he began, “Is a hidden chamber, found behind the waterfall of Mikau Lake, created to ensure the safety of the royal Zora family, should the worst happen. Its water is pure and clean with healing properties, and it is secluded and hidden from all. For father to retreat there… his wounds must be severe.” Sidon took a shaky breath before straightening himself. “I refuse to believe Link would turn his sword—monster, whatever—on family. Whatever happened, we clearly do not know the whole story.”

Sidon stood. “I must go see Father. We haven’t a moment to lose.”

“Sidon—” Zelda said hesitantly, “didn’t you say you couldn’t possibly leave the court? That you had to keep the water clean?”

Sidon squared his shoulders. “That was before family was involved. Zelda, I… I don’t have much of it left.”

Zelda’s heart sank. She fought back the pained thought that the reason for that was because of her, her failures, her disappointments. Now wasn’t the time for wallowing in self-pity. Sidon needed a friend, and she would be one.

“I understand,” She said, Because she did, oh, Hylia above did she. If she had to choose between Link and Hyrule… though, she was doing that now, wasn’t she? Going and saving the four races instead of keeping up her search, following Rauru’s orders instead of throwing Hyrule to the wind and digging her claws into any sense she could conjure of Link to drag him home. She was a pathetic excuse for a friend, for family, even if she was doing what was right as a princess.

She refused to hold Sidon to that standard.

“Come with me,” the Zora Prince said, offering her a hand, and Zelda took it. Sidon hauled her to her feet with far more grace than should be possible, and ran his hands over her own, water encircling the new burns from carrying Jiahto up the mountain and leaching out the sludge.

“Of course, She said softly, flexing her fingers, “This is family. You shouldn’t be alone.”

Sidon smiled.

“You are a good friend, Princess.”

---

They decided to take Jiahto with them. It seemed wrong to leave the old man behind to fend for himself, and if the Sanctum had healing waters like Sidon said, then heavens knows Jiahto needed them. Sidon hoisted him in his arms like Jiahto weighed nothing at all, positioning him on his back and taking off down the mountainside, Zelda scrambling to keep up with his long legs. She expected them to go down the many waterfalls that lead up to Mipha’s Court, but instead, he maneuvered through the winding, rushing waters that eventually flowed down into Lulu Lake’s largest waterfall, coming to the edge of the roaring waterfall, and—and chucked Jiahto down into the waters below. Zelda yelped, jerking forward as the old man plummeted into the roaring waters, and then Sidon was scooping her up and she was tumbling down, down, down Lulu Lake’s waterfall. She braced for impact into the white waters, trying to focus on covering her head with her arms and tucking her chin to her chest and not flailing, lest her arm snap on a stone. The water was coming up quickly, and she squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in air, only to go through the water and keep falling.

Keep falling?

She was still falling. She opened her eyes, only to be dazzled by a whirl of silver and blue, before finally, finally, landing with an immense splash. She bobbed to the surface of a deep, bristling cold pool, gasping for breath, and scaly arms pulled her up out of the water onto a cool, slick metal ledge, just in time for a blur of red and white to come plummeting from the same hole in the ceiling she’d fallen through.

“Usually,” A familiar voice croaked, “The walls to the Sanctum are well hidden and well guarded, but the Upheaval has… limited our defenses.”

Dorephan? Zelda turned her head, dimly aware of Sidon surfacing behind her, and found a spearhead at her neck.

Three actually, from guards she recognized: Gaddison to her left, Dunma to her right, and before her, looking terrifyingly livid despite the clear weakness in his stance and sludge burns across his body, Bazz.

“You think you’re slick, Princess, weaseling your way in here?” Bazz spat. The Pristine Sanctum was, well, pristine, all silver and opal and luminous stone, with the cleanest water Zelda had seen since she arrived, thick with chill and sparkling in its clarity, as clear as a looking glass, smelling faintly of fleet lotus seeds.

Behind him, face stricken with terror, was Muzu, also visibly injured, and even further into the cavern was a massive throne, made more for practicality than opulence, where an exhausted, blackened, wheezing King Dorephan lay, looking too ill to even attempt to open his eyes any larger than slits. His gills were black, flaring with each breath, and she could see the red of the flesh from under his scales, the layer of protective blue seared off like crust on a stake. She gasped, and behind her, Sidon pulled himself from the water.

“Bazz, be at ease,” Sidon said, placing his hands on Zelda’s shoulders. “She means no harm.”

“Stand back, your Majesty,” Bazz said, “whatever this traitor has told you, take heed to ignore it. Where she goes, Link follows—surely she sicked that thing on the King. Now, you, how did you find this place? What cruel ploy do you think you can continue?”

“Please,” Zelda said, trying to project kindness and calm, “I mean no harm. I’m sure this is all some bizarre misunderstanding—”

“I shall not be misunderstood when I take your knight’s head from his shoulders!”

“Bazz!” Sidon cried, pushing Zelda back and standing before her. “That is enough.”

“You weren’t there, my Lord,” Muzu croaked, helping Jiahto back away from the pointed spears. “You didn’t see what that creature did!”

Zelda bristled. She wanted to come to Link’s defense but… but she clearly didn’t have the full story. None of them did.  

“Hold, my ever-loyal Muzu, General Bazz.” Dorephan rumbled, and Muzu turned to the king with distress across his long, stingray-shaped face.

“But, my lord--!”

“Hold.” Dorephan’s voice was kind, but his tone was firm, twinged with exhaustion. “Sir Bazz, lower your weapon. Now.”

Bazz all but growled in response, but did as he was told.

“Father!” Sidon cried, rushing to his father’s massive side. With great struggle, the Zora king raised a hand to Sidon’s face, running a finger down his crest.

“I am glad to see you safe, my Prince.” He said, and Sidon squeezed Dorephan’s massive hand.

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but I cannot allow a potential threat to the crown to continue to stand before us without consequence,” Bazz said stiffly, and Dorephan raised a hand.

“Should my son have viewed it safe to escort her himself into this place, then I place my trust in his decision.”

“But, my Lord!”

“Enough, Sir Bazz, or I shall have you removed. Princess Zelda, I am thankful to see you well,” the whale of a Zora said, and Zelda, remembering her manners, bowed low before him.

“I have heard troubling rumors, King Dorephan,” She said as she straightened, “but regardless, I am thankful to see you safe.”  

“I am afraid they are far from rumors,” Dorephan said softly, wincing as he shifted in his seat. Zelda could hear a whistling—the air seeping from Dorephan’s wounds. “Princess Zelda… it has been a painfully long while since we spoke.”

“I apologize. I had been deep inside Gerudo Town helping to wash away the last of Yiga resistance for some time, and was unable to visit.”

“I remember. To think, straggling Yiga used to be the worst of our problems… Two weeks ago, after the Upheaval’s first few terrifying days, I received news that you and Link had went missing, yet I have seen him, and you stand before me. Why have you come to see me?”

To find Link! Zelda longed to say, to bring him home!

“I heard of the Zora suffering and wished to help in any way I could,” she said instead, and Dorephan nodded.

“And this Upheaval, you know nothing of it?”

Zelda shook her head. “I’ve seen its creation. A mummy of a great Demon King under Hyrule Castle, that came to life and attacked me and Link. He vanished in a ball of light, disappeared, and I was left alone until recently when I found my way back to Lookout Landing.”

“A strange story,” Dorephan said, and Zelda nodded. “But no stranger than a Calamity.”

“Disappeared? Bah!” Bazz snorted and Muzu seemed to agree. “You expect us to believe that Link simply disappeared when we have seen different? Don’t sully this holy place with lies!”

“I don’t know what you saw, but I know Link would never raise a hand to the Zora!”

“I agree with the Princess,” Sidon said, taking her hand. “Link has done nothing but show love and dedication for this Domaine.”

“I saw her knight with my own eyes!” Muzu cried, “Just days ago!”

“Enough.” Dorephan’s voice was quiet, but still reverberated through the cavern. “Zelda’s eyes betray no hint of deception. I declare her a trusted friend of the Zora, just as she has always been.”

Zelda looked up at the Zora King, burned and blackened, but still kind, and dropped to her knees, touching her head to the wet tile.

“I thank you, King Dorephan.”

“Stand, child. There is no need for such things.”

Zelda sat up, still on her knees, and the king continued: “There must be an explanation for such things. Muzu, Bazz, Jiahto, and I encountered Link at Toto Lake but a few days ago. We were ecstatic to see him after learning he was missing. Floating islands, gloom-infected sludge falling from the sky, daytime blood moons, gloomy rain—we hoped he would have answers. He appeared quite ill, with one arm and dressed in clothes like nothing I had seen before. He demanded to know where you were, and when I could not produce an answer he summoned a monster of sludge. He cursed our names, ranting and raving of violent and bloody things—never had I heard him speak before, and when he did it was with a cold and vile voice. He unleashed the monster against us. Muzu and Bazz managed to take me to safety, but Jiahto was left behind. For that, I am truly sorry, dear friend. We thought you lost. We never should have given up on you.”

Jiahto straightened. “You did what you had to, your Majesty. No ill was intended, and I feel none towards you, or your court.”

Dorephan bowed his head. “I am in debt to you, and I thank you.”

“You said Link spoke to you?” Sidon asked, puzzled. “With his voice?”

“Yes. Never before had he spoken to me.”

“As far as I know, Link had always limited his voice to those he trusted. For him to speak… Princess, would that be out of character?”

Zelda hmmed. “Not necessarily. He does sometimes find his voice when facing extreme emotion, and he has been speaking more often. But still, to speak in front of Muzu? I mean no disrespect, Advisor Muzu, but he holds no love for you in his heart, and for him to be impassioned enough to speak before you—well, it would have to be quite the situation.

“General Bazz valiantly vanquished the threat.” Dorephan continued. “However, the three of us, myself especially, were still injured by the sludge beast during the battle, and fled out of fear that Link would retaliate further. We have not seen him since.”

“Nor has anyone else,” Zelda confirmed.

”If it got out that Link himself lost his mind and harmed the Zora King…” Muzu said softly, “Well, the resulting turmoil, with the Domaine already under such distress, would be devastating. That is why his Majesty has not sent out a search party for the traitor, or sounded any alarm.”

“Stop calling him that!” Sidon snapped. “Link would never do this. Whatever you faced was, was an illusion! Or a spell, or mind control. I know Link. He would never, ever lay a hand on anyone in the Domaine, least of all father!”

“My Prince, the evidence points to—” Bazz started, and Sidon crossed his arms.

“I shan’t hear it, General.”

“My Lord, please—”

“Enough.” Sidon and Bazz’s mouths snapped shut at Dorephan’s words.

“What we do know, is that this monster, and therefore Link, is tied to the sludge. Should we find Link, I gander we’d find the source, and the same otherwise. The two must be, well, linked. Link and the sludge… the answer may very well be one. Meaning we are looking in the wrong places. The waters of truth have become murkier with each moment, but from my perspective, one this is clear: it all leads back to the sky. The sludge falls from it, endlessly, like vile rain. The blood moon rests inside it. The gloom rain falls from it. Hyrule Castle floats still. Whatever power is causing our troubles, it comes from above. It very well may be that the answers to these riddles can only be found skyward.”

Jiahto cleared his throat “I may be of some assistance here, your Grace. Before the creature was sicked upon us, I managed to translate one of the slates found near Toto. One spoke of the sky: Stand upon the land of the Sky Fish, and behold its loft view. Amongst the floating rocks you see, a droplet waits for you. Through this droplet, shoot an arrow with the mark of the king. Do this task and a most marvelous thing, open sky, shall wait for you.”

“The mark of the king…” Dorephan’s face darkened. “Perhaps that is why Link targeted us at the lake. To prevent us from learning of the need of such a thing.”

“My lord—” Muzu said, voice filled with concern, and the king brushed him away.

“I know very well of the mark of the king. I bare it.” He gestured to his bulbus forehead crest. The mark of the king refers to the scales from the head of a Zora king. One of my head scales, in simpler words. Though how it would be used—such a thing I do not know. Forgive me. But, if it is simply a scale or two that may prove useful, then by all means take them.”

The king raised a weak but clawed hand, and despite the gasps and yelps from the Zora around him, dug them into his crest. There was a sick squelch, a rush of blood, and then five brilliantly blue and jagged scales were being presented to Zelda. She took them reverently, and bowed deep and low.

“I thank you deeply, King Dorephan.”

“For my people, it is a simple price to pay.”

“Your people are lucky to have you.”

“I would not be so sure.”

Zelda’s head whipped up. “Sir!”

“After all that has transpired, and after much reflection, I have come to a realization. I truly must have become old for a mere monster to best me so.”

“It was my failure, my Lord,” Bazz said insistently, stepping before Zelda. “All blame should be placed upon my shoulders.”

“Upon Link’s shoulders,” Muzu grumbled, and Dorephan held up a hand.

“Upon the monster’s shoulders and those alone. Perhaps my time is coming. Perhaps it is time this dynasty finds a new ruler. But, enough of such thoughts. Sidon—please, travel with Zelda. Find this Sky Fish. Complete the ritual, and in doing so, open up our entrance to the sky. Find this sludge monster, and with it, Link. Please, dearest child, I beg of you. Together, I know you two can bring peace to this Domaine once more. You have always been brave, and kind, and now I ask you to use both.”

Sidon knelt at his father’s feet, beside Zelda. “I swear on the lives of my people and my sister, that I shall do as you have asked.”

“Mipha, Nayru watch over her, would be proud,” Dorephan murmured. The rest of the Sanctum was quiet, save for the rumble of the waterfalls.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long to return to Mipha’s Court. Zelda had wanted to set out immediately, but Sidon had insisted on letting those at the Court know the full situation—more or less, without the alarming tales of Link’s attempted murder of the Zora king—before they vanished up into the sky, wherever that was. Zelda still wasn’t sure exactly where they were supposed to be going, let alone how to get up there, and figured the time it would take for Sidon to iron out his affairs would be helpful to planning how the fuck they were supposed to handle all of this.

It hadn’t been hard to leave the Sanctum; Sidon had hoisted Zelda onto his back, his crest’s tail bumping her face as he moved, and swam up a hidden waterfall out into the ponds bordering Mipha’s Court without causing so much as a ripple, the skill and speed simply breathtaking.

Zelda remembered a Sidon so small that his crest’s tail dragged on the ground, who struggled up the smallest and stillest of waterfalls and needed his sister’s help to swim through the Great East Reservoir Lake, whose cartilage bones could snap easily against a strong current. Now, as Sidon helped her off his back at the top of the waterfall, Zelda felt wetness spring up in her eyes.

“Princess?” Sidon said, alarmed, and Zelda threw her arms around his middle, the highest she could reach.

“You’ve gotten so big,” She mumbled against his scales. “Lady Mipha would be so, so proud of you, Si.”

Sidon blinked, his third eyelid moving slowly across his eyes as he processed the words, before kneeling down and taking Zelda into his arms.

“As she would be with you, Zelda.” He said, and Zelda tightened her grasp. Sidon’s scales were too dry, even after only just getting out of the water, their usual mucus lining and moisture stripped away by exhaustion and overworking himself magically—if anyone knew about knowing limits when it came to magic, it was Zelda. When she’d finally emerged from Ganon, she’d hardly been able to stand, her magic eating into her very bone and muscle as it struggled to hold the Beast. The muscular atrophy had taken months to recover from, and the exhaustion and anemia took even longer to heal itself. She’d tried her damnnest to hide the worst of it from Link (she knew he already felt enough guilt surrounding her imprisonment and refused to let him feel more) but in the end, it was too obvious to hide. She hated seeing the same beginning symptoms of magical burnout on Sidon. He deserved better—his home deserved better. After all, it was she who had wanted to go forward, deeper into the cavern below Hyrule Castle, her who had wanted to examine the mummy. She brought this upon Hyrule. She brought this upon Sidon.

Zelda untangled herself from Sidon, who gave one last bone-crushing squeeze before letting her go. Zelda’s eyes flitted over the Court. Its water had grown murkier since they left and would grow murkier still the longer Sidon spent away from it. But he couldn’t keep up this magical dedication; he wasn’t as trained as Mipha, as powerful as Zelda. Too much magic would incapacitate him, and quickly, perhaps even kill him if he wasn’t careful. Sidon stood, turning to the waters, and that was when Zelda noticed it, tucked in amongst the foliage, somehow missed despite the green light that dripped from its very walls.

A Shrine of Light.

Zelda placed a hand on the rough stone and it shuddered, splitting in two in a crackle of green.

“Ihen-a…” She murmured, the name coming to her clearly, echoing between her ears. “Midair perch…”

“Hm?” Sidon turned over his shoulder at her voice, and his eyes widened.

“Oh my! You, you opened it!” He said, turning fully. “Ever since they fell from the sky we’ve been struggling to understand just what they were and how they worked, and here you are, figuring it out in an instant! Though I’m not sure why I would be surprised, knowing you.”

“They’re shrines, like the Sheikah ones, but instead of being a challenge to receive a blessing to strengthen oneself, it’s filled with holy, restoring light. It should help me better grow and hone my magic…”

“But?” Sidon said softly, and Zelda swallowed.

“I’ve felt something inside them. A Voice, feminine and powerful, and a feeling that I haven’t felt since…”

Since she called upon her Triforce to help exterminate the Calamity.

“…that I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”

Sidon nodded, claws finding his pointed teeth. “Then, will you go inside?”

“And leave you alone out here?”

Sidon chuckled. “The Court is the safest place in the entire Domaine, my friend. And besides—” he gestured to the Lightscale Trident on his hip “I am well armed.”

Link had insisted Sidon take the Trident when King Dorephan tried to give it to him. Link hadn’t held on to any of the Champion’s old belongings, too pained to touch them, to use them, when he did not remember their original bearers, something that Zelda understood but had still been stung by. Hadn’t Link thought to think that maybe, just maybe, Zelda would want a piece of her friends to remember them by? She understood his logic, and his pain, but it still hurt to never have had the chance to hold Revali’s bow, or Urbosa’s shield, or Mipha’s trident. She didn’t doubt that their new owners were treating them well! She was just… well… a little jealous.

“Go on,” Sidon said with a smile, and Zelda swallowed. Okay. Okay. She’d go.

The first thing she noticed about the shrine was that it felt just as warm and bright with light as the previous ones had. It soaked into her skin, her muscles, her very marrow, filling her up and pulling out the exhaustion and pain that had clung to her as she made her way from Lookout Landing to Mipha’s Court. Gone was the limpness in her soul from gloom rain and bloody suns and sludge. All that was left was brightness.

“Little Goddess,” A Voice echoed. Zelda recognized it as the one who had spoken to her in the shrines before, gifting her new power and instructing her how to use it. The Voice bloomed inside her, a feeling she associated with the great Power she’d used once, then lost, hidden dormant deep inside her blood, different than Hylia’s strength. This power built and built like shaken champagne, yet still too quiet to call upon. Still, it glowed gold inside her, a brilliant gold unlike anything she’d ever felt.

Except… expect for—

No, actually, now that she thought deeper. Not just the once with Ganon. Yes, the strongest she’d felt it had been during her attack against the Calamity, but when she’d faced the boss boko in the cave to save that Hylian man, something had pushed outward, that same gold.

So what, exactly, was that supposed to mean?

“Before you lies a test of Wisdom.” The Voice said “Trust in your instincts, and call upon me. I will answer.”

Zelda nodded, feeling a little silly doing so, and stepped forwards. Floating blocks took up the room, green with rounded edges and glowing softly, and Zelda reached out a hand.

‘Call upon me,’ the Voice had said, and hesitantly, Zelda felt the magic behind her heart. Instead of Hylia, something new and impossibly old rushed up to meet her, and Zelda moved the blocks into a staircase. Nothing too difficult, but still left her body tingling with magic.

She ascended through the topmost block and hopped down the rest of the blocks, one, two, three, four, into another room.

There was an expansive gap, another hovering block, and a grate. The problem was simple enough to solve—attach the block to the grate, and hover it over the gap, then with a running jump, cross the hole—and she didn’t think it took much ‘Wisdom’ to figure out, but it still left her with that warm, golden feeling when she completed it. From there, there came more puzzles with the blocks, some so simple she could do them in her sleep and others complicated enough to give her pause, but nothing unreasonably difficult. Was she that clever, or was the shrine that easy?

Zelda shook the thought away. She knew she was smart, but she wasn’t clever. Link was clever, was good with thinking outside the box. She was the definition of booksmart, always had been. She was being silly, patting herself on the back like that.

The end of the shine came with a blessing of light, and it felt warm and fuzzy in her chest, but most of all, it came with that gold pulsing in her chest, stronger, steadier, and the distinct feeling that something—someone—was smiling down at her.

---

“Are you alright?” Sidon asked Zelda as soon as she emerged from the shrine. She cocked her head.

“Of course?”

“Zelda, friend, you’re glowing.”

Zelda glanced to her hand—her fingertips expelled a faint light, and a warm tingling feeling radiated out from them, but only for a few seconds before the light faded and the feeling melted down into her skin. Sidon’s brow was furrowed, clearly concerned, and Zelda shrugged. Sidon looked clearly unconvinced to drop the subject, but Zelda just held out a too-warm hand.

“Shall we find this ‘land of the sky fish’?” She asked, and Sidon took her hand.

“Where does one even start?” he said with a frown, and Zelda ‘hmmed.’

“Your father mentioned a ‘sky bridge’… I’d say we return to the Great Sky Islands, but they hover far from Lanayru, above the Great Plateau. There is nothing but an expanse of sky and ruins between the two—nothing resembling any kind of fish. What would even constitute a bridge?”

Sidon stared up at the sky, far past the crest of the cliff that dropped off Mipha’s Court.

“When my sister prepared to be a Champion, you recall when she traveled across what ‘the light's path shows’?”

Zelda nodded. The picture of the photo from a hundred years ago, hung with such love and care above her and Link’s bed, drifted through her mind, along with the melody of Kass’ song of dedication. She recalled the Champions’ tasks, including Mipha’s, with ease—including one that included swimming through a path of treacherous, choppy waters made by early sunlight glittering on the white caps.

“Maybe it is similar? Traveling up a path made by light or water, not an actual bridge of stone or matter?”

Zelda stepped away from the shrine and through Mipha’s waters, up to the cliff’s edge, scanning the sky. If she was a bridge, where would she hide?

 Her eyes drifted from the skyline up, up into the sky. There were new islands absolutely everywhere, hovering in the sky, some simply specs of ruins and others sprawling archipelagos. Sidon was likely correct; they weren’t looking for brick and mortar, so then what were they looking for? Her eyes drifted across the hovering stones.

If she was a bridge of an unconcrete substance, where would she hide…?  

Her eyes settled on a waterfall.

Not just any waterfall—a waterfall from the sky. It was dirty, thick with sludge, but clearly maneuverable with a strong enough swimmer… like Sidon. If they were able to get to the base of that waterfall, they could ride it up to the collection of islands it came from, its water stream running endlessly from an open sky.

 Zelda interrupted Sidon’s pondering, pointing to the grimy waterfall, and looked wordlessly to him with a quirked eyebrow. Sidon’s eyes widened.

“A watery bridge…” He murmured. “It’s as good a start as any. But how do we get up there?”

Zelda’s hand drifted to the Purah pad. The Shrines of Light had appeared across the incomplete map as she unlocked them, so she technically had access to the Great Sky Islands and could paraglide to the waterfall, soaring up it with Link’s armor…. She pulled the pad from her side and flipped through the mostly blank map. Gutanbac shrine was closest, but still far too far. Not an option then.

They could just… jump, of course. Jump from the peak of Mipha’s Court into Lanayru’s Great Spring and pray they could drift close enough and not plummet into the sludge infected water below.

That’s what Link would do. He would jump. He was a fan of jumping from insane heights without a care for how far he might fall. He was fearless in that way, completely confident in his own abilities in a way Zelda never had been, might never be.

Link would do it. Link would do it.

Sidon was large, but light. Zora were mostly cartilage, with air bladders and organs made for buoyancy. He might be massive, but he weighed little more than an average Hylian teenager. Zelda knew she was more than strong enough to carry one teenager. Gone were the days of muscle atrophy and anemia. She was fit, competent, able to lug Link with his deceptively heavy build with ease. The man might have been lean and lithe, but his body was all muscle, well toned and honed, and he weigh as much as a horse. If she could carry him, she could carry Sidon.

“What we’re going to do,” She said, forcing bravado into her voice, “is I’m going to make a running jump off of Ploymus Peak. As soon as I whip out the paraglider, and not a moment later, you are going to jump after me, wrap your arms around my waist, and we’re going to fly to that waterfall together. Then, we’ll swim up it, into that collection of ruins. Make sense?”

Sidon blinked down at her. “Zelda, dear friend, forgive me for saying so, but that is an insane idea.”

Zelda set her shoulders, straightening her spine. “I know.” She said, pushed strength into her voice, and Sidon gaped down at her for a moment before a laugh bubbled forth past his sharp teeth. Soon he was wheezing with laughter, then pulling her into a hug, a bone crushing embrace that lifted her up off the ground.

“Mipha would be in hysterics.” He said brightly, “She’d be beside herself with worry.”

Zelda grinned. “All the best plans always did so.”

 Sidon sobered. “Are you sure the paraglider can hold both our weight?”

No. “Yes. I have faith in Purah’s craftsmanship.”

Sidon’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Purah made that?”

Zelda smile turned the slightest bit unsure. Of course Purah hadn’t made it. Purah didn’t make simple things of wood and cloth, not when Sheikah parts were right there to be welded and manipulated, but she had gifted it to Zelda, and Zelda had faith in any gift Purah gave her.

“Well, no, but she approved it before she gave it to me.” She said.

“So, you’re sure—”

“I’m sure.” She said, and Sidon seemed settled by the steel in her voice. He took her hand.

“If you have faith in your abilities, then I do as well. I believe in you, always.”

Zelda shook off any uncertainty at his words. Sidon trusted her. He wouldn’t if this hairbrained plan was too dangerous to work.

“Then, shall we?” She said, and the instant Sidon nodded she spun on her heels, sprinting towards the peek of the cliff that made up Mipha’s Court.

“Wait—Zelda!”

But Zelda was already running, jumping over piles of sludge and filth, her hands finding the paraglider’s straps as she approached the edge. She took a deep breath, and then she was up and flying. Her shoulders jerked as the paraglider caught wind, and she had to resist the urge to let out a whoop as the sky and wind caught her, the current of the air catching her opened cloth and ripping her up, up into the sky. Her hands slid for a moment as a weight slammed into her, wrapping tight against her waist. She’d been expecting Sidon, but still her hands slipped for a moment, and she grit her teeth as she held on tighter. They were losing altitude quickly, too quickly—Zelda closed her eyes.

There was a push behind her heart, deep in her chest, as she reached out with a golden hand to Recall. It was different than Hylia’s power, brighter, deeper, shining like a sundelion in direct sunlight, gold and fragrant, and when her soul brushed against Recall it lept to her aide. She didn’t think, just pushed—there was a flicker, the sound of a ticking clock, golden chains, and then instead of losing air they were shooting up, up, up, until the waterfall brushed her chest.

“Now!” She shouted, letting her hand slip out of the paraglider just as Sidon let go of her waist. They hovered for a moment in the protective embrace of Recall, and then Sidon was shooting up the waterfall, grabbing her wrist as he passed and pulling her up faster through the water than she could have with just Link’s armor. The water spluttered against her face, her eyes, her lips, but it did not coat her lungs, even when she ran out of air. Up they flew, moving together as one creature, and Zelda could feel the burn of poisoned water on her skin. Still, she kicked her legs, moving with certainty, until she broke through the waterfall into the air—and then she was falling, tumbling through the air, only to be plucked out of it by a gracefully twisting Sidon, who pressed her to his chest as he landed with a sure grace and rolled to a stop, protecting her from any jarring movement before letting her slip from his grasp.

“That was insane.” He whispered, mostly to himself, before turning to Zelda. “That—that power—”

“A gift,” Zelda said, more interested in her surroundings than Sidon’s opinion, as cruel as that sounded. “from a Voice I’ve been hearing.”

Normally, one would be concerned to hear their dearest friend had been hearing voices. Instead, Sidon nodded. He’d spent enough time around Link not to think too hard about such things. Zelda turned her back on Sidon to take in the collection of ruins they’d found themselves on.

“It’s shaped like a fish.” Sidon said, the slightest bit of awe tinting his voice. “I didn’t expect the stories to be so… literal.”

Zelda shrugged. “You find that more often than not, our ancestors are very uncreative.”

The island was mostly grey stone, with intricate blue detailing, all together uninspiring, if not for the floating stone around it. They glowed green, and Zelda recalled the floating blocks she’d seen inside her latest shrine crawl. She drew her bow, taking in the glittering green.

“Stand upon the land of the sky fish and behold its loft view. Among the floating rocks you see, a droplet waits for you…”

“Rain, perhaps?” Sidon said, leaning over the edge and taking in the mighty drop. “We wait for it to rain and the rain opens up a secret of some kind?”

Zelda bit her lower lip. “Then what are your father’s scales for?”

“I—I’m not sure,” Sidon admitted. He looked up to the sky. “It looks like rain, sooner than later. Perhaps we can test out the theory."

Zelda glanced up. Sure enough, the sky, which had already been darkening at Mipha’s Court, was a deep, rolling grey now. It promised rain, and up here there was no protection from it. Zelda squinted down her arrow at a collection of rocks. They seemed to form letters, or some similar shape, when grouped together. The question was, what could they say? Was it a clue, or a coincidence? These ruins were so old… was the answer even still in one piece?

She turned to voice her concern to Sidon when something hot and painful dripped onto her cheek. She blinked, surprised, and pressed her fingers to her cheek. Some bug perhaps? There was another drip of pain, then another, one on her scalp and then her bare wrist, and Zelda looked up.

The clouds had darkened further, this time twinged red, dangerously so.

“Shit!” Sidon hissed, and Zelda looked to him in surprise. She could count the number of times she’d heard the Zora curse on one hand. “Gloom rain.” He spat. “I should have known better than to hope for clean water. We have to go!”

“No!” Zelda said, surprising herself with her answer. “We don’t know if we’ll be able to get back up here. This could be our last chance!”

“Or it could be our first of many! There is no cover up here!”

Zelda shook her head. “Leave, get to safety. I’m staying here until I figure this out.”

“There is no way in hell I am leaving you here alone.” Sidon said, kneeling before her. “We’re in this together, remember?”

“I won’t have you getting hurt—”

“And I feel the same. We’re leaving.”

“Sidon—”

Sidon narrowed his eyes. “Princess—” He yelped as the rain grew heavier, and his scales began to sizzle. He glanced up, face darker than the clouds, before huffing and scooping Zelda up.

“What are you—put me down! Damn it, Sidon, put me down!!”

Sidon pulled her close to his chest. “We’re leaving.”

“Sidon, I order you—”

“You may be a princess, but you are not my princess, Zelda. I do not take orders from Hylians.”

Zelda squirmed in his arms, but Sidon was bigger, stronger than she could ever hope to be. She wished for Link’s strength in that moment, and felt tears prickle in the corners of her eyes, a truly mortifying thing. Didn’t Sidon understand that this was the closest she’d come to finding Link so far? If she could discover the secrets of the sludge—of the sky—she could find him! She needed to, she had to, she couldn’t live in a world without Link, and every second knowing she’d abandoned him down in that crater under Hyrule Castle was agony.

She elbowed Sidon in his sensitive side gills hard, and Sidon let out a strangled sound, dropping her. Pain rippled down Zelda’s exposed skin, the gloom rain growing thicker, dripping down her face and leaving tracks of burns behind. She bolted to the left, taking in the rocks, searching desperately for something, anything, while Sidon shouted for her behind her.

Zelda’s eyes were cloudy with gloom, and she could smell burning hair and linen, and she was so distracted by the feeling of strength being sapped from her very bones that she almost missed it. A collection of rocks forming a scale—or a droplet. Zelda slid to a stop and Sidon slid into her, not expecting her to come to a stop, and they both tumbled to the ground.  Sidon hoisted her back to her feet.

“Wait!” Zelda cried, pointing to the rocks. “Look! Look!!”

Sidon stopped, and Zelda wiggled out of his hold. “A droplet…” Sidon breathed. Zelda drew her bow.

It was easy to attach King Dorephan’s scale to the arrow, easier to aim the bow—Zelda had always been a skilled markswoman, and the movement of a bow came easily to her. It took no effort at all to send the arrow through the droplet of stone. There was a moment where time seemed to slow, the air and rain coming to a stop as the arrow shot threw, leaving trails of fresh water from the scale, and the droplet hummed as the arrow passed through. The world went quiet, and then the arrow was spinning with a screech, down into Lanayru’s Great Spring. The foul water churned, and a tower of green-blue light shot up, up, up into the sky, exposing something in the water below.

“By the Great Jabun…” Sidon breathed behind her.

“Let’s go,” Zelda said, already pulling out her paraglider, and Sidon took her wrist.

“Wait out the rain first,” He said, eyes pleading. “Please.”

His scales hissed as gloom dropped onto them, and Zelda felt exhaustion drilling into her very bones as the gloom sickness seeped into her. She took his hand. They looked to the speck below that was Mipha’s Court.

Sidon was right. It wasn’t safe to continue in this rain, not when she could feel the gloom thickening in her lungs.

Sights set for Ploymus Mountain, they jumped.

---

Yona stood in the waters of Mipha’s Court when they arrived, pacing back and forth, the water, which looked far murkier than it had been when they left, sloshing around her ankles. Her eyes brightened when she saw Sidon and she rushed to his side, letting out a small sound of distress when Sidon stepped back from her.

“Lady Yona!” Sidon squeaked, a tight, childish sound that was very unlike him. “What are you doing here? You should be in the healing wards where it’s safe—”

“I’d heard that you’d left the Court for some strange reason, telling no one why, and your guards asked me to come speak with you.” She said softly. Sidon swallowed, the movement stiff and awkward.

“Lady Yona—”

“Please, Sidon, just Yona. When did I become Lady Yona again? Have I done something wrong?”

“Never mind that—it’s too dangerous for you to be here!”

“Sidon, beloved, I am more than capable of taking care of myself—”

“No!”

Zelda and Yona both looked to Sidon in surprise. Zelda knew that Sidon and Yona might not have shared the bond of lovers, but they’d always cared for each other, and Sidon’s sudden mood shift was alarming to say the least. When was the last time Zelda had heard Sidon raise his voice at someone? Speak to a loved one with such frustration? Just moments ago, Sidon had been in good spirits, if not a tad more than annoyed with Zelda for blowing off his concern, but now he looked to Yona with something almost fearful.

“You need to get inside. The gloom rain—”

“We all should be inside,” Yona corrected Sidon, “Including you.”

Sidon crossed his arms, but nodded, allowing Yona to take his hand and lead him under one of the covered terraces that lined Mipha’s fountain, Zelda following hesitantly behind.

What on the great Continent was Sidon doing, raising his voice like that? The metal of the terrace smelled foul, standing against the gloom rain but still sizzling from its rancid touch. Its bolts creaked and groaned against the downpour, and Zelda worried for a moment that the lip of the metal would fizzle away, eaten up by gloom and sludge. The other guards from the Court crowded around them, along with two of Yona’s ladies in waiting, and Sidon’s fiancé took a deep breath, smoothing a green hand over her fins, the golden jewelry clinking delicately at the touch of her claws. Sidon glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his third eyelid twitching, betraying an unsure emotion that Zelda couldn’t quite read.

Yona took a deep breath, her fluttering gills the only sign of any nerves. “Darling,” she started, turning to Sidon and taking his hand. “I came here because there is something we simply must discuss—”

Sidon pulled back his hand. “Lady Yona, I’m sure it can wait. The Princess and I have come to a great discovery. A great pillar of light that might open a way to the sky and grant us answers about the sludge that has been torturing us so.”

“And you’ll go?” Yona asked softly. “Will you go with her to investigate?”

“Of course. I must.”

Yona sighed. “I agree, I think it is wise to go with the Princess. I think two heads are better than one, and you deserve help in this struggle. But Sidon—”

“Perfect!” Then we’ll head out as soon as the rain slows. Thank you, Yona, for your trust. Now, I—”

“SIDON!”

The group all turned their eyes to Yona. While the name wasn’t shouted, it was said with such fire that it might as well have been, vibrating in the still, gloomy air. Yona gasped, holding a hand over her mouth as if she was surprised by the strength of her own words. “I—Forgive me, Sidon, but I must speak.

Ever since this sludge has come, you have not been yourself! You have taken on this burden on your shoulders and yours alone, and while it is true you will soon hold the crown, that does not mean this problem is only yours to solve! I am glad to see you accept her Majesty’s help, but, by blessed Jabun, Sidon, you must rest! Look at yourself! Your scales are peeling, your gills are grey, you reek of magical exhaustion—how do I know you won’t drop dead from exhaustion the moment you leave this spot with the Princess? How can I trust you to be safe? You are so scared to lose those before you that you have run yourself ragged, and I simply cannot watch it any—”

Suddenly, the smell in Mipha’s Court grew thicker, the reek of sludge rising up into the waters, and Yona cried out in alarm as the waters quickly went from clear to black.

“There--!” Sidon shouted, and Zelda turned. Deep in the thick of the rain was a gelatinous, sludge covered monster unlike anything Zelda had ever seen before. It writhed on the ground before rising up, up, up, till it towered even over Sidon. It let out a bellowing screech, and Sidon slid before Yona, pushing her further under the terrace, and drew the Lightscale Trident.

“That monster!” He growled as it slithered closer. “It must have been what attacked father!”

“Something attacked the king!?” Yona cried out, and Sidon waved it away.

“A story for another time. Quickly, we cannot allow it to taint the water any further. Zelda, stay under the terrace—my scales are stronger than Hylian flesh, you’ll be burned to a crisp by that rain—Zelda!”

But Zelda was already off, sprinting into the rain, gritting her teeth against its leeching burn. She drew her bow, aiming for the creature’s half open jaw as it spat forth gloomy sludge. There was no way a normal arrow could pierce through that sludge. The mouth would have to do.  

“Wait! Zelda!”

The gloom rain burned, peeled down her face in ragged, scarlet lines, and her eyes stung as it dripped into her lashes. The rainstorm barred down on her, and each breath sucked in tainted air. Sidon slid next to her, trident drawn, and caught her elbow.

“Here. I’ll lend you a little power, keep you safe.” He shouted over the rain, and Zelda watched in awe as pure, clear water surged up from the muck and circled around her. “This may be a mighty opponent, certainly, but we will not falter! When the moment comes, reach out and send forth the water!”

Zelda gave a curt nod. The sphere of water kept the gloom out, sizzling as the sludge spattered against it, and it wobbled, clearly unstable and unable to be held for long. Still, it kept the muck at bay as Zelda ran closer to the beast and when she raised her bow, the water circled around her arrowhead, surging forward into the creature’s foul skin. It screamed, writhing as some of the sludge was washed away, and Zelda took the opportunity to let forth another arrow, then another, another into the clean skin. The thing lunged for her—right onto Sidon’s trident. The thing writhed in his grasp, and Zelda readied another arrow, once again encased in Sidon’s pure, precious water. It struck the thing in its gullet, and it slid to the ground, twitching, before growing still and dissolving into a puddle of gloom and sludge. Zelda stepped back, chest heaving, and Sidon knelt before her.

“You need first aid,” he said, brushing burned hair from her eyes. “Your face… those burns are significant. That was very stupid. Your Hylian flesh is too soft for this.”

He scooped her up, much to Zelda’s embarrassment, and brought her back to the terrace, where Yona went to work.

“Isn’t it strange,” she said tensely, “that you will chide her on safety, but any time I try to do the same you run from me?”

Sidon hung his head. “Milady…”

“No. No, you will let me speak.” Yona said, voice firm but not unkind. “Sidon, I know you are a smart man, a wise man, who would never let a friend—or a stranger!—treat themselves as you do yourself. I know you know this isn’t sustainable, and the fact that you choose to do so anyways… it frightens me.”

“Yona… I never… I… I cannot allow myself to be the reason something happens to you,” He said finally, his voice feather soft, and Yona let out a soft, sad sound.

“Beloved—nothing is going to happen to me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Sidon…” Yona’s eyes were wide and sad, and she took a deep breath. “I truly appreciate that you worry so for my safety. It speaks of the kindness in your heart. But I will one day be your queen; you must learn to trust me. And you—one day you will be the king of the Zora and lead the people of our beloved Domaine. You cannot abandon yourself for the lives of others; what will happen if this kills you? If this exhaustion proves to be your undoing? There are others here who can—and will!—take up the mantle beside you, and I am one of them! Why won't you let us help you?”

Sidon was silent, staring at the ground beneath Yona’s feet. The stingray Zora sighed. She reached up to cup his face with one hand and run another over his crown.

“I know you, beloved. You are yielding to the fear of losing someone you love again. But this is not the Calamity. I am not Mipha. I will not die here—none of us will. And if we do, then it is as Hylia and Nayru will it, nothing more, nothing less. You cannot let fear paralyze you over something you cannot control. My life is in the Goddesses’ hands, not yours, Sidon. Let it be so. You must overcome your past and face the future and whatever it holds with courage. I believe in you, Sidon. So please, believe in me.”

“Yona…” Sidon went quiet, words trailing off, and he was silent for so long that those around him had begun to fidget. Then, with great strength, he pulled Yona into an embrace, burying his face in her neck and clinging tight to her.

“I have been lost in the past,” he said quietly, “allowing my fears to control me. It… it is unbecoming of a prince. I shan’t let it continue!”

He pulled back before standing and pulling Zelda into an equally tight hug. “You know as well as I that Mipha would have lost herself to see me like this,” he said, voice stronger. “Let it be known, that I have my trust in you both, Zelda, Yona. And I trust that the three of us will save this Domaine. Yona—can I be sure that I can give you control of keeping my sister’s Court safe?”

Yona held her head high. “Aye. You absolutely can.”

“Then, let us be off, to the pillar of light. Yona—you have my word that I will keep myself safe, and that I will take no unnecessary risk. I shall return home in one piece. I promise that!”

Sidon squeezed Zelda’s shoulder. “Let’s find our way to the sky. And Link. Together, we are unstoppable, and together, we will secure his and this Domaine’s safety!”

---

It wasn’t hard to get to the pillar of light. It wasn’t hard to cling to Sidon’s back as he dove down under to find the light source, or to pop back up with a gasp as they realized there was no getting into the underground basin from there. The whirlpool had been Sidon’s idea. They needed to drain the water from the basin, which seemed impossible—unless instead of draining it, they simply redirected the water. In a stunning display of speed and precision, Sidon had left her treading water in the pillar, then swam round and round and round, forcing the water to and fro until enough of it had been shifted to allow Zelda to drop down to the lake floor, right against the basin entrance and slide with what little water was left into a dark, damp hole.

Easy peasy.  

Falling into the ancient Zora ruins seemed to take forever and yet no time at all. The pull of the current, the push of the water, and the jarring drop followed by an even more jarring splash! as Zelda landed in a pool of water. The pool was dark and murky, not from sludge but simply from time. The water smelled stale and was thick with algae, making the floors slick and difficult to grip as she climbed out of the pool, and she gasped as she took in the towering waterworks around her. They were clearly once glistening with opals and mother of pearl, now eroded smooth and dull with time, but the dimness of the ruins was held back still by intricate lamps of luminous stone. Zelda wasn’t sure just when these ruins had been made—clearly long, long ago—but the constant drip of the lake water seeping through the ceiling had left it smooth of any rough edges and crumbling like half dried clay. The structures were in pieces, and the water levels were inconsistent. She moved carefully into the ancient waterworks, ears peeled for sounds of predators and bow at the ready.

The first thing she noted was that the water levels were far too low to move far. She could see in the distance something glowing softly, more than any luminous stone, and was sure it was her end goal, but getting up there would be impossible without raising the water level—it was too slick to climb. She could hear the roar of contained water all around her; the water was here, just hidden. The ground was split, the pathways, once lined in opal, crumbled around her, and Zelda chose the right most path and meandered around what little of it was still intact. The foliage here—because there was foliage! Alive! Somehow living deep, deep under the water after millennia!— was breathtaking, pale pink and purple fans that swayed delicately in the moving water and left the stale air smelling of sweet things any time Zelda walked passed. She stopped once to pick some and place it in the Purah pad to examine later; who knew, maybe it could have helpful properties once cooked into an elixir.

She yearned for Link’s Sheikah slate when she came across the first plugged pipe. It was stopped up by rocks, eroded shut after thousands of years of disuse, and no amount of pulling would free the rocks, only splitting her fingertips and leaving behind wet streaks of red. Gods, she would kill for a square bomb right about now. Instead she searched the ground for a rock, a stone, anything—there, there was a chunk of walkway! Putting all the force behind it she could, she struck the pipe, once, twice, three times. The pipe groaned, and that was the only warning Zelda had to leap out of the way before it exploded outwards, letting out a rush of clear, clean water.

The second pipe was across the hall, further into the main room, and Zelda’s shoulders were sore from swimming by the time she made it over. It was easy enough to locate the pipe, but it was high on the wall, too high to climb with such wet walls. Unless…

Zelda dragged over the largest rock she could feasibly carry and, with Ultrahand, lifted it up against the pipe and back down. Then, it was easy to summon Recall, jump on the rock, and smash her piece of walkway into the pipe. Again the water exploded outward, clean and sweet, and again Zelda was thrown back by its power. She bobbed to the top of the water, spluttering, and her eyes drifted towards the giant pipe furthest into the main room.

Alright. Let’s do this.

It wasn’t hard to swim there, though she was getting increasingly tired as the chill of the water set into her bones, and with a bit of maneuvering, she managed to shimmy up to the pipe. She could see the source of the green light from here, an alter of some kind, and the sight of it spurred her forward.

Zelda moved against the wall, searching for a way into the pipe’s gated entrance to the rocks inside. There, an opening in the form of a smaller pipe! She crawled, ignoring the chill of the water and the rock on her knees and hands, and moved forward. She followed the sound of roaring water and the groan of overstuffed metal, until she found it. Above her—the pipe. It took less than a second to Ascend up, and then it was merely a matter of chipping away dutifully at the massive rocks. Slow and steady, as they say, eh?

Slow and steady indeed. Her hands ached, her lips blue from the chill down under the lake, but she kept chiseling away at the stone. It would give. Eventually.

Suddenly, the cracks between the rocks let out a mournful moan before spluttering and exploding outward. Zelda ducked, covering her head with her hands, and was ripped out into the current, gasping for air that did not come, instead water pouring down her throat, and the current yanking her down.  She grabbed wildly at something, anything to pull her up, her hands finally grabbing onto something sharp but sturdy. Her fingers split open with a painful jerk as the current pulled against her, but Zelda held fast, pulling herself forward, hand over hand, and kicking wildly until she broke the surface.

Before her, was the alter. She’d grabbed onto a corner of its luminous stone, slicing open her fingertips, and she grit her teeth against the pain as she pulled herself closer, then up out of the water onto the shining beacon of light that enveloped the space.

There was a… Zonai symbol? Why would an ancient Zora waterwork have Zonai technology inside it? Zelda frowned and reached forward with a hesitant, bloody hand.

‘I am here,’ she thought, remembering the door on the Great Sky Islands. The symbol glowed when she touched it, chirping and exploding into a glow of green and silver.

‘It’s me. The little goddess. Show me what you hide.’

Chapter Text

The light in the ancient Zora waterworks had clearly done something, and Zelda quickly figured out what that something was when water came flooding into the basin at alarming rates. She ran for the waterfall exit, diving into the water, heart in her throat, and just as she thought that she was going to drown down here, the ruins falling to pieces under the weight of the rush of water, an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her up, up the waterfall, out of the ruins, out of East Reservoir Lake itself, up into the sky along a massive waterfall the likes of which Zelda had never seen before. Zelda was soring, flying up the waters, moving with a mind dazzling speed, and as she reached the top something in her felt distinctly… off.

Sidon landed on the stone floating high above the Domaine with impossible grace, carefully placing Zelda down. Zelda gasped as she looked out around them. Before them, a rising wall of islands, reaching up to the very clouds, and below them, the biggest drop Zelda had ever seen. She couldn’t’ help it. Her mouth fell open.

“Princess?” Sidon said, tilting her this way and that, letting out a soft, distressed coo at her ripped fingertips and palms. “I take it the waterfall appearing was you?”

“We’re… high,” Zelda squeaked, and Sidon wrinkled his crest in discomfort.

“I know. I’m trying not to think too hard about it.” He said, and he went back to fussing over her hands.

“There were some sharp rocks,” Zelda said, feeling rather dumb, and Sidon nodded.

“Do you have any bandages in that pad of yours?” He asked, and Zelda nodded. She winced at the movement to click open the pad and Sidon took it gently from her hands, flicking the screen on and scrolling through, looking for any first aide materials. Unlike Link’s beloved Sheikah slate, whose full set of functions worked for him and him only as the Hero of Legend, Purah’s pad responded to any touch, and Zelda was grateful for that now as Sidon pulled hearty radish cream and a long strip of bandages from the thing.

He tutted as he took in her hands, carefully applying the hearty radish cream. It stung for a moment before turning into a soft, soothing blanket of warmth along her hands, and the edges of the ragged skin smoothed some. Sidon wound the bandages around her palms, his tongue sticking out between his lips.

“They don’t look like they’ll need stitches, thankfully. Just be careful with them, alright?”

“Of course,” Zelda said, flexing her fingers gently when Sidon released her hands. She shivered in the chill of the air, soaked with the freezing waters below the lake, and Sidon frowned. He went back to the pad, flipping through screens, and let out a happy sound as he summoned a skewer of meat dusted with warm safflina and Goron spice.

“Let’s warm you up,” He said, and sat, offering her the stick of meat. Zelda sat as well.

“What was down there?” Sidon asked, and Zelda swallowed her first bite, savoring the warmth that flooded her veins. Link’s cooking was always—

Suddenly, the meat tasted like ash. Link’s cooking.

“Zelda?” Sidon said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on her knee. “Are you alright?”

“Link cooked this,” She murmured, and Sidon nodded, a simple movement that lacked pity, just simple acknowledgement of her longing.

“We’ll find him,” He said, voice ringing with dedication, with a sure fire determination. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“I—I think I need a moment alone,” Zelda said, and Sidon nodded.

“Eat, rest, warm up. I’ll go see what I can find on the island. I shan’t wander far.”

He stood, patting her shoulder, and then he was gone, wandering along the edge of the sky island. Zelda forced herself to take another bite. The meat was hard to chew, let alone swallow, but she needed the warmth. Link would never forgive her if she had to stop searching for him because she caught a stupid cold.

That wasn’t true, of course. Link wouldn’t hold that against her, would be fretting over her and her snotty nose, determined to pump her full of Hylian herb tea and warm pumpkin soup until her fever broke, smothering her with blankets and cuddling up beside her despite her fears of getting him sick. Zelda hated being sick—she’d been a sickly child, underweight and prone to migraines, and the weakness, the wobbliness that came with sickness reminded her all too much of those years. And then… then there was mother, mother who had come down with some kind of wetness in her lungs, stolen away too fast to even diagnose, fine one day and coughing up her insides the next, lips bloody and face pale. Zelda would be lying if she said the thought of illness hadn’t terrified her ever since. The first time Urbosa came down with something Zelda had been in hysterics, refusing to leave her side until physically dragged and locked in her room, screaming and sobbing and acting all together completely unbecoming of a princess.

The first time she remembered Link getting sick… well. It had been a deeply emotional situation, to say the least.

Zelda glanced over her shoulder. Sidon was staring up into the sky, hands on his hips, giving her plenty of space. Stuffing another piece of meat into her mouth, Zelda unlocked the Purah pad with shaky hands, her fingers aching with each movement. She slid out the stylus, wincing as her fingers wrapped around it, and opened the adventure log.

Main Quests:

Clues to the Sky—Complete:

            Shot ‘mark of the king’ (scale) into ‘droplet’ (rocks) on ‘isle of the sky fish’ (archipelago above Mipha Court)

• Pillar of light appeared, then waterfall into sky (watery bridge). Opened access to the wellspring islands.

Sidon of the Zora:

            Traveling with me to wellspring island. Agrees that solution to sludge lies in sky. Ally in searching for Link

            (Struggling with self care. Keep an eye on. Safety first!)

Find Link:

            Attacked Dorephan?!? Last seen in Toto Lake, summoned monster (same monster seen in Court. Unwell? Speak to Yona for potential healing when I find him.

Zelda flipped open a new log. She nibbled the tip of the stylus, glancing over to Sidon—still distracted, good—and began to write.

Link—

I am deeply concerned. I know you would never raise a hand to family, but they are still insisting you did so. Are you sick? Do you know something we don’t know? What’s happened? I’m frightened for you. I’ll stand by you regardless, refuse to let any of them tarnish your name, but I cannot ignore the injuries on Dorephan.

What do you know that I don’t know? Was this some kind of way of protecting him by hurting him? Why are you hiding? Come to me— I can help! Whatever the problem is, I know I can make it right.

I—I don’t even know why I’m writing this. You’ll never see it, at least I don’t think so, but I need you to know that I will always have your back. Let me help you—let me make this right! Are you frightened? Sick? What do you know that I do not know?????

I miss you

I need you here

I cannot do this alone

I can feel my insides rotting away without you. Please don’t make me do this alone.

Forever yours, no matter what,

Zelda

“Zelda?” Sidon called from the far side of the island. “I think I’ve found something.”

Zelda clipped the Purah pad to her hip, stuffing the last piece of meat in her mouth, and stood. The warmth of the safflina and spice powder had moved through her bones and blood, and despite the wetness of her clothes and the chill of the air, she felt warm, almost cozy.

“Look.” Sidon said, before hopping in place. Despite the small movement, he moved through the air higher than he should be able too, and Zelda’s eyes went wide. She copied his movements—between the height and bone numbing chill, she hadn’t thought to test anything about the air around them… or the lack of gravity. Were they really that high, that gravity itself had lessened its hold on them?

“What a wonderous place,” Sidon breathed, reaching out as if he could grab the very air. “My body… it feels light as a feather…”

“The sludge is thick here,” Zelda said, looking at the lines of muck dripping from the rising islands and falling into the Domaine below. “I think it’s time to divide and conquer. You take the right most path there—I’ll take the left.”

“Zelda—I think it would be best to stay together—we don’t know what the island holds—”

Zelda bit her lip.

“Besides, without my water, you have no way of clearing any sludge.” Sidon said, before furrowing his crest.

“Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“What kinds of fruit do you have in that pad of yours?”

“All sorts, why?”

“Do you have any splash fruit?”

Zelda wrinkled her nose. “Not much. It tastes awful, no good for cooking.”

“But it does explode into water when crushed so—”

“So if I put some on my arrows, I could clear away sludge myself, without relying on you.” She said, brightening. “Not that I don’t want to work with you, of course! It’s just that—”

“Independence breeds safety, in this situation.” Sidon said with a small smile. “Don’t worry. I know the intent behind your words. But—” He knelt to eyelevel with her, “We promised Yona we would be safe. And we are safer together. Stay by my side, please.”

Zelda sighed. “Alright. Then do we take the right or the left path?”

Sidon tapped his sharp teeth with a claw. “Left. That’s what Link would do, I think. He’d follow the sludge, not the clearer path.”

Zelda nodded. “I agree. Left path it is.” She unshouldered her bow, kneeling and pulling her quiver from her back. It took no time at all to impale splash fruit onto as many arrows as she could, and then the quiver was back on her back. She motioned to Sidon.

“Then, let’s go.”

---

It was smooth sailing for the first half hour, just following the streams of sludge and occasionally washing away the muck when it became too thick to walk through. Sidon and Zelda moved in relative silence, simply taking in the sheer height of where they stood, until they came to the first bubble.

Sidon poked the massive bubble as it rose from a grate on the floor. “It’s a bubble.” He said, and Zelda laughed.

“Yes, it sure looks like it.”

“What’s a bubble doing 2000 in the air?” Sidon said, then yelped as the bubble sucked in his arm and started rising. He jerked backwards, falling onto his ass, and Zelda snorted.

“Hey!”

“Here. Let me.”

“Zelda, wait--!”

Zelda took a running jump into the bubble, gaining quite impressive height in the process, and let out a delighted sound as it carefully enveloped her. The water was warm and clear, tingly against her skin, and soon it was floating out over the edge of the island onto another part of the archipelago. It shimmered, clearly loosing its stability, and Zelda dropped out of it onto the new level.

“Come on!” She shouted down to Sidon, “It feels perfectly stable!”

Sidon grumbled something about ‘crazy Hylians’ and how ‘she was just as bad as Link’ before running and jumping into the bubble. It gurgled merrily and rose him up, up, up, until he was pushing himself free beside Zelda. Zelda grinned at him.

“You have to stop throwing yourself at things,” Sidon said, crossing his arms, and Zelda laughed.

“Of course, your Majesty.” She said. “You know, I would say that you may be a prince, but that I don’t take orders from Zora, but I’m not that petty.”

Sidon groaned, and Zelda shot him a cheeky smile.

“I was trying to keep you safe! You tried to order me to do something!”

Zelda laughed, swatting his arm. “I jest, I jest. It’s alright. It helps to know that people still care in this complete hell show of a world we’ve found ourselves in,” she said, and Sidon squeezed her hand.

They found another bubble after that, then another, then a third, fourth, climbing slowly closer and closer to a massive building the likes of which Zelda hadn’t ever seen before across the horizon. She couldn’t quite make out the details, but she could see its general shape, like a massive arching fish that reminded her of stories of the great Windfish that lived up above the clouds. Perhaps this creation of stone and opal was the very reason for such a belief?

They came to a stairwells of waterfalls after that. It was easy enough to jump between them, even easier to jump up them, and soon they were higher than Zelda had ever been in her life.

That was when they saw it. It had to be a construct of some kind: giant, blocky, and glowing, searching the parameter with a glowing red beam of light. Zelda hadn’t seen anything like it.

“Skirt around,” She signed to Sidon, unsure of noise would alert the thing, and Sidon nodded silently. They hugged the edge of the island floor, sneaking as silently as possible around, and they had just reached the waterfall leading up off of the island to the next level of stone when the red searching beam that Zelda hadn’t noticed—hadn’t noticed, damn it, damn it—swiped over them.

“Run!” Zelda screamed just as the construct began to unfold and build itself into some strange goliath of stone and cubes, and Sidon took off, his hand on her wrist, the both of them sprinting for the waterfall. The goliath groaned, a strange mechanical sound, before sending forward a hailstorm of massive stones with a lurch. Sidon yelped in pain as one struck him across the shoulder, stumbling into the waterfall, and Zelda felt the stone floor fly out from under her legs as a cube hit her middle. She’d been by the edge. She’d been by the edge, creeping along, and now she was flying, falling, her paraglider ripped from her fingers by the screaming winds as she plummeted down. Sidon screamed something—likely her name—and Zelda swore as she looked up she saw Link’s sickly, pale face looking down at her from above.

Zelda wondered for a brief moment how long it would take to fall to her death. Likely a while. If terror wasn’t gripping her, the thought that falling off a massive building in the sky was a slow death would have made her laugh. She could hear someone screaming into the wind. Likely Sidon.

Poor Sidon.

Suddenly, she wasn’t falling, curling in on herself as her back smashed into something hard enough to rock the breath from her lungs and make her heart skip a beat. It couldn’t be the ground, not when she was still this high—it was warm, hard but still had give, and smooth beneath her.

The silent dragon had caught her. Far down his body, close to his massive tail, on his belly, as if he was aware that if she landed on his back she could have impaled herself on his back shards. The scarred belly moved slowly beneath her, breathing in and out, and Zelda struggled to catch her breath.

She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead.

“Zelda!”

Sidon looked over the edge of the island, tears in his eyes, and Zelda gave a hesitant wave.

“I’m okay!” She screamed back, and Sidon wiped an eye with a massive hand.

“Can you…” Zelda looked at the scarred belly of the beast, unsure if it could hear her from all the way up there, let alone understand. “Can you put me back on the island?” She called, and the silent dragon slowly curled itself inward, presenting a clawed arm, that held her paraglider with surprising delicacy.

“Thank you,” She yelled towards his head, too far to be in focus—even if he was the smallest dragon she’d ever seen, the silent dragon was still massive—and crawled down his belly, freeing her paraglider from his claws. She unfolded it, and the updraft that surrounded the dragon caught it in an instant, and then Zelda was soaring upwards while the silent dragon twisted and twirled on its back. Sidon plucked Zelda out of the air as soon as she got close enough, squeezing her tight even with the discomfort of the paraglider between them.

“I thought I lost you,” he said, voice thick, and Zelda wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m okay,” she said into his ear hole, and Sidon let out a shaky breath.

“I’ve never seen that dragon before,” he said, petting her hair, and Zelda ‘hmmed’.

“This is the third time I’ve seen him,” she said, “I saw him on the Great Sky Islands. I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by dragons, but nothing like him before.”

Sidon nodded, then finally put her down. “I think we’ve reached the top—” he said, turning to look at the massive construction before them. “And that this… this is our goal.”

It was huge, easily the size of the Domaine’s Palace, and dripping with sludge. A wellspring of some kind, and Zelda figured that the sludge it was producing had to have once been clean water. She stepped forward. The stone was white, tainted black and brown with sludge, with opal and mother of pearl decorating the stones in glittering, beautiful designs. Fish motifs surrounded everything, and at the base, giant spouts producing sludge rose up into the sky like some kind of tainted fish tale.

Sidon craned his head to look up at the massive structure.

“It’s beautiful…” He whispered, and Zelda almost agreed. Once it was free of sludge it would be, but for now, it just stank. She readied her splash arrows when Sidon pointed to the spouts. “From what I can tell, all the sludge from the waterfalls is flowing from this… wellspring. In other words… if there is a source for the muck, it must be here. Zelda, are you—”

Sidon stopped suddenly. He glanced up to the sky, then over his shoulder, crest furrowed.

“Sidon?”

“Zelda, I—I have not been completely honest with you.” Sidon said softly. His claws found his teeth, worrying at the enamel there. “Ever since the sludge monster in my sister’s Court I have been… hearing voices.”

Zelda cocked her head, opening her mouth to speak, but Sidon held up a hand. “Voices is… incorrect. One voice. In a dialect of Zora that only the royal family is taught, with grammar so formal that it sounds a thousand years old. It… it has been calling to me, beckoning me. I am sure now, that it has been calling me to this place. I am unsure if it is friend or foe, but it speaks… it speaks as if it knows me. It calls me ‘little tadpole’, just as my sister did. I have a private hope that… that…”

Sidon straightened. “No matter. I simply tell you so that we may be on the lookout for such a thing while we work.”

Zelda reached out to Sidon. “Si—”

“Think nothing of it, dear friend. Let us be off.”

Sidon stormed forward, ignoring Zelda’s calls to him, until they came to the base of the water spouts. Sludge dripped from them en mass, spilling across the floor in rivers before flooding over the side onto the ground below.

“Aren’t they magnificent?” Sidon breathed, looking up at the spouts, as if he didn’t see the sludge pouring forth. “To think, that such a structure has been above the Domaine all these years… but look at the spouts. That is surely the source of the sludge—I bet if we clean it out, stop it from flowing into the wellspring’s waters, we can stop the poisoning of the Domaine below!”

He stepped forward, hand to chin, examining the spouts. “If we get all four spouts flowing, I think that it will flush out the sludge—do you agree?”

Zelda nodded. “It seems the most logical conclusion. A good place to start as any!”

And there, at the base of the spouts, was another Zonai symbol. The Zonai were just everywhere, weren’t they? She stepped forward and pressed a hand to the symbol, channeling the golden energy behind her heart—and not Hylia’s. This golden magic seemed to be coming to her so easily these days, even more so than the Goddess Hylia’s, and the Zonai symbol chimed, glowing green and gold.

Sidon’s breath caught in his throat, his gills stuttering. “Did—did you hear that?”

Zelda shook her head, and Sidon buried his head in his hands.

“Oh Jabun have mercy… ‘Little tadpole, cherished kin… this wellspring is the source of the ancient waters of Lanayru. Free the water, and meet me…’ that’s what it, what she, said. You really did not hear it?”

Zelda put a hand on Sidon’s shoulder. “Sidon. If anyone will not judge you for hearing things, it’s me. This voice is clearly tied to the wellspring. Perhaps it will show itself once we free the wellspring of sludge. Till then—one thing at a time, right?”

Sidon sighed, nodded. “One thing at a time.”

He looked back to the spouts.

“Then let us begin.”

---

The first thing Zelda noticed was the clinks and chirps of soldier constructs. She pointed them out to Sidon the moment she saw them, stressing their danger, and the Zora prince had drawn his trident and promised to be safe. Ha. As if either of them would keep that promise if it came to freeing a spout.

These constructs looked different than the ones on the Great Sky Island, with massive, saw-like blades on their heads and multiple eyes. They reminded Zelda of Robbie’s ancient blade saw—Link’s absolute favorite of the man’s inventions—especially when she saw one use its head as a blade when a chuchu came a tad too close. They had bows though, powerful ones, and plenty of arrows, things Zelda both wanted—needed—desperately. A better bow would be a life savor right about now, but she and Sidon had promised each other not to run into danger, so a new bow would have to wait.

Or not. Because once they crossed the gap between the left most side of the wellspring, Zelda and Sidon found themselves face to face with three.

“Princess—” Sidon called, moving before her in between the three soldier constructs. “Get to the bubble machine at the end of the platform—I’ll have your back. Go!”

“Absolutely not,” Zelda called back as she drew her bow. “I’m not leaving you here alone!”

Sidon made a sound of protest, but Zelda had already let an arrow fly. It stuck true, right in one of the construct’s many eyes, and the robot reeled back before letting out a screech, alerting the other two of their presence. Sidon took Zelda’s blind spot, Zelda taking Sidon’s, and back to back they watched with wary eyes as the constructs circled. One swung finally; Zelda ducked under the blade, shooting an arrow in between the robot’s arm socket and Zonai core, and behind her she heard the tell tale sound of metal on stone as the trident impaled another construct. Sidon swung, launching a construct to the side with the long reach of the Lightscale Trident, and Zelda let loose a flurry of arrows, right in the center core of the construct. It fizzled before breaking down into a clattering pile of stone and electricity. Sidon centered himself while Zelda grabbed the mighty construct bow and tested the draw back.

“Didn’t,” She said as she regained the used arrows, “Yona just have a discussion with you about teamwork and sharing burdens?”

Sidon flushed and Zelda crossed her arms. “We are a team, Sidon. I trust you to have my back—now please, trust me to have yours.”

Sidon flushed even darker, and Zelda sighed, pulling him into a brief hug. “Ready?”

Sidon gave a curt nod. “Ready!”

They walked around the pieces of construct to the bubble machine across the platform—and beside it, covered in sludge, a glowing piece of Zonai something that was clearly important.

“Sidon—get across, I’ll throw it to you!” Zelda said, washing the sludge off with a well placed splash fruit, and Sidon maneuvered across the gap with the bubbles. It was getting easier and easier to reach out with Ultrahand, reel back the Zonai device, and throw it across the gap. Sidon stumbled, but caught it, and waved Zelda over. On the other side, there was a pool of deep, muddy waters. Sidon waved a hand, leeching the sludge out of the water, and Zelda could see some kind of cog below.

“We need to lower the water,” she told Sidon, “I think I see a switch of some kind down there. It might be connected to a spout!”

Zelda looked around—there, a lever to hold back the water and drain it like a dam when held up. “Think you can hold that up?”

Sidon marched over, lifting it with a grunt. It was heavy, that much was clear, but the Zora prince was not a light weight. Under the lever was just enough space for Zelda to wedge in the device; and with that, the water was cleared away, opening the way to the cog. Sidon approached it with suspicion, and Zelda yanked down on it. It didn’t budge. It resembled a water mill…

“Can you try and rotate it with a current of your water?” Zelda asked over her shoulder, and Sidon nodded. He lashed out with a whip of water, and the cog groaned before turning, slowly first, then faster and faster. There was a low grumble, then the sound of roaring water as a spout began to splutter clean, fresh water.

“Yes! We got one flowing!” Sidon said, nearly bouncing in his excitement. “Just three more to go!”

Zelda couldn’t help but think this was the exact kind of thing that would leave Link bouncing as well. It left a sour, bitter, lonely taste in her mouth. “Three more.” She said with a false smile. “Three more to go.”

---

It was not easy going, per say, but Zelda found she almost enjoyed traversing the wellspring. The puzzles weren’t hard enough to be frustrating, but still made her brain tingle with excitement at each solution. Unsludge a waterfall here, making it easy to swim up. Sneak strike a soldier construct there, stealing its gorgeous, blue and gold shield and stocking up on more arrows. Travel up bubbles and soar through the air, leaping from waterfall to waterfall.

The silent dragon circled the wellspring the whole while, too far up to truly see, but still clear enough with his missing arm and short stature. Zelda found herself staring transfixed more than once, eyes fixated on the elegantly moving creature, longing to creep closer, to see more. His horn seemed cracked and chipped, yet it glowed, mesmerizing in the trail of light it left. Zelda had spent years around dragons, ever since she began visiting the Sacred Springs, but never had she seen a trail of color and light come from a dragon like it did from this silent beast. She wished there was a way to thank it for saving her twice now. If she didn’t know better, she could have said that it was almost as if the creature was following her. But there was no proof, nor any reason, for that. She was just some girl, and the silent dragon was a dragon, a holy and eternal being of light. He had no reason to bother himself with her.

“Zelda, look!”

Zelda turned her eyes from the sky, from the dragon, back to where Sidon stood. There was a line of conductors for some kind of electrical puzzle. Sidon stood a healthy way aways from it—electricity and Zora did not mix—and Zelda moved closer, inspecting it. It moved from right to left but was broken in the middle. Easy enough, they were surrounded by water, it would take two seconds flat to find something to conduct it. The question was, what started the electricity. There was a waterfall—maybe that was the source? She moved to the waterfall, circling it. There was a broken switch; with a little maneuvering and Ultrahand to aid the process, the switch was back in one piece, spinning like a top under the water. The electricity crackled merrily down the line, and hidden under a pile of sludge, a room slid into view. A room with a cog. Zelda turned to Sidon with a grin, and he squeezed her shoulder.

“Fantastic job, dear friend. I’m lucky I’m with someone so clever.”

Zelda snorted.

“I’m not clever.”

“Nonsense! Look at the speed and accuracy you have put towards figuring out this entire adventure—Zelda, you put together the clues to the sky, solved the Zora ancient waterworks’ puzzle, and now you fly through the many traps and hidden problems throughout this massive endeavor! Give yourself credit, my friend; you’re brilliant, and clever, and brave. I’m lucky to be beside you—more than lucky. I’m thankful, and I’m honored.”

Zelda wanted to correct him, but as soon as she opened her mouth to do so, Sidon ‘shh’ed her kindly. “Come, friend, humor me and my compliments.”

They moved upwards after that, following glowing green Zonai symbols and sludge rivers alike. There had been a spinning tower that had led to a showy bit of archery, that had left Sidon cheering and clapping and Zelda’s cheeks warm, and finally a wall of fire, but in the end each cog was turned, leading to a rush of water, clean and perfect, from all the spouts. Zelda’s heart pounded in her chest with excitement. She’d done it—they’d done it! The Domaine and Lanayru would be safe, and Link was sure to be nearby.

That was what had kept her moving, more than any puzzle or encouragement from her Zora friend. No, what had kept her putting one foot in front of the other was Link. She could sense him nearby, her Holy Blood and his Hero’s Spirit calling out to each other, and if she pretended, truly pretended, then she could imagine his aura wasn’t twisted and animalistic and inhumane and wrong. Something was wrong, so deeply wrong that sensing him was almost painful, but she had to do it. She would find him. She would bring him home.

“Shall we?” Sidon said as they stood before the spouts and Zelda nodded. She reached out to the Zonai symbol and pulled. The magic came to her easily, like an excited pet, and kissed itself up against the symbol with eager power.

The water spouts groaned, spluttering, before tipping slowly, letting forth a surge of water that exploded outwards, washing away the muck that had collected at the base, poisoning the water supply. Sidon let out a triumphant noise as the muck dissipated, grabbing Zelda at the waist and spinning her around before crushing her to his chest.

“We did it! Look, the sludge is disappearing—surely the Domaine is safe now!” He said, voice near breathless in his excitement, and his laughter was infectious. Zelda found herself grinning, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing.

“We did it,” She giggled, “we—”

There came a horrid squelching sound, then a scream, and Sidon dropped Zelda carefully, drawing his trident while she drew her bow. They watched warily as something twitched and shuddered in the lingering sludge. Zelda took a step closer.

“Zelda—!”

The sludge exploded. Zelda stumbled back, exposed skin sizzling from the splatter of gloom infested muck, and Sidon let out a cry of concern.

“I’m fine!” She called, refusing to take her eyes off the sludge. Squirming under it all was a creature unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It looked like some form of deranged, misshapen octorock, with twisted, bloated features and rolling eyes.

“What,” Sidon breathed, “the fuck is that.”

Another one for the swear tally it seemed.

The thing crept closer slowly, some kind of… mucktorock… before racing forward straight for Sidon. It launched itself at him with insane speeds, spewing gloom—not muck, proper gloom, coming from inside it—just what the fuck was this thing? Zelda froze as Sidon screamed, taking a facefull of gloom, and the mucktorock seemed almost gleeful.

Zelda let an arrow fly, right into the thing’s bulbus head.

“Hey!” She yelled, standing firm. “That Demon King sent you here, didn’t he?” The mucktorock seemed to perk at the name, eyes going wide and shiny.

“Then your fight’s with me, not with him!”

The mucktorock cocked its bulbus head, seemly thinking, before shuddering, the sludge left on the platform slithering to it like an old friend. It surrounded the mucktorock in a sphere of sludge, and then with a roar, some massive, toothy shark creature spat out of the ground, running straight to her.

“Zelda!” Sidon screamed, struggling to his feet, and Zelda flung out a hand.

“Stay back. I can do this. Get to water and wash that gloom off of you—now!”

Sidon gaped at her for a moment before struggling to his hands and knees, crawling to the flowing streams of clean water. Zelda steadied herself. The shark charged, spitting gloom, protected by scales of sludge, and Zelda lept out of the way at the last second, letting an arrow of splash fruit fly. It clinked off the shark’s scales, but washed away some of the muck, exposing an almost chainmail-esc body. Chainmail had gaps. This thing had gaps.

She let another arrow fly, this one forcing clean water into the shark’s scales, and it screamed, twisting its head to try and rake at the intrusion with its teeth. Zelda took the opportunity to let loose two more arrows, one, two, into its mouth, sending clean water into its gullet. The muckshark squealed, rippling and bubbling, before exploding into sludge, leaving just the mucktorock behind. The mucktorock left into the sky, spitting gloom, and Zelda rolled out from under it before popping up. It moved fast, almost too fast to shoot, but Zelda had always been, would always be, a good markswoman, and as it lashed out with gloomy hands she beat it back with clean, gushing arrows.

Her bow strained under her hands. It was going to break soon, and she was stupid enough to have left her other one behind when she stole the construct bow instead of bringing it with her. The mucktorock buried itself into the sludge, spewing forth filth, and suddenly the shark was back.

Zelda drew her bowstring—it snapped, slapping the side of her cheek and drawing blood.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

She tossed the useless bow to the side and pulled an arrow, gripping it in her left hand like a knife. Muckshark charged. Zelda stabbed as it lept passed her, furry pushing power into her blow, and she suddenly felt warm, hot, with a sudden tightness behind her heart and light in her fingertips. The muckshark screamed, a burn of white hot light exploding out from where her arrow-knife had touched it. She didn’t need a bow. She was the fucking Princess of Light.

She tossed the arrow aside. Her awareness of Sidon, of the waters, the very sky was gone as she stared down the shark. It roared. The muckshark rushed her, only to hit a wall of gold that sizzled before throwing it back. It smashed into the spouts, cracks running up them as water gushed forth, and mucktorock emerged. It lashed out—Zelda lashed back, snatching it out of the air with a glowing hand. Gloom came seeping out of it, only to sizzle and evaporate when it touched her holy skin.

On her hand, a triangle glowed.

This was bigger than a Demon King, than the Domaine, than Sidon. This thing was keeping her from Link, and that was not to be tolerated. She squeezed.

The mucktorock exploded.

It burst like a balloon of sludge and malice, splattering across her, and didn’t even have the chance to scream before it was gone.

Zelda looked at her hand in awe. That… that…

The triangle faded.

“Zelda!”

Zelda turned, eyes wide, as she took in the shaky, burned Sidon. She rushed to his side, running a still glowing hand over the burns, begging whatever was inside her to dissolve the gloom inside him. Slowly, the red and black dissipated and Sidon’s breath evened out.

“Zelda,” he said, a hand coming up to cup her still glowing face, “That was amazing.”

Zelda suddenly felt exhausted, her shoulders a hundred pounds heavier, and she collapsed into Sidon’s arms, the Zora prince now the only thing holding her up.

“We need to get you home.” He said softly, and Zelda gave a weak nod. Sidon stood, scooped her up, and stopped, frozen in place.

“Si…?” Zelda asked, struggling to keep her eyes open, but Sidon was staring at the spouts.

A strange stone hovered above the ground, a pale purple, glowing brightly. It sat on an altar of some kind, resembling a budding fleet lotus, and hummed softly. Sidon walked slowly to it as if mesmerized, and Zelda had to adjust to his hold to keep from falling, as he seemed to have forgotten he was holding her in the first place.

“Sidon?”

“Do you hear it?” Sidon breathed, eyes transfixed, and Zelda looked to him with growing concern.

“The humming?”

“No… the voice…”

Zelda stopped, the pieces suddenly floating to the top.

What was it Rauru had said? ‘When the Demon King first rose to power, Sages from each of the four races rose up to meet him head-on, bringing with them great magical power in the shape of secret stones. Recover the stones, reawaken the reincarnations of the Sages. Only with the stones, the Sages, and your own holy power can you destroy the Demon King.’

Sages from each race. Reincarnations. Secret Stones.

It couldn’t be.

Could it?

Had she gone and stumbled onto the first parts of her quest without meaning to?

Sidon touched the stone.

There was silence for a moment, like the very air had stopped moving, the water around them ceasing to exist, and then the purple light turned a glorious blue, growing brighter, brighter, brighter—

“Sidon. Little tadpole. Cherished kin.”

Zelda opened her eyes. She hadn’t realized she had closed them. Around her and Sidon—who stood, silent and wide eyed—was a land of sand and mist, with the same solidity of a dream. And before them, a Queen.

She was Zora, with a long, broad snout and golden sash, and on her hand was the secret stone, glowing blue and beautiful. Sidon looked at her with quiet awe.

“You—you’re the voice I’ve been hearing. The one who has been speaking to me.”

“Indeed.” The Zora Queen said. “I am a distant ancestor from a time long past: Ruta, Queen of the Zora, the first to unite the Zora with the infant Kingdom of Hyrule during the Unification of the Continent.”

Sidon gasped, quickly putting Zelda down and dropping to his knees, the tip of his crest nearly reaching the ground as he bowed low before her. The Zora—Ruta—smiled. It did not look natural on her face. Zelda did not think this woman smiled often.

“Rise. I have been waiting for you, little tadpole, cherished kin. This creature you have fought, this filth you have washed away, was created by a great foe: The Demon King. He wished to prevent you from reaching this secret stone, and I from speaking with you.”

She looked to Zelda. “You are all that he said you would be, Zelda, Princess of Hyrule.”

Zelda’s mouth was dry.

“In my life, I was a mighty Queen, servant of the Zora people, and fought beside the people of Hyrule as the Sage of Water. I could manipulate water much as you do now, little tadpole, cherished kin. It is my blood in the veins of the Zora Royal Family that have blessed so many of your kin with powers of the arcane.”

She stepped closer, and Sidon lowered his gaze. She touched his chin, tilting his face to meet hers head on.

“Be not afraid.”

“I am not afraid!”

Ruta smiled. It looked more natural this time.

“You are the pride of the Zora. Your grace and care for your people, the compassion you hold in your heart—I could not ask for a more honorable descendant. You have bested the great evil that haunted this Domaine, but have barely scratched the hide of its creator. The Demon King cares not for the destruction of one servant. You must continue on.”

“Carry on? I’ve never even heard of a Demon King—your Majesty.” Sidon said, tacking on the honorific quickly. Ruta looked to Zelda, who raised her chin in acknowledgement. Ruta seemed pleased with what she saw.

“Then it is time, little tadpole, cherished kin, that you learn of the Imprisoning War.”

Ruta was a grand storyteller. She spun a whirlpool of words, speaking of times long past, of Hyrule in its infancy, of a grand, united Continent. Of the other sages, Naboris, Rudania, Medoh, and Mineru, of a great King and a mighty Queen—of treachery. Of stones and battles and death and death and death—

Of a king sealing a demon away, at the cost of his own life.

As she spoke, flashes of a life long past flickered against the mist and sand, blending in with her words, like a storybook of moving photos. Zelda found herself enraptured in them, floating in Ruta’s words.

One picture came into view as Ruta spoke.

Ruta was injured, clothes in tatters, face burned, but she held her head high as she was approached by a woman in white, veiled with long blond tresses, her dark skin only barely visible through the vestal garments. Beside her, was a man. One arm, burned to hell, looking beyond exhausted, wrapped in bandages and salve, reeking of gloom sickness. He held a baby in his one good arm, the ugliest newborn Zelda had ever seen.

“The magic restraining the Demon King will eventually be undone.” The woman in white rasped. “When that happens, a powerful magical user, the Princess of her time, Zelda, will rise to stop him.”

“I understand.” Ruta said, directing her words to the man. “What is it I must do?”

The woman and the man—Link, Link—looked to each other. His mouth was mum, his body language exhausted, and the woman seemed to have already prepared the answers, allowing him to keep quiet.

“Lend her your power. She will need allies beside her. Bring to her another sage of water.”

Ruta nodded, reaching forward to brush a curl from the baby’s face. “It will be my honor, and the honor of the Zora, to prevent the rise of the Demon King once again. I swear to you, that when this great evil returns, a Zora sage of water will rise once again.”

Link bowed before Ruta. She bid him to rise and cupped his cheek.

“I have faith,” she said, “in the both of us.”

Her eyes went to the stone, green and gold and glowing, at his hip, set inside a scabbard that held a decimated Master Sword.

“Promise me that you won’t do anything rash.” She said sternly, and Link’s mouth quirked at the corner in a miserable mockery of a smile.

The image faded from view as Ruta finished her tale. “That is all you need know of the Demon King, and the war to imprison him. Now, little tadpole, cherished kin, can I trust you to carry out this promise?”

“I…”

“Choose wisely, Sidon, Prince of the Zora.” She said, and then the sand and the mist were gone, replaced by the bright sky above the wellspring. Sidon was silent. Slowly, he took the stone in his hand.

“Sidon, please, don’t feel forced to—” Zelda started, but Sidon held up a hand.

“So, it is my destiny to aid you in your task…” He said softly, rolling the stone around in his hand. His quiet reverence was unnerving. “I came here that I might save Zora’s Domaine, and now it seems all of Hyrule is in need of me.”

Sidon turned to Zelda, head held high. “I’ll do all I can. Just as my ancestor did. I will accept this secret stone, and my place beside you as sage of water!”

The secret stone in his hand rumbled and glowed, pulsing like a beating heart, before attaching itself to the cuff of opals and chains he wore around his wrist. Sidon beamed down at Zelda.

“And as the sage of water, I gift you this power.”

The air around them wobbled, like the sun on violent white caps, until instead of one Sidon before her there was two, two Sidons, one a glowing blue avatar of the other, smelling of fresh rain and glittering like lake water under a sunrise. The avatar bowed deep before her, face blank, and Zelda’s throat was tight.

“Sidon—”

“Now I can travel with you, protect you, be by your side. You need never be alone! And I gift you, through this avatar, my power of water. May it aid you in your quest.”

Sidon knelt before Zelda, taking her hand. “I, Sidon, the sage of water, swear to fight by your hand, and serve by your side. Carry me with you, my power with you, my hope and my belief with you, and you shall never falter!”

Sidon drew her into a bone crushing hug, grinning broadly, and Zelda wanted nothing more than to hug him back.

So, she did.

Above them, the silent dragon flew as witness, its wild, blue eyes alight with something for the first time in millennia that might somehow, despite it all, be hope.

Quest: Sidon of the Zora

• Complete

Chapter Text

They left the sky much the same way as they had entered it; a running jump off a high ledge into a paraglider’s hold, Sidon wrapped tightly around Zelda’s waist. Zelda had expected him to be high energy and enthusiastic as they gently floated down to Ploymus Mountain’s peak, but he’d been quiet, contemplative.

When they landed at the highest point of Mipha’s Court, the Court was free of guards and lingering Zora—and sludge. The whole Domaine was clean of it, washed away by the wellspring’s spouts, the water clear and beautiful once more. Zelda waited for Sidon to laugh, to grin, to boast, to be over the moon, but instead, he took her hand with a gentle smile and led her down to the entrance to the Zora Palace.

“Sidon…” Zelda said softly as the great arching tail of the palace came into view. “What’s wrong? We won. The Domaine is safe.”

“And my father is still injured. The mystery of Link remains. I guess I had just… I had hoped for more answers, that is all.”

Zelda suddenly felt horrible for how excited she had been. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to consider your father,” she said softly. She bit her lip, debating how much to tell Sidon of the strange, warped, animalistic feeling she knew to be Link that she’d sensed up in the sky, or the face she’d seen as she fell. “I sensed Link. Up there. And I swear I saw a face… but no answers, not really.”

Sidon squeezed her hand. “We’ll find him. We’ll clear his name. Have faith.”

Zelda gave a single, strong nod. “Yes. Have faith.”

The plaza surrounding Link and Sidon’s statue was full to the brim, with small children running and playing with their crest tails bouncing against their backs, teens forgetting their need to seem adult as they splashed in the clean water, soldiers leaving their swords and spears behind to relish the clear, cool water flowing around them in gentle streams.

“Prince Sidon!” A gravely, old voice came from the top of the palace steps—Muzu? What was he doing outside the Pristine Sanctum? He was clear of the muck and sludge injuries from his encounter with Link, grinning broadly, and called for Sidon again. “Come, quickly! Your father wishes to speak with you!”

“My… father?” Sidon breathed, before grabbing Zelda’s wrist and sprinting up the steps, leaving her bobbing behind with a yelp. Sure enough, once they passed the main archway, there sat King Dorephan, fit as a fiddle, on his massive throne.

“Father!!” Sidon called out, rushing to him, “Are you still unwell? You should be healing!”

“With the disappearance of the sludge, the muck in my wounds faded away as well,” Dorephan said, reaching down to pat Sidon’s crest. “Whatever you and the Princess have done, it has saved my life. Thank you, both.”

Sidon suddenly looked unsure. “Father…”

“Be at peace, my son. The world is bright and clean again. I trust it was the two of yous doing?”

Sidon nodded. “We found a wellspring above the clouds and a strange mucktorock inside. The Princess—Zelda, she defeated the thing and saved my life. I am truly indebted to her.”

“And Link?”

“No answers, not yet, but we will not stop searching.”

“Good.” Dorephan settled back on his throne. “But there is more than just sludge creatures in this plot, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Zelda finally spoke. “A great deal more. The signs of the rise of a great Demon King are becoming clear, and your son has pledged himself to the cause.”

Dorephan smiled, though it carried a sadness to it. “I would expect nothing less. Princess, Sidon, thanks to your courage, the inhabitants of Zora’s Domaine are safe once again. No words can express my pride in you, my son, or my gratitude to you, Princess. From the bottom of my old heart, and under the watchful eyes of the Great Jabun, I thank you.”

Dorephan straightened, turning his gaze fully to Sidon. “Now, Sidon, my prince, my dear son, I speak freely when I tell you this. Though her Majesty surely played a role in the saving of this Domaine, your own efforts to protect this place and its people have proven to be nothing short of magnificent. I have always believed in you, Sidon. Now, you have unequivocally proven your worthiness to bear the crown. That is why I, with great and joyous pride, pass this throne to you.”

Sidon’s eyes went wide. “Father—I—”

“Do not look so surprised! This has been heavy on my mind for some time. Sidon, my son… It is time to ascend to the throne as the new king. I am honored to see you finally lead Zora’s Domaine to a brighter tomorrow.”

Sidon’s eyes were bright and starry, but he cleared his throat and lowered them, bowing deep before the king. With a strong, unwavering voice, he spoke. “Thank you, my king. I will not let you down! I swear it.”

Dorephan gestured for him to straighten. Sidon turned to Zelda, taking her hands. “Will you serve as my witness to this passage, your Majesty? And, as Princess, my tie to the greater Continent?... and, most dearly,  serve beside me as my friend?”

Zelda smiled, squeezing his massive palms.

“Sidon, I am truly blessed to see the day when you accept your place upon the throne. I would serve as your witness with great honor.”

Sidon grinned, and Zelda couldn’t help grinning back.

---

The coronation was going to be simpler than other Zora festivities Zelda had been to, in part from the suddenness of it all, but also because of the damage still clinging to the Domaine and the hefty recovery still ahead. The resources that once would have gone to the elaborate parties the Zora were known for were being funneled into health and infrastructure—and rightfully so!—and the knowledge that it was because of her, because of Zelda’s impulsivity and failures down below the castle made it very difficult to hold onto the ecstatic excitement from yesterday after SIdon's accention was announced.

Zelda lay in the waterbed that took up much of the massive guest room that had become officially hers in the years after the Calamity was exterminated. She hadn’t been able to sleep all night, mind whirling while the Domaine crept closer to dawn. While she didn’t spend as much time in the Domaine as Link did, choosing to spend more of her time tinkering with Purah at Lookout Landing or developing the school in Hateno, she was present more than often enough to have her own room inside Link’s sprawling suite deep in the guest wing of the castle—though, if Link asked, Zelda was sure Sidon would move his friend to the royal residential wing in a heartbeat. Link’s suite was massive, with multiple hundreds of square feet bedrooms, a living room lined with couches filled with warmed water that cradled your body just so and flickering blue-green fireplaces that smelled of clean, fresh seaside air, and a dining room that dripped in finery. If Link wanted, he’d never have to leave the suite, just have food and entertainment brought to him on a luminous stone platter, but instead, he spent most of his time amongst the people of the Domaine, Sidon arm and arm with him. Link didn’t like having a roof above him and walls on all four sides, never had, always needing to move. It was a quirk that had survived the Calamity, if anything becoming even more pronounced, which had always warmed Zelda’s heart. Which brought her to where she was now, in her room in Link’s painfully empty suite, absolutely, positively not wallowing. She was a princess. Princesses didn’t wallow.

Zelda sat up, the water shifting to hug her body as she moved, and slipped off the massive mattress, moving to the shared wall that opened to Link’s personal quarters. The two of them never slept far from each other if they could help it, sharing a bed in their home in Hateno and the guest room always reserved for them in Hudson’s place in Tarrey Town, and more often than not, nights spent at Zora’s Domaine would begin with Zelda slipping from her waterbed at the early hours of the night and stepping into Link’s room to find the blankets already thrown back for her as he practiced his letters.

He was getting so much better with them, and his handwriting was… Zelda stopped, half into Link’s bed, as her stomach sank. Link was ambidextrous with most things, a skill forced into him by the army, but his left arm had always been the most comfortable for him when holding a pen or a sword. And now that arm was gone.

Because he had stepped in between her and the mummy. He had stepped in between her and the mummy. He had—

He had—

Zelda suddenly found her breath coming out in short, shaking puffs, air unable to fill her lungs, and sunk to the cold stone floor of the room. Everything was cold and tingling, her bare feet to her fingertips, and black dots spun across her vision as she struggled to breathe. Link had stepped between her and the mummy. Link who looked so ill with gloom, so exhausted, so cold and wrong and false, like a marionette with broken strings, dumped into a vat of slow dissolving bleach, so far separated from life, whose aura felt so broken and twisted when she reached out to him—Link who was suffering, Link who was alone, alone, alone, because of her--!

A knock came at the door to the bedroom.

“Princess?” A voice called, gentle in its strength, but Zelda couldn’t make sense of it. Link had ignored her at Hyrule Castle, looking sick enough to be on death’s door, Link had been in hysterics as he wandered the Lanayru countryside looking for her, Link had turned his hands against Dorephan in what? Desperation? A moment of madness? Was he being threatened, on the run, pressured, or forced? Had his mind twisted and failed as his body dealt with the sickness so clearly plaguing it, the gloom illness and the wounds from a fight he lost because of her?

Was she responsible for Dorephan’s attack? Had her failure to protect her Knight, her Champion, her everything led to this?

What was the point of her Goddess damned power if she couldn’t protect the ones she loved?

“Zelda, I’m coming in,” the voice came again, but Zelda barely heard it.

What if whatever was wrong with Link—because something had to be wrong, Link, her Link, would never raise a hand to family—was irreversible? What if this sickness ate at him till he died? What if there would be nothing for her to find but a corpse?

Vaguely, Zelda was aware of footsteps, a soft voice, a gentle aura of fresh water and river current, and then there was a hand on her back. Her already strained breath tightened in panic and before she was aware of what she was doing, she was reaching deep behind her heart and flinging outwards violently—she grabbed hold of the first magic to come to her. Hylia was too slow to reach her, long since trained not to respond to unsteady emotion, so instead the old, volatile power that had been growing inside her latched hard onto her heart, flaring with rage as she lashed out. Sidon yelped as he stumbled back, clutching his smoldering hand and Zelda gasped as she took him in, her panic growing as she stammered out an apology, scrambling backward.

“Zelda, I need you to breathe. Come on, in and out, that’s it. Look at me, it’s okay. Can you tell me five things you can see right now?”

“I—I—”

“Let’s start small. Just one, alright? What is one thing you can see?”

Zelda’s eyes flicked around frantically, trying to process the room around her. Where was Link? Link always helped, always helped lower her when her head went sky high like this. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here!?

“I see… the, the tile.” She choked out, digging her nails into the pale blue, opal, and mother of pearl-covered floor.

“Good, fantastic. Now what’s something else? Can you give me two more?”

“The… the curtains… and the bed sheets…”

“Just two more, you’re doing wonderfully.”

“The door. Y—your hand…”

“The tile, the curtains, the bed sheets, the door, and my hand, right?”

Zelda nodded.

“Now what are four things you can feel?”

“The tile. It’s cold. And, and hard. And I can feel the, the weight of my clothes. And, my hair on my cheeks. And the… blanket?”

Zelda blinked. When had the quilt on the bed made its way around her shoulders?

“Wonderful. Now can you tell me three things you can hear?”

Zelda took a stuttering breath. “The… the waves outside. My breathing. Your voice.”

“What are two things you can smell?”

“The salt water in the mattress. Something… burning?”

Her eyes widened as she took in Sidon fully—Sidon, and his seared scales across his right hand.

“Sidon! I—I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to—oh Goddess, oh Hylia above, Sidon—!”

“It’s alright, Princess,” Sidon said softly, sitting beside her but giving her plenty of room, should she need it. Zelda buried her face in her hands. “Now, can you tell me one thing you can taste?”

“Sidon—”

“Zelda—”

“I’m fine now, Si, I don’t—”

“Humor me,” Sidon said softly, and Zelda realized with mortification that she was crying.

“I… my breath? I haven’t brushed my teeth.”  

Sidon smiled, and even small, it was blinding. “May I touch you?” He said softly, and Zelda shook her head.

“Please, don’t.”

“Alright, I understand.”

Zelda sniffled. “I’m so sorry.”

“Think nothing of it. It was an accident. Link nearly took my head off after trying to wake him from a bad dream once. It comes with the territory.”

Zelda curled her fingers into her scalp.

“I’m supposed to be better than this.”

“Zelda…”

“No! I am! What’s the point of being powerful if you can’t control it? I’m supposed to protect people, and I could have killed you!”

“But you didn’t,” Sidon said simply, and Zelda couldn’t stop the sobs anymore. Sidon just settled back, getting comfortable, and started talking softly about the planning for the ceremony, about the potential for a marriage the same day, about the massive feast planned for afterward, and slowly, Zelda began to recenter. She wiped her face with her sleeve, and Sidon smiled softly.

“Are you back with me?”

Face burning, Zelda nodded.

“Good. I had figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after all of this, so I wanted to come and see if you wanted to have an early breakfast with me and Yona, somewhere quiet with just the three of us, where we can decompress.”

“That… that sounds lovely, Si.”

Sidon reached out a hand. “May I touch you?”

Zelda took his hand, and he carefully pulled her up. She was hovering over his sizzling hand in an instant, and Sidon brushed her off with a casual smile.

“Yona will take a look and I’ll be good as new. Be at peace, friend.”

Zelda took a shaky breath. “Right. Yes. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Sidon’s good hand found her cheek. His scales were cold and slick with protective mucus, healthier than they’d seemed since she first saw him yesterday. “Think nothing of it.”

---

Zelda was sweating by the time they made it to the East Reservoir Lake’s central entrance.

“I assumed we would be eating at some gazebo by the Palace grounds,” She said as they climbed the seemingly hundreds of stairs, and Sidon laughed.

“I thought a picnic would be nice. Don’t tell me you’re out of breath already? You just went on an adventure?”

Zelda stuck her tongue out at him, and Sidon laughed again. Still, as long as the hike was, she couldn’t hold back a gasp as they made it passed the stairs to the lake. The waterfall from the water temple was still flowing, the sunrise shining pink and beautiful across the flowing waters, and the mist churned up by the waterfall shone rainbow in the morning light.

“Beautiful, yes?” Sidon said, and Zelda nodded mutely. Hyrule’s beauty… it would never cease to amaze.

The East Reservoir served as a dam that had served the people of Hyrule for centuries, ensuring plentiful water for the whole Continent, and, a hundred years ago, the home of the Divine Beast Vah Ruta. She was long gone now, dismantled and repurposed, but Zelda still looked back on her resting place fondly.

A motion to the left caught Zelda’s eye and she turned. Yona waved again, sitting delicately on a beautiful quilt, a spread of food before her.

“Come, Princess! I’ve been waiting.” She said, voice bright and dainty before her eyes widened at the sight of Sidon’s hand. “Your Majesty!”

“It only smarts a little, darling,” Sidon reassured her, and Yona clicked her tongue, taking Sidon’s hand in her own as he and Zelda sat.

“What on earth happened?” She asked, and Zelda flushed.

“I—”’

“It’s no matter,” Sidon said, waving his free hand flippantly, and Yona raised her crest but made no further comment.

“Did you sleep well?” Yona asked Zelda as her hand lit up, beautiful light enveloping Sidon’s hand.

Zelda plastered a false smile on and nodded. “I slept wonderfully.”

Yonna tutted. “Please, dear, let’s not tell lies this early in the morning.”

“I… could have slept better,” Zelda said sheepishly, and Yona smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry to hear that, love.”

Sidon drew back his hand and Yona leaned forward, cupping Zelda’s cheek. “Perhaps a quiet morning with friends will calm your mind and you can sleep when we finish, at least until the ceremony.”

“The ceremony!” Zelda perked up. “Oh, I haven’t been to a proper Zora party in so long.”

“I am afraid it won’t be as grand as the parties in past years,” Sidon said, and he sounded genuinely disappointed. “The passing of the throne was too sudden, and there is still so much to be done when it comes to rebuilding efforts. It will be far smaller than a usual royal party.”

Yona patted Sidon’s shoulder. “We’ll throw you a proper party soon, don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need a party—”

“Nonsense! You’ve been waiting your whole life for this. It’s okay to be a tad disappointed… actually, that reminds me…” Yona said, voice growing softer with each word. “There was something I had wished to discuss with you.”

Sidon cocked his head. “Oh?”

“I’ve been… thinking…” Yona nibbled at a seaweed bread and roasted stealthfin finger sandwich, the crusts removed and the dark green bread cut into elegant triangles. She was quiet for a long time, long enough for Sidon to start to fidget.

“You are my best friend,” She said slowly, “and my beloved. I care deeply for you, and love you, but not… not in the way a queen should. I understand the point of an arranged marriage, the importance of our union, and how vital our marriage is but… But I worry I am stealing the chance of love from you. And, as selfish as it to say, I am worried that in marrying you, I am… I am stealing the chance of love from myself.”

“Yona—” Sidon said softly, and Yona raised a hand.

“I… I have a confession. Something I have been keeping to myself since we met. I don’t want you to think that I never loved you, that I never cared for you, that each time I have called you sweet things they were a lie—because they were far from it! But those words… they were not meant with love in my heart, only friendship and…”

Yona sighed and Sidon took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Sidon I— I-am-not-interested-in-men.” Yona forced the words past her lips so fast that for a moment Zelda missed their meaning, and then Yona was flushing a bright red and hiding her face in her hands.

“Yona?” Sidon said, reaching forward and gently moving her hands away from her face. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Yona squeaked, “I am supposed to be your beloved! I am supposed to unite our two kingdoms in love! How can I do that when I cannot love you? I’ve failed our marriage.”

Sidon smiled softly, squeezing Yona’s hands in his.

“Yona, dear, an arranged marriage is simply that—arranged. I expect no love from you. Friendship is more than enough. And, should you wish to call off the marriage that you may be able to pursue some lovely lass in the future, well, there are other ways to seal treaties that don’t require such an emotional commitment.” Yona leaned into Sidon’s side and Sidon squeezed her tight. “I will always love you, but frankly… the thought that it need not be romantic is… a great loss of pressure from my shoulders.”

Yona nodded, smiling softly, and Sidon’s own smile grew to a grin.

“Now, is there a specific lady who brought about this sudden announcement?”

Yona’s face was bright blue, her blush taking up almost all of her face.

“No!”

“Are you so sure?” Sidon said slyly, and Yona buried her face in her hands.

“No one! None at all!” She squeaked, and Sidon laughed.

“If you say so,” he said, nudging Yona with his shoulder, and Zelda couldn’t help the sour bitterness that settled in her gut watching them and their happiness.

Link should be here. Sidon was his best friend, and he and Yona had been getting along more so than ever, Link finally putting aside his protectiveness of his friend and opening himself up to new ones. He should be there to hear Yona open herself up—because Zelda knew she would tell him, just as she knew he would love her for it.

“How does the idea of a life partnership sound, instead of a marriage?” Sidon asked, and Yona cocked her head.

“Oh?”

“We sign the treaty, and instead of a marriage following, we do a ceremony dedicating our lives to each other through friendship and duty to our people.”

“I… would like that.”

Sidon patted Yona’s hand. “I’m glad.” He finished the sandwich in his hand and stretched.

“Now, shall we enjoy the clean water?” He said, and Yona stood, helping him up—a laughable sight with Sidon a good three heads taller than her. Yona wasn’t a small Zora by any means, but Sidon was, well, Sidon, and he towered over her as he drew himself to his full height. He took off into a sprint, Yona calling after him with laughter in her voice, and Sidon jumped off the pier with a mighty cannonball, Yona not far behind.

“Come in, Princess!” Sidon called, his scales glittering in the early morning light, “It’s only a tad chilly!”

Zelda shook her head, forcing a smile in place. “In a minute or two.” She called back, and Sidon nodded, looking disappointed, until Yona yanked him down under the water in a shower of giggles.

Zelda tried to fight back the growing unease in her gut. No, unease was the wrong word. The growing guilt. How dare she sit with Link’s best friend, sharing breakfast sandwiches and heart-to-hearts when Link was missing, was ill? She’d felt his aura, his spirit, a few times now, on the Great Sky Islands and at the Water Temple, and both times the magic that connected their very souls had felt off, animalistic, wrong in a way she’d never experienced before. What could have happened that would change one’s very spirit signature so? Was that kind of what, injury? trauma? something that could be recovered from?

He'd looked so pale… what if this was a degree of gloom sickness that one could not shake? The thought made Zelda’s stomach cramp and her blood chill in her veins. No. Now wasn’t the time to think of such things. She watched Sidon and Yona in the water and plastered on a smile, the kind she’d wear in court a hundred years ago when she wanted to be doing anything but politics but needed to keep up appearances. It was a false smile, but a convincing one, and it carried a small nostalgia with it, a homesickness for a time that was far gone and never would be again.

Zelda liked to think that over the past five years, she’d come to terms with her home being lost, her father dead, and her country never being the same again. She’d decided to let the monarchy lie, forgotten, and, had the others of Hyrule not taken to calling her ‘princess’ and insisting she still carried power, she would have left the title behind alltogether. Still, there were the small memories of a Hyrule Castle at its most pristine, of Link making silly faces behind ambassadors as she forced that political smile on her face, making her mouth curl a little more naturally. Of Mipha and a little Sidon playing together, the younger of the two starstruck by the Hylian Princess. Of Daruk and his bone-crushing hugs as she worked tirelessly to enamor him to the little puppy that nipped at the help’s heels in the castle. Of Revali and their archery competitions, the mighty archer giving her tips and tricks with a smirk, insisting that no Princess of his was going to make a fool of herself with a bow—code for ‘I enjoy spending time with you and consider ourselves friends, and wish to help in any way I can’.

Urbosa.

Damn it all, what Zelda wouldn’t give to see Urbosa one last time.

“Little bird…”

Link told Zelda he’d seen her in Vah Naboris, her spirit, and that she had spoken to him, making him promise to take good care of Urbosa’s little bird. The first time he told Zelda, she’d shut down, drifting in a haze of grief that lasted for days, curled up in bed until Link grabbed her by the wrist and took her to Gerudo Town to meet Riju.

“You can’t change the past,” Link had signed, “Let us build instead to a better future.”

Zelda thought—no, knew—that Urbosa would be beyond proud of Riju, the girl she was and the woman she was becoming. She told that to Riju often, and the comment never seemed to stop the girl from seeing stars and blushing red as a voltfruit.

Zelda didn’t know if Riju knew who her grandmother was, and could never decide how to bring up the topic if the little Chief didn’t. Neikana had been a beautiful woman, but more importantly, a great Chief and Urbosa had been smitten. The General of Neikana's armies, Urbosa had kept a professional distance from the Chief—in public. Behind closed doors, the two were attached at the hip, the hands, the mouths—when Neikana became pregnant, all the Champions knew who her secret lover was.

And then came the Calamity, and death, and the rise of the Yiga foothold in the Gerudo Desert, and Neikana, having just given birth weeks prior, led her people into battle against the Shiekah traitors, ready to avenge her beloved. When she died, not long into the siege, Riju’s mother was left without parents, raised by the courts instead—just like Riju would be, when the mother died, leaving Riju, seven and alone, to be taken in by Buliara. Now, at fifteen, Riju was proving to be just as great a leader as both her grandmothers. Neikana would be proud. Ubrosa would be proud. Zelda was proud, so proud.

Zelda’s hands itched, and she suddenly felt incredibly antsy sitting here instead of making her way to the Gorons. Or… or maybe she should go see Riju. While Zelda didn’t doubt she was handling whatever shit was attacking the Gerudo as Zelda sat here, Riju was the youngest of any of the leaders upon the Continent, and, frankly, Zelda missed her.

Zelda found the Purah pad in her hands without even thinking about it. She slid the stylist free of its case in the side of the pad and nibbled on the nib. It was beginning to look worse for wear after all her chewing, but it was a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to shake.

Link, she wrote, the pad chirping as she opened a new page. Where should I go next? The Gorons are closest, but my heart yearns for Urbosa, for her home and her people. And shame on me, for not even sparing a thought for the Rito.

Where are you? Have you sought out Riju? Yunobo? Teba? I hear his little one has grown so much. You’ve always loved children—did you go there, to check on them?

Did you go anywhere with good intentions?

What am I saying? Of course, you did. One misunderstanding with the Zora equals not a rampage of violence. I know you would never raise a hand to family, at least not without good reason.

What on earth could that reason be? What do you know that I don’t?

I hope you’re getting treatment for whatever has made you so ill. You look, frankly, like shit.

I’m… I’m sorry. This is my fault. I wanted to see the mummy. I wanted to investigate the green light. You wanted to turn back, and I insisted. And now you’re down an arm and sick as hell and all alone. Do you know your aura is so totally… totally… well, totally fucked? You feel wrong. It scares me. I’m being foolish, right?

Right?

Tell me I’m being foolish.

Please.

Zelda looked up to where Sidon and Yona were lounging in the lake, enjoying the clean water.

Yona and Sidon have called off the wedding in exchange for a vow of friendship. Does this mean that Yona is now legally a closer friend than you? I’m sure that stings ; ) you’ll have to share now more than ever.

I jest. Sidon will still see you as his very best of friends.

Should I see Riju next? I miss her. I’m sure I’ll find a sage there, and likely a secret stone. Riju will be a great help in that department, I’m sure, and I’m determined to help her in any way I can. I don’t doubt the Gerudo are in need of help, with the way the world has gone to shit.

Oh! I saw the dragon again. You’ve always loved them, their majesty, what they stood for—I wish you could see this one. It’s magnificent, but small, and scarred—is it strange that it reminds me of you? It carries itself in a similar way if that makes any sense. Proud and quiet, strong in its smallness and injuries. I’ve never seen a dragon like it before. I wish I could show it to you. When this is all over and I find you, I’ll take you to the Great Sky Islands and you can see it for yourself. The silent dragon and the silent knight—I hope you’ll find as much comfort in it as I am in your absence.

---

The coronation was a simple affair, as was the pledge of friendship between Sidon and Yona, the River and Ocean Zora standing hand in hand above the main plaza, Muzu leading Sidon in the coronation vows and Yona in the vow of friendship while all Zora’s Domaine crammed itself into the plaza below, spilling into side streets and alleyways as they strained to see and hear their new King and Queen.

“I hereby inherit this crown from my father, the Exalted Dorephan,” Sidon had said, echoing Muzu’s words. “From this moment on, I shall be King of the Zora. At this same precious moment, I ask that you open your hearts to our new ally, my beloved Yona. May our friendship and our people’s unity stretch long and far!”

The crowd burst into cheers, and Yona had smiled brilliantly at Sidon’s side.

“The sludge threatens us no more. We are once again free to swim through crystal waters beneath azure skies without fear!” She had said, before turning to Zelda, who stood regally at Sidon’s side at the Zora King’s request. “We could not have achieved this without our dear King Sidon, but also our heroic Princess Zelda.”

Zelda had bowed, and the crowd had gone wild.

“I am so proud,” Zelda had said, taking Sidon and Yona’s hands, “and so very grateful to count myself as family within the Zora of this Domaine. However, that does not mean all that matters has been resolved.”

Sidon nodded, taking a step forward. “So long as darkness lurks in the depths of Hyrule, this peace we have fought so hard for could vanish like a bubble on a needle. We shall not allow that. It is now time for the Zora to help Princess Zelda prevail. Everyone of this Domaine, large and small, I ask you to lend her your strength. Doing just that shall be the first task that I and Lady Yona, my partner in life and leadership shall undertake as King and friend!”

The ceremony lasted only a short time after, leaving Zelda with no more time left to stall. She packed what little she had, wished a bitter goodbye to Link’s suite, and turned to go when she walked right into Sidon’s chest.

“Zelda,” He said softly, “There is something I’d like to discuss before you leave: Link.”

Zelda breathed in sharply. Sidon was right, there was much to be discussed, but… but frankly, she had no desire to do it.

“Regarding his whereabouts…” Sidon said voice barely a murmur in case of listening ears. “When I obtained the secret stone, I saw a vision of a man and a woman in white, speaking to the Sage of Water. Did you…?”

Zelda nodded, swallowing. Link. It had been Link. Which didn’t make sense.

“He looked… ill, unstable, one-armed, but he bore an uncanny resemblance to Link. What if… that is indeed who it was?” Sidon said.

“But that was millennia in the past, and he was just seen days ago—”

“I know, I know. But it doesn’t make any sense. Link attacking father, Link acting so hysterical—there are many words to describe Link, but hysterical is not one of them.”

“If he was in the past, how would he get there? How would he get back?”

“I… I do not know. I’m just thinking out loud here. I must be getting carried away. It just simply isn’t possible. The Sage lived in the distant past, as you said. It would be impossible for the two to have crossed paths. In any case, what we need now is information, yes?”

Zelda nodded. “Absolutely. I’m sure that somehow, somewhere there are clues. I’ll find him. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Sidon rested a hand on her cheek. “I know you will. Now, this power I have gifted you, the Sage’s Vow—I am unsure how it will work for you. This is all very new for me. But I will always be with you, both when you do and don’t need me. Understand, your Majesty?”

Zelda gave Sidon a soft smile, forcing any bitterness from it. “I understand.”

---

Sidon wasn’t kidding when he said the Sage’s Vow would be with her. As soon as she left the Domaine, something at the back of her neck tingled and she turned, finding herself face to face with the swirling, half-solid blue of the Sage’s Vow. It was the spitting image of Sidon in every way, from its crest to its towering height, missing only Sidon’s smile. Its face was blank, but not empty, filled to the brim with swirling magic that made waves just under the Vow’s not-skin, like a living whirlpool. Zelda reached out with a hesitant hand and pressed gentle fingertips to the Vow’s cheekbone. There was a little give, like her fingers had begun to sink into the blue light only to be held back, and she was surprised at the cool, slimy texture of the Vow’s skin—it was just like Sidon’s own scales. Zelda unfolded the magic behind her heart and reached out, brushing against the Vow. It felt like a cool lakeside breeze, like gentle yet booming laughter, like a smooth river rock held softly between palms.

It felt like Sidon.

“Can you hear me?” Zelda said softly, circling the Vow. It tracked her movement with its head, its blank eyes wide and… curious?

“Do you understand me?” Zelda asked, and the Vow reached forward, mimicking her previous movement and pressing a cold fingertip to her cheekbone. It cocked its head, and Zelda smiled. The Vow smiled back, a tad strange looking and uncentered, but still cupped her face and leaned down, pressing its crest to her forehead. It made a murmuring sound, not quite words but obviously purposeful. Zelda’s smile grew.

“Hello.” She said, and the Vow murmured back, sounding not unlike the babbling of a brook. “Shall we be off?”

The Vow stepped back, bowing low before her, and Zelda steadied herself. “What do you think? Goron or Gerudo?”

A gentle murmur of water on stone.

“Gerudo? I agree. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen Riju. I can handle a detour. Then, we can head north to the Rito and east to the Goron. How’s that sound?”

The Vow kept pace with her easily, walking a step behind her, and Zelda slowed her gate so she and the Vow were shoulder to shoulder.

“You don’t have to walk behind me, you know. We can be friends, you and I.”

The Vow let out a bubbling sound that might have been a laugh, and Zelda’s stomach grew warm in a soft, happy way.

“Friends. As long as Si doesn’t get too jealous!”

---

Zelda decided to cut across Central Hyrule, instead of following the mountains of Lanayru. From there she could have gone to Lurelin Village, crossed through Faron to visit the dondons there, and then crossed Lake Hylia to the entrance to Gerudo Valley. It was a well-worn path that she knew well but would take forever, and that was time she did not have. So, instead, she would cut across Central Hyrule, past Kolomo Garrison, skirt along the Great Plateau, Sidon’s Vow by her side the entire time. Zelda found herself talking to it more often than not, frequently wondering if Sidon was aware of what his Vow was aware of, but regardless, it was nice to not be alone. To have a friend with her, even if it was only a Vow and not the real thing.

She had stopped for a sip of water and to rest her feet when she first noticed it—the smell wafted on the wind, rotten and metallic, like blood left to fester in the sun. Because that was what it was. Blood, left to fester under the bright sun.

Zelda had thought it was some kind of massive dead animal at first for it to stink up the open field, maybe a rotting hinox corpse, and approached with caution, curiosity guiding her from the small valley between hills she’d plopped down in up over a large, towering hill, up to the very crest. From there, she could see the puddles of rotting, half-dried blood. Whatever had left them was long gone, either scrambling somewhere peaceful to die or having already been picked clean and scattered. But what could bleed this much? Not any animal, or any monster for that matter, that Zelda knew.

A shadow passed over Zelda. She looked up, up, far into the sky, where she could just make out the form of a tiny dragon. The silent dragon. It writhed in the sky, scratching at its infected—could dragons even get infections? — shoulder with its cracked horn. The skin split, small droplets of blood falling to the ground like gentle, foul-smelling rain. It climbed higher into the sky, passed the clouds, and Zelda stared at the bloody puddles before her in awe. Dragon’s blood. This wasn’t a mutated deer or hinox. It was a dragon.

The puddles seemed to follow some kind of pattern… Zelda walked carefully through the rot, careful not to touch the blood, and noticed how it curved in an elegant, purposeful way. It was almost like a design of some kind, like a painting with blood, or a geoglyph. Zelda frowned. She couldn’t make out the picture, not all the way down here, but if she could get to higher ground…

Zelda glanced over her shoulder. The Great Plateau towered at her back, its walls chiseled away by time into something perfect for climbing. She should ignore the blood, keep moving, but… but what if it was some kind of clue? It could be, right?

Link may not have been the biggest fan of the Great Plateau, calling it a living tomb, a green graveyard preserved in time, but he’d always spoken fondly of the Temple of Time. He once told her, as they hid out from a thunderstorm under Her Grace’s watchful stone eyes, that the Temple felt simpler than the rest of the world around him, its borders clearly drawn, its rules simply set. He knew that he romanticized it a smidge too much, but the Temple had been the only place he had spent time in when he woke up before Zelda’s father put the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. The Temple was quiet and removed- it was his.

Zelda regretted for a moment allowing Link to tear down all her beloved Sheikah tech as she began her climb. Zelda hated climbing, hated the shakiness of her arms, hated the weight of her body fighting against her shoulders. Link always wanted her to go rock climbing with him, and while Zelda would grin and bear it for him, that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared to grumble about it now. As she pulled herself over the edge, the tall grasses of the Great Plateau moved like water in the breeze; the Plateau’s crown, Mount Hylia, stood stark against the skyline, and its heart, the Temple of Time, sat old, broken, and forgotten in the green.

Zelda let herself take in the sight of Link’s living graveyard before turning back out to the field, and what she saw took her breath away.

It was a Zonai. It had to be.

The blood had pooled and flowed into lines and divots forming the outline of a Zonai quite like the ones Zelda and Link had seen below the castle. Large ears, intricate outfits and jewelry, a towering stature—or so she assumed—, it had to be Zonai. So why the hell was the silent dragon’s blood forming something so detailed, so obviously purposeful? Did dragon’s blood normally do this? Was this typical?

Zelda leaned over the edge of the Plateau. She didn’t have much time to dawdle, but she still took picture after picture, angling the Purah pad this way and that, getting the best lighting she could. She should show these to Tauro—the researcher would be over the moon. But… but this felt like something that should belong to her and her alone, like it was somehow the silent dragon’s gift to her. She slipped the pad back on her hips and began to crawl down. At the base of the cliff, Sidon’s Vow was waiting patiently.

Zelda shook out her fingers as she hopped down the last few feet to the ground and stepped around the blood. Fuck, she hated climbing. She’d made it halfway across the bloody geoglyph when her boot squelched on a patch of rotting blood. The slick grass gave way under her feet and then she was falling, landing on her outstretched arms with a thud, smacking her chin on the ground, getting a faceful of bloody mud for her troubles. She spat out the stinking blood.

Huh. She’d always been told that—

That tasting a dragon’s—

That the blood—

The blood—

The bottom of the Plateau was gone, instead the horizon of Hyrule stretching before her as she stood on the towering clifface that helped house the Shrine of Ressurection. Link's rebirth place, the origin of his second life. What in Hylia's...? A pained moan came from behind her, along with hushed, stressed voices.

“Arlnado, Suzani!” An accented voice called. Zelda spun—a creature was kneeling on the ground, his ears massive and dripping in finery. “I need the on-site healer, now!”

“Yes, your Majesty!” Two people that could have been Hylians, if they hadn’t looked so strange, immediately answered, dressed in clothes the likes of which Zelda had never seen before. They ran, brushing right through her, and Zelda stumbled back in surprise. Where—where was she?

She looked to the horizon on the Plateau—Death Mountain was smaller, the Deuling Peaks one single mountain, Hyrule Castle gone—

“Sweet Hylia…” Zelda breathed, and then the creature was barking orders again, leaning over somebody. Beside him was a woman, this one clearly a Hylian, and breathtakingly beautiful, with dark skin and white blonde twists, covered head to toe in tattoos and dressed in the same strange clothes, though hers carried an elegant, regal air. She was leaning over the body as well, murmuring sweet nothings, glowing golden as she ran her hands over the body. Hesitantly, Zelda moved forward to see just what the two were fussing over, only to let out a strangled noise. She knew that face, even burned and blackened with gloom, knew that hair, even as it sizzled and burned, knew that sword—

Link.

Link’s eyes fluttered, pained whimpers and whines slipping from his bloody, parted lips as the woman pressed two hands over his heart. Her body moved rhythmically, some bizarre form of CPR, and the stone on her necklace glowed brilliantly, the light channeling all the way down to his heart, glowing like a tiny sun upon his chest.

A secret stone.

“His heart isn’t beating on its own anymore,” the woman said, her voice firm and steady, her brows set.

“Just, just turn back the clock and make it start again!” The creature snapped. His arm—a prosthetic, green and gold and beautifully made with a stone inset in the back of the hand—glowed as he hovered his hand up and down Link’s gloom-infected limb.

“What do you think I’m doing?” The woman said, sounding far more calm than her partner. “I can only hold time back for so long. If we don’t get it beating again on its own sooner than later then we’re going to have some serious problems on our hands—”

“Al and Suz went to get a healer.” The creature said, almost pleading, though to whom, Zelda didn't know. Gloom mist poured out of Link’s arm at his touch but still clung stubbornly to the flesh. “I don’t think he’ll be able to keep the arm.” He said softly. The woman nodded solemnly.

“We’ll give him the best chance we can. Have faith, beloved.”

Beside him, the Master Sword was a hideous sight to behold, torn to shreds and shattered to bits. Zelda reached out to try and take Link’s good hand, but her flesh went straight through his own.

“Link?” She called, “Link!?” For a moment his head seemed to incline to her as if he could hear her, but then the moment was gone and he was seizing, convulsing on the ground, gloom bubbling out of his mouth in some foul mockery of blood.

“Link!”

“Out of my way,” A stern voice called, pushing through the crowd of almost-Hylians that had begun to grow.

“Raji,” the creature said, voice breathy with thanks. “I’m not sure what happened—we only just found him, but there’s some kind of dark magic, something foul. It’s fighting my stone’s light magic with distressing success. That arm—if we don’t get whatever is in it out or off then he won’t last much longer.”

The healer—Raji—gave a succinct nod. “My lord, my lady, you’ve both done well. Let me get to work.” She said, and the woman shook her head.

“I’ll work as you work. Focus on that arm, I’ll keep his heart beating.”

“Queen Sonia—”

“I was not offering, Raji.”

Raji frowned but nodded, pushing the creature to the side and taking Link’s arm in hand.

“This needs to come off.” She said bluntly. “I’m not thrilled at the thought of doing a field amputation, but—”

“At this point, I fear it may be our only choice,” the woman-- Queen?-- echoed, and Raji’s frown grew. She rolled up her sleeves.

“Is that his sword?” She asked, jerking her head to Fi.

“We don’t know.”

“Well, let’s just hope he’s not left-handed.”

Zelda's eyes burned, though she was unsure if it was from tears or the fact that she hadn’t been blinking, simply staring at Link’s broken body with a paralyzing horror.

No wonder you looked so ill.

She reached for his hand again, and again it was useless, flesh slipping past flesh. Still, Zelda sat beside him as the equipment for a field amputation was gathered. She may not be able to give her dearest friend physical comfort, but she’d be damned if she let him go through this alone.

Chapter Text

Zelda sat with Link as the strange woman beside him laid out the tools for a field amputation. It wasn’t the first time Zelda had seen someone lose a limb, but it was the first time she’d seen it done on… on purpose.

She remembered all too well the smell of charred flesh and cooking blood as body parts were blown off the people fleeing Castle Town. Her people. Those who were quickly killed in direct blasts were the lucky ones, granted the mercy of a quick death, verses that of those left limbless to die in the streets, body parts blown around them, nothing but pitiful, writhing victims of the Calamity left to bleed out amongst the chaos.

Castle Town. Fort Hateno. The Citadel.

The Castle itself and everyone inside.

Her father.

All in pieces.

Zelda had personally seen people lose limbs, but never done by medical hands. The woman—Raji—ordered her assistants with a brisk but calm tone, tying the tourniquet with experienced fingers. Beside her, the dark-skinned, pregnant woman with beautiful locked hair kept a hand over Link’s heart, eyes fluttering behind her eyelids as she sent pulses of strange energy from the secret stone at her throat into Link.

The creature—who was clearly Zonai, clearly Rauru, Zelda noted, now that the shock of seeing her best friend, her other half, her Link seizing with gloom oozing from his arm, had passed. He wasn’t a ghost this time, that much was clear— his fur was finely brushed and dripped with ornate jewelry. He wasn’t dressed for court, despite being a king, but his clothes were still intricately embroidered and beautiful. If the situation weren’t dire, Zelda’s fingers would have itched for her camera to document the symbols stitched across Rauru’s shawl and to get a better look at the third eyelid on his forehead. Instead, she clutched Link’s good hand to the best of her abilities and watched with bated breath as Raji made the first incision. She wished she could touch Link, hold him, rest his head in her lap, and brush her fingers through his filthy hair as the healer worked, but instead, she let her hand curl around his, so close to touching but still not enough.

Raji spoke to the tattooed woman—Sonia? As in Queen Sonia the First!?—softly, instructing her this way and that while Sonia focused on… on… on turning back time to restart Link’s heart. That was what Rauru said, wasn’t it? That Sonia was keeping his heart beating, holding back death itself with that stone?

What kind of power did a secret stone have, to be able to hold back death itself? Rauru had said, back on the Great Sky Islands, that the Demon King had been after the stones, and that only every stone used together could defeat him.

Zelda was suddenly very sure that she had seriously underestimated her opponent if this was what just one stone was capable of. Sonia wasn’t even breaking a sweat, obviously serious and focused on her job, but still not seeming to struggle or strain under the magic at all. She murmured quietly to Link, keeping her free hand on his forehead, rubbing her thumb against his temple, and making soothing sounds every time he groaned or moaned under her. The strange, glowing blue blade in Raji’s hand, not unlike that of a Guardian’s sword, cut easily through Link’s flesh with little sawing needed, but once the blade passed through the flesh deeper into his arm, Link’s back arched as he screamed. His eyes were open but unseeing, his voice raw, and he flailed, pulling away from the healer as he thrashed. Sonia shushed him softly, but not unkindly. Zelda thought she might retch. Instead, she swallowed down bile and reached forward, cupping Link’s face to the best of her noncorporeal abilities and pressing her forehead against his.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, fighting the tears in her eyes, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. These people are going to help you, okay? I’ll be here the whole time.”

For a moment, a millisecond, Link’s eyes flitted to hers, wide and tearful but aware, aware of her, but then they were rolling back in his head again, and the bone was cut, blood vessels quickly clamped off and cauterized, and then Link was still and silent.

Rauru, who had been standing awkwardly behind the two women, hand buried in the fur of his chin, called out to Sonia softly.

“His heartbeat is thready and weak,” she replied, “and I doubt it will support him for long, but whatever that thing on his arm is, getting it off of him clearly helped.”

“Get him some antiseptic and antibiotics, some hearty elixir, numbing agent, and a pain elixir. If he can make it through the night, then I have hope.” Raji said. Rauru knelt beside her, hovering a hand over Link’s severed—Zelda swallowed down bile a second time—severed arm. It sizzled, gloom quickly eating through the flesh down into the bone, and Rauru made a face of disgust as he attempted to touch it with a brilliantly glowing hand. The gloom writhed under the magic, clearly something holy or light-based to reject the gloom so instantly, the foul stuff hissing like a black viper.

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” Rauru murmured as the gloom writhed under the glow of his hand. “Some kind of dark magic, perhaps? It seems almost… organic. Alive, unlike any kind of dark magic I’ve seen before. Like it was born, not crafted.”

“Do you think this speaks of a new problem for Hyrule?” Sonia said, and Rauru’s hand was back on his beard.

“I’m unsure. I’d say we should bring the arm back, let a magician take a look at it, but frankly, touching it seems unwise.”

Sonia nodded. Between her and her king, the arm sizzled and foamed, turning black and charred. “There might not even be any left by the time we get back…” she said, nose crinkled in disgust at the smell of gloom on flesh. She turned back to Link, who had gone still. Raji was working silently on securing the bleeding stump, working quickly and succinctly as she tightened the tourniquet and wrapped the open wound. Link’s face was pale and sallow, almost waxy, his lips tinged grey, but his chest was rising. Softly, minutely, almost impossibly slow, but still rising.

“Where did you come from, little one?” Sonia said softly, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. Suddenly, a glowing warmth came from his trouser pocket, a pale green-gold that shone through the very fabric. Sonia cocked her head and leaned forwards, reaching in and gasping at what she found when she pulled out a secret stone—the same one Link and Zelda had seen below Hyrule Castle. The same one that had fallen from the arm that had held back the Demon King,

The same one that Link had passed from palm to palm as she looked over his shoulder, making gentle small talk only to be forgotten as the mummy behind them creaked to life.

Zelda was an idiot. She’d had her hands on a secret stone—Rauru’s secret stone—and still hadn’t put the two and two together. Ruta, the Sage of water that had spoken to her and Sidon, said a king sealed the Demon King away. Even if she hadn’t said a name, the identity was clear: King Rauru, and his secret stone-encrusted arm. The Demon King had been sealed away for centuries, far longer than living memory, and Rauru had held him back. Rauru who stood before her now, in a Hyrule with one peak instead of Dueling ones, no castle on the horizon, and strange almost-Hylians surrounding him.

Rauru, who spoke so fondly of Link up on the Great Sky Islands.

Link, who’d been in the vision given by Ruta, from so long in the past.

Link, who lay unconscious before her, sick as death and missing an arm.

Link was in the past. Somehow, when he vanished into that light, he’d wound up in, what, Hyrule’s founding? How long had Hyrule been established when he was brought here? Was the Continent united? Was the Demon King a current danger, or just a whisper of pain on the horizon?

How’d he get home? She’d seen him at the Castle, sickly and one-armed as he was now. Somehow, Link had found his way home, sick as a death, and in his efforts to return to her, turned his sword against his family.

Had the stone taken him there and back? It was the only new factor, after all. Had the stone they’d found whisked him away somewhere she could never reach, just to dump him back, beaten and broken?

Was it her fault, just like everything else?

‘Link’, Zelda wondered as Rauru leaned over Sonia’s shoulder and marveled at the secret stone in the woman’s hand, ‘what happened to you while you were here, so far from home?’

Beside Link, Fi chimed softly, pitifully, just a single, metallic sound. Zelda looked to her. She was as broken as her master, also missing parts and drained by gloom, and Zelda felt her stomach twist painfully at the sight. As immortal as Link felt to Zelda, he was still human, still capable of falling. But the Master Sword… Fi had been forged in the fire of Great Dragons by the First Chosen Hero himself under the watchful eyes of the first Zelda, Hylia incarnate. Sure, it had been banged around during the Calamity, but it still had stood tall and proud in her hands when she delivered it to the Deku Tree for safe keeping, all those years ago. And FI's rest had fixed her, left in the safety of the Lost Woods to heal after annihilating the Calamity. In the hundred years of the Calamity and the five years after, Fi had been returned to her pedestal, growing, healing, into her past perfection. Zelda could remember their return to fetch Link’s blade easily, just weeks before entering the caverns below Hyrule Castle.

Link had been ecstatic to pull her; he visited the Master Sword often, spending a good deal of time in the Lost Woods, savoring Farore’s deep-seated nature magic as he played with forest spirits that Zelda would never be able to see. Link had always been a little disappointed that she couldn’t see his Koroks, but he didn’t mind playing mediator as they spoke to her, their voices bells barely heard on the wind. He’d help her play games of tag and hide and seek, laughing all the while, bright and carefree in a way Zelda never saw him before the Calamity.

Was it selfish to be thankful, almost, for the memory loss if it meant she could see her Champion smile so freely, speak so freely, be it with hands or words? Yes, it was, which is why Zelda would never say it out loud, but she thought it more often than she would like.

“It is good to see you,” the Deku Tree had rumbled as Zelda and Link had come to fetch Fi for what now seemed would be the final time ever. “Princess Zelda, of Hyrule.” Zelda smiled, nodding her head in recognition. “And… Link.” It was said with warmth and protective adoration. Sacred Realm knows that Hylia never spoke to Zelda with such loving kindness, but the Deku Tree loved Link, and Link loved the Deku Tree back just as fiercely.

Zelda knew more of Link’s biological father than Link did, and she knew he was not a man worth being remembered. A general and a high-ranking member of the Royal Guard, he served as the head of the Citadel with his head held high; he was a fine soldier, and a failure of a father. The Deku Tree had served as a far better father ever since Link drew the Master Sword as a preteen, and while Zelda didn’t know if Link remembered that early connection, the man clearly loved the Guardian Spirit just as much now, a century later.

“Your blade has been fully restored.” The Deku Tree said, wooden eyes fixed on Link, as if Zelda wasn’t even there. Zelda didn’t mind. She needn’t be present in the middle of a conversation between father and son.

“She has been calling to you.”

“I know,” Link signed, smiling. “I’ve missed her.”

“Go on then, child. Draw her once more.”

And Link did. There was little fanfare, little elegance, just a hand on a hilt and a movement upward, but the holiness in the motion still shone through, clear to anyone with any knowledge of the Divine. Fi had claimed Link long ago, and claimed him still, singing in his hand, overjoyed to be reunited with her master. Link drew a hand to his chin and moved it outwards in thanks, grinning.

“Thank you, Great Deku Tree, for your protection while she healed,” Zelda said, resting a hand on Link’s elbow, and the Forest Guardian laughed.

“I merely kept one eye open as I napped, Princess.”

“Regardless, we thank you.”

“Bah—you underestimate her! Was but a few scratches.” The old tree said, and Link laughed, flipping the sword over the back of his hand a few times before sliding it into her sheath. Zelda rolled her eyes, hip-checking him. Show off.

Suddenly, Link grew serious. “If something were to happen—”

The Deku Tree scoffed, “Which it won’t— “

“But if it were. Time to heal here, with the Lost Wood’s connection to Farore— it would save her again?”

“Perhaps. As old as I may seem, I am no Guardian Dragon, and even my memory has limits. The Chosen Hero, when he forged the Master Sword, went through many trials to prove himself worthy to bear the blade.”

Claiming the Triforce, Zelda’s brain added.

“It would take more than a nap in a pedestal to heal true damage.”

Link frowned. “Then I will be sure to take good care of her.”

“I know you will.”

Zelda squeezed Link’s wrist. “You’re her master. You’ll take care of each other.”

They had left at sunset after a day of enjoying the Deku Tree’s company and playing with Link’s forest friends, bellies full of roasted mushrooms and ready to set out for the castle to investigate what went on below. That had been that.

Then it all went to shit.

The Master Sword let out a weak, pitiful sound again, and Sonia took hold of it gently, wrapping it in her shawl.

Link was still beside her. Zelda ran a finger over his lips as best she could. She couldn’t feel his breath like this, and it frightened her, even if she could see his chest moving.

“Watch over him,” Zelda whispered to Fi, now held by an almost-Hylian servant. “Please.”

The sword was silent.

---

Zelda woke covered in mud with blood in her mouth. She spat it out in disgust and marveled at the bloody saliva in front of her. Her tutors had once said that ingesting dragon’s blood could show you the past, let you see the world as the dragon had seen it. But there had been no dragon in the—what, vision? Memory?—only the strange almost-Hylians with their fuzzy faces and round ears and creatures that looked like they could have been Zonai, if you squinted. Rauru had been the only true Zonai in the vision. Zelda thought back to the mural she’d seen with Link down below the Castle.

A Zonai man, dressed in regal, gem-incrusted robes. Rauru. A woman with lines of inlaid opal forming tattoos across her skin. Sonia. A short figure with one arm and a broken sword.

Link.

Had he been in the past so long, become so important, that he’d been immortalized alongside Hyrule’s first King and Queen?

Well. Zelda guessed that wasn’t all too surprising. This was Link, after all, and if there was one thing he was known for, it was meddling.

There had been a massive carving of a man unlike any of the rest, with horns and flames for hair. The Demon King, surely, and then the delicate stonework showing anguished figures and bloody battles as the Demon stole a  great power and struck down those around him.

“There was a war,” Link had said softly. “A fierce battle between him, the Zonai, and the Hylians… but the Hylians and Zonai are losing. Badly.”

Would those… would those be some of the last words of his she’d ever hear?

(“Get out! Run, go, get out of here! I’ll hold it off!”

“Zelda, go, I’ll be fine—”

“Run!”)

No. Zelda refused to believe that.

The rest of the mural had been obscured, and Zelda was suddenly very bitter about that fact. She should have turned back, should have chipped away the stone, should have seen what was left behind. Would it have been answers? A warning? Then again, Zelda was never good at listening to warnings, leaving Link to pick up her messes, and this time… this time, he might not recover from picking up that mess.

Zelda sat, uncaring of the bloody mud, and chewed on her bottom lip. It still tasted of copper. Sidon’s Vow sat beside her, mimicking her stance, and it would have been sweet, almost cute, in any other situation.

“I need to find the other symbols,” she said to the Vow, and it nodded. “If this dragon has information on Link, I need to have it. I have to. It could give clues to his whereabouts that nothing else can. And hopefully, they can help tell us what the fuck Link is doing running around attacking family…”

She looked up to the sky, scanning the clouds, but the silent dragon was long gone.

“What do you know?” She whispered, squinting at the blue and white of the sky. “What have you seen? Why bleed now? Why not centuries before? Why hide above the clouds only to come down now? Why save me? Are you doing it on purpose? Or is it just the right place at the right time? Did you know Link?”

She sighed. “He loves the Guardian Dragons, and cares for them to the best he can. I’m sure he’d make sure your shoulder was treated if he could… were you friends? Are you friends?”

The blank sky did not answer her. Zelda groaned and flopped onto her back. Mud squelched underneath her. She couldn’t bring herself to care. The Vow cocked its head before flopping down too, resting its crest on her shoulder. She smiled and patted it, her hand sinking slightly into its cool, mucus-covered scales. Would the Sage she found in the desert give her a similar companion? She had yet to use Sidon’s Vow much in combat, but frankly, simply having a companion was plenty help enough. She was sure the Vow would prove useful sooner than later, but for now, its cool presence was more than what she needed.  

She raised a muddy, bloody hand to her eyeline. She’d seen the silent dragon bleed multiple times on the Great Sky Island, meaning there must be more bloody glyphs out there, but the question was, where? She needed to get high enough to see more, to take in the whole area… She sat up. There was a Skyview Tower that had just been finished by the Kolomo Garrison Ruins! She could get plenty of height through there, and a map for her troubles!

Zelda stood, frowning at the sheer amount of mud she was covered in. She needed a bath. Her stomach groaned.

And a snack.

Alrighty then. She’d detour to Hyrule Field’s Skyview Tower, clean off in Kolomo Lake, get some food, and set off for the closest blood glyph she could find. Plan made, Zelda wrung out as much bloody mud from her hair as she could and scrapped it off her hands on the first patch of clean grass she found. There. It was better than nothing.

Sidon’s Vow popped up beside her, cooing softly, brushing mud off her cheek with wet, cold, half-opaque fingers, and Zelda smiled.

“Alrighty then, friend, shall we be off?” She said, offering a hand, and the Vow garbled something, slotting its fingers into hers.

She’d find more dragon blood. She’d guzzle it if she had to. As long as she could find Link, she’d do anything, no matter how disgusting, or how strange. It would be worth it.

---

The march to the Garrison ruins—because that’s what it was, a march, a steady movement forward with a plan set and determination clear in her jaw and the way Zelda held her shoulders—was uneventful, though it brought back both nostalgia and… unpleasant memories. The Kolomo Garrison had been one of the first military bases to fall, back during the Calamity, and Zelda had seen it all, seen the blood and gore and destruction. But, before all that, the Garrison had been part of Link’s childhood; while he had been raised at the Citadel while his father served as the head of the base, Link had later been stationed here for the beginnings of his training, until he pulled the Master Sword and was relocated to the castle to be knighted and pushed into the Royal Guard.

The white boots and beret that he was forced to wear on the more important and regale of occasions always looked ridiculous on him. Standing beside her in her frocks and stupid petticoats, they made quite an uncomfortable and, frankly, silly-looking pair. She fondly remembered the silly faces he would make behind the backs of courtiers and nobility, trying to entertain her and make her smile as political events and stupid balls droned on and on and on.

Did he remember those days? Zelda didn’t know. Link didn’t often discuss what he remembered, and Zelda was always unsure if she was allowed to ask.  

Kolomo Lake was a beautiful place with cool, clear water that always seemed to be the perfect temperature, and the ruins provided plenty of protection from prying eyes and monsters or animals that might take an interest in a napping princess. She could hear the rumble of soldiers, the clanking of their armor, and the bang of their footsteps as they rushed to see the visiting princess, could still see them tackle Link into a violent but loving embrace, ruffling his hair and calling out vulgar praises for moving up the ranks so quickly. She could perfectly imagine Link’s perfectly blank mask cracking as he blushed under their words.

She could remember the smell of their bodies, cooked by guardian lasers as they tried and failed to protect the princess hiding amongst them. She and Link had run then, ran and ran until they couldn’t anymore, deep through forests and along rivers until they came to Ash Swamp and it all ended.

(Was that… the Power…?)

Zelda shook away unpleasant memories. Instead, she breathed in the clean air, the Vow beside her running its hand across the rough stone in fascination. Sidon had never been this far from the Domaine—was his Vow channeling his excitement at seeing such new places as it cooed and garbled excitedly at the ruins, its blank eyes wide and bright despite the lack of iris or pupil?

“Can Sidon hear me through you?” Zelda asked the Vow, and it cocked its head towards her. “Can he see me?”

The Vow seemed to think, before placing a hand on its heart and moving it outwards. Zelda furrowed her brow, and the Vow huffed. It garbled, its voice like water through a shallow stream, covering its eyes with one hand, then its ears, and shaking its head, then touching both hands to its heart and nodding.

“He can… feel your emotions?” Zelda asked, and the Vow nodded excitedly.

“Well, then I’ll be sure to make things as pleasant as possible,” Zelda said, unsure how she felt about the new information. She was glad to know a connection with Sidon was there, feeling even closer to the Vow now, but it was such a vague answer that she felt a little out of her depth. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, crusty and heavy with dried mud, and entered the ruins properly. She could almost smell the sweat and leather polish.

“You never saw the Kolomo Garrison in its prime.” She said to the Vow, “It was rough and tumble, but for Link, it was the first safe haven he had, and he always seemed happy to return.”

The Vow nodded, cooing, and Zelda smiled. The Vow’s presence helped chase away the bitter memories of the Calamity, leaving behind only nostalgia for the past.

The hairs on the back of Zelda’s neck prickled. A sudden smell overwhelmed her: rot, ash, and death, heavy in the air. Her stomach dropped. Gloom. But, where? She didn’t see any, no sight of infected monsters or—a sudden screech came behind her.

It wasn’t like anything she’d ever heard before, distinctly inhuman, a mix between the wails of a dying man and the screams of something truly hysterical. Zelda spun. Gloom surged up her legs, surrounding her, coating the walls and the floor in an instant, and she stumbled back with a scream.

Then she saw them. They rose from the ground out of the piles of gloom, taking the form of massive, gasping hands. Eyes sat in each palm, fingers spindly and inhuman, claws reaching for flesh, ready to squeeze and grab and tear. One grabbed hold of Zelda’s leg, then her arm, her waist, her neck, and Zelda let out a scream of pain she didn’t know she was capable of making as the gloom ate quickly into her skin. More grabbed her, pulling her off the ground, and she thrashed, panic mixing with pain. Magic, magic, she had magic, she needed to use—but the gloom spawn was grabbing into more than just flesh, more than give bone and muscle, but into her very soul, searing into everything that made her, her, until she was sure there would be nothing left. There was a horrid smell as the hands threw her around, and she realized dimly that it was the smell of her own rotting flesh, burning blood, cooking bone.

It burned. It burned, it burned, and Gods above she couldn’t make it stop. She tried to reach behind her heart, but the panic tore into her, ripping apart any rational thought.

She was going to die, she realized as the hands began to pull, yanking her arms in too many directions. It was going to snap every bone, pull her to pieces, burn her from the outside in with gloom. Her eyes were dimming. She couldn’t breathe.

A hand suddenly wailed as a blue, semi-opaque, trident prong pierced it. It dropped her, turning to the new opponent, and the Vow snarled, a truly Zora sound the likes of which Zelda had never heard before, slamming into the hand with his trident and ripping it away from the others. It writhed on the end of the metal, and a blue glow came from the Vow, blindingly bright, and the gloom hands shrieked as they tried to flee from the secret stone’s light. The Vow lashed out again, and the gloom spawn attacked, finding it couldn’t grasp the Vow and letting out a howl of frustration. On the floor, Zelda panted, burns running up her whole body, and finally found it in her to reach behind her heart. The ancient power rushed up to greet her, and with a yell, she sent as much as she could stomach into the gloom spawn.

It screamed, writhing on the floor, before exploding into a shower of gloom that splattered across the walls and floor. And then it was gone. The Vow rushed to Zelda’s side, wrapping her up in its arms, and Zelda couldn’t help but let out a sob.

---

Zelda didn’t linger after that. She dunked herself in the lake, carefully rinsing out the burns, and sat on the shore stuffing sundelions from the Purah pad into her mouth. They only made her feel a little better, and Zelda instead tried to summon Hylia’s power to her flesh to flush out the lingering gloom. It did some, but not enough, and hesitantly she reached for—

(The Triforce but not, and ancient power that couldn’t be that ancient, couldn’t be, a gift from a Voice that called her by name, little Goddess, little Goddess, little Goddess, a Voice she’d heard as she annihilated the Calamity once and for all, Nayru, Nayru, The Golden Goddess, the Great Three, but it couldn’t be, couldn’t, couldn’t!)

– the ancient, admittedly very golden, power that she’d just used on the gloom spawn, summoning it from deep within her and pushing it outward, into the gloom. The gloom burns bubbled and Zelda hissed in pain, but slowly they shrank, releasing gloom into the atmosphere and leaving her with patches of red and seared clothes, but little else to remind her of the gloom spawn. Zelda took a deep, deep breath, and stood.

There was no point lingering. Who knew if more of those things were around?

The Vow walked closer to her than ever, murmmering in its almost language and fussing over the lingering red. It kept trying to incase her in a bubble of breathable water, and Zelda politely refused each time, insisting she didn’t need the extra protection. The Vow would narrow its blank eyes and poke a patch of red or pull on a burned piece of clothing.

Clothes. She needed new clothes. The gloom spawn had eaten away at a good deal of her blue tunic and trousers, and while she could change into the archaic clothing she had stashed away in her Purah pad, she didn’t like the idea of wearing something connected to the silence of the Great Sky Islands. Perhaps she could stop by a stable and see what she could find.

Which brought her to Hyrule Field Skyview Tower.

It, well, towered, bright and cheery with its Sheikah parts and wooden structures—truly a combination of past and future. There had been a monster camp that had tried to take root there, but the Monster Control Crew had deconstructed the base; Zelda had half expected them to be back with the blood moons and bloody suns, but it seemed that without a home to come to, the monsters had steered clear, thank the Goddess. Zelda was in no shape for another battle. It was easy to shove open the doors, a little stiff from disuse with the tower being so new, and easier to scan Purah’s pad on the terminal.

And then she was flying.  

Zelda had to remind herself to scan for the map once she was up in the air, too focused on scanning the ground for bloody glyphs. She could see some in the distance if she squinted through the clouds, a few by the Rito, a scattering to the east, and there, one in the Gerudo Highlands, a figure of a man on his knees. Perfect. Just north of where she was already going. She’d find herself a horse, get to the desert, and lap up a whole gallon of the stuff if she had to.

Anything to see Link again. Anything.

Decision made, she flicked out the paraglider, soaring far enough to the west as she could with her limited stamina after the encounter with the gloom creature. With Riju’s help (because she knew the Gerudo chief would help, 100%) they would save whatever affliction was affecting the Gerudo, find and awaken the Sage, get the secret stone, and be one step closer to defeating the Demon King. But first, before all of that, came the blood glyph. Because, as loathed as Zelda was to say it, she was a selfish person. If finding the glyph meant seeing Link, meant answers, then damn it, the Gerudo could wait.

Guilt pooled in her gut as soon as she thought the words, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret them. Riju and her people deserved Zelda’s full attention, just as Hyrule needed to be her number one priority, but… but Link was Link, her Champion, her Knight, her Hero, her best friend, and she couldn’t abandon him when the possibility of answers was right there. Zelda sighed as she landed.

What would Link do? She didn’t know. After all, she was just a pretender, playing at being a hero. She wasn’t Chosen like Link. She wasn’t destined for this. But she would do it anyway. For her people, in the past and the present. For her friends. For Purah and Sidon and Riju and the rest of them. For Rauru and the promise Zelda made to him. She was the Princess of Light, and she owed it to Hyrule, to the Continent, to the world, to do her duty and defeat the Demon King. Link… Link should come second to all of that.

Zelda wasn’t sure she could do that. She straightened, Sidon’s Vow reappearing as she touched the ground.

“What do I do?” She asked it. It cocked its head and gave no answer. Of course.

She marked an estimation of where she’d seen the glyph on her map. Glyph or Gerudo Town. Glyph or Gerudo Town.

Link, or Hyrule?

Zelda took a shuddering breath. She flicked open the photo tab on the pad: Link’s face stared up at her, taken just before their descent below the castle. He leaned against her shoulder, grinning wildly, squeezing her cheeks as she rolled her eyes.

He looked… happy.

Zelda turned to the northwest, north of Gerudo Town and up towards the Gerudo Highlands where the bloody glyph rested. She prayed Riju would forgive her for her tardiness.

She was destined to choose Hyrule before Link at the end of the day, but for now... for now, she could be a little selfish.

Chapter Text

The trek from the hilly, but mostly unremarkable plains of Hyrule Field into the towering mountains and mesas of the Gerudo Highlands was a punishing one, especially once she left Safflina behind. The mare was simple, as far as horses went, with a coat that was a mousy brown and a rump scarred from her time as a bokoblin’s work horse back before Link, fresh off the Plateau with a head empty of memories and a heart full of fury, took out the whole boko camp just to rescue her. Safflina was the man’s pride and joy, even if she was unremarkable in almost every way, but Zelda couldn’t leave her behind when she stopped at Outskirt Stable just a few hours after walking from the gloom puddle that had been Kolomo Garrison’s ruins.

Zelda had intended to stop for the night, bathe—because heavens knows her dunk in Kolomo Lake to quickly rinse off any lingering gloom did not count as a bath—and buy some new clothes before starting off in the morning on her beloved golden stallion, but she’d looked at the brown, scarred mare and suddenly found her mouth dry and her stomach plummeting. Safflina looked at her with impossibly dark eyes that seemed to beg to know where her owner was, and Zelda had no answer to give her. So, instead of the golden stallion, Safflina came with Zelda out down the path towards Digdogg Suspension Bridge and the towering cliffsides of Gerudo Canyon Pass.

It had felt good to finally get the mud out of her hair and out from under her fingernails, better to have a warm meal in her belly, and after reaching into her, rather bottomless, wallet, she walked away in a new Hylian tunic, this one free of gloom burns, a toasty overcoat for the snowy Highlands, and a kameez, the soft linen dyed a beautiful blue, for when she eventually climbed down the mountains back into the desert. Riju would have plenty of clothes and jewelry for her to borrow once she arrived, but until then, the three outfits would have to do, fitting neatly into the Purah pad. She bought a, frankly, unreasonable number of elixirs from a young stable boy with a truly terrible sales pitch, enamored by his missing front tooth and bright, too-big eyes, and kept an ear perked as she eavesdropped on the Rito reporter speaking to a man about a wailing woman, begging travelers at night to come help her injured friend, sick with gloom and a face so very similar to the hero’s. Zelda should, most likely, give more attention to the story than she did, but something about it didn’t seem right. Link was anything but not paranoid and stubborn as a mule—the image of him asking random passersby for help when he could have contacted her instead was just too suspicious. No, it was likely some farm hand looking for attention, and Zelda passed a few rupees to the man speaking to the Rito, telling him to use the cash to round up a party to go check on the situation. The stable hand’s eyes had gone huge at the sight of her, stammering out something vaguely resembling her name, and Zelda had smiled, patted his hand, and swung up onto Safflina.

And then she was gone, with Outskirt Stables far behind her. Sidon’s Vow vanished as Safflina took off into a gallop, reappearing every time she took a break, cooing and garbling at her while she spoke to it about everything and nothing.

She remembered when there had been a massive black hinox in the center of the Digdogg Bridge, when the Outskirt Stable lived in constant fear of boko raids, when monsters prowled the night, kept back only by the light of the stable’s fire. For five years, that fear and paranoia had finally been vanquished, but if Penn—the kind Rito reporter—‘s updates over dinner were to be believed, those days were back, and this time the moblins and boko raids were coming closer and closer, undeterred by the fire, now leaving a need for monster hunting crews to patrol the edge of the property at night. Penn had advised against traveling at night (“We don’t all have wings, your Majesty, your little Hylian feet can only take you so far if things were to go south!”), so instead Zelda had left with the sunrise, feeling unrested and unwell, though if it was from yesterday’s gloom or guilt over her destination, she was unsure.

Penn had asked her where she was going, and Zelda had told the man she planned to stop in Gerudo Town—not a lie, just an… omission of her timeline. Penn had nodded gravely.

“Bad things happening down there, ma’am,” he said with a cluck of his tongue. Not a click, a proper cluck. “None of our people can get too close without being sent back, so I’m not sure what exactly you’re riding into, but I promise ya, it’s nothing pretty.”

Zelda had nodded, making it clear she understood the danger of the situation and offered to get Penn some information for his paper, which made the Rito preen, patting her shoulder with a massive wing and calling her a “right and good partner”, which had Zelda blushing brightly enough to almost forget the lie of her destination.

Soon she was galloping past Digdogg Bridge—or trying to. It seemed the closer she got to the mouth of the desert, the more skittish and stressed Safflina, a normally almost unbelievably well-mannered horse, became, pulling against the reigns and stopping abruptly over and over until Zelda was all but dragging the horse along.

“Come on, girlie, what’s gotten into you?” Zelda murmured, pulling Safflina forward on foot as she crossed the bend into the canyon. The Vow slunk back into wherever it went when not beside her as a small shack filled with horses suddenly came into view, and the old man behind the pop-up counter flagged her down. Pirou, the elderly owner of Gerudo Canyon Stable.

“Horse not workin’ with ya, miss?” Pirou asked, before his eyes went wide, and his wrinkled face flushed. “I mean, your majesty, of course! So sorry, Miss Zelda, I didn’t recognize ya without your Goldie! Where’s Link?”

Zelda swallowed down the pain Pirou’s innocent comment caused, forcing the flaring bitterness into pleasantries.

“No need for titles, Mr. Pirou—”

“Then just Pirou for me, miss—”

“Just Pirou, then.” Zelda said hastily, all too aware of how rude she was being. But she didn’t have time to dawdle, and right now if someone called her ‘princess’ again, she might scream. “Link has taken a… break… from traveling.” (What a liar she was, what a liar, what a liar) “I’m hoping to meet with him in the Gerudo Highlands. From there we will move into Gerudo Town.”

Pirou nodded, pulling on his sideburn. “Well, you ain’t getting that lovely lady any further than here.”

“What? But Gerudo Canyon Stable is still miles away!”

Pirou shook his head. “Sorry to say it, but the falling ruins smashed the place to pieces, and now the horses won’t go past the bridge without getting’ too anxious to move. I’m amazed your mare made it this far without throwing you off.”

Zelda patted Safflina’s neck, fighting back the wondering thought of if Link would be able to coax her further into the wastes.

“She’s a good girl.”

“I thought you’d be on Goldie.”

“I’m riding Link’s mare for him, making sure she gets the exercise she needs while he’s away.”

Pirou offered Safflina a sugar cube from his pocket. “You’re a good friend, Miss Zelda.”

“Zelda.”

“Aye, yes, whatever. Well, I’ve started a mini stable of sorts for the horses that won’t continue onwards, if you’d like to keep her here until you and Link return.”

“I—yes. That would be lovely. Thank you.” Zelda reached into her wallet and Pirou waved a hand.

“Free of charge. Tell Link that he owes me double his tab when he returns.”

Zelda snorted. “Will do.” She passed the reins to the older man, and Safflina’s ears fluttered nervously, a strange sign of discomfort from the usually gentle horse, and she pulled against Pirou for a moment.

“Are you sure—” Zelda started, but the old man cut her off.

“Go. Find your friend. I’ll take care of her.” He said, and Zelda sighed. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice now, was it? Pirou gave her a final smile, and Zelda forced herself to return it.

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

“With Link?”

Zelda’s smile was even more forced. “Yes. With Link.”

“Good. He’s a good boy, that one.”

Zelda suddenly stopped. “Wait—falling ruins demolished the stable?” She wasn’t sure how that information had passed over her head, how she’d been so focused on the damn horse to notice the fact that ruins had fallen big enough to smash an entire stable. She’d seen fallen ruins all over the place, big and small, but that, that spoke of ruins of massive proportions.

Pirou nodded, mimicking an explosion with his hands. “Kaboom.”

“I’ve seen ruins falling but that… that’s massive.”

Pirou laughed. “You should see the Ring Ruins, princess, if you think that’s big.”

Zelda furrowed her brow. “Ring Ruins?”

“Over in Kakariko?”

Zelda suddenly felt terrible. What kind of friend was she to Impa and Paya, not even thinking to check on Kakariko when she was passing from Lookout Landing to the Domaine and back? There must be all sorts of troubles they were facing, and they were doing so alone, without her and Link’s support. She was just, just so selfish, running after blood glyphs when she hadn’t even checked on one of the people who helped raise her.

Purah may have taken Zelda under her wing in the years leading up to the Calamity, but it was Impa who served as Zelda’s confidant and bodyguard practically since Zelda was old enough to toddle. They’d grown up together, Zelda and Impa usually being Zelda-and-Impa instead, Zelda dragging the more serious girl through nonsense while the Sheikah bent over backward to keep her princess out of trouble. Zelda had been a tad—an understatement, but whatever, she didn’t need to acknowledge that—miffed when Link had taken Impa’s spot as her primary protector. Once he drew the Master Sword, there was no longer a need for Impa as Zelda’s bodyguard, and the woman, only a decade older than Zelda, had been tossed aside, demoted to a common soldier—an insult to both her place as a Sheikah, and as the Chief-to-be. A Chief’s highest duty was to protect the female ruler of Hyrule, holder of Hylia’s golden power, and Link had taken that duty from Impa. Zelda had been furious, despite Impa’s insistence that it wasn’t that big a deal, and part of her fuming hatred of Link those first few months had been for Impa.

Thankfully, Impa and Link got along like a house on fire, and Impa spent months pressuring Zelda to give the boy a chance, being quite smug when Zelda and Link finally connected, insisting that she had known from the start that the two would be inseparable. Between Impa’s older sister, Purah, and her uncle, Robbie, Zelda had the support of the Sheikah fully and without question, something that continued to this day under Impa’s watchful eye as the village elder and Paya’s kindness as the new chief.

And Zelda hadn’t given them a second thought.

What an ass she was.

Zelda made a mental note to return to Kakariko as soon as she could, but till then, she had a job to do and blood to drink.

“It was lovely to see you, Pirou,”  she said, already backing away, “but I’m afraid I must go. Needs of the Gerudo and all that.”

Pirou shook his head. “You’re in for quite a rough time once you pass Naia. Careful of the sandstorms, your Highness! And keep out an eye for gibdos! And the river, it’s bloated up in a way it hasn’t in centuries!”

Zelda frowned. “The Great Asfet?”

Pirou nodded. “The very same.”

“It’s been nothing more than a trickle with a legend attached,” Zelda said, and Pirou shook his head.

“Not anymore. The river of legend has returned! Ain’t it a sight too. If you listen closely, you can hear it from here. Careful now, the last thing we need is you getting swept downstream.”

Zelda strained her ears; she couldn’t hear anything, but she didn’t doubt Pirou. She knew only a little of the history of the Gerudo Desert’s ever-changing terrain, but she knew of the Asfet, the Great River, which supplied the desert with water and riches for centuries before drying up and leaving behind a mighty famine, stopped only by the intervention of the Hylian Royal Family of old—or at least, so the legend from her own library books went. She doubted the Gerudo told the story the same way, or that it looked so… favorably on Zelda’s family. Zelda wasn’t stupid, or uneducated—she knew that the relationship between Riju’s people and her own was rife with struggle; colonization and cultural erasure tainted the history of each generation of Zelda’s family, and the Gerudo faced the wrath of Hyrule more than most. Urbosa and Chief Neikana had worked hard to craft treaties and forge connections with Hyrule, particularly Zelda’s mother, and in the time since the fall of the Hyrulian Royal Family, the connection between the Hylian people and the Gerudo had grown into something truly positive for the first time in centuries.

Riju, who had grown from a child with a too-big crown to a Chief worthy of her grandmothers’ titles, had made it clear that she believed in a Continent united through passion and empathy, but still respected the borders and laws of the Gerudo Desert that had been so constantly ignored—or worse, trampled over—by the Hyrule of ages past. Together, she and Zelda had forged forward to create a new connection between Hyrule and the Gerudo, one Zelda was very proud of and knew Urbosa would be impressed with. Urbosa would be so proud of Riju, and Neikana even more so. Zelda just wished she could get Riju to believe her when she told her.

Riju adored Urbosa, and venerated her daily. Hyrule and the Continent were vast in their religions: there were the Rito, with their constellations and star dragons, like the Great Valoo that crafted the aurora borealis in the sky. The Gorons respected and worshipped the earth around them, thanking it for providing nourishment for their bodies and protecting it with their lives. The Zora had Great Jabun, Lord Jabu Jabu, and the Giant Turtle, a mix of nautical and river spirits that dwelled deep below the waves, blessing the waters of the Continent. The Sheikah worshipped Hylia side beside local spirits and superstitions, and Hylians had always worshipped the Golden Three and Hylia in the same breath. The Gerudo’s religious traditions were just as varied and beautiful as the other races of Hyrule, and Zelda and Link had both been welcomed into the usually fiercely protected practices by Riju. The Seven Heroines, led by the Eighth, all honored through the council of the Gerudo Chief and her right-hand advisor. The veneration of ancestors and the dead. And, most revered of all, Din.

The time for the Celebration of the Heroines was supposed to have happened last week. Zelda wondered if it even happened amidst all this ridiculousness.

Gods, she couldn’t wait to see Riju and give her the biggest damn hug Zelda could muster.

Zelda managed to climb up Mount Nabooru by midday, and already the heat was beginning to set in. It was still far from the heat of the desert, but it was enough to leave her tunic soaked with sweat and her hair sticking to the sides of her face and the back of her neck. Sidon’s Vow kept dousing her with its water, wrapping her up in its water bubble, but almost as soon as the bubble burst, she was dry and sweating again. Just as Pirou had said, the Great River could be seen below the cliffs of the giant mesa. It was truly great—the river was more white rapids and nefarious waterfalls than river, the water foamy and frothy from beating against the desert rocks, and black as night from the silt and rock stirred up by the movement. That was not a river to be taken lightly, let alone swam through. Zelda was sure that one wrong step on the mesa’s edge would lead to a very certain, very watery grave, even with the Vow pulling on her tunic hem to try and coax her in for a little fun.

Link would absolutely want to dive in.

The image of Link in his underthings, pearl earrings fluttering in the hot wind as he bolted off the cliff side into a running jump into the waves below, hooting and hollering as he fell, was enough to bring a tired smile to Zelda's face. He’d insist she take a photo, and Zelda would refuse, not wanting to encourage his madness, and he’d stick his tongue out at her before running off an edge, Sheikah Slate in hand to try and take one of his beloved front-facing photos, laughter drowning out her yelling that ‘one of these days you’ll smash your head on a rock’ and that ‘I’m not going in there to save you when you drown!’

Zelda bit her lip, and finally pulled out the Purah pad.

Coordinates: -2198 -1680 0062

After you come home, I’ll take you swimming (if river remains after saving Gerudo)

I’ll ask Riju about history of Great River, see if worth looking into Hyrule Castle Library

…

If castle comes down.

Zelda moved back away from the edge. The water roared, and she sighed, batting away the Vow. Link first. Her quickly growing list of things she needed to worry about could come after she saw Link. One thing at a time, Zelda. One thing at a time.

From Mount Nabooru came Taafei Hill. The heat from earlier traded itself for a nose-numbing cold as day turned to night, but Zelda held off on the parka. She forced herself to handle the cold, for now. It felt right to shiver, to let her skin sting and her fingertips burn. It hurt, but the feeling was grounding, and a bitter, angry part of her relished it. Link lost an arm, Link had a seizure, Link was fucking vomiting gloom in the past, she could handle a little cold. She’d put the parka on soon. She just… she just needed a bit of time.

At first glance, there was little life on Taafei. The cold together seemingly killed all but the stubbornest of weeds and left nothing but starving wolves to eat it. Zelda had wrongly thought that too as a child, until the first time Urbosa took her climbing. She’d been young, six, Mother having only just passed, and Urbosa had shown up to the castle unannounced, took Zelda in hand, and told her matter-of-factly that they were going on an adventure into the mountains. One trek into the Gerudo Desert later, Zelda was strapped into climbing gear (and so high up, oh so high, oh no, oh dear!) with a group of Gerudo girls her age, taking painstaking notes in Gerudo script as the teacher, a young woman named Abala, pointed to warm and cool safflina, swift violets, and rushrooms, as well as flora and fauna less common to central Hyrule like snow field hyrax, small rodents who burrowed in rocky snow banks, the snow cat, a sister to the sand cat, and frozen lilies, beautiful flowers of pink and blue that thrived on top of frozen lakes, their tough roots breaking through the ice into the water below. Father had been furious that Urbosa had taken his daughter without permission, and in response to his rage, Urbosa had just laughed.

Gods, how Zelda missed her.  

Sidon’s Vow whined every time Zelda shivered, and Zelda eventually bit back her guilt and put on the parka, just as snow began to crunch under her feet and fall around her. She missed Link’s gargantuan wardrobe and jewelry stash. No longer was the cold grounding; now it was just fucking cold, and the thought of Link’s Rito-down tunics and ruby circlets was enough to make her weak at the knees. Finally, she came to a halt as the mesa that grew into Sapphia’s Snowbank began to rise, leaving behind any form of a path in exchange for a sharp incline and a sheer drop.

Zelda slunk down into the snow, sitting on her heels to avoid putting her bottom in the wet ground, and pulled a tinderbox from her pack. It was simple, pathetic in comparison to Link’s, but still useful enough with flint, firesteel, and tinder, and a bit of weed and branches was enough to start a fire. Zelda settled against the start of Sapphia’s mesa and sighed through her nose. A streak of lightning slunk across the sky, a glowing snake of green and yellow light ricocheting against the clouds. The Vow watched it with wonder in its blank eyes, and Zelda smiled bitterly.

Farosh. Link’s favorite of the Guardian Spring Dragons. He claimed not to have favorites, but Link chose to spend his weekends riding on Farosh’s horn, topaz earrings dangeling in the screaming thunderstorms that surrounded the dragon, and not Naydra’s or Dinraal’s. It was his connection to Farore most likely, with the dragon being the Golden Goddess’ Guardian of the mortal realm, though Zelda had never felt particularly drawn to Naydra. Maybe it was a Hero thing?

Maybe it was just a Link thing. Zelda suddenly felt much colder. Pulling her parka tight around herself and blowing onto her tingling hands, she watched Farosh waltz through the sky. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t let herself sleep, not exposed to the elements like this, so close to the edge of the cliff. She pulled one of her sharpened hairpins from her bangs and wrapped her hand around it, taking comfort in its weight. She wasn’t paranoid enough to sit in the dark with her bow drawn—she wasn’t Link—but it made her feel safer out under the stars, even with the Vow watching her. The Vow pulled her close, and Zelda signed. Maybe if she just rested her eyes for a…

Zelda woke to a hand on her shoulder and jerked forward with her hairpin in her fist, brandishing its sharpened point at the person as she struggled to her feet and promptly fell on her ass, feet numb from sitting back on them. The Vow was nearly impossible to see in the rapidly falling snow, and the person—a woman, with dark hair blown wild from the wind, wide eyes, and tanned skin—raised her hands in surrender.

“Sorry!” She squeaked, taking a step back. Her Hylian was thick with a Hateno accent. “Didn’t mean’ta scare you, ma’am!”

Zelda took a few gasping breaths. “Sorry,” she wheezed, “you, you startled me.”

The woman let out a nervous laugh. “I could tell. Now, would’ja mind…?”

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Zelda pocketed the pin, taking a step back from the woman and putting enough room between them for the woman to bolt if she so desired. The woman smiled awkwardly, and Zelda subtly waved for the Vow to take a step back, and Sidon’s visage dissolved into the night, hidden away wherever it waited for her to need it.

“It ain’t exactly safe to be out in the snow alone, ya know. There’s a cave nearby, it’d be much more comfortable for ya.”

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Zelda said sheepishly, and the mousey woman nodded.

“Well, in that case, let’s getcha somewhere where’ya can.” She said offering Zelda an elbow, and Zelda bit her lip.

“I don’t bite.” The woman said. “Here, I’m Ere. Now we ain’t strangers. Ya don’t have’ta tell me yours if ya don’t want to, but now we’re one step closer to friends!”

Zelda couldn’t help herself. She snorted, just a small, stifled thing, but still a laugh, and the woman—Ere—grinned.

“Here, you look exhausted—have’ya eaten?”

“Had a little around morning at the stable.”

Ere clicked her tongue. “That just won’t do! Look at ya, thin as a stick and blue as a blueberry. Here, take some.” Ere reached into her climbing bag and pulled out a bag of dried meat, dusted with warm safflina and Zelda was about to refuse when her stomach growled. Ere giggled, and Zelda begrudgingly took the food. It was sweet and salty, with a tang from the safflina, and it was truly heavenly. Zelda took one small piece and Ere shook her head.

“Take some more, I have plenty.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Ma’am. Take it.”

Zelda blushed and took a bigger piece.

“So, what brings you up into these mountains without a climbing belt or snow boots?” Ere asked. For a moment her accent slipped, and Zelda bit back a smile. She knew these types, kids from wealthy families who were determined to leave their posh lives behind and take to the road, putting on the act of a country bumpkin. Zelda had seen it plenty a hundred years ago, and while it seemed to happen less now, given the total economic collapse of the Calamity, she still knew what a runaway looked like when she saw one.

“You don’t have to do that.” She said, and Ere cocked her head.

“Wha’?”

“The accent. I don’t care where you came from, trust me.”

Ere blushed. “I don’t—”

“Ere. Please.”

Ere sighed, accent dropping for something huskier and unfamiliar, almost Kakariko-esc. Zelda had heard it before, somewhere, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Thanks. I’m on the job though, so if I see my boss or any coworkers, you can’t let them know!”

Zelda laughed and Ere joined in, a sweet, simple sound, and Zelda let their shoulders brush as they walked. Maybe Ere knew the area enough to take her from the Highlands into the desert. That would be fantastic.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Ere said, “why are you wandering out here unprepared? I swear, you look like you have a death wish. No gloves, no snow boots, no climbing gear--!”

“It was an impromptu decision,” Zelda said defensively, and Ere grinned, bumping her shoulder back.

“I’m messing with you, ma’am.”

Zelda sighed. “I’m looking for something.”

Ere raised a brown eyebrow. “Out here? In the middle of nowhere?”

Zelda nodded. “My friend is missing. I’m hoping it can help me find him.”

Ere’s face drooped. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine—”

“No, no, it’s not. I won’t pretend to have the same experiences as you, but I’ve lost people, so many people. Brothers, sisters, friends. My father, almost. It hurts, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. So, I’m sorry. And I hope you find him.”

“Ere…” Zelda didn’t know what to say. The other woman shrugged, giving a rueful smile.

“It’s been a rough five years.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. It’s made me stronger. Angrier. I know who did it, and when I find him, I—” Ere seemed to catch herself, flushing, and changed the subject. “Anyways, what’s this thing?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“Blood from a dragon.”

Ere’s snorted.

“I’m serious!”

“Ma’am—”

“I’m not joking, I—"

“Okay! Okay! I believe you, geez. How about this, we wander for a bit, you don’t find your blood puddle, and I take you back to civilization. Deal?”

Zelda crossed her arms. “I’m going to find it.”

“Of course.” Ere drawled, and Zelda bristled.

“If you don’t want to help me, then I’ll just go by myself!” Zelda picked up speed, arms crossed around her, trying to keep in warmth as the temperature dropped and the moon rose higher. Ere called out to her, and Zelda set her jaw. She didn’t need the other woman’s help. She’d find the silent dragon’s blood all by herself if she had to.

“Wait! Ma’am, please, okay! I’m sorry! Just don’t go wandering in the dark, you’re going to walk off the damn mou—”

One moment Zelda’s foot was on a firm patch of snow, and the next it was on a chunk of ice hidden under the powder, and then nothing, and she was sliding sideways off of the cliff face, too startled to scream. Ere jerked out, wrapping her arms around Zelda’s waist, and then they were both falling, rolling down a slick patch of snow like a snowball down a hill, gaining speed until they smashed into a snowbank with a groan. Ere clutched her head, curled in on herself, and Zelda untangled them, helping Ere sit up.

“Oh Gods, Ere, I am so, so—”

“Don’t.” Ere grunted, and Zelda swallowed.

“Okay.”

Zelda tilted Ere’s face towards her, squinting into the woman’s shining eyes in an attempt to check for a concussion in the light of the moon.

“I’m fine,” Ere grunted, rolling her shoulders, and Zelda scooted back, giving the woman space.

There was blood on Ere’s face. Zelda’s eyes shot wide, and she jerked forward, smearing the blood across Ere’s face as she tried to find the source of the bleeding, and Ere swatted her away.

“I’m fine, what the hell—”

Ere wasn’t bleeding. Zelda looked down at her blood covered hands. She wasn’t bleeding either.

Which meant…

Which meant—

Zelda bolted to her feet and turned to look behind her. Dripping down the side of the mesa was an intricate design in blood, reflected purple in the moonlight. It didn’t smell of the same rot as the blood at the Great Plateau, instead just smelling strongly of copper and tang. Maybe it was fresher…?

“What in the—?” Ere said behind her, but it didn’t matter, because Zelda was already on her stomach, reaching down to scoop up bloody snow, and shoveling it into her mouth as quickly as she could. It tasted vile, like rot and metal and lingering gloom. It tasted like remembering, like mysteries and secrets. It tasted like home.

---

Zelda stood in a throne room. It was simple, as far as throne rooms went; the Sanctum was a far grander place than this, all marble and velvet, unlike the grey stone of this room, and while the thrones of Zelda’s childhood had been towering golden monstrosities dripping in riches, the thrones here were simple, adorned in green dragon motifs. In the throne on the left sat Rauru, dressed far finer than he had been in the last vision, and to his right, Queen Sonia. Both looked stern, unwavering. Standing on Rauru’s left was another woman, this one likely Zonai based on the fur, ears, and closed third eye, but Zelda couldn’t have given any less of a shit about those three. Because there, standing between the two thrones, was Link.

He'd seen better days, that was for sure, skin clammy and eyes black with tired circles, but his posture was strong and his shoulders were squared. They’d found new clothes for him, washed the gloom and death from him, and, most noticeably, given him a new arm. It resembled Rauru’s golden and green prosthetic, and at his hip sat Fi in a glorious new sheath, a secret stone inlaid at its opening, as well as a strange and beautiful Gerudo sword that was far too big for him. So, he was being taken care of. He was being treated well, and with kindness.

He was alive.

Sonia and Rauru muttered to each other, the other Zonai occasionally nodding, and Link looked angry, though Zelda recognized that anger—that was the face of a man who had done something unsafe and likely a little stupid, but still thought he was in the right. There was a righteousness to it as Link glared at the double doors behind Zelda. Zelda wanted to run to him, to ask what could cause such disquiet within him and crease his brow so deeply, but she knew he wouldn’t hear her. Still, she walked to him, raising a hand to his cheek. He was alive. He survived the operation; more than that, he had a new arm and fine clothing, and stood between the two rulers of this strange Hyrule in a way that signaled belonging and safety.

Suddenly, the doors behind Zelda groaned, and Link looked up. Sonia, Rauru, and the other Zonai went quiet, their faces somehow even darker. Zelda turned.

First, two women walked forward, escorted by guards armed to the teeth, dressed in the symbols and colors of Gerudo royalty. They were tall, dark-skinned, their shaved heads held high. One was covered in rubies, the other sapphires, and most notably of it all were the golden masks they both wore, simple in their elegance. The women knelt before Rauru, and the Zonai king’s eyes narrowed.

Then Zelda saw him.

A man, a Gerudo man, taller than any Hylian Zelda had ever seen, even her father, whom Zelda remembered as big and broad as a mountain. This man would make even Daruk look small and Urbosa short. His broad shoulders and chest were covered in a layer of fat but his strength was clear, and his face was elegant in its simplicity: nose broad and regal, brows dark, ears rounded, and skin a warm, beautiful brown. His face was far from kind in its build, but not cruel either, simply stern and speaking of years of learning how to control every twitch that might cross one’s face. His hair was the most striking thing about him, fiery red and impossibly thick, pulled up in a half bun and running down his back in elegant braids. He dressed simply, his clothing extremely traditional, but Zelda spent enough time in court to know a King when she saw one.

The Gerudo king did not bow before Rauru. Zelda expected him to, expected the man to acknowledge the Zonai as a ruler. She waited for him to hold his hands palms up to his heart and lower himself for a count of three, but the Gerudo king did not move. Instead, slowly, the man lowered himself to the ground and knelt at Rauru’s feet, forehead pressed hard against the stone floor. Zelda felt discomforted at the display. Surely Rauru wasn’t making this man grovel in such a manner? Did the Zonai not know the importance of kneeling at one’s feet for the Gerudo, the sign of utter submission, the humiliation it spelled out?

Going by the discomfort in Link’s brow, her knight was thinking much the same thing.

The room was silent, painfully so, and Rauru’s stiffness hurt to look at, almost as much as the knowledge of the shame that would follow the Gerudo king were any of his people to see him like this.

“Ganondorf of the Gerudo,” Rauru finally said. His voice carried a booming weight to it Zelda had yet to hear, and it almost distracted her from the Gerudo man’s name. Almost. Ganondorf. Zelda found herself running a finger over her left hand. This may be but a vision, but the name seemed to draw the Triforce out of her all the same. Ganondorf.

Her tutors and the priestesses told the story often: a man came from the desert. An evil man with great ambition in his heart, who coveted a golden power. A boy from the forest came with a shining stone, having traveled through time to defeat the man, and with the princess, they prevented his rule and had him put to death. But he did not die. He never died, coming back over and over, till he lost himself entirely, becoming more beast than man, then more Calamity than beast.

They said his name was Ganondorf.

“You come before me no more than a day after an attempt on the lives of my people. Explain yourself.” Rauru said, shaking Zelda from her thoughts. Ganondorf—could it be? Could it be??—raised his head a minute amount, eyes still lowered to Rauru’s hooves.

“Allow me to offer you my deepest apologies, both on my behalf, and on behalf of the Gerudo, for my actions.” Ganondorf said. It came out as a rumble. “It came from a place of pride, which I now lay at your feet.”

Rauru raised an eyebrow, and Ganondorf continued. “It is my desire to be accepted into the protective embrace of your kingdom. To serve it faithfully. To atone for the sins I have committed, and beg that you welcome us, not for my sake, but for the sake of my people. The desert is a harsh, vile place of wickedness and death. In my pride, I believed I could control it; I know now that my people’s needs come before such pride. I cannot—and do not—ask for your forgiveness, simply that you would open your arms my people and—”

Rauru raised a hand and Zelda could practically hear when Ganondorf’s mouth clicked shut. It was almost alarming to see such a large man make himself so small before Rauru, almost pitiful in its absurdity.

Still…

(Ganondorf, Ganondorf, Ganondorf—)

“A welcome appeal. I will accept your vow of fealty, Ganondorf.”

Ganondorf was still as death, stiff as a board, as he let out a low breath.

“I understand that a single male is born to the Gerudo every one hundred years,” Rauru continued. “Receiving such an appeal from you, a king by birth… well… it is truly reassuring.”

“It is my honor,” Ganondorf said, eyes still low. “When your Zonai ancestors first descended on what is now Hyrule, centuries ago, the Hylians saw you as gods. And yet, you have taken a Hylian woman as your wife, and rule beside Rito, Zora, and Gorons. You have certainly risen to the lineage myths have given you. Most impressive. You must be proud.”

“Even if something were to happen to me, both my kingdom and the peace it brings—that will endure for millennia to come.”

“Of course. As it should.”

“Your actions today are… appreciated, Ganondorf. I look forward to your future endeavors. I insist you take residence in the castle for the time being; with the desert as vile as you say, it is no place for a king.”

Ganondorf finally raised his head. Despite his name, Zelda was glad to see his face finally rise. There was a silent fury in his eyes for just a moment, a nanosecond, before he seemed to remember himself and lowered his head back down.

“Of course. Farwell, your Majesties. Swordsman.”

Ganondorf stood, turning to leave with a swish of a sleeve, and the two women beside him stood as well, but Link held up a hand. Slowly, he drew the Gerudo sword from his belt and held it out. Ganondorf’s then. Ganondorf looked at him with wide eyes before snatching it, as if he was scared it was a trick. Link gave the slightest of smiles, and Ganondorf cocked his head, eyes narrowed, before turning again. The door closed behind him and his women, and Rauru sighed. He dropped his head in his hands, suddenly radiating exhaustion.

“Beloved…” Sonia said. Her face was dark, worried. “I believe that man’s heart holds many dark ambitions.”

“I know,” Rauru said softly. He ran a hand over his head and through his mane before sitting up straighter. “Is there any word of him in your history books, Link?”

“Not that I know of…” Link signed, biting his lip. “But even his name it—it gives me pause.”

“Why?”

Link raised his hands, then stopped himself. It was a subtle, aborted movement that no one other than Zelda would have caught as he continued his sentence.

“I don’t know. It just does.” He signed.

Link was lying. He may not know as much of history or legends as Zelda, but he’d recognize the name Ganon anywhere. He was lying.

“I am well aware of his evil nature,” Rauru said. He took his wife’s hand. “For that reason, we will keep him close. It will be easier to keep an eye on him. Link, if I may, can I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Befriend him. Gain his trust. See what he is hiding.”

Link’s hands stuttered again, and the mask that Zelda loathed so much, the blankness she’d helped Link leave behind, was firm on his face. “Okay,” He signed. His movement was small, but only Zelda could clearly see its uncertainty. Sonia smiled softly.

“All will be well,” she said. “You’ll see. The Goddess smiles down upon us.”

Link nodded. He brushed his fingers over Fi’s hilt.

And then the throne room was gone.

---

“—am? Ma’am? Ma’am??”

Zelda woke to Ere shaking her shoulders’ near violently, the woman’s eyes wild and terrified.

“Shit, shit, do I make her throw it up?” Ere said to herself, nearly hysterical, “Or, or, do I flush it out? How would I even—oh, you’re awake. Thank the Gods.”

Ere punched Zelda on the shoulder, hard. “What the fuck? What were you thinking, putting that in your mouth?”

“I—” Zelda coughed, spitting out blood and taking a swig of Ere’s offered water canteen. “I saw him. My friend. The blood, it, it brings visions.”

Ere sat back on her heels, hands still on Zelda. “Fuck.”

Zelda nodded. Fuck summed it up pretty well.

“What in the great Continent did your friend get himself into to need fucking blood visions to find him?”

“I can’t—I’m not sure I can tell you that.”

Ere frowned, looking quite unimpressed, but dropped the prodding. “Ma’am—”

“Zelda.”

Ere cocked her head. “What?”

“That’s my name.”

“Like the princess?”

Zelda nodded. Ere’s face was unreadable.

“You are the princess, aren’t you, ma’am?” She said, sounding more like a confirmation than a realization, and Zelda suddenly felt a strange discomfort grow in her. There was no reason for it too; Ere was kind, had taken care of her as Zelda wandered in the freezing dark. There was no reason to be uncomfortable around the woman. She was being silly.

“I’m not much of a princess anymore,” Zelda said finally, and Ere laughed, offering Zelda a hand. Zelda took it. Ere’s gloves were warm, and she frowned at Zelda’s red fingertips before yanking them off and offering them to her.

“I couldn’t—”

“It isn’t an offer. You’re going to get frostbite. Put them on. We’ll take turns. Where… where are you planning on going next, now that you’ve given yourself dragon rabies eating blood off the ground?”

“Gerudo Town.” Zelda said as she pulled on the gloves. They were warm from Ere’s hands. “I need to get there quickly, but I don’t know how long it will take to backtrack to Mount Nabooru.”

Ere rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. “I could take you there, through some shortcuts I know. I know the Highlands like the back of my hand; I’ll get you down there in no time flat.”

“You—you would do that?”

Ere smiled. “For the princess? Anything.”

---

 They walked for a handful of more hours, the moon moving through the sky and leaving a collection of dark shadows and glittering snow across the cliffs and mesas of the Gerudo Highlans. Ere was quieter, but still kept up with small talk, exchanging gloves every thirty minutes. Zelda didn’t recognize any of where they were going, but Ere seemed confident in their path, and she trusted the woman to get her to the bottom of the Highlands and into Gerudo Town, or at least Kara Kara.

They’d been walking long enough for the sun to begin to kiss the horizon when snow began to become rock and sand again, and the sky was bright with early morning pinks and oranges when Zelda began to smell the rot.

Gloom.

Zelda slowly came to a stop. “Do you smell that?”

Ere nodded, face dark. “There’s a chasm near the base of Laparoh Mesa.” She said, kicking a rock. “Makes the whole place smell like shit. You ever been to the Depths before?”

Zelda cocked her head. “Depths?” Josha had mentioned something all those days ago in Lookout Landing, but had given very little detail. "I'm afraid I'm a little uniformed."

Ere snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it once we get to the base of the mesa.”

Ere picked up the pace, and soon Zelda shed her parka in exchange for long, hearty sips of water from her canteen. Zelda didn’t recognize the dips and hollows of orange and yellow stone, but Ere assured her that in just a few miles, Karusa Valley would open up into the desert and it would be just a hop, skip, and a jump to Gerudo Town. Zelda was glad to hear that; she couldn’t wait to see Riju. Zelda already missed Sidon’s company and yearned for the renewed presence of a friend by her side. Sidon, Riju—they weren’t Link, not in the slightest, but they were friends, family. They were better than nothing.

The smell of rot grew stronger, and the gloom had begun to hover around them in the air, making breathing hard, and as Zelda and Ere crossed the crest of a hill Zelda could see just what the woman meant by chasm. There was a hole in the earth belching gloom and death into the sand, a deadly maw open to nothing but darkness. In her shock at the sudden arrival of the death drop before her, Zelda almost—almost—didn’t notice the symbols on the red spell paper pinned from wall to wall of the arena, the bastardized Sheikah emblems drawn in bloody red.

Oh. Oh Gods.

Zelda took a step back, right into Ere’s chest. Ere’s hands were suddenly on her biceps, holding Zelda fast, hard enough to bruise, and the woman’s voice was dark and heavy in Zelda’s ear.

“You’re far too trusting, princess. Even your hero wasn’t so stupid, so gullible.”

“…Ere?” Zelda breathed, and the woman pulled her closer. Zelda recognized the accent now, the distinct husk of a native Sheikah speaking Hylian, the rolled ‘r’s and thick ‘s’s. It wasn’t Kakarikian Sheikah… no, it was older, richer, a mix of the Sheikah language of old and the musk of the desert.

It was a Yiga dialect.

Zelda ripped herself from Ere’s arms and the woman, the Yiga, growled, grabbing a fistful of Zelda’s hair and throwing her to the ground. Zelda fell with a shout, tumbling across the slanted ground, dangerously close to the edge of the chasm. She yelped as her skin brushed the gloom spilling out of the chasm and scrambled to her feet, boots sizzling and palms scraped.

“Ere, please—”

“Ere, please!” Ere said in a nasily mockery of Zelda’s voice, the glamor that covered her winter coat and climbing gear melting away into painfully familiar red and white. Zelda could feel the heat of her gaze, even under her mask.

“You should know better than to go around telling people all that shit,” Era spat. “Dragon blood… gross, but useful. I’m going to find that boytoy of yours and I’m going to gut. Him.”

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you—”

Ere laughed, a painful sound, and cocked her head. “I’d like to see you try.” She charged Zelda, and then the two were rolling in the sand, Ere’s hands grasping at anything she could, Zelda trying desperately to squirm from her solid grasp as the Yiga hid her across the temple with a spiked fist. Zelda hadn’t realized the gloves of the Yiga were armored. It was strange, fixating on that one detail as her back burned from the gloom soaking through her shirt. Ere’s hands found her neck.

“I’m going to kill you,” she whispered, her voice low and husky. “And then I’m going to track down your beau and feed him your corpse.”

Zelda’s hands clawed at her neck, and she could practically feel Ere’s manic grin. Sidon’s Vow, where was the Vow, where was—

“Do you know how many of my brothers and sisters your Link has killed? How he tried to murder my Master in cold blood? I’ll take so much joy in bringing Master Kohga your body.”

“A—alive?” Zelda wheezed, eyes impossibly wide and filled with stars. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, a crushing pain surrounding her throat—

Ere laughed. “We found him, when the Upheaval opened up the ways to the Depths. He’ll congratulate me for a job well done when I bring him your corpse. Maybe he’ll make a trophy of it, fillet it and display it at the front doors of the base for all to see.”

Zelda’s eyes fluttered and she fought to keep them open. She couldn’t move anymore, too tired to thrash any longer. She should use the golden power, incinerate Ere where she sat over Zelda but… but Ere had helped her. Ere was a... person... a bad one but still... living... breathing... red blooded as... as... her...

Zelda’s eyes opened and shut, opened and shut as black and white dots swam across his vision. Ere said something but Zelda couldn’t even hear her words, just the ringing in her ears and the ocean in her head. Her eyes drifted closed, and she was dimly aware of Ere climbing off of her. The Yiga yanked her up by her hair and Zelda spluttered. The paraglider was wrestled off of her into Ere’s arms as the woman flipped it open and wrapped an elbow around Zelda’s neck, keeping her close and docile as she struggled to breathe.

“After you, princess.” Ere sneered, and then Zelda was being shoved forward over the lip of the chasm, Ere close behind, paraglider in hand to slow her descent.

Oh. Zelda thought dimly as she dropped. I’m going to die.

She just hoped Link didn’t hold it against her.

Chapter Text

Zelda was falling. It was dark, and she was falling.

Link told her what falling to one’s death felt like, once. It was the first time he’d ever used Mipha’s grace, happening too quick to even think of his paraglider. His left arm had hit the ground first, then his shoulder, before his skull finally slammed into the rocks with a wet crunch. And then there had been nothing. It had been a matter of seconds, too quick to hurt, to suffer.

Death feels light, he told Zelda, like your whole body becomes sea foam, bubbling in your blood. It isn’t until you wake up that the pain starts.

Link said Mipha had held him with his head in her lap as the brains that marred the ground slowly pooled back into his skull and his arms unbroke themselves. She cradled him, cold, ghostly fingers running through his hair as his smashed organs reworked themselves into something more resembling a heart and lungs.

“Please, be careful, Link.” She’d said, voice soundless against the rushing in his ears, before fading to nothing, and only then had he begun to realize how much un-dying hurt.

Except, Zelda wouldn’t be un-dying. Zelda hadn’t seen Mipha since that fateful day on Mount Lanayru, and she certainly wouldn’t be seeing her once she hit the ground. No, Zelda was falling, and when she hit the bottom of wherever this damp, cold, foul smelling chasm led, there would be no coming back.

To think, it had taken hordes of guardians and the Calamity itself to kill Link, and all it was going to take to end her was a push into a hole by someone she should have known better than to trust.

Zelda couldn’t feel the wind whipping at her face, was only barely aware of the wetness in her eyes, couldn’t hear Ere’s voice and the crackle of the fabric of the paraglider a few meters above. Frankly, even the knowledge of what was at the end of this quickly finishing drop didn’t frighten her. All she could see was the look of pure terror on Link’s face as the stone floor below Hyrule Castle had given out below him, his last words begging her to run still caught on his lips, his gory, burned fingertips outstretched, almost brushing her own.

She was never going to see him again.

Ha. So, she really was just a failure. Her father was right in the long run, it seemed.

The chasm wasn’t completely dark now that they were rapidly approaching the end of Zelda’s free fall. The ground glowed dimly with gloom, and strange, fireless blue flames were littered soulfully across the ground. She could even hear the scuttle of creatures, the creak of stals. Maybe some successful predator could snack on her before Ere managed to drag her corpse back to Kohga. That sounded much nicer than her corpse being made into a trophy for a bunch of bloodthirsty Ganon worshipers.

Did they know the Demon King had returned? Would they even follow it like they did the Calamity? Were the two in league with one another, or were the Yiga dwelling underground, licking their wounds, for some other reason? Zelda guessed it didn’t matter much now. She was sure she was being a disappointment right now, not even trying to find a way to survive this but—

Suddenly, the dampness of the air around her was gone, covered instead by a familiar sensation of water engulfing her. Sidon’s Vow’s water bubble encased her on all sides, thickening into something semi solid and distinctly not liquid, yet still somehow clearly water. It was cold, cold and thick and comforting, and Zelda felt something that might have been arms wrap tight around her, slick with mucus but backed by strength. There was a moment of weightlessness as Sidon’s Vow wrapped her tight to his chest, and then a massive BANG – CHRUNK as they hit the ground. The solidified bubble exploded outward, the force of the collision dispersed across the watery substance instead of straight through her, and the Vow’s body shielded her from the rest of the fall, the two of them rolling to a chaotic and bruise inducing—but not life ending—stop.

Sidon. Zelda squeezed the Vow tight. Sidon just saved her life.

“Well then.” A gruff voice snorted above her, and just like that the surge of relief was gone. Ere came to a stop just inches from her, her Yiga uniform leg wraps making no sound as she hit the ground. “I see you have a friend. A pleasure.”

The Vow snarled, the light scale trident in its hand in an instant. It charged, swinging at Ere, who grunted as she ducked out of the way, swerving in between the Vow’s elegant thrusts. It caught her in the shoulder and Ere swore, the semi solid blue piercing through her thin red shirt as easily as if it had been true metal. She jerked back, and a chunk of fresh was ripped free, stuck on the barb of the trident. It was almost completely black down here, but between the gloom, the strange flames, and the Vow’s own unearthly glow, Zelda could see the scarlet of Ere’s uniform darkening to something far more sinister as the smell of blood filled the air.

“You bitch!” Ere hissed, a hand coming up to her freely bleeding shoulder. The Vow stabbed forward again, the chunk of Ere’s skin wobbling on its trident prong and Ere lunged past it, grabbing a fistful of Zelda’s tunic and pulling her close; one moment, Zelda was half way to her feet, ready to run, and the next Ere had an elbow around her throat and a demon carver at her stomach.

“It’s attached to you, right, princess?”

“I—”

“Call it off,” Ere growled in her ear.

“Ere—"

“How attached do you think the princess is to her fingers, Zora glowstick?” Ere shouted to the Vow,. “Drop the trident, or I start taking them off, two at a time.”

The Vow cocked its head.

“Or maybe an eye? A hand? Drop it.”

The Vow’s blank eyes narrowed, but it opened its hands; the light scale trident didn’t fall so much as drip, washing away like a rainstorm. Ere scoffed.

“Well, Zellie, since you decided you’d rather not be a pancake, we’re walking. I’m sure as hell not lugging dead weight all the way to camp if I can help it. So, Zora glowstick, you’re in front, where I can see you. You can be our torch—”

Zelda snapped her head back against Ere’s mask, and Ere swore, her grip slipping just enough to allow Zelda to wrestle an arm free and slam an elbow into Ere’s gut. Ere yelped, stumbling back, and then Zelda was running blindly into the dark, gloom sucking on the bottom of her shoes and Ere’s shouts behind her echoing in her ears. Zelda couldn’t see a damn thing, but that means that Ere couldn’t either, right? As long as she stayed quiet and moving—

Something hid Zelda’s back hard, and for a moment the sudden momentum was enough to distract from the blinding pain. Zelda stumbled, tripping over some kind of root, and another arrow hit its target, this time her calf, and Zelda went down for a second time today, fletching sprouting from her shoulder blade and calf.

Panting, Zelda pulled herself to her hands and knees—only to find herself face to knees with a blade master, torch raised high and head cocked in interest. Behind her, two Yiga archers dropped from their perches, and Zelda could hear Ere sprinting from behind, swearing up a storm.

“You… are… such… a pain,” Ere huffed, catching her breath, and the Vow, once again between Zelda and the newfound Yiga attention, swiveled its head between the four threats, unsure which to attack first, before noticing the wooden arrow shafts sprouting out of Zelda’s body and letting out a panicked warble. It dropped to its knees, half solid hands hovering around her helplessly.  

“I see you found a friend, Footsoldier Ere.” The blade master said, leaning down to shine the torch into Zelda’s face curiously.

“A royal friend.”

“Hm?” The blade master crouched down further, tilting Zelda’s chin toward to flame and huffing out a laugh. “Well I’ll be! You got a haircut, your Majesty.”

Zelda spat on him.

The blade master slapped a hand across her face hard, and Zelda tasted blood. The Vow snarled, barring its teeth at the blade master, clearly torn between defending her and tending to her bloody back and leg. Pain spasmed through Zelda’s calf; she wouldn’t be walking much longer without a hearty potion asap, and her back was numb where the arrow had connected with bone—clearly a bad sign. Her new clothes were quickly becoming soaked through with blood, running in divots down her spine.

“Careful. The Big Banana won’t need you all in one piece.” The blade master said, sounding far too nonchalant, and patted Zelda on the head. The Vow snapped sharp teeth at his wrist, and the hand went from a gentle pat to harsh fingers as the blade master grabbed a fistful of Zelda's hair and jerked her head up.

“You’re outnumbered, princess, and I care very little about your well being at this moment. Tell your dog to heel, or I’ll show it just how quickly this can turn sour for you.”

“I found her in the snow wastes, up in the Highlands,” Ere said, puffing out her chest. “She’s made quite the few discoveries—you know how we thought she and the Champion might have died under that castle? Turns out she’s got a lead. Once I let Master Kohga know—”

“Good work, Footsoldier,” The blade master said blandly, cutting Ere off. He yanked Zelda to her feet, ignoring her keening whine at the movement or the Vow’s snarl. It had encapsulated the arrow shafts in bubbles, trying to ease the pressure on her torn muscle, and the cool of the water was heavenly, even if it did little to stop the tear and grind of muscle on arrow head as the blade master yanked her along. The Vow twitched, ready to pounce, but Zelda caught its wrist, squeezing softly, her intention clear: Wait. Now was not the time for attack. Not yet.

“Tell me what the brat said and I’ll let the Big Banana know once I bring her to him.”

“We.”

“Hm?”

“We. Once we bring her to him. Since I found her.”

The blade master sighed. “Footsoldier, please—”

“I found her! I dragged her down here! I got the information! Me! I should get to see him!”

One of the two archers snickered, and Zelda could feel the glare the blade master shot them.

“I’ll… think about it.” He said, but Zelda had a feeling he very much would not think about it. “Archer Pyketo, Archer Krel, if you would.”

The two archers scurried over, one short—Pyketo—and one tall—Krel. Krel quickly produce a loop of rope, jerking Zelda’s arms at an awkward angle, ignoring the horrid sound that managed to slip past her teeth at the movement as it yanked her shoulder, and quickly bound them behind her. Krel roughly grabbed her cheeks and jerked her face up to their mask.

“Show Blade Master Danj such disrespect with your mouth again and I will not hesitate to gag it. Understood?” They said, their voice oily and cold. Zelda narrowed her eyes but nodded her head. “Good.”

Krel shoved her to Danj, who passed the torch to Ere. The woman seemed frustrated at being demoted to torch duty, but took it obediently regardless, walking in front of the group with great tension in her shoulders. Zelda tried to take comfort in the Vow’s hovering as it dutifully followed behind. She needed to take out the Clan members and get the fuck out of here, but if they could take her to Kohga—an alive Kohga who apparently hadn’t gone splat when Link kind-of-sort-of pushed him down a giant hole—then that would mean she’d have the chance to take whatever forces of Yiga left behind after the Calamity down from the very top. Zelda didn’t like the idea of killing a person, a real living, breathing person, but Kohga… he’d done nothing but hurt and hurt and hurt for over a hundred years… Zelda knew the Sheikah could live long, but it was as if Kohga was a man outside of age, outside of death, who danced on the very grasp of time, existing only on this planet to take. She’d been foolish, naive to think that Link had finally rid the world of him. Of course, that would be too easy. But she could—would—finish the deal. For Link. For Hyrule. She had to. Especially if Kohga knew about the Demon King. She had no idea if he did; the Yiga had always seemed one step before the researchers of the Sheikah back before the Calamity, knowing more about Ganon than they ever had, but this wasn’t Ganon. This was a whole other wheelhouse, something completely outside Ganon’s history. Ganon… Ganon had once been a man. A man with a need for power who took and took until there was no humanity left in him, just malice. Not a demon, just… just a man.

(A man from the desert, Ganondorf, a man who knelt before Rauru and swore his fealty, made a promise of peace and groveled for forgiveness in front of Link, Link who was alive, Link who was so far away, Link, Link, Link—)

“Pick up the pace,” Danj grunted, shoving Zelda forward as they approached.

Zelda gaped. It was the first light outside of a torch or the strange flames that Zelda had seen so far. The multiple stories tall fence, which was more of a barricade than a fence, was all wood and spikes and red spell paper (and banana paraphernalia, so many bananas). How had they managed to make all of this, so far underground?

The heavily fortified fence was crawling with masked Yiga. They flew through the air in bastardized Zonai devices, rode in strange carts belching fire, and had turrets of electricity on every level, and the sight of it made Zelda surprisingly angry. That technology wasn’t theirs to use, to steal; how had they got it anyways? The Zonai were a people of the Sky, how did so much of their cultural artifacts end up in Yiga hands? How had they transported it down here? Unless it had been down here to begin with?

“Open the gate!” Danj shouted, and three white and red heads popped up over the spiked gate. They waved and Danj sighed, waving back. There was a rumble as the three Yiga disappeared below the gate, and then the metal and wood was opening to reveal a truly massive building unlike any Zelda had seen before.

Multiple stories tall and only just hidden by the towering Yiga made walls around it, the construction was all white and green stone, somehow preserved despite the rot of the Depths, long abandoned but showing signs of loving caretaking back when it was inhabited. There were Zonai symbols lovingly carved across each stone, and Zonai devices packed away with care, organized in a way that was clearly not done by the Yiga. Furnaces littered the hallways, and Zelda could see the broken bodies of Steward Constructs, scrapped for parts and left to rot on the white stone floors. It was a refinery of some sort, and the constructs left to ensure its running had been stripped like common travelers against a highway man. The sight of it left an ache in Zelda’s heart that almost rivaled the pain in her lip from where she had bitten through it when Danj backhanded her. Those constructs hadn’t done anything, hadn’t hurt anyone—the Yiga had just seen something they needed and took it with no care of the artificial life in front of them.

It made her want to punch something.

Danj shoved her forward past the gates, and Zelda stumbled, falling to her knees with a cry. Her calf screamed in protest, and the Vow was at her side in an instant, warbling in terrified concern as it tried to help her to her feet. Instead, Ere grabbed her by the back of her tunic and hauled her up.

“Walk.” She grunted, and Zelda glared at her. The Yiga woman cocked her head, her single bastardized eye staring straight into Zelda. Danj was talking to another blade master, and a crowd had begun to grow around them, murmuring and muttering in Sheikah. Zelda could speak the language well enough to understand them, but felt strangely shaken at the sound of it. Objectively, she knew that the Yiga wouldn’t be speaking Common at all times, let alone Hylian, but the idea of them still holding on to their mother tongue, the one given to them at birth before they decided to abandon their own, was… unsettling. It was a reminder of who they were—people. If they had made a different choice, they would be farmers in Kakariko. Or a store owner, or an inn keeper, or even a monk. Paya had been working steadily to help recover and return the culture of the Sheikah erased over the years by royal Hylian aggression. It was Zelda’s bloodline, after all, who had continuously held the Sheikah under their thumb, forcing them into roles of soldiers and assassins and secret police, who were the ones who had given them the ultimate ultimatum after the first Calamity: destroy your technology, your way of life, or face extinction.

Zelda thought she might hate her too, if that had been her people forced to destroy themselves for the comfort of another.

She studied the crowd. The Yiga might all bare the same masks, but they were far from identical: fat and thin, tall and short, young and hunched with age. One person had another peeking out from behind their legs, obviously still a child. They weren’t dressed like the others, instead in looser, more comfortable looking red linens. They were unarmed—not a soldier. And more than just them was a spattering of other Yiga dressed in similar clothes, not a duplex bow or demon carver in site. These soldiers… weren’t soldiers. They were just people, living amongst the Yiga, under Kohga’s protection. Had Zelda and her family really failed so badly that Sheikah would seek out the Yiga just to live, not even to hurt?

“I need to see the Big Banana,” Danj gruffed to a broad, elegantly decorated blade master. She was clearly high ranking, with a massive wind cleaver on her hip and her arms crossed.

“About some girl?”

“She’s the princess,” Danj said, and the blade master tilted her head, clearly closely examining Zelda behind her mask.

“Huh. Got a haircut. I thought the two of them bit it under the castle during the earthquake.”

“Obviously not. She’s been out there looking for the Champion,” Danj spit out the name like a swear, “Which means we still have enemy no. 1 out there doing Ganon knows what. She knows something—get me access to the Big Banana and we can be sure to beat whatever it is out of her. Then we can take down the Champion and get back to work.”

Zelda swallowed. Back to work? Did that mean they knew about the Demon King? Gods, she hoped not. She could handle a league of deadly turncoats after her and Link for revenge, but if they had an honest to Goddess plan to work with the Demon King… that brought up much bigger problems.

The blade master studied Zelda more, uncrossing her arms and moving to Zelda with confident strides. She brought her gloved hand to Zelda’s throat, tilting Zelda’s head back.

“Blade Master Danj did a good number on you,” She said, running a thumb across the hand shaped bruise across Zelda’s neck. Zelda wasn’t sure what brought it on, but she found herself saying:

“Ere did it. Danj may have walked me here, but it was Ere who got me down that chasm.”

“Hm.” The blade master pulled her hand away, her touch drifting to the Vow, which was hovering as close to Zelda as it could, both hands tight as a vice on her bicep, waiting anxiously for the cue to attack and too worried for her well being to even think of acting on its own. The blade master passed a hand over the Vow’s crest, and it shivered.

“That’s quite a bit of magic you have there,” she said, voice surprisingly thoughtful. “We’ll have to be sure to get some dampening spells on you and your friend here.” The blade master turned her gaze to Ere, who stood in perfect attention just behind Zelda.

“You. Footsoldier. You brought her into the Depths?”

“Aye. Found her in the Gerudo Highlands searching for the Champion. She had found some strange blood magic that was helping her—I saw her use it. I can take you back there to see it, if need be. Then I brought her to the chasm and down into the Depths, where I met with Blade Master Danj. Ma’am.”

“Good work, Footsoldier.”

Ere preened under the praise.

“You’ve done well. Footsoldier Ere: take her down to the mines and get her some magic dampening spells. You’re to watch her until the Big Banana is ready to see her. Then, you can give your report to him.”

“What?” Danj said, voice dangerously close to a yell. “I’m her superior officer! I should be seeing Master Kohga, not some—”

“Watch your tone,” the blade master said and Danj puffed up, not unlike a riled up bird. “Do not forget who you speak to.”

“Of course, Hatamoto Aymu,” Danj grit out. The blade master—hatamoto, apparently—turned to Ere.

“This speaks of a promotion, if followed through well enough,” She said, and Ere straightened even more, her form perfect as she stood in high attention. “Go. Take her to the mines. And do not fail me, Footsoldier. You should know the consequences well enough.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ere said, grabbing Zelda’s bicep. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I shall hold you to that promise.”

---

 Ere’s grip was rough as she all but dragged Zelda down the white stone stairs, away from the lights of the mining facility and into the mine itself. Zelda knew the Sheikah were a magical people, long before their technology developed, and that the Yiga had held onto more of that magic and tech than the Sheikah of Kakariko, but she hadn’t expected Ere to be so… familiar with it. Before Zelda could even think to order Sidon’s Vow into attacking while she summoned the golden power, Ere had slammed her against a wall, ripping a roll of strange, thin paper from her belt and whispering a word in Sheikah. The paper was instantly alight, before burning down to a single sheet of red paper with glowing signs emblazed on it. Ere pressed the paper to Zelda’s lips, and Zelda jerked back, but to her surprise the spell paper wasn’t forced into her mouth. It just hovered there for a moment before fizzling into nothing but a few sparks.

Zelda was suddenly aware of a feeling she hadn’t felt since… since she was 17. The complete and utter absence of magic. Gone was Hylia, gone was the golden power, gone was—was the Vow! Zelda whipped her head around, looking for it, but Sidon’s figure had vanished along with all the comfort Zelda had come to take in the great power that dwelled inside her.

“You can try and set me on fire with your ‘holy Hylia power’ or whatever, but it won’t work.” Ere said, stepping back. “It’ll be funny to watch you realize just how fucked you are, though, so feel free to try.”

Zelda could feel Ere’s smirk behind her mask. She grabbed hold of Zelda’s arm again and continued to drag her down the stairs, away from the light and into deep, dark caverns of glowing ore.

“Ere—” Zelda choked out as another step sent a raw fire of pain up her leg. “Ere—”

“Shut up.”

“It’s my leg. Please, Ere, I can’t keep walking like this.”

Ere sighed and suddenly scooped Zelda up in her arms before continuing to march onward. Zelda squeaked, teetering in Ere’s arms, unable to grab on with her arms twisted behind her back, but Ere held her carefully, being sure not to let her fall. Finally, they arrived at a dimly lit area of cracked stone, and Ere deposited her with surprising care onto the hard, rocky ground. She sat back, leaning against a rock, and sighed, pulling a canteen from her pack and raising her mask just enough to take a sip. She looked at the canteen for a moment, before leaning over to Zelda and holding it to her lips. Zelda jerked her head to the side and Ere shrugged.

“Let’s get those out of you.” She said, leaning back, before opening her pack again. Out came, to Zelda’s complete and utter surprise, medical supplies. Ere scooted over before gently taking Zelda’s leg, clicking her tongue at the sight of the shredded muscle.

“Hate arrow wounds,” she said, “I’d take a knife to the gut over an arrow to the knee any day.”

Zelda watched with wide eyes as Ere went to work. It was clear she’d done this before, likely many times, and Zelda was struck with the sudden memory of helping Link after a nasty run in with a lynel. Only then, there had been words of concern and love in equal measure passed between them, and now Zelda sat in silence as Ere worked.

“Why are you helping me?” Zelda finally managed to say as Ere began to pack the wound. Ere slowed to a stop. Zelda could easily imagine her frown, behind the white and red wood.

“I mean. You’re gonna die today, but there’s no reason for you to be in any extra pain, you know? Might as well spend your last thirty minutes at least a little comfortable.”

Zelda blinked. “I… thank you?”

Ere shrugged. “It’s whatever.”

And then, to Zelda’s even greater surprise, out came a familiar looking bottle. Fairy tonic. Zelda eyed the drink warily. Ere wouldn’t poison her, would she?

“Shut up. Just drink it.”

“I didn’t stay anything—”

“Drink it, or I’ll dump it out.”

Zelda let the Yiga woman help her drink it. The effects came on slowly, then all at once, a sweetness flowing through Zelda’s veins that flushed out the pain in her calf and back. It was dulled, making less progress than a usual tonic would. A byproduct of the magic blocking spell, if Zelda had to guess. Ere settled back against an ore, folding her legs under her.

“So. Dragon’s blood.”

Zelda pointedly looked away from Ere, nose in the air. If the woman thought she’d tell her anything that might lead her to Link, then she was clearly stupider than she looked.

“Listen, princess, either we talk about it now, or the Master pries it out of ya, and I promise my way will be a lot easier for you. You’re not making it out of this. Might as well make it easier for yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

Ere snorted.

“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t try.” Ere crossed her arms, tilting her head back to watch the strange firefly like creatures that had begun to creep out now that the two of them were still. She tapped a beat out on her forearm—Zelda recognized it. Purah used to hum the tune often, back before the Calamity, as she leaned over guardian parts in the Royal Tech Lab. It was a Sheikah folk song, a remnant of a time long, long past, the tune remembered but the words forgotten.

“Why?” Zelda finally said, her voice echoing in the quiet. “Why leave Kakariko? What could possibly make all this worth it?”

Ere looked to her, and then laughed. “You wouldn’t understand. You grew up with a silver fucking spoon, princess. You couldn’t possibly know what it’s like, living there. They worshiped the ground you walked on when you were the reason that the Sheikah had lost everything to begin with.”

“I was unaware my ancestor’s actions were mine.”

Ere snorted. “My ancestors didn’t do anything wrong, and yet we lived in self imposed poverty for centuries.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“For what Hyrule did to you. All of you. You all deserve better. The fact that my family made you suffer enough to turn to something like the Calamity in hopes of revenge—”

“Not revenge. Liberation,” Ere said, voice surprisingly soft. “And besides, it’s more than just Ganon. The Big Banana, Master Kohga, he’s given us so much, more than any chief in Kakariko ever could. He’s saved us. And now that we know the Champion is alive, I can prove my gratitude to him and take my rightful place as a leader in our current operation!”

“Operation—You really think working with the Demon King will bring any good? He’ll destroy you along with the whole Continent.”

Ere’s head tilted slowly.

“Demon King?” She said, and Zelda paled. Fuck, fuck—

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“No. No, we’re talking about this.”

Zelda jerked her head away from Ere as the woman leaned closer. “The Big Banana won’t be as patient as I’m being, princess.” She said softly, and there was danger in her voice, sharp as knives despite the low volume. Her hand found Zelda’s calf, and Zelda shivered. She swallowed, but refused to look at the Yiga. Suddenly, fingers slid into the open wound on her calf, digging hard into the shredded muscle, and Zelda let out a choked sound, jerking away, but Ere’s free hand was on her face in an instant, fingertips digging into her cheeks hard enough to bruise as she wiggled her fingers inside her. Zelda couldn’t help the warbled scream that slipped out as Ere’s hand curled into raw, open flesh. The fairy tonic had helped with the pain earlier, but hadn’t been enough to heal completely, and Ere easily tore open any progress that the tonic had made.

“Demon King. Now.”

Zelda jerked her head out of Ere’s grasp and bit her fingers, hard enough to draw blood.

“You bitch!” Ere shrieked, pulled away, and Zelda spat blood at the Yiga’s masked face.

“Go fuck yourself,” Zelda hissed, and her nose crunched when Ere struck her in the face, hard. Zelda tasted blood as it poured down her face, and Ere suddenly seemed ten times bigger as she crowded herself into Zelda’s space.

“Footsoldier,” someone from the top of the hill called, and Ere whipped around. “The Big Banana will see you now.”

Ere instantly straightened. “Alright then,” she said to Zelda, standing and straightening her mask, wiping bloody spittle away. She hauled Zelda to her feet, and Zelda’s leg wobbled under her. She forced back a sob.

“On your way, princess,” Ere said, and Zelda took a steadying breath. She could do this. Somehow, she could do this. She would get her and the Vow out of here. She had to.

---

They brought her to a wide, open area that might have once been a loading zone and now resembled some kind of makeshift arena. Yiga scrambled to and fro, stacking boxes and moving strange, crystalized charges in massive amounts. And there, standing in front of it all, arms crossed, was the man of the hour: Kohga.

He was just how Zelda remembered: tall with both broad shoulders and a broader waist, strength deceptively hidden by a large layer of fat, the gilded eye on his mask painted with an savage grace. Magic wafted off him like wet smoke, and Zelda couldn’t hide the shiver that came over her. Ere stood in perfect attention, her hand on Zelda’s bicep squeezing tight enough to leave bruises.

Kohga turned.

“Princess Zelda,” He said, voice booming through the area as he dipped into a mocking bow. “You cut your hair! It looks lovely.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes, and Kohga laughed.

“We’d hoped the earthquake killed you and the swordsman, but it appears not. Oh well. At least we can stop digging down there now looking for that little man and start looking elsewhere.”

“The Princess is searching for him as well.” Ere said, voice firm and professional, if a touch star struck. “I found her in the Highlands searching for dragon’s blood in hopes it would help her find him. And she mentioned a Demon King, one likely tied to the Upheaval.”

Kohga tapped his chin, one hand on his cocked hip. “Dragon’s blood? Kings? Hm. What’s your boy doing messing around with demons, Miss Zelda?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

 Kohga’s laugh was loud and full bellied as he clapped Zelda on the shoulder. “You were always such a charmer. Now,” He leaned close, “let’s talk some. Dragon’s blood. Demon kings—”

Zelda smashed her forehead into Kohga’s mask as hard as she could and the man let out a shrill, near comical howl, clutching his face. Ere tackled Zelda, yanking her arm back and straining her still healing should blade, and Zelda couldn’t help the yelp that was forced out of her. Kogha held up a hand.

“No, no, Footsoldier—”

“Ere.”

“Footsoldier Ere. Come on, no need for pot shots. Pull her up.”

Ere sighed but yanked Zelda back up, and Zelda seethed at the two of them, eyes narrow and alight.

“I have eyes everywhere, princess.” Kohga said, “I don’t need you to tell me. It would be appreciated, but not necessary. A Demon King—now, is that who has been wrecking havoc on Ganon’s land? Who has been carrying out the Calamity’s vision? If this Demon is the reason you and Link are suffering then, well, perhaps he can prove to be a good… friend, in time.”

“You’re getting jack shit from me,” Zelda spat, and Kohga shrugged.

“Alrighty!” He said, “then we’ll just jump to the grand finale early! Footsoldier Ere, untie her, would you? I want to see what our lovely little princess thinks she can do against the might of the Big Banana and his constructions.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Ere’s hand went to Zelda’s wrists, and Zelda looked over her shoulder at her with wild eyes. “You don’t have to do this Ere—”

“Oh, I do. And even if I didn’t—I want to.” Ere said. Her sickly-sweet smile was clear, even under her mask.

“I can smell spell paper on her. Footsoldier, did someone?”

“Me, sir. Magic dampening spell.”

“Hm. Release it. I want to see her fail even at her best.”

Ere nodded quickly, and with a few words in Sheikah and a flutter of spell paper, Zelda suddenly felt a brightness in her. She’d missed it, Goddesses above she’d missed it, and she hadn’t even realized how much she had. It was like breathing after being held under water, a fire after surviving a blizzard, an oasis as one fled a sandstorm. It was coming home.

It took no time to grab hold of the golden power behind her heart and lash out at Ere. The woman cried as she went flying, and Sidon’s Vow—Sidon’s Vow, Sidon’s Vow!— quickly stepped between Zelda and the prone woman, trident drawn and mouth curled into a snarl.

“Alright then--” Kogha said. There was a whirl of spell paper, the smell of old Sheikah magic, and Zelda’s ears popped as the pressure in the arena grew. And then, where Kohga had stood so triumphantly, there was a massive spike covered contraption, spitting fire and electricity. Kohga sat comfortably atop it, legs crossed and chin resting on his hand.

“Prepare yourself.”

Zelda dove out of the way, back and calf screaming in protest as Kohga charged forward. Ere darted back to the edge of the arena where a crowd had been steadily growing, Yiga of all ages hooting and hollering, shouting encouragement to their leader and heckling Zelda, like this was some damn sports game and not her potential death. With Ere out of the picture, the Vow was giving Kohga its full attention, swerving in and out of the line of fire with a savageness Zelda had yet to see from it.

Zelda balled her hands into fists, light growing from her palms outward, blinding and golden, and Kohga hooted.

“Come on, princess! Show me what you’ve got!” Kohga cackled, the crowd roaring as he slammed into Sidon’s Vow. Zelda’s heart leapt to her throat as the Vow exploded into a shower of rain droplets.

“Sidon!”

“Sidon!” Kohga cried in a mocking falsetto. “Maybe I’ll ship a part of you to the Zora, as a reminder as to what happens when one supports the false monarchy of this Continent.”

Zelda was surprised at the sudden heat that bubbled up in her. It was one thing to target her, to target Link, but Sidon and his family had nothing, nothing, to do with this. This was her fight, not theirs, and if Kohga and the Yiga thought they could bring this fight to them they had another thing coming. Teeth barred, she charged, throwing out a shield of light as Kohga sped towards her. The vehicle tipped backwards as it collided with the solid light, knocking Kohga free, and Zelda flung out a golden hand. A white hot surge of power shot from her, and Kohga rolled out of the way. Zelda could practically hear him grind his teeth as he pulled himself to his feet. In a flurry of spell paper and magic, the man was gone, reappearing behind her in another spiked contraption.

Zelda spun. Her hair was wild and bloody, and she couldn’t feel the pain in her leg and back any longer, just a burning anger that licked the wounds like a sweet hearty balm.

“I’m going to kill you.” She said, the words hanging in the air, and Kohga’s giggles burned.

Zelda swung out an arm, then another, sending forth licks of light that ripped part after part off of the contraption. Kohga swore and turned a hard left, nearly running over Zelda and scrapping her side with a spike. Zelda didn’t even feel it. She lunged forward onto the contraption, and Kohga yelped.

“Get off, you twerp!”

Zelda’s hands found his shoulders, pinning him down, and Kohga rolled on top of her. He was heavier, stronger, with plenty of strength under his size, but Zelda had rage on her side. She wriggled under him, kicking and hitting anything she could reach, and Kohga swore. She finally managed to squirm out from under him. She kicked him in the mask hard, and Kohga dropped with a wheeze. She was tiny against him as she knelt on top of him, hands at his throat, and Zelda realized she could see two red eyes.

They were large for Kohga’s face, his white curls sticky with sweat, the few that had slipped free of his hair tie sticking to his forehead. His skin was the same warm brown of the Sheikah, his nose small and squashed from being broken far too many times. She’d kicked his mask clean off. Zelda’s breath caught in her throat.

Her hands were around his neck. Her, her hands, they were—

Oh Goddesses, what was she doing?

Kohga grinned as Zelda jerked back as if burned.

“Go on. Do it.” He rasped, “Come on. You can’t, can you? Pathetic.”

Zelda scrambled off of Kohga, who rolled to the side and fixed his mask back in place. Zelda ran. She bolted into the crowd, scrambling away from the grabbing hands of the Yiga. A hand was suddenly in hers, semi solid and cool to the touch, squeezing tight to her palm. Sidon’s Vow, reformed but wobbly, yanked her through the crowds, but Zelda knew there was no way they could truly escape all of them, not even if they ran into the dark of the Depths. The Yiga knew the terrain better, had greater numbers and light—

Zelda hit the ground with an ‘oof’, Ere’s arms around her waist. The woman’s uniform fluttered in the quickly increasing wind, her hands tight as a vice, and then Zelda heard the deep, divine groan. Zelda knew that sound. She’d heard it constantly, high above her for years as she prayed at the Holy Springs. A dragon.

Zelda looked up in awe as light suddenly flooded the darkness. True, divine light, not the lanterns and torches of the Yiga. Electricity crackled above her as Farosh flew elegantly above them, having descended from the Yiga Hideout chasm, beginning her route through the Depths.

She was beautiful. The sight of her brought a newfound determination to Zelda’s spirit, and with a pulse of light she sent Ere flying. The woman tumbled, and Zelda sprinted to her side, yanking the paraglider from her back. Ere grabbed at her ankle, and Zelda kicked her hard. The Yiga groaned and with that Zelda was off, chasing after Farosh.

“Wait! Wait for me!”

The dragon seemed to pause for a moment, tilting her head to the side and pondering Zelda as she sprinted alongside the holy serpent. Slowly, she lowered her head, electricity crackling through the air as the wind picked up speed, ruffling Zelda’s hair and clothes. Zelda flicked out her paraglider and up she flew until she was hovering before Farosh’s single horn. The dragon tilted her head further down till the horn brushed Zelda’s heels, an obvious invitation. Zelda let go of the paraglider, sliding down the horn to safety as the dragon rose higher into the air, the arrows of duplex bows tinking harmlessly off her scales.

“Thank you,” Zelda breathed to the dragon, and Farosh groaned. “Do you know how to get out of here?”

Farosh’s eye swiveled to Zelda and her ear twitched.

“Can you get me to Gerudo Town?”

Another groan. Zelda pressed herself closer to the horn, electricity crackling around her but promising safety regardless. The dragon continued to gain height. Zelda trusted her to get her to Gerudo Town. Her calf and back burned, but on Farosh’s horn, she knew she was safe.

Chapter Text

Sidon’s Vow fretted over Zelda the entire trip through the Depths. It hovered anxiously over her, blank eyes pained, and Zelda worried that it might distress Sidon with all its mothering. Would the Vow’s concern and distress bleed through whatever link it and Sidon had? Zelda needed to write Sidon—or better yet, visit, once she finished with the Gerudo. The shrine at the Domaine was easy enough to fast travel to, and she was sure the now clean water would feel heavenly after a stint in the desert.

Farosh’s movements were smooth and steady, but even then, the occasional jostle of her head or her horn sent a spike of pain up the already present burn in Zelda’s back and calf. Now that the adrenaline had settled some, Zelda was all too aware of her wounds, and she knew she needed medical attention fast— she had no idea what kind of infection was waiting for her, but she knew that Ere’s fairy tonic had done, frankly, jack shit in the long run, and that most of the healing in her calf from it had been undone when… when…

When Ere stuck her fingers in her. Zelda felt nauseous just thinking about it. The distinctly wrong feeling of something inside her that shouldn’t be there, the pain as Ere wiggled her fingers, their curl and strength as Ere loomed over her—Zelda turned her thoughts to other things. If she dwelled too much on this, she would make herself sick.

Farosh’s divine light lit up parts of the Depths that Zelda had missed earlier when there had only been the Yiga’s simple torchlight. Strange, mushroom-like trees rose up tall enough to brush Farosh’s yellow belly, and if Zelda leaned over she could brush her hands across their feather-like ‘leaves’. They were strangely squishy, like moss, with veins running through them that gave under her fingers. Farosh wove around stone that arched like massive tree roots, and Zelda found herself wondering if it was the roots of the mountains above them. Finally, something that might be natural light bloomed above them—another Chasm, this one leading up, up, up, into the world above. Zelda’s heart leaped in her chest at the sight of the yellow, muddy light.

The Purah pad came out once they began ascending, Zelda taking some last-minute photos of the foliage and rock formations now that there was enough light as a present for Josha. The little girl would be ecstatic to see something like this. A few photos were the least Zelda could do for her.

And then Farosh’s head broke through the Chasm, into hazy sunlight that left Zelda squeezing her eyes shut with a hiss. After so long in pure, uninterrupted blackness the little light burned, but it still wasn’t as bright as she expected it to be. The sun seemed muted, hazy and dim, and as Farosh’s horn finally exited the Chasm, Zelda could see why.

Zelda had spent a small degree of time in sandstorms. Back in the time before the Calamity, Urbosa’s Beast, Vah Naboris, was prone to whipping them up when it moved too quickly, and even after the Divine Beast was put to rest, the desert winds whipped up sand often enough, especially during heat waves. Link liked to race Riju through them when he visited, the two of them tethered to their sand seals and bolting over the dunes, Riju taunting Link over his technique while he cackled, dodging electric keese and lizalfos through the sandy hell until they breached the other side of the storm. Zelda had gone with them once or twice, but the feeling of utter smallness against the power of the storm wasn’t as thrilling for her as it was for Link and Riju, instead leaving her feeling claustrophobic and… and reminding her painfully of the feeling of standing beside, being inside, Calamity Ganon.

She’d never felt as small as she had during the first day of the Calamity, never so helpless, so alone, even with Link’s hand on her wrist, pulling her along through mud and rain and blood. Once Ganon had swallowed her whole, attempting to extinguish her Light with its overwhelming weight and gravitational pull, the Power that had flowed through her had steadied her, holding her up… but still, the feeling of smallness, of losing herself entirely while Hylia and Demise continued their eternal fight—well, it was not a feeling she would soon forget, or want to replicate.

(Hylia’s power had shifted, over those hundred years, replaced with something new and powerful. Gone was Hylia’s promise of sealing Ganon and instead came the determination to exterminate. Hylia, as strong as She was, could never fulfill such a promise. No, this Power and its desire had been old, older than Hylia, old as Creation, and thinking of it made the Triforce imprinted on Zelda’s hand burn.)

(That same Power hovered now, closer than it had been since she had used it to destroy Ganon, and even now it was bright and demanding in a way that it hadn’t been back then. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t describe it, but the difference was palatable. Ganon was a creature, a thing, a pest to be put down, and the Power had gladly risen up to do so. But this… this time, the Power wept, reaching out for something. A friend, a beloved... It rang true in Zelda's chest the same way that the Voice that spoke to her in the Shrines of Light did, and inspired Zelda to reach harder towards the Power's goal, whatever that was. Five years ago, the Triforce had wanted to destroy. Now, it longed to save.)

(‘What must I save?’ Zelda longed to ask, ‘what could be more important to save, to protect, than the Demon King is to destroy?’ But asking anything of the Triforce, of Nayru, meant acknowledging its presence in the first place, and that thought was too terrifying to consider.)

Zelda was quickly forced from her thoughts as the sand around her howled. It was more a shroud than a storm, covering everything completely and utterly with its touch. Zelda’s exposed skin burned, both from the sudden heat and the needles of sand coming at her and burring into any bit of flesh it could find. The fine grit was turned to daggers by the howling wind, drawing blood and whipping her hair around her like a bonfire.

A film of sand covered her bare skin, stripping it of any color. The sand had wicked all the moisture from her mouth, and the heat pounded into her like a steady drum, wrapping its fingers around her throat and slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. This—this was wrong. This was no sandstorm, this was something entirely new, a mere mockery of what a sandstorm should be, instead standing as proof that Hell was something that could rise into the air and take natural form. Zelda gagged on sand, slapping a hand over her mouth and nose, and squinted at the Purah pad as she desperately tried to find her map. She didn’t have a tower activated, shit, shit, shit—but it wouldn’t have mattered. Because the pad wasn’t fucking working, instead just a spitting, spluttering mess of static and warped electricity.

Farosh groaned, rising up, up, until finally, she breached the storm, high in the air, above the very clouds, exposing a terrible sight. There was no desert, no Gerudo Town, no Kara Kara, nothing but screaming winds and whipping sands.

So the Demon King’s influence had made itself known here as well. Zelda needed to do something, and she needed to do it fast. A storm, a shroud, like this, it wasn’t survivable, no matter how in tune a Gerudo was to the desert around her.

Farosh continued gaining altitude until the storm was but a peaceful swirl of brown and gold below Zelda. A fall from this height would kill her in an instant—Zelda clutched her paraglider closer to her. Suddenly, she was aware she was not alone. The dragon had come as silently as his namesake, twisting in the sky and looking positively tiny next to Farosh’s divinity. Surprisingly, now that the two could be compared, the silent dragon didn’t feel all that divine at all; it felt powerful, and old, bursting with a light that reminded Zelda of Sidon’s secret stone, of Rauru’s essence. Was he that old? Had the silent dragon come from the time of secret stones and Zonai, hidden for millennia above the clouds, seen only enough to become the barest of myths?

It (he?) felt… familiar. Almost like… like coming home.

The silent dragon drifted closer. His shoulder and arm were just as festered, dripping blood sluggishly into the storm below, the drops scattered by the wind into a pink mist. Zelda’s heart ached for it. What could possibly harm a dragon?

He twisted his long, battle-scarred neck, scratching at the wound with his chiseled horn. The area seemed to glow faintly, an emerald green-gold, and the bleeding stopped, the puss pulling back into the wound, even if only for a moment. The injury was worse than it looked, Zelda realized. She didn’t know if one could kill a dragon, but the flaking scales around it and pulsing red reminded her of the effect of gloom on exposed flesh after too long, when the stuff began to eat into the very bone. Something inside the dragon, something powerful, was keeping the wound from causing further damage but…

Zelda didn’t know if dragons could die, but she had a feeling this one, as old as he was, didn’t have much time. Not if he failed to keep the festering illness from seeping from his wound.

The dragon turned its head to Zelda, cocking it, its wide, blue eyes framed by golden and emerald lashes as long as her arm. It was close enough to make out in full, and as damaged as the beast was, he was beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

And familiar. So, so familiar. What could make something that had been seen below the clouds only a handful of times seem so right to stand before?

Then Zelda saw it. Saw her.

She stood proudly upon the silent dragon’s forehead, buried deep in his skull, her hilt stretching towards the sky and her blade wrapped in the dragon’s wild, golden mane.

Fi.

What the fuck was the Master Sword doing in a dragon’s head?

Link had told her to find Fi, practically ordered her to. It was the only words he had left her, other than a meager apology and telling her that he loved her. Zelda… Zelda couldn’t tear her eyes from the Master Sword. Link told her to find it, and find it Zelda had. The question was, did Link put it there? Had he put Fi inside a dragon’s skull? A dying, age-old dragon? How had Link possibly known to do so? How had he been able to do so? The strength to pierce a dragon’s scales was insurmountable, let alone its skull, but if Link had put Fi there, then he had done both.

As if it had noticed her open-mouthed staring, the silent dragon drifted closer, closer, till Zelda could touch if it she so desired. She sidled herself up Farosh’s horn, murmuring ‘thanks’ to the Guardian Dragon, and with careful steps, hopped onto the silent dragon’s snout.

The scales were warm, even beneath her boots.

“Hello, big guy…” She said softly, and the silent dragon seemed to almost purr under her. She could feel it under her feet, a low, peaceful rumble. It swiveled its eyes to her, comically cross-eyed as it tried to take her in, and Zelda smiled. “I’m Zelda. You have a friend of mine in your head. Do you… do you mind if I…?”

As soon as her hand brushed Fi’s handle, the silent dragon screamed. It was ear-splitting, painfully loud, a heart-crushing sound that had Zelda dropping to her knees and slamming her hands over her ears. The dragon went silent as soon as her hand left the hilt, and it seemed to pant under her.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Zelda said, resting a hesitant hand on his warm scales. “I just need to get my friend out, okay? She’s very important to me.”

Zelda reached for Fi again, and this time when the silent dragon screamed she grit her teeth and held on. It thrashed under her, whipping its hand to and fro, and suddenly, the Voice was calling out from deep behind her heart, echoing in Zelda’s bleeding ears.

“Not yet, little Goddess,” she said, and Zelda shook her head, clinging desperately to the Master Sword. “You aren’t strong enough. You have yet to accept the Wisdom I give.”

“I—”

“Let go,” the Voice said. “She will wait for you. Let go.”

“No!”

“Let go.”

Zelda, tears in her eyes, felt Fi’s hilt slip from her fingers. With one final fling of his head, the silent dragon, its mouth still open but no sound coming free, sent Zelda flying off his snout, plummeting into the storm below. Zelda watched it grow small in the sky as she fell into the sand shroud, and told herself the tears rolling down her cheeks were from the sting of the wind.

---

Zelda whipped out her paraglider with plenty of time left to scan the ground for the green light of a Shrine of Light. She would find one, get inside, and give the Voice a piece of her mind. How dare she tell Zelda to abandon Fi? How dare she pull Zelda away from the closest link to Link she had? How dare she? How dare she?

Zelda’s feet came to rest at the highest point of Gerudo Town, the shrine just before her. Except… except, this wasn’t right. A sandstorm had never come this close to Gerudo Town before, and yet Gerudo Town was covered in sand, battered by the howling wind, and the town was in complete shambles, destroyed and perfectly deserted from her view of it from the height of the shrine. There was no one, no soldiers standing guard, no saleswomen in the markets, no children running through the streets or young lovers hiding away in alleyways, no one at all. And still, her Purah pad was on the fritz. She’d been hoping to last out the storm in the shrine, but Zelda was beginning to believe that wouldn’t be possible. The storm should have stopped by now. It should have passed by now.

The Demon King… could he control the very weather like this? If he could control the moon, bring gloomy suns and poisonous rain, then could he damn the Gerudo to an endless sand shroud? Zelda shuddered at the thought. She pressed a hand to the shrine, ducking in the moment it opened and gulping in the cool, clean, if a little stale, air inside like a drowning man. No sand, no wind, no heat—and her Purah pad, while still staticky in places, seemed to be working better.

Thank Hylia.

Zelda moved deeper in. Soryotango… the very walls seemed to whisper to her. Buried light.

Zelda paid no attention to the puzzle, to the piles of sand and the fans and mirrors around her.

“What the fuck?” She hissed into the air.

“Little Goddess.” The Voice replied.

“Fi was right there! A chance to hold my own against the Demon King! Potential clues to Link’s whereabouts! Following through what he asked of me! How could you deny me that?”

“You’re not ready to wield her.”

“Bullshit! All my life I’ve waited for Gods to decide I’m ready. Who do you think you are to get to make that decision? I say I’m ready, which means I. Am. Ready!”

“You know me, little Goddess. You know who I am to ask this of you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’ve slumbered inside you since you first earned me, since you first called me to your aid, a century ago.”

“I’ve had enough with Goddesses. I’ve said no to Hylia, and I’m saying no to you.”

“Have We truly hurt you so?” The Voice said, carrying a genuine sadness. “My Sisters, have We really damaged so much?”

“I don’t need you.”

“You cannot possibly defeat the Demon King without me and my Courageous Sister.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to do it on my own.”

I know your limitations.”

“Fuck you.”  

“I love you. I have loved you since I created your very soul, all those lifetimes ago. I loved the first Spirit Maiden, and I shall love the last. I love you.”

“I don’t need your love.” Zelda spat.

“… Very well. I give it still, little Goddess. My Wisdom will always be ready and waiting, should you only call upon it.”

And then Nayru was silent.

---

Zelda did the puzzles anyway. They were simple, if a little messy, all moving sand and shining lights. The blessings of the shrine left her back and calf healed, though it did little to heal the hurt burrowed in her heart. Link. That dragon was tied to Fi, literally, which meant it was tied to Link. Somehow, that dragon had something to do with him—it was so old, perhaps Link and the dragon had spent time together, back at Hyrule’s founding. It would explain why Link was in the memories of the dragon, though not why the actual dragon didn’t seem to be in the bloody memories. Link’s amputation and Ganondorf’s promise both were notably absent of the dragon that had supposedly seen the events well enough to remember them in blood. Maybe the dragon had been young and small, hidden on Rauru’s person? Or perhaps Rauru’s Zonai magic had something to do with it? Hell, Rauru and Sonia had both shown prowice with secret stones, Link having his own on his hip in the Ganondorf vision—could the dragon have viewed the events through a stone? Or could it even be made of the stone?

Zelda dug her hands into her eyes. She didn’t know enough. She just didn’t have enough pieces to even see the outline of the puzzle, let alone its solution. She needed to know mote, more about dragons blood and the Zonai and secret stones. The first was technically possible, though it would take time to keep tracking down the silent dragon and his blood pools, and Zelda did not have that time. The second was tied to the first, with visions of the Zonai coming through with the blood. The third—the third was the closest, easiest to reach. Once she found the second sage she’d be able to track down the secret stone. Maybe the sage of old could give her answers. Which meant she actually had to find the second sage. Riju would know where to start; if anyone knew about the goings on of the Gerudo, it would be her.

Zelda hopped down from Soryotango Shrine, landing in a pile of sand that left her spitting out dust and girt, right in the center of Riju’s arching top floor balcony. Visibility was next to none. The town was silent, save for the deafening roar of the wind. Usually, the many wells and aqueducts of Gerudo Town gave it some protection from the heat of the desert, but the water that usually flowed throughout the once breathtaking town was gone, leaving a blistering heat behind that stole Zelda’s breath away.

Nearly blinded, Zelda squinted through the golden haze into Riju’s bedroom—or she would have if the wide, arching windows hadn’t been boarded up. Wood planks had filled in Riju’s windows and nailed the door shut, each one littered with… claw marks? Deep gashes covered the wood as if something had desperately been trying to get in. The glass from the windows littered the ground in sparkling shards. The board covering the door back into Riju’s bedroom was so badly clawed at that it had almost entirely fallen off its nails, and when Zelda pushed against it with her fingertips it groaned dangerously. Zelda crouched down. She shouldn’t. She should stay out here in the wind and sand, where it was loud and hot but still bright with half-shrouded sunlight—but what if Riju was in there? Gods, what if Riju’s corpse was in there? Riju would never abandon her people, and the only way she would leave behind Gerudo Town was if she was dragged kicking and screaming, or left behind, brown skin cold as the desert night. Zelda swallowed and steeled her resolve, then slunk down and crawled under the loose board.

It was dark in Riju’s bedroom, almost black with the windows and door boarded up with only slivers of light coming in between cracks in the wood. Zelda reached for the oil lamp she knew Riju always kept by her bedside, and with a quick flick from the flint in her tinderbox, the lamp flared to life.

The room spoke of a great battle, and the sight of it left Zelda’s stomach in knots. Riju’s bedframe was snapped in two, the mattress ripped to pieces by long claws and left in tatters across the floor. The walls were scorched by some kind of electricity, the stone cracked and clawed, and sand and dust covered each surface. There was a snapped scimitar on the floor and footsteps that showed a hasty retreat. Riju’s diary sat open on the floor, knocked off her desk, parchment pages crumpled by fleeing footsteps. Zelda scooped it off the ground, leaning against a snapped bedframe and scanning the dates of the last new entries. There, a few dozen pages or so back, was the date Link and Zelda descended below Hyrule Castle. Riju’s hand had been unsteady as she wrote of concern for Zelda and Link’s safety, and, as the pages continued, the safety of her people.

‘I received an unsettling report from Lookout Landing today, not long after the great earthquake that some are coming to call the Upheaval, regarding Link and the Princess’ whereabouts—or lack thereof. To think, just a few weeks ago, Zel and Link were here dealing with removing lingering Yiga from Karusa Valley, and now they might be… might be… No. I shan’t say it. I shan’t even think it. Zel and Link will be fine, they always are. Till then, I must think of my people and this strange gloom that descends upon us with the very sand.

…

The wind grows stronger every day, and with it comes bloody suns and moons. The Great River has returned, but it does not bring with it fertile mud and promised resurrection of Gerudo splendor—it brings with it a great wind, and on that wind, a sandstorm like no other. It is more than a storm, it is a shroud of death upon us. But I will not give up hope! Link and Zel are still to be found, likely somewhere in the Chasm below Hyrule Castle. If I could only be in two places at once, I would dive there myself and drag them home! I thank Din that the sand, as choaking as it may be as it licks up our resources and isolates us from the world, carries with it no greater threat. I hear the Zora’s sludge burns one down to the very bone, and my girls in Eldin speak of monsters wearing Goron faces. I fear for the Rito.

…

I spoke too soon. Devils have come from the sand for us. I have sent out my best to drive them from the wastes, and none return, over and over. A Gerudo never accepts defeat, yet I find my heart turning towards the Maidens, towards Din, towards Mother—what would you have done? Guide me, please!

…

I am frightened. Lady Urbosa, forgive me, but I am frightened. I will not let my people know. For them, I will be strong, will hold my head high, but these gibdos… they are unlike any I have ever seen. Their hides are impenetrable, and they spew gloom at whomever draws near. Their claws speak of gloomy infection that promises certain death. Not a single soldier has survived their bite. Din Almighty, Creator, Protector, Goddess of Power and Spirit, have mercy. I don’t know what to do, and they all look to me! I can give pretty lies only for so long. And there is still not a word on Link and Zel. Two weeks… I pray that somehow they have crawled out of that Goddess-forsaken pit, but in the depths of my heart, my resolve wavers.

…

Wisdom is knowing one’s enemy. Courage is having the strength inside to fight it. But Power is understanding when a leader must accept an enemy cannot be fought. Not as I am now. My lightning is too unstable. There is no helping it, not while we exert all our forces on holding the city. The time has come to evacuate. I pray the Gerudo Sanctuary, protected by the Silent Statues, will watch over my people as I stand guard. I will not abandon them, even if it costs me my—'

The writing stopped. Ink was splattered on the page from where Riju had dropped the quill, smeared across the page in her rush to do… something… while the ink was still wet. Carefully, reverently, Zelda placed the closed diary back on the table

 Zelda froze as she saw the sand seal plush ripped to pieces lying on the sandy floor, stuffing spilled haphazardly on the tile. Somehow, the plush hurt more than Riju’s desperate words. She knelt down, gently cradling the stuffed animal in her arm while she stuffed the stuffing back into the gash on its side. It would take some stitching, but she’d be able to fix it quickly enough. A gift, for when she found Riju.

Zelda’s pointed ears perked at a sudden hissing sound, almost lost to the howl of the wind outside. A hiss, and the soft hush-hush-hush of heavy feet dragging through sand. Zelda’s hand drifted to her bow as she looked over her shoulder slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. A grey arm, spindly and skeletal, deformed grey skin over broken, animalistic ribs—

Zelda dropped her bow, slamming her hands over her ears, but it was too little too late: the gibdo let out a world-shattering, earth-shaking shriek that ripped straight through her, leaving her frozen in its golden, piercing stare. Zelda had seen gibdos before—the remains of restless spirits, walking rot whose screams carried with them the very power of death, sucking the air from the listener’s lungs and leaving them paralyzed. Gibdos were slow, but they didn’t need to be fast when they could freeze their prey in place with a single scream and rip them limb from limp with impossibly strong arms and claws as long as their spindly, skeletal fingers.

Gloom dripped from the gibdo’s open mouth. It was strangely animalistic in its features, almost insect-like. Zelda had never seen a gibdo like it before, like a moth had somehow fused itself onto a corpse, becoming one with the gibdo as it rose from the dead. That was the trouble with gibdos—they rose. For each man you lost to them, they gained another soldier. The gibdo’s jaws were stained red and black, glowing with gloom, and Zelda wasn’t sure if the smell of rot came from the gibdo’s flesh or the gloom itself. Its claws were tinged red, and if not for the stench of gloom and the slight glow, Zelda would have mistaken it for Gerudo blood. It took a lumbering step forward, arms raised and claws twitching, and Zelda fought to move as it opened its mouth to scream again and—!

BOOM!

The room shook as bright light flooded it, lightning bouncing madly off the stone walls, unstable and dangerously volatile. Some stuck the gibdo, who squealed, breaking its concentration and setting Zelda free of its spell, but most missed—still, standing behind the gibdo in the broken doorway, ears plugged with cotton and wax and arm extended, fingers sparking, was Riju of the Gerudo. Her hair (so much shorter now, she’d cut it at some point in the last few weeks) appeared to be fire in the light of her lightning, as clumsy as it was, and she grabbed Zelda’s wrist, hauling her up and shoving her out the door.

“Go! Go, go!” She yelled, pulling Zelda out into the storm. Sand and wind screamed around them, and suddenly more gibdo were around them, more, more, a whole swarm, an eclipse of howling undead. Their once Gerudo faces were twisted and insect-like, more moth than woman anymore, but Zelda didn’t have the time to mourn them as she slammed her hands over her ears, following Riju as the girl, only just having turned 17, led her deep into Gerudo Town, dodging gibdos at every turn.

“In here!” Riju shouted, though Zelda could tell only from the movement of her mouth with her ears covered. Riju led her around the back entrance to the palace, down into the smashed and boarded throne room, no longer a place of splendor but instead an abandoned battlefield. Riju shoved aside the statue of Din behind the throne and shoved Zelda at in; no, not at it. In it. Because it was hollow, hiding a drop into shallow waters and rough stone tunnels.

Zelda squinted up as Riju followed after her, three Gerudo soldiers below them moving up the ladder to help Riju pull the statue back in place before covering the entrance with a heavy stone. Only then, with the screams of the gibdo far above them silenced by meters of stone, did Riju unplug her ears. She shook out the sand from her hair and turned to Zelda, arms crossed and the scimitars of the Seven hanging elegantly on her hips.

“Where,” she said, eyes narrowed and lip curled, “the fuck, have you been?”

Chapter Text

The Gerudo Sanctuary carried with it a number of white noises—the rumble of soldiers’ voices in Gerudo as they repaired cracked and shattered weapons, the trickle of underwater channels, the screaming wind outside muffled into a swirling song, as well as the coo of mothers and elders as they clutched children to their sides, murmuring soft nothings as they moved their hands in the Gerudo Sign, as almost all the children’s ears had been deafened with wax and cotton. Almost all the Gerudo hidden down below the ground had muffled their hearing in fact, with the group of soldiers being the only people with their hearing open to all. The soldiers, and Riju.

Riju had led Zelda through the Valley of Silent Statues with her hand still fiercely on Zelda’s wrist. She hadn’t given Zelda time to answer her question, eyes fixed onto the high ceiling above them as they traversed the sandy, rotten hallway, lined with gigantic statues of the Seven, ears strained for any sound of a security breach, and it wasn’t until they reached a massive stone that hid access to what proved to be a massive underground sanctuary that she released Zelda's wrist. Reeza had opened the door for them, bowing to her Chief for a count of three with the hand not clutching a spear cupped by her heart, palm up, before nodding to Zelda in a respectful acknowledgment.

“Princess,” She’d said, her Hylian consonants thickened by her Gerudo accent. “We’d received news you and the Champion Swordsman had gone missing. It is good to see you well, but you’d best run inside. Even under the city and with the Seven’s protection, the Valley isn’t safe. In you go.”

And then the stone had rolled back, exposing a sprawling collection of rooms, lit with sconces and oil lamps, filled to the brim with soldiers and refugees alike, who all scrambled to stand and bow before their Chief. Riju smiled and pulled back her shoulders as she inclined her head to her people, but as soon as they turned away her hand was back on Zelda’s wrist, marching her through dusty rooms packed with people into a side hallway that opened into a large, circular room with a low ceiling, straw floor, and, taking up every inch of the room, sand seals.

“Oh, Patricia, what are we going to do?” Riju said, drawing out the final vowel and flopping down beside her sand seal. Zelda snorted.

“Well, hello to you too,” Zelda said, and Riju shot a glare over her shoulder. Zelda smiled softly, bowing for a count of three, palms positioned upwards over her heart, and Riju sighed. She waved a hand, the movement tired and scarily close to defeated.

“Don’t bow to me,” She said, before sitting up with a groan. She moved as if she were a hundred years old. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Zelda knelt beside her and Patricia. She took one of Riju’s hands, the one not currently buried in Patricia’s mane, and ran her hand over the knuckles. Riju’s fingers were short, the cuticles bloody from her gnawing on them. Her hands, already hard with callouses from a life in the desert, were swollen with new blisters—not ones rubbed into life by hard work, but from burns. Electrical burns. Zelda’s heart ached at the sight.

“You didn’t give me the chance, thank you very much.”

Riju rolled her eyes.

“Where’s the Champion? If he really went and left you alone out in a sound shroud then sword boy and I are going to have words—” Her words caught in her throat and she took a shaky swallow. “He’s alive, right? They said you both were missing, but you’re here, so he’s alive, right?"

“Yes,” Zelda said, squeezing Riju’s hand. “Yes, he’s alive—”

“Oh, thank the Seven,” Riju breathed. “I was—I—” She cleared her throat. Zelda pretended she had never read Riju’s diary, hadn’t read her fears firsthand. “I never doubted him for a second. Where is he? We need to get him out of that storm pronto.”

“He… he’s still missing.”

Riju’s eyes widened just a fraction, and for a moment she looked every bit the 17-year-old she was instead of the Queen of the Gerudo she held herself up as. True, complete distress painted every brown feature, clung to baby fat, and pooled in her dark, warm eyes. “I—I hoped…” and then it was gone, and back was the mask of maturity, of regality. “It matters not what I had hoped. Tell me everything.”

“Then you,” Zelda said, and Riju nodded.

“Of course.”

Zelda brushed a stray eyelash from Riju’s cheek. How had she gotten so old? “A few weeks ago, just before the Upheaval, the Zonai Investigation Team found a passage under Hyrule Castle that went deep, deep into the ground and seemed to serve as a potential starting point for the gloom that had been appearing. Link and I descended into it to investigate.”

Riju sighed. “So, I am assuming then that you both were under the castle went the Upheaval began to ‘upheave’?”

“Yes. But it was more than the castle rising; there was something under the castle,” Zelda said darkly. “A mummy—”

“A gibdo?” Riju said, perking up, and Zelda shook her head.

“Too intelligent. It spoke to us like it was a living person, but then it attacked us. It ripped into Link’s arm, shattered the Master Sword—” At Fi’s name, Zelda’s fingers tingled, the knowledge that the sword had been right there hurting more than she wanted to admit, “—Then the passage exploded. Link fell into the chasm, then disappeared into a flash of light. I’ve been searching for him, but unable to make much process.”

Riju narrowed her eyes. “Do not lie to me, Zel.”

“I’m not!”

“A lie by omission is still a lie.”

Zelda swallowed. “Alright. Link has been seen since then. He… he attacked Dorephan of the Zora, and I saw him in a vision.”

“Vision?”

Zelda bit her lip. “There’s more afoot than you can even imagine, Rijie. When the castle rose… after all of it, I woke on a collection of islands in the sky, and the ghost of a distant ancestor spoke to me. Rauru—the ghost—told me the mummy was a Demon King from a long-forgotten history, ready to destroy Hyrule again. I was told to find magical stones and the sages who would wield them, and that only then could the Demon King be defeated. I found the secret stone of water, and the newest sage, Prince—King now!—Sidon. We found out the Demon King had been the cause of the Zora’s poisoned waters and muck, and then were given a vision by the first sage of water. And… and Link was in it.”

Riju frowned, running her fingers through Patricia’s soft fur.

“You must understand, Rijie, I need to find the secret stone and sage of lightning that are hidden in the desert, and quickly.”

Riju was quiet for a near painful amount of time, eyes far away.

“… I will not pretend to understand the depth of your pain regarding your missing Champion… but Link is a dear friend to me, and my heart aches for you both. I will do everything in my power to help you. But first, I must bring a quick resolution to the deadly forces we Gerudo are facing. We celebrated at first—the Great River burst forth from underground during the earthquake that rose the castle, speaking of a new age of prosperity for the Gerudo. But then, the worst occurred. Strange gibdos unlike anything I’ve ever seen began to crawl from out of the waters. Corpses upon corpses upon corpses… they vomited gloom in a thick, poisonous gas; every scratch from their massive claws brought gloom infection, and their bites spelled out certain death. Their Gerudo faces were tainted by some strange insectoid growths, and they sprouted wings and took to the sky like moths. And they are near invincible. My lightning can damage them, but they’re still too resilient. It takes far too much concentrated energy, and I’m still learning.”

Riju’s lightning: a gift only recently actualized that had been passed down to her from her grandmother. Urbosa had been gifted in the magical arts, the ozone all but a part of her blood. She’d once told Zelda that the electrical power was ancient, passed down by blood since the beginning of the Gerudo, back when the Great Asfet was but a babbling brook amongst canyons not yet battered into sands. The lightning was as old as the desert itself, but fickle, requiring grace and practice and dedication to master. Riju had only just begun her training, but it was slow going, and she had been getting increasingly frustrated, which Zelda could only imagine was getting worse and worse with the appearance of these strange gibdos.

“I’ve only been able to buy us time,” Riju said darkly. “And if it couldn’t get any worse, a sand shroud whipped up from the west, making it impossible to flee. We’re trapped, outnumbered 10 to one with those things crawling closer and closer to the sanctuary with each given day. I’ll gladly help you, but first… first, my people must be prioritized.”

“I understand, of course I understand, Riju. You are a Chief, first and foremost… but…”

Riju raised a red eyebrow. “But?”

“I’m merely thinking out loud, but… finding the secret stone of water had saved the Zora. Perhaps finding the secret stone here and the sage that comes with it will save the Gerudo. Perhaps our goals are more aligned than they first seemed.”

“I… agree.” Riju sat up and pulled herself to her feet. She looked tired, so tired, and it made Zelda’s heart ache to see the dark circles under her eyes. Riju’s forehead wasn’t weighed down by its usual golden royal headdress, replaced by a simple circlet to allow for ease of movement. Her hair had been cut short shortly after the Calamity at the ceremony that Zelda and Link had attended with pride, along with the heads of the three other races of the Continent—the official anointing ceremony. Technically, the anointing ceremony should have happened immediately after Riju took the throne, but the death of her mother, the previous Chief, had been so sudden and the dangers of Vah Naboris so imminent that Riju had taken the title without the usual cultural acknowledgment of power.

Riju had never cut her hair before until that day. There was no mother at the ceremony to cut off the massive braid, but Buliara had gladly taken the role, the two of them standing before the palace steps, Link and the other male heads of state gifted a pardon for entrance so they would have the change to see the Heart of the Gerudo Desert take her throne. The hair slice, generally done with a mother’s favorite blade that would then be passed over as the first blade the new Chief would wield as ruler of the Gerudo, was done with Urbosa’s twin swords, which now sat on Riju’s hips. The haircutting was a precious, holy moment, symbolizing the change from girl to woman, child to adult, princess to Chief. Buliara had placed the braid in Riju’s hands and it had been burned in an offering to Din, before the blades were passed over, a promise from Riju’s ancestors to watch over her, and that she would watch over her people in turn.

Riju seemed to notice Zelda’s lingering gaze on the shorn edges of her hair. She’d chosen to keep it short, even five years later, and she ran a finger across a lock as Zelda averted her eyes.

“I’m not deserving of a crown,” She said softly, “Nor this shorn hair. I’ve left my people to die.”

“So you’re giving up?” Zelda said, and Riju’s eyes leapt to her own.

“No! Never!”

“Then stop speaking like that. So the gibdo don’t like lighting. Then we have a major advantage—the strongest lightning the Continent can possibly find.”

Riju’s frown turned bitter. “Don’t coddle me, Zel. In my hands, this lightning is far from powerful. I just—ugh! I can’t direct it straight! I aim and it goes haywire, flying all over the place, striking anything—and anyone—around me! I nearly killed my own soldiers with it pushing back the gibdo from the city gates! My own people, dead by my hand! Damn it, Zel, I’m going to hurt someone, all because I cannot control the power my grandmother and her mother and her mother and her mother wielded so successfully! Oh Din, what would Lady Urbosa think of me…”

A deep sorrow pulled at Zelda that she recognized well, even after a century and five years. The pressure upon her shoulders, the need to harness a power that had seemingly come so easily for her ancestors, the guilt and despair at knowing the cost of struggling to control what was supposed to be her birthright—

(Grandmother heard them—the voices from the spirit realm. And Mother said her own power would develop within me. But I don't hear or feel anything!)

Zelda stood, taking Riju’s hands. She’d gotten so tall, even if she was short for a Gerudo. Just last summer Riju had finally made it past those few centimeters between the two of them, making her officially taller, and since then she’d shot up like a beanstalk. Link had to crane his head to make eye contact, the little thing that he was, but Zelda would be doing the same sooner than later. She could tell Riju about the childhood Urbosa had shared with her, about the years Urbosa spent learning and perfecting her snap and lighting prowess, but she had a feeling the last thing Riju wanted right now was to be reminded of her grandmother’s power. Instead, she squeezed Riju’s hand once and let go, resting a hand on her bow.

“Alright, then we’ll practice. Together. I’ll help you-- we'll perfect this together. Sound good?”

Riju bit her lip. “I shouldn’t leave the Sanctuary unsupervised—”

“You left earlier when you found me—”

“Well, that was for something important—”

“What could possibly be more important than target practice with the lightning that could save your people?”

Riju flushed. “I…”

Zelda glanced at the ruined plushie she’d stuffed into her belt. The grin that slowly grew on her face was truly shit eating.

“Important?”

“Shut up!”

“I’m not judging, Rijie, I swear—” Zelda said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice, and Riju flushed ever redder.

“You… you got one?”

Zelda freed the ripped sand seal plushie and handed it over. Riju ran her fingers over its sandy, scorched fur almost reverently.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and Zelda smiled.

“Of course, Rijie. For you, I’d save all the seal plushies in the world.”

It took convincing, but eventually, Buliara led them to the far end of the Valley of Silent Statues to the heavily guarded and sealed exit that opened into the Northern Ruins of the Gerudo. According to Buliara, there hadn’t been many gibdo sightings in this area, most of the creatures crowding around the Desert Rift, but the sand storm’s veil was still thick as could be, making visibility little to none and making it vital they stay close and not waste time.

Riju had been sure to provide Zelda was appropriate clothing: sand boots elegantly covered by a beautifully embroidered pale blue and gold yelek over a dark blue gallebaya to help keep her cool and safe from sunburn, finished with a pair of sophisticated and simple sapphire earrings.

“I’ve been practicing striking these dummies that Buliara placed across the ruins,” Riju said as they squinted their eyes against the howling sands that blanketed the North Ruins. Zelda took a moment to mourn her little time in the sky on Farosh’s horn, before sand, sharp as blades when thrown by the wind, became acquainted with every part of her, from her teeth to her waterline. Zelda narrowed her eyes through the yellow haze, and sure enough, there were, frankly, a bit cute, little dummy gibdos, complete with angry googly eyes and a toothy frown. The image of Buliara, straight-faced and serious, on her knees to add detail to Riju’s dummies was a bittersweet one that brought a weary smile to Zelda’s face.

“When the lightning hits the gibdo, it strikes them prone. For a moment, their invulnerability and gloomy additions fade, leaving behind regular gibdo corpses that can be swiftly dealt with. But that means I actually have to hit one.”

Riju raised a scimitar and the pearly blade crackled as it lit up with electricity. With a sharp sound, Riju brought it down, only for the lightning to strike just a little too far to the left. Riju let out a frustrated growl.

“My technique is unrefined, as Buliara says.” She spat out, hoisting up another blade and sending electricity flying forth, but failing to hit her mark. “I’ve only just started practicing, and everyone assures me with time I’ll be excellent, but we don’t have time! For all we know, the gibdo could attack tonight, or the morning, or Friday! There isn’t the time for practice.”

Riju kicked at the sand, face gloomy. “Once the gibdo are deposed of, then I can head west and investigate the sand shroud. One of our historians, Rotana, has been looking into that area of the desert in hopes of finding some reason why the shroud would just appear overnight from that region. After all, the Asfet was a relic of the past, so far back that when it dried up it became legend, and it flows amongst us once again. And the corpses it brought—they have curved ears, not pointed, speaking of a time from before the Gerudo united with Hyrule and began intermingling with other races. Clearly, these phenomena—they are tied to something old, very old. If that is the case, then perhaps the shroud is too.”

Zelda couldn’t help it. She grinned. Riju, her littlest sister in all but blood, was so damn clever. The Gerudo were blessed to have her as a leader, and Urbosa would be so, so proud.

“Your grandmother would be so proud of how you’ve taken the lead here,” she said, and Riju flushed.

“I’m simply doing what any Gerudo would do. This is a place of love—we stand for one and all.”

Zelda wanted to insist that that wasn’t true, that Riju was an exception girl, soon to be woman, who led in a way many Gerudo could not, but Riju had already moved on from the conversation, throwing up a blade and throwing it down again, letting forth a stream of lighting that, once again, missed. Riju swore.

“Here, let’s look at why we’re missing instead of just throwing lightning to no avail, alright?” Zelda said, placing a hand on Riju’s shoulder. Riju frowned, but lowered her blades.

“I can see the target, but, I can’t… how to explain it— when I try to visualize the arc the lightning needs to make, I miscalculate. I just can’t seem to make it follow the right path.”

“What if someone gave you a path to follow?”

Riju cocked her head. “How so?”

“If I were to shoot an arrow with my bow, would you be able to follow the path the fletching takes and use that to aim the lightning?”

Riju pursed her lips, bringing a hand to her chin. “Hm. I—I hadn’t thought of something like that. You’d be willing to try?”

“I’d love to, Rijie.”

Riju took a deep breath. “Alright. Then, you shoot at the dummy, and I’ll follow suit. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Zelda drew her bow, taking in a deep breath, and let it fly pointedly and precisely at the head of a dummy. A second and a half later, there was an electrifying boom! followed by a flash of heat and a rumbling of earth. Instead of a dummy, there was now a smudge on the stand.

“Yes!” Riju squealed, spinning around and pulling Zelda into a fierce hug. “Again! Again!!”

Zelda aimed at another dummy, this one farther away, and Riju let out another volley of lightning, hitting head-on. She grinned, and Zelda grinned back. Another arrow, and more lightning, then another, another, another, until the air reeked of ozone and the ground was trembling with aftershocks, ash and dummy debris littering the sands. Even through the sand storm, Riju’s excitement was so obvious that Zelda could almost taste it.

“Here,” Riju said after her sixth hit in a row, try shooting as many targets as you can as quickly as possible—I want to test my speed!”

Zelda nodded, and had just brought the fletching to her cheek when a strange hissing sound suddenly made itself known. Something began to glow out in the sand.

Zelda hadn’t noticed the tree-like appendage at first; Riju followed close behind as she approached it.

“We don’t know what they are.” Riju said softly, “but they sprouted out of the Asfet and began to move inland from there. Like mushroom spores. They’re nearly undetectable against the brown and yellow of the sand, but as mysterious as they are, they haven’t really done anything, you know? Just… sat there.”

The bulbous tree’s glow brightened, now fully visible against the sand. Something cracked, and a strange warbling sound came forth, followed by… a hand?

It was a hand, pounding on the thinning bark from the inside, brown and very much alive.

“Someone’s in there!” Riju breathed in horror, before rushing closer.

“Riju, wait!”

“Ma’am, it’s alright, I’m going to get you out of there—”

Suddenly there was more than just a single hand… one hand, then two, then four, then arms and elbows… the tree thing was glowing fully now, the bark thin enough for the hands to easily break through, exposing warped, dried-out husks of faces, tainted into something insectoid and moth-like, with long, gloom covered teeth and claws as long as their fingers.

Gibdos.

Zelda was suddenly painfully aware that they hadn’t plugged their ears before leaving the Valley of Secret Statues, and that they were without backup. Oh Goddesses above, they were without backup, and no one had any reason to come checking up on them any time soon.

Zelda took a step back, but Riju’s stance was firm and determined.

“Take the shot!” She called over the wind, her voice loud enough to echo but surprisingly calm. “Come on! We can do this!”

“Riju—”

“Take the shot!”

Zelda raised her bow, bringing the bowstring back and the fletching to her cheek, and shot for the first gibdo’s head—

BOOM!

Lightning struck it head-on, leaving the gibdo defenseless as Riju rushed forward, blades drawn, and sliced clean through its neck. Zelda had just drawn back her bow a second time for the second gibdo when it opened its mouth into an otherworldly wail. Riju had clamped her hands over her ears in time—Zelda had not. Zelda felt her bones and muscles turn to ice as the sound of pure, unadulterated suffering filled her ears, wrapping around her he art and squeezing. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just felt the gibdo’s wail echo in her ears as it lumbered closer. Riju spun, face wild with fury, and raised her sword. This time she needed no arrow to guide her. With a furious roar, she flung lightning forth from the tips of both swords, which ran straight through the gibdo. Riju rushed forward, stabbing into its middle and yanking up, ripping it in two. She rushed to Zelda’s side before the gibdo had even hit the ground, pulling her into a hug as soon as the gibdo’s spell faded.

“Note to self,” She said, squeezing Zelda tight, “No going outside without ear coverings. Those tree things are everywhere, from the entrance of the desert to—”

Riju’s eyes went wide.

“To right outside the east gate. And the west, and, and the north! Oh Din, Zelda, those things are inches away from our last defenses! We--!”

Suddenly, Riju was interrupted by the honking of a sand seal. Zelda and Riju turned, weapons still in hand, as Buliara came barreling off her shield with all the grace of a well-trailed soldier, dipping down into a short, sloppy bow—the lack of court perfect respect was unlike her. Something was wrong. 

“My Chief, Princess—the gibdos, they’re swarming outside the gates.” Buliara signed, her ears plugged. “The strange trees by the gates began glowing and then they crawled free—we need to evacuate the shelter, now, before they break through the barrier.”

“And go where?” Riju signed back, face dark as storm clouds. “We have nowhere to go. The sand shroud will swallow us up in an instant.”

“We have no other option.”

“No. We do. We stand and fight. We are Gerudo. This is our home, and I will not allow whatever has the gall to try and taint it so to take it from us!”

“Our swords and spears—”

“We have my lightning.”

“You cannot be everywhere at once!”

“She doesn’t need to be. Chief Riju, permission to speak freely?” Zelda signed, and Riju gave her a curt nod.

“Stay at the palace steps—from there you can see all of Gerudo Town and into the desert. I shall target the gates, and you can follow my movements from there and strike when you are ready.”

“How will she possibly see you through this storm?” Buliara asked, and Zelda steeled her shoulders, drawing an arrow from her quiver. It shimmered, like the hot air above hotter sand, before glowing bright, bright, brighter, bright enough to cut through the sand’s roar.

‘Little Goddess,’ Nayru echoed in her head as Zelda held up the arrow pulsing with divine light, the Goddess’ voice so soft and unsure, as if She wasn’t Divinity Incarnate, carrying a warble of hope that made Zelda’s skin crawl. ‘You call upon my light. I give it gladly.’

‘I’m not doing this for You.’ Zelda hissed at the voice. Nayru seemed to almost wince.

Funny. A Goddess wincing at her words, as if Zelda had any power in this situation.

Did she? Would Nayru truly tilt an ear to her, even if She didn’t approve of the words given? Now wasn’t the time to dwell on Gods and Goddesses, but Zelda was sure to tuck the idea away from a gibdo-less time.

“Beautiful…” Riju signed, hands slow and awe-filled. Zelda swallowed.

“It will hopefully beat back some of the gibdos’ gloom as well,” she signed. “It’s a purifying power. I’ve used it before, on some of the gloom beasts tormenting the Zora—it left little of them behind.”

“Good. Here. From now on, these stay in until every last gibdo has been accounted for.” Buliara signed, passing over a jar of beeswax and brushed cotton wefts. Zelda plugged her ears quickly until nothing was left but the vague breath of the sandstorm around them.

Buliara began attaching extra shields to the seal, serving as a sidecar of sorts for her Chief and Zelda.

“There’s more than just taking out the gibdos,” Riju signed as Buliara worked. “As long as those trees—those hives—are intact, they’ll just keep coming, drawn out from the ground. They have to be disposed of.”

“Leave that to me,” Zelda replied, clicking the reins onto her belt when she finished. “If there’s a way to finish those hives off, I’ll find it.”

Riju smiled at her despite their hast. “I believe in you.”

Her face suddenly scrunched up, and she blinked. She poked her ears, and frowned more. “Did… did you hear that…?”

Buliara shook her head. “Let me check your earplugs.”

“They’re in good and tight. Still, I could have sworn… never mind. We have more important things to attend to. The Great River might have brought death with it, but the Gerudo will not falter! Not now, not ever!”

 They reached Gerudo Town just in time for the gibdos to behind clawing their way out of the hives. In a series of quick military signs, Bulirara explained the plan: Zelda would target the gibdo swarms to the north, allowing Riju the chance to strike the gibdos, opening them to attack, and then Zelda would disarm and destroy the hive. Then, she would move east, then west, before moving into the city to take down any remaining foes. Meanwhile, the children, elderly, and noncombatants would be moved deeper into the Valley of the Silent Statues, ears plugged and walls barricaded. Zelda had been surprised by the number of non-soldiers who had demanded they be allowed to take up arms to defend their home—or, rather, she shouldn’t have been surprised. What was it Urbosa had told Link five years ago when he had first freed her spirit? ‘We Gerudo have no tolerance for unfinished business?’ It went against the very fighting spirit the desert had blessed them with to lie in wait for life or death while their sisters fought above them.

Riju gave Zelda a curt nod as she moved deeper into the city, and Zelda steeled herself. It was now or never. The Gerudo were depending on her, and she would not disappoint. Captain Teake, a surprisingly short but still broad and built woman, inclined her head in acknowledgment to Zelda as she took her place; behind them, Barta was readying the Gerudo’s only cannon, tilted straight towards the mass of gibdo before them. Zelda saw the gibdos’ mouths open in piercing, paralyzing screams, but no sound reached her ears, thank the Goddess. Zelda readied her bow and fired.

As soon as her golden arrow struck the ground between a muddled mass of gibdos, the world was alight with lightning, the gibdos screaming as their defenses whittled away. Teake made a sharp movement with her hand and the Gerudo sprung into action, slicing through the now vulnerable gibdo. The few that had been closest to the blast were almost ash, arms blasted off and white eyes rolling.

A group let out another muffled scream as they sprouted rotten moth wings, dripping gloom. Zelda readied her bow as one began spitting gloom, spewing the vile stuff onto Teake. Zelda could see but not hear Teake’s sound of pain, gloom crawling up her arms and—

BOOM!

Batra readied another cannonball, the swarm now dispersed but quickly regaining control. Zelda rushed to Teake’s side, holding a hand to her burning and bubbling face; gold sprang to life under her hand, and Teake watched in awe as the gloom leeched out from her skin, blowing away at the wind.

‘Thank you.’ The captain mouthed, and Zelda nodded.

The hive swayed in the battering winds, and more gibdos began to crawl through. Zelda drew her bow, aimed, and fired, and the gold exploded on the hive. It spread outward, eating away at the gloom that dripped off of it. Gibdos shrieked as the golden, purifying light touched them, and for a moment Zelda saw the women they had been, old and withered and frightened, and her heart broke. Riju’s lightning struck true just a moment later, and the hive exploded into a shower of limbs and heads and wings, gloom splattering across the sand. Zelda threw up a hand and a shield of light surrounded the soldiers, the gloom hissing away into nothing as it touched the light.

One hive down, two to go. Zelda turned heel and broke into a sprint. It was taking too long to move in the sand—with the speed and skill of someone who had spent her childhood sneaking out of castle terraces and running along tower spires, Zelda was up on top of the city walls with just a few leaps up the bricks. She wove through the city from its very peak, heading east.

The Gerudo had moved back from formation, clearly struggling, and faster than one could blink the fletching was soaring past Zelda’s cheek into a shower of gold, followed by an explosion of light. Sudrey nodded in acknowledgment, offering a sword, and Zelda shook her head, raising another arrow. An explosion of light, then lightning, light again, and again lighting, Zelda watching but not hearing the Gerudo whoop in victory as another gibdo went down. Zelda aimed for the hive, and with her arrow and Riju’s power, it exploded into a shower of gibdo body parts and gloom.

Again, she was up the walls onto the top of the city gates, and this time Zelda was running west. It was repetitive and familiar now, the movements to force back the gibdo. Zelda kept close to injured soldiers, taking out what gloom she could and leaving behind as much healing as she could muster while keeping her attention on the coming invasion.

Suddenly, Zelda felt as if something had grabbed her chin, yanking her head back to the gate of town as the third and final hive exploded.

‘The Little Chief—” Nayru whispered, voice deathly serious. ‘Your Little Chief—’

Zelda swore, booking towards the entrance to town.

Death. Death everywhere, as flying gibdos, their once Gerudo bodies twisted and rearranged into something distinctly insect-like, vomited gloom through the streets. Soldiers screamed as it ate through flesh and bone—screams Zelda hadn’t heard earlier because of the earplugs!

She bolted, making a direct beeline for the center of town, towards Riju.

Riju was barricaded on all sides, completely surrounded, and Zelda tried to figure out just why Riju wasn’t striking when she realized the largest gibdo had Buliara in its arms, its teeth sunk into Burliara’s exposed throat, shaking the woman’s torso like a dog with a rag doll. Buliara’s left ear plug had been shaken loose in the attack, and Zelda watched in horror as the woman lay against the gibdo’s chest, frozen solid as it began to chew through her neck.

Tears streamed down Riju’s face as she held up Urbosa’s sword, surely knowing that while a strike could save her own life as the gibdos stalked closer, the electricity that would kill the largest gibdo would undoubtedly kill Buliara too. Zelda felt rage overcome the terror in her chest at the sight. Buliara was gruff but always kind. She had raised Riju as her own after Riju’s mother died, and would defend her to her last breath. Zelda had no doubt that if Buliara could speak she could be begging Riju to take the shot.

Zelda reached deep, deeper than she had since she first annihilated the mucktorock, and flung an arm out.

The explosion carried with it such force, such brilliant holy light that Zelda was reminded for a terrible moment of Link’s death, all those years ago. But then the gibdos were gone, nothing but a pile of ash on the palace steps, and Buliara was in Riju’s arms.

Riju whispered sweet words to the dying woman, pressing her hands over her gushing neck as if they couldn’t see bone. Zelda pushed her aside and the younger girl snarled at her, clinging closer to her general. Zelda wrestled her out of the way with firm but not unkind movements, laying her hands on Buliara’s neck.

“I know what I’m doing,” she said to Riju, who looked at her with wide, tearful eyes.

“Help me,” Zelda whispered to the air. She knew Nayru could hear her. She could feel the Goddess even now, hovering in the air around her, maternal and loving. It filled Zelda with a feeling she couldn’t describe.

Zelda suddenly felt hands on hers, invisible but impossibly cold. But despite the ice cupping her palms, it did not burn. Zelda looked at the empty air and knew at that moment Nayru was looking back. A freezing, gentle breeze took her heart in its hand, guiding her movements. Zelda closed her eyes. Reaching deep into that place under her heart where the Triforce shard that she’d earned that century ago sat, Zelda pulled forth gold, so much gold, enough to blind her, to convince her she’d never seen another color in her life. She pushed the gold into Buliara’s neck, and slowly, gloom began to drip free from the slashed muscle, draining like water cupped in open fingers. The wound glowed, dimly and then so bright it hurt to look at until it was all Zelda could see. She felt nothing but cold under her fingers, but instead of being the cold of death, it was something strangely alive.

Buliara blinked. The neck wound was gone, leaving nothing but a puddle of gloom around them. Riju let out a new, heaving sob and pulled Buliara into her arms.

“Chief!” Teake called, sprinting into the plaza, her earplugs gone. “That’s the last of the gibdos! We’ve…”

Riju looked up, face red with tears.

“We’ve won,” She breathed, squeezing Buliara closer. “Here that, Buliara? We’ve won.”

Buliara was on bed rest, much to the woman’s horror. She was impossible to keep in bed, and Riju was impossible to remove from her side for the first day. It gave Zelda plenty of time to fix Riju’s sand seal plush, and if Riju had teared up when Zelda gave it to her, well, no one but them had to know. Finally, after three days and the unignorable fact that the sandstorm had not receded, Riju was forced to return to work, this time with one of the most knowledgeable of the Gerudo historians, Rotana.

“We found a mural deep in one of the unexplored tunnels under the throne room,” Riju said that morning around massive bites of aish baladi. Zelda scrunched up her nose. Link’s table manners were bad enough, she didn’t need Riju’s as well, especially this early in the morning. The thought brought a sudden ache to her heart.

Link. She’d hoped, silently, that he’d be in the desert looking for her, just as he had been with the Zora—thought ideally, not attacking anyone. But there’d been no sign of him. Riju had promised to scour the desert for him as soon as the shroud lifted, and as much as Zelda apricated the action, she couldn’t help but feel like Link would not be found if he didn’t want to be. It brought back thoughts of the silent dragon and its bloody memories. She needed to find more. She needed more answers, and those seemed like her best bet. She just needed to find more, and figure out how to consistently do that…

“Did you hear me?” Riju said around her tea. Zelda flushed.

“I’m sorry. I was lost in my head.”

“Thinking of Link?”

“How’d you know?”

“You get this look when you think about him. You both do. Get this look, I mean, when you think about each other. It’s quite sweet.”

Zelda flushed deeper, and Riju laughed.

“There’s a mural that’s been found under the throne room, deep in some tunnels. I want to go investigate it. Who knows, maybe it holds some clues to what’s out west. Rotana found something mentioning a massive burial site, but the scrolls were too decayed to be of much use. I’m hoping that the stone held up better than the papyrus.”

“Burial site… why would a burial site cause a sandstorm?”

“My best guess is that it is cursed. Or has to do with your stones. You said the Demon King can only be stopped with them, right? Maybe he’s causing all this, trying to keep us from getting to that site and getting the stone there.”

Zelda nodded. “That makes sense. It was a similar story for the Zora… I don’t see why it couldn’t be the same here.”

“Then let’s go look at that mural,” Riju said, stuffing the last of the flatbread in her mouth and standing. She offered Zelda a hand and Zelda took it.

“Lead the way,” Zelda said, and Riju grinned.

“Damn straight. Let’s get to the bottom of this together, shall we?”

Chapter Text

The mural was beautiful, telling a story in a script of Gerudo that Zelda did not recognize. It seemed to be an epic of some kind, with its protagonist being a figure in topaz, who knelt before one in gold, alongside two others, one in rubies and another in sapphires. The golden one was leading a crowd with amber skin and garnet hair that were clearly Gerudo, and tales of triumph and mastery covered the wall from floor to ceiling, all centered on the topaz figure and the golden carving. The two were hand in hand, arm in arm, laughing and dancing and showing triumphant joy at the Gerudo’s skillful successes.

“The carvings are so elegant…” Riju said softly, and Zelda nodded, fingers hovering over the jeweled walls. “These people, the gold, ruby, sapphire, and topaz—they were a family. See these glyphs here? I recognize them. Family. And here, again, beloved of the Gerudo. The age of the writing, the sheer wealth shown— Zelda, I think we might be seeing the stories of the triumphs of the rulers of Gerudo from as far back as the first Gerudo Renaissance! I don’t recognize these legends… what if they are so old, they’ve faded from view? Or, imagine if these were made by leaders from that very era, documenting their rule! Could you imagine?”

Riju walked beside her and held her torch higher, and Zelda had to suppress a shiver of foreboding déjà vu. Investigating murals below a palace in the midst of tragedy caused by the Demon King, surrounded by darkness with a torch in hand—she’d be lying if the similarities to the start of her adventure didn’t unsettle her.

Riju slowed. The designs shifted, the paint and carvings somehow seeming to carry a heavy, anxious tone. The figures stood before a river of opal—the Great Asfet, if Zelda had to guess.

The story progressed, written in old, old Gerudo, so old it was almost all hieroglyphs. The waves of opal grew scarce, and in their place grew black and green stone: Zonite. That was odd. Zelda knew the Asfet dried up in the last years of the first Gerudo Renaissance, but why would Zonaite take its place? Long-eared figures stood not far from the river’s edge, taking with them the Zonaite, and leaving behind cracked tiles and bitter nothingness. The gold figure raged, and the carved ruby and sapphires followed suit, despite the topaz one’s pleading. The Gerudo followed the golden figure as it sent forth monsters with massive fins, their mouths open to devour the long-eared figures. The topaz carving waved its fists, but no one paid it any mind. Three carved people stood before the gold, one made of towering Zoniate, one golden diamond, and one of emerald. From them came a bright mosaic in the shape of a teardrop. Almost like a…

“A secret stone…” Zelda breathed, and Riju cocked her head.

“Hm?”

“The mosaic, it shows a secret stone. I think this part of the mural might be the Gerudo’s first interaction with one.”

Riju tapped her chin. “Rotana found scrolls that mentioned the burial of a Gerudo warrior and great leader, but the rest was destroyed by time. I’m hoping the mural will give more than the scrolls did.”

Rotana, a narrow-faced woman with small, thin lips painted in green, red hair gelled into a beehive, and wire spectacles, had led the two royals down a winding tunnel found in the attack when Barta’s cannonballs, bless her, had shaken the foundation of the city walls enough to shift the stones that made up the throne room. The historian had said that the tunnels had likely been a part of the old Gerudo Palace, the passages going far enough to maybe even have belonged to the first Gerudo Royalty. The lack of humidity and safety from sunlight had kept them in pristine condition, though the scrolls found within had been damaged beyond repair, chewed through by moths.

“Is there more?” Zelda asked.

“Much more,” Riju said, leading her on. The mural continued for yards, down into the darkness, and Zelda drank it in. The golden figure knelt by the three figures and their secret stones. Royalty, maybe? The Zonite one was likely a Zonai, but then what were the other two? The gold was joined by the topaz, who beamed, clearly ecstatic, then four other creatures joined them, one with wings, one with scales, one with massive rocks, and one with great ears. The group embraced, drawing the gold and topaz figures close, joined soon after by the three with the secret stones. There was much laughter, dancing—

The diamond figure guided away the emerald, striking when its back was turned—

The ruby and sapphire attacked—

The gold cut the diamond in two with a mighty sword—

The gold tried to attack the emerald—

The topaz figure arrived, raising twin swords that danced with painted lightning—

The gold one seemed to glow in the dim light from the flame reflecting on the bloodstone explosion around it—

Zelda found herself moving faster down the hall, Riju calling for her to wait up, as she soaked in the mural.

The topaz and the other figures, with Zelda now assumed must be a Rito, a Goron, another Zonai, and a Zora of some kind, all stood before the Zonai figure, holding their own secret stones.

The topaz knelt before the emerald and the Zonai leader, a clear show of fealty.

The Rito fell before the gold, then the Goron, the Zora, the second, smaller Zonai.

The topaz fell.

The Zonai king was the final one to fall, and with it, the gold figure’s luster disappeared, its golden inlaid stone being replaced with something grey and dull.

The emerald was alone. It wept, and slowly, with great anguish, the other holders of the stones rose and gathered around it.

Zelda pressed her nose close to the wall as the emerald figure and topaz seemed to speak. They embraced, and the topaz ran, taking their stone with them, as a dragon rose in the sky. Finally, the mural came to a massive end, taking up the entire wall as it showed the topaz figure in a giant building flanked by red pillars.

“It’s a royal burial,” Riju said, gesturing towards the building with her torch. “See the shape of it? The tiered levels and triangular shape? That’s the resting place of someone very, very important.”

“Can you read any of the writing?”

Riju squared her shoulders. “I can certainly try!”

Zelda took her torch and held it closer to the wall, passing over the Purah pad. “If you press that button there you can zoom in on whatever is in front of you.”

Riju flashed her a smile. “Thanks, Zel. Here, let me just…” She zoomed in closer, snapping a few photos, and brought it close to her face. Zelda held the torch close to her.

“I have seen the future of demons and great suffering, and so I will wait, even in death. Standing back-to-back with the… the chair? The…? No, no, the throne, standing back-to-back with the throne, witness red pillars across the vast sea. No, no, that’s not right, it’s 'river'. River? That doesn’t make any sense. Unless… Do you think they mean the Great River?”

Riju looked at Zelda. “What are the chances whoever was buried here meant for the Great River to rise to help us? What if it wasn’t the Demon King, but my ancestor—”

Zelda furrowed her brow. True, the tunnels belonged to a long-lost palace, but there was no proof of any ties to any royal blood. “How do you know it’s an ancestor?”

Riju flushed before clearing her voice and continuing. “Did I say that? I’m not sure I said that. Aaaanyways, it continues ‘unite the pillars in light to reveal the lightning stone and open the way. You who can hear my voice, come to me. I await you. So, we look at the Asfet, see if any pillars are in it, unite them in light, reveal a stone, and ‘open the way’, whatever that means.”

“Now we just have to find someone who can hear the mural writer’s voice.”

Riju was suddenly very interested in one of the braids at her temple.

“Riju… have you been hearing things?”

Riju’s head whipped up as she turned to Zelda, face scrunched. “I’m not crazy!”

“I never said you were,” Zelda said, being sure to put away ‘Zelda the Researcher’ and replace it with ‘Zelda the Big Sister’. “And if you are hearing things, then that’s okay. That doesn’t make you crazy, it just means we need to sit and talk a few things out. And… if I may speak freely, Rijie… Sidon was chosen by his ancestor to be the sage of water. He’d been hearing her voice for days before he met her. She called him by his name, called out to him and beckoned him to her resting place so she could give him his stone. If there is any chance the same is happening…”

Riju swallowed. “Dearest decedent… beloved daughter of the Gerudo… That’s what she called me. Calls me. This sage of lightning. But I know… I’m not worth any title of sage. I couldn’t even save my own people, relying on you for help. We’ve been suffering for weeks. We’ve lost so many. Buliara almost died, and I was helpless!”

Zelda realized with horror that tears were dripping down Riju’s cheeks, slow, but fat and thick with dust.

“Rijie…” She breathed, pulling Riju closer, and Riju shook her off.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I would never.”

“I’m not like you, or Link. I’m not a hero, or even a good chief. All I do is let people suffer.”  

“Who led Link into battle to tame Vah Naboris?” Zelda asked, wiping a tear from Riju’s chin.

“I did. But he tamed the Divine Beast--!”

“Could he have even gotten to Vah Naboris on his own?”

“…No.”

“Did you know that he tried?”

Riju furrowed her brows, looking through wet lashes at Zelda. “No.”

“He did. He tried to scale it, but his arms weren’t strong enough, and he nearly died when he was hit with just the edge of the electrical explosion. Without you, the Gerudo would have perished. And did Link rebuild Gerudo Town?”

“No, but—”

“Did he rule at a time of turbulence and uncertainty as the Yiga desperately tried to take control? Was he there to seal the power vacuum after the Yiga were removed from the Valley?”

“No. But he--!”

“Link died during the Calamity’s first attack. He failed. It’s an objective truth. Is he still a hero?”

“Of course!”

“Then if he is still a hero, how you are not?”

Riju shook her head, rubbing her eyes with a fist and seeming very much the child she was.

“I…”

“It’s okay to be uncertain. It’s okay to be scared. Hells, it’s okay not to believe it yet. I’ll just be sure to believe it enough for the both of us.”

Riju gave her a watery smile. “… Thank you.” She said softly, and Zelda returned her smile.

“Then I suppose we have a river to investigate, hm?” Riju said, jutting out her chin, clutching the Purah pad in one hand and resting the other on the hilt of one of her blades. Zelda laughed.

“Let’s find us some red pillars.”

---

The first problem was finding where the throne the mural spoke of actually was. It clearly wasn’t the throne in the Gerudo palace above—that faced to the West, while the Great River moved from Mount Naburoo, circling East to the Desert Rift and then South to the Southern Oasis, before finally circling West to Dragon’s Exile. The Asfet wove through the Gerudo Desert like a giant snake, bringing with it fertile soil, drinking water, and cool winds. Or, at least it had, as now it belched gibdos every minute of every day. Riju and Zelda had plugged their ears—they weren’t taking any chances out in the sands, Riju armed with lightning-covered blades and Zelda with light arrows. They could do this.

Rotana had mapped out most of the tunnels under the Gerudo palace, finding in it what was left of a potential throne room and, hidden behind it, an exit straight out of the ground into the Desert Rift. Water rushed at their toes, threatening to sweep them away. Rope connected Riju and Zelda’s wrist, a precaution for if they became separated in the swirling sands. Right now, the visibility was little to none, and Riju carefully pulled Zelda along the edge of the roaring waters. She’d told Zelda earlier all about the Asfet, of its terrible power and nurturing love it had for the Gerudo people, of the poems and epics written about it before time soaked up the river and left nothing behind.

The Asfet, back in its prime, carried with it rapids and vortexes that could drown a woman in seconds but had also provided the desert with fresh water and seasonal deposits of nutrient-rich mud. It was like the desert it called home: unpredictable, but beautiful. It had been a rite of passage to survive swimming from bank to bank, and part of the ritual to become a soldier in the armies of Gerudo desert’s past. Riju had spoken of the river reverently, and Zelda realized listening to her ramble enthusiastically just how little Zelda actually knew of the Gerudo, and just how much she had assumed she knew.

Now, in the present, Riju kept a firm hand on Zelda’s arm as she waded into the shallows, moving slowly through the strong current. It was strange to see the swirling waters but not hear it, nothing breaking through the cloth and wax in Zelda’s ears. The wind that came off the river whipped up the storm even thicker, sand stinging Zelda’s face and making her eyes water. She squinted through the sand; it was slow moving, and they frequently stopped to duck into the mud to avoid the gaze of gibdos. With so many coming from the waters, it was easier to avoid than fight. The sight of them broke Zelda’s heart. They had brown faces under the twisted insect-like growths, red hair under the antenna on their scalp, and a body that had once been loved and held now twisted into something foul and deadly. These had been women once, Gerudo women, and they had been desecrated by the Demon King in a way that made Zelda feel a livid anger she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Zelda looked away from a gibdo as Riju pulled on her rope and pointed at the waters. There, in the center, hidden by the white caps and the sand storm was a red pillar sticking out of the water, with a strange mirror of sorts hanging from the top and dangling in the center.

“Red pillars.” Riju signed, and Zelda nodded. “Ready to swim?”

Zelda took a deep breath, stealing herself.

“I can go alone?” Riju signed, and Zelda shook her head.

“No. Not when something bad could happen.”

Suddenly, Zelda felt something cool and wet encompass her. She blinked.

Oh. Sidon’s Vow.

She’d been so fixated on the Gerudo’s problems that she’d almost forgotten all about it. It hadn’t been present since she descended into Gerudo Town, and she felt a well of shame rise in her. What a wonderful friend she was, she thought with bitter sarcasm, and as if it could tell her unflattering thoughts, the Vow patted her head and smiled.

“What the fuck is that?!” Riju signed, and Zelda couldn’t help her laugh.

“Sidon’s Vow. When he took on the title of sage, he gifted it to me.”

Riju’s eyes were as big as skulltulas. “He can do that?”

Zelda’s smile was so wide that she could taste the grit of sand in her teeth. “He can do a lot.”

She reached out and the bubble of water expanded, before exploding outwards and taking the head off a nearby gibdo that had begun crawling from the water and reaching for Riju’s ankle. Riju stared, open-mouthed, before looking to the river.

“Can it control all water or just your bubble?”

Zelda frowned. “I’m not sure. I never tired.”

The Vow tapped her on her shoulder. It fanned itself before placing a hand on its forehead and throwing its head back in fake exhaustion.

“The air is too hot? Too dry?” Riju signed, and the Vow nodded. “So you’ll dry up if you stay too long.” The Vow nodded again and Riju reached out to touch it, marveling at its cool, semi solid exterior.

“Can you take us through the water?” She signed, and the Vow nodded enthusiastically. “You can get us safely across?” Another nod. The bubble, which was slowly disintegrating in the sand, grew to include Riju as the Vow wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around Zelda’s. And then they were in the water, Sidon leading them through the current with surprisingly little effort, and Zelda couldn’t help her tight-lipped grin. The Asfet was beautiful in a way she hadn’t realized until she saw it dancing and singing around her, and as the Vow rested Riju and Zelda on the edge of the pillar, giving Zelda a kiss on her forehead before dissolving into droplets, Zelda felt weightless and filled with awe in a way she rarely did.

“Alright.” Riju signed before standing and wringing out the hem of her skirt. “Shall we?”

Zelda nodded and stood. The bricks of the pillar were red, and while it wasn’t too tall, there were no stairs and the slickness of the stones would make it impossible to climb, which might lead to a tumble into the waves and certain death. But Zelda didn’t need stairs. She had ascend.

“Wrap your arms around me,” she signed, and Riju nodded. Once the younger girl was secured, Zelda reached inside to the power she’d come to associate with Nayru, deep behind her heart. She envisioned the light surrounding her heart, then extending a string of light upwards past the very brick, and it gently yanked her upwards, like a cat’s toy. Then they were flying, up into the very stone as if it was simply still water, and Zelda kicked through the thick liquid around them until they broke the surface. She pulled the two of them out, and Riju stared over the edge of the top of the pillar in awe.

“What was that?”

“Ascend.”

“Din above, Zel, what else can you do?”

“More than you’d think.” Zelda signed, and Riju snorted. She leaned back over the edge. The pillar was short enough to still be in the thick of the sand storm, and visibility was beyond low. Still, there was light, pale and broken apart into weak strands as it moved upwards, but light all the same. Riju furrowed her brows.

“Do you see that? It looks like some kind of light source. But I don’t…” Riju leaned even farther over the edge, and it took Zelda great self-control not to pull her back, the image of her falling leaving a churning stone in her gut. Riju sat up.

“It is one. I’m positive. But how…? Wait! There, just under the top of the water! See those rocks? They look artificially placed, I’m sure of it!

Zelda leaned over, and sure enough, at the base of the pillar was a pile of cracked rock.

“How do we blow it up?”

“What?” Zelda signed, staring at Riju’s sincere face with incredulousness. “Blow it up?”

“It must be there for a reason!”

Zelda couldn’t hold back her laugh. “You are Link are two peas in a pod, I swear.”

Riju grinned.

“I could throw a bomb flower,” Zelda signed, and Riju shook her head.

“The water would put it out before it could explode. But… with the strength of my lightning, a direct strike might be enough to break it apart.”

Zelda equipped her bow, arrows glow made dim by the sandy air, and Riju shook her head. She looked more confident than she had at the North Gerudo Ruins, more sure of herself, like she had at the siege of Gerudo Town.

“I can do it on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

Riju gave a curt nod. “Positive. I can do this without you. I know I can.”

Zelda beamed. She’d been waiting for those words—she’d known with surefire confidence that Riju simply needed practice and confidence in herself, and now the girl had both. She’d be fine. Riju readied her swords and with a crackle and a boom! the rocks exploded, exposing brilliant light. The pillar rumbled, before slowly beginning to move upwards, out of the water, and over the howling, sandy wind. When it finally breached the storm, the light was able to shine freely, and it stuck the giant mirror above them, shining light above the storm far into the desert, past the Southern Oasis. Riju let out a whoop.

“Now we just have to get over there,” Zelda signed, and Riju’s excitement faded.

“Well, shit… do you think that if we were in the water, away from the sand and heat, Sidon could take us? Din knows that man can swim faster than we can walk.”

Zelda ran a hand over the still-wet stone of the pillar, now high in the sky.

“I could jump in, see if it appears.”

“What!?” Riju shrieked, forgetting Zelda’s plugged ears. Zelda shrugged.

“It’s a good plan as any.”

“No, it is not. If he fails to appear, we both drown.” She signed, before tugging on the rope connecting them.

Zelda nodded slowly, before beginning to untie the rope.

“Zelda—Zelda what are you doing.” Riju signed, panic clear in her hands, and Zelda tossed the rope away.

“It will save me.” She signed, “It always does.” And then she was running, up over the edge of the pillar.

The water sucked her in with a crash, cradling her violently. Zelda forced her mouth shut, refusing to let the sudden current shock the air from her lungs, and as she squinted through the white rapids, a very, very unhappy blue face hovered in front of her, its body swirling elegantly in the current.

The Vow narrowed its blank eyes, mouth in a firm frown, but still wrapped her up in its arms, surrounding her in a bubble of cool, still water that protected her from the roaring waves of the Asfet. Zelda realized with a start that she could breathe. The water was still thick, still clearly liquid, but it carried oxygen that filled up her lungs in a way she didn’t understand. Zelda knew better than to look such a gift horse in the mouth. She pointed to the surface and the Vow nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. They broke water, and Zelda waved to Riju, who looked near hysterical up above her as she leaned over the edge of the pillar. Zelda waved again and Riju buried her head in her hands before slowly standing, her face red and eyes narrowed.

And then she jumped.

Zelda caught her, and then Sidon’s Vow’s bubble engulfed them both.

“Take us southeast of the Southern Oasis?” Zelda signed, unsure if the Vow knew where exactly that was. But the Vow nodded, taking both girls’ hands, and then the bubble was wrapping tighter around them like the squeeze of a hug. They were off. Zelda watched in awe at the terrain she knew of the desert distorted and shifted from their new, watery bubble. The Vow steered them clear of electric lizalfo basking in the new water and treasure octorocks that had sunk to the bottom of the river, as well as the gibdos.

The gibdos. They seemed almost peaceful under the water, slowly clawing at the sand as they pulled themselves free of silt and into the howling desert air above. Brown faces distorted with moth-like mouths and red hair adrift in the wind spoke to who these creatures at been, hidden under the sands. It made Zelda’s heart ache.

In a surprisingly small amount of time, the Vow had brought them to the base of the Southern Oasis, where another pillar had made itself known. Zelda knew Sidon could swim fast, but good Gods, that had taken mere minutes to cross what would have taken hours on foot. Zelda hoisted Riju into her arms and swam out of the bubble of calm.

The river was monstrous without the Vow’s protection. It battered Zelda, pulling her a thousand directions, and she grit her teeth as she kicked her legs and dragged her and Riju through the waters into a crack in the base of the pillar with enough room to send them upward. One moment they were being battered by vicious waves, and the next they were spluttering in dry air as ascend spat them free on top of the pilar. Zelda rubbed Riju’s back as the girl coughed, and Riju sucked in heaving breathes.

“Never.” She said through grit teeth, and Zelda didn’t need ears to understand her words. “Do that. Again.” Zelda gave her a sheepish smile, and Riju narrowed her eyes before relenting.

“If you drown,” she signed with a resigned breath, “it will be no one’s fault but your own.” Zelda’s smile grew into something wicked as she bumped shoulders with Riju, who stood to take in the pillar. They were above the storm, and when Zelda took out the earplugs to wring the water from the cotton, it was blessedly silent. No howling wind, no rushing water, no screams of gibdos—just the desert sun. She tilted her head back, letting it warm her wet cheeks. Her yelek was doing a wonderful job at keeping sunburn at bay, and the sapphire earrings were holding back heat exhaustion well.

“I can see the light from the first pillar,” Riju said, also drying her earplugs. “See?” She pointed North, to where a bright, clean light shone, cutting across the desert right into their pillar. The pillar’s mirror hung on a rung above them, swaying in the gentle wind, with the light moving to the right of it and missing it entirely. Zelda frowned.

“Do you see a stick or something?” Riju said, squinting up at the mirror. “If we could just move it to the right, then it would reflect the—”

Zelda reached behind her heart and yanked her ultrahand into existence. Grabbing hold of the mirror with her mind’s eye, she moved it across the rung, the mirror squealing against the metal, until it met the light. There was a brilliant hum as the mirror took hold of the brightness, before shooting it to the West, towards Dragon’s Exile. Zelda turned to Riju, who grinned. It was so easy to see Urbosa in her when she smiled like that. Zelda suddenly found herself pulling Riju into a hug, who squeaked in surprise.

“What was that for?” She said with a laugh, and Zelda squeezed her tighter.

“Just proud of you, that’s all,” Zelda said, and Riju carefully maneuvered out of her arms.

“Let’s save the desert first, okay? Then we can talk like that.”

Zelda nodded, grabbing her earplugs and returning them to her ears, the pounding desert sun having dried them and Zelda and Riju’s hair already. She gestured to the edge of the pillar, and Riju grinned. They joined hands and ran off the edge as one, quickly engulfed by the Vow as soon as they hit the water.

It was easy to find the third pillar. The three of them simply followed the light from the waters, then Riju and Zelda ascended up out of the water, and this time the mirror was easily turned to meet the light with a little manpower (woman power?) as Riju and Zelda pushed the mirror into place with a massive turn table. All and all, a simple task, bringing the three pillars together in a triangle of light. Zelda felt the pillar suddenly vibrate under her feet, nearly knocking her on her ass if not for Riju grabbing her wrist and holding her steady. The Gerudo’s eyes were wide, her mouth open as she looked to the East.

“I—I hear you. Blessed ancestor, tell me what to do!” She cried as the sand began to kick up, gold and white light rippling through the river and shooting forward towards the center of the triangle made by the lights of the pillars' mirrors. Riju fell to her knees, dropping her head down for a count of three, her swords abandoned as she cupped her hands over her heart, then looked upwards to the gathering sand clouds. Zelda didn’t know what Riju was hearing, but it was clearly moving as Riju lept to her feet and yanked Zelda to the edge of the pillar.

“We have to get to the center,” she signed, pointing East, and Zelda nodded, unfurling her paraglider. Riju didn’t even question her, just took hold of Zelda’s waist and let the older woman lead her in a running leap off the edge of the pillar deep, deep into the sandstorm below.

---

Maneuvering through the sandy winds was a struggle, but they made it. Falling into a heap at the base of a pile of sand, Riju and Zelda struggled to their feet, eyes catching on the strange golden stone monument that had seemingly risen out of the very sand.

“The lightning stone…” Zelda saw Riju’s mouth form, ears still plugged, and watched as the girl slowly unsheathed her swords—Urbosa’s swords. She held them high and they began to glow as lighting built on them, brighter and brighter and brighter, before the whole swirling, sandy air reeked of ozone.

“Wait!” Zelda screamed, because even through the sand, the low visibility worse than any part of the sand storm Zelda had seen so far, Zelda knew that feeling, no matter how twisted and wrong it felt, knew that hair, even if its usually blond locks were lanky with illness, knew that frame and that face, regardless of the gloom, of the one arm—

“Riju, wait!”

Link turned, eyes squinted against the storm, before going comically wide. He knelt before the lightning stone, his one hand buried in the sand around it as he dug as if his life depended on it.

“Zelda?” He breathed before his face lit up. “Zelda!” He stood, swaying, just as Riju let out a shout and brought her arms down, and with a crack! the lightning struck the golden stone dead center.

The world shook.

“Link!” Zelda shrieked, running for him, but in the sand he was almost impossible to find, the storm steadily growing worse. A clammy hand grabbed her wrist, and Zelda felt a breath on her ear. Desperately, she yanked out her earplugs, turning to see him, but in the storm, visibility was all but none. Link’s grip on her wrist tightened.

“Open the tomb,” He wheezed in her ear, and the gloom sickness was so far along that Zelda could smell it. “Get the girl to open the tomb.”

His grip tightened till Zelda’s bones seemed to groan. “Link, you’re hurting me—”

“Open it!” The sky was almost completely yellow, the air hard to breathe, and Zelda could only see Link’s outline as he looked from her to the shaking sands before them as a mighty building began to rise from in the ground.

The temple—no, the tomb—was massive, stories upon stories. It was a great pyramid of staggered stone, all white and topaz and glittering gold stone. Water fell in torrents from the top of the pyramid, running outwards into the direction of the pillars. Zelda was suddenly sure that this building’s presence and its slow inching closer to the surface ignited the Asfet’s current. But there was more; Zelda froze at the sight of the gibdo hives that surrounded it, sprouting tall and vicious from the sand.  She almost swore she could see Link grin from the corner of her eye as he took a step back, releasing her.

“Come on then!” He shouted into the wind. “Come say hello, auntie!”

And then somehow, the sands swallowed him up.

The sandstorm screamed, completely deafening—but, wait, no, that wasn’t the storm. What the fuck was that?!

“What the fuck is that?” Riju signed. The ground shook as the stone walls that led into the tomb exploded outward, showering her and Zelda in stone and sand.

The queen of all gibdos took a nauseating, grotesque step forward, her many legs struggling to hold her massive weight, the moth wings atop her back unfurling as the queen gibdo took to the air. She had been a person, once, a Gerudo woman shriveled with sun and sand and age who seemed less to be a part of the gibdo, or even the gibdo a part of her, as she did a part of some bizarre, disgusting infection.

She reeked of gloom.

Zelda shoved her earplugs back in just in time for the creature to scream, her mouth opening unnaturally wide. More gibdos freed themselves from the many hives and began their attack, just as the gibdo queen charged. Zelda lept to one side, and Riju the other.

Link was nowhere to be found, nothing left of him but a set of footprints leading into the tomb and a feeling of dread in Zelda’s stomach that refused to be ignored or forgotten. She felt Riju’s hand on her bicep and turned to the girl, whose face was firm with determination. She nodded. Zelda nodded back.

And around them, the sand continued to wail.

Chapter Text

The tomb might have been a thing of beauty once, before it had been infected with gloom and the rabid, insect-ridden gibdos that had taken refuge inside. Of course, Zelda had seen gibdos before entering the Gerudo Desert. After the Calamity’s annihilation, she and the reconstruction team had passed the gates of Castle Town, cautious but hopeful, and began deconstructing the guardians they found there. The malice had melted away with Ganon, leaving behind only the corpses of guardians—and the undead. Redeads and gibdos, unintelligent and filled with despair and rage, with no way to articulate their feelings but screams. It had pained Zelda to put them to rest, and she had said as many prayers for the departed as she could remember as they torched alleyway after alleyway, filling Castle Town with the sounds of its people’s screams for the last time. Link had held her as she sat on the ruined lip of the central fountain, numb and cold, and rested his head on her shoulder.

“It's for the best.” He had signed. He hadn’t been speaking to her at all back then, his touch uncertain and unsure as he tried to figure out who this girl was to him, how his few memories held up to the real, living person before him. Zelda had been hurt by it at first, something she was ashamed to admit now. Back then, Zelda, still unsure how to be human again, how to leave behind Divinity, leave behind Hylia—

(Leave behind the Triforce—)

-- and had yearned for Link’s stability, ached for his touch, and losing it stung. The jealously that flared at the assumption that Link had returned to Hyrule without the knowledge of his loss, without the memory of all that Ganon had taken from them, had boiled in her gut for an embarrassingly long time, though Zelda had gone through great lengths not to show it. Zelda knew better now, so much better, and she while tried to be kind to that girl from back them (Heavens knows that Link had been, perhaps too much so) mostly she wanted to shake some sense into her.

Before her and Riju, the queen of all gibdos screamed. Zelda was instantly glad she’d had the thought to replace her ear protection as she felt her limbs slow, the queen’s immobilizing call loud enough to almost seep through the cotton and wax. Who knew what that call would do to unplugged ears?

Riju waved her forward, and Zelda followed after, feet sliding in the deep sand. It had quickly turned to mud as the source of the Great River’s return poured down the sides of the pyramid, sucking at her sand boots and dragging her down, slowing her step.

“I’ll get the hives—” Riju signed to Zelda, eyes squinted against the swirling sands, the already thick sandstorm made worse by the queen gibdo’s beating wings.

Except—except the sand seemed to be coming from the base of the pyramid. Zelda was struck by a sudden possibility: what if the sand storm wasn’t to destroy the Gerudo, or keep them from entering the pyramid, but instead a desperate attempt to unearth the pyramid? Link, in a bizarre act of aggression, had demanded Riju open the entrance to the tomb and quickly rushed inside. Clearly, there was something important in there he needed.

Like the secret stone.

Zelda felt her stomach twist. He... surely... he wouldn't-- he needed it so badly, why not work with them? They could help each other. Link was a solider, grew up the barracks— the need for teamwork was well understood, still in his blood after all these years.

Zelda’s wrist ached from where Link had grabbed her. Link would never hurt her, not on purpose, not even if he was truly desperate. And the way he spoke of Riju, a girl that was practically his little sister…

Something was wrong. Deeply so. But that would have to wait till the queen gibdo was taken care of.

“—And you light up that thing,” Riju finished signing, gesturing to the queen, before turning her lightning to the hives. Zelda lined up an arrow, the glow of holy light cutting through the dim yellow of the swirling storm.

There was a sizzle and a CRACK! behind Zelda—Riju’s lightning no doubt—and her light arrow struck true, right between the queen’s eyes. One bulged, insectoid and full of photoreceptor units and ommatidia, while the second was but a shriveled hole in her skull. The queen screamed, losing control of her wings midflight and dropping to the ground. Zelda readied another arrow, this time hitting the thing’s neck. Gloom spilled forth instead of blood, staining the sands, and Zelda was vaguely aware of Riju’s electric dance behind her. Zelda readied a third arrow.

The queen screamed, a rather disgusting gargle leaking out of the sound as gloom dripped down, and spat out a projectile of gloom, sizzling in the air. Zelda threw up her arm, gold rising up with it, and grit her teeth as the gloom pushed against the holy light. She flicked her wrist, sending the foul stuff flying at a collection of gibdo sneaking forward, who stumbled under the weight of it. Again, she readied an arrow. This time, she aimed three at once, locking onto the leftmost wing only for the queen to press it against her back and bolt forward on her many legs. The arrows flew uselessly past her as she moved with unbelievable speed, crashing into Zelda. The many legs took hold of her and Zelda summoned a light arrow into her hand, stabbing upward. Gloom gushed down from the wound, splattering across her face and torso, and the queen screamed. She backed up, rearing on her hind legs, before flinging Zelda and Riju back with a gust of her wings. The queen took flight, dripping gloom, and smashed into the tomb. Gripping tight with her claws, she began to climb, Riju’s blast only just missing her as she made it to the top of the pyramid and forced herself into the crevice of the top most room.

There was finally true silence, the gibdos leaking gloom onto the sands as the hives lay in pieces on the ground. Zelda’s face burned. It burned, not hot, just a sizzling, screaming pain, and Zelda was aware of Riju beside her only by the girl’s hands on her shoulders, her eyes too full of boiling gloom to see. She felt Riju’s hands under her armpits as she dragged her across the sands, then cool water being poured onto her face. Zelda rolled away from the chill, but Riju held her close.

She couldn’t see, couldn’t smell, couldn’t breathe, not with gloom in her mouth and dripping down her throat, digging its life sapping claws down her face and sinking its teeth into her very being.

Link had told her once that gloom tasted different than malice, that it hung in the air differently, the smoke of it lingering in the lungs in a harsher, oilier cloud. Ha. Now she could tell him he was right when he saved her. She’d tell him about… about… about the burn of malice, the never ending pain and exhaustion as it ate into her, even with her corporeal body left far behind. Even Hylia couldn’t hold it back, the way Ganon ate her, became her, its malice becoming one with her soul as it burned, burned, burned. She wasn’t a person, wasn’t a Zelda, just a soul shaking under the weight of the Calamity’s many hands; she was nothing, she was everything, she was Goddess Incarnate and a human long dead, Zelda/Hylia/Nayru, a collection of tying and untying knots… knots, knots, not until Link wakes up, not until he finally is healed, not until Farore breathes life into the corpse the Shrine of Resurrection has kept on the verge of life—because that’s what they were, Nayru and Farore, corpses the both of them, corpses, corpses, corpses—

Someone was saying something? Zelda/Hylia/Nayru could vaguely hear it through her soaked ear plugs. Ganon? Ganon didn’t speak, too far gone for such things, and Zelda/Hylia/Nayru was alone, alone—

Zelda/Hylia/Nayru was suddenly aware of a gentle hand on her forehead. Hand, hand? Forehead? Impossible, she had no body to touch—

“Don’t—don’t touch—” She slurred, the panic of Riju being burned by the life-sapping gloom cutting through the delirium.

“Hush,” a soft, cool voice called. She knew that voice. That voice was a part of her, a piece of Zelda/Hylia/Nayru. “Breathe.” It called, and miraculously, Zelda managed a breath. “You can free yourself. You know how. Just breathe.”

Zelda had pulled the gloom from Sidon, back on the wellspring. She’d saved Buliara from a gloomy fate of her own. She’d drawn out gloom from others—not Zelda/Hylia/Nayru, her.

Zelda forced the panic from her heaving chest and took a deep breath. She imagined gold seeping from the burns on her face, pushing the gloom infection out of her skin, before rising into the air and dissolving into nothing. Then, she did more than imagined: she did. She pushed the gloom from under her flesh, dissolving it into toxic fumes that dissipated quickly in the air.

Then she promptly rolled over and vomited up red and black.

Above her, Riju let out a terrified breath and pulled her close, burying her face in her shoulder. Zelda could feel the younger girl speak against her shoulder, was away vaguely of her mouth moving, but she couldn’t do much other than stare at her hand in awe.

The triangle there shined brighter than any gold.

It took what felt like hours for both girls to regain their composure, but was most likely only fifteen minutes or so. Zelda let Riju practically sit in her lap, ran her hands down her back, and rocked her softly. She could only half hear what the girl was saying, her earplugs knocked half out, but she could tell well enough what Riju meant.

Riju sniffled, wiped her nose with her hand, and straightened her hair.

“We… we should get going.” She said, voice lost to the wind, and while it was hard to read her lips through her mumbling, Zelda understood her well enough. She stood and helped Riju to her feet. Riju took a steadying breath and straightened. At that moment, gone was Riju, friend and sister, and back was Riju, Chief of the Gerudo. Riju adjusted her earplugs and Zelda did the same.

“Did you see him?” Zelda signed as they picked their way across the gibdo corpses into the entrance of the tomb, and Riju frowned.

“I—who?”

Zelda came to a stop. “You didn’t see him?” She signed, trying and failing to keep the pain out of her face. “Link—he was there! In the sand!”

“In the storm?”

“Yes. He…” Zelda’s hands stilled as she looked at her wrist. There were… were bruises where Link’s hand had been—no, not bruises, burns. They didn’t hurt and were light and unsubstantial, just small kisses of fire from where Link’s fingertips had been. If not for the redness and slight blistering, she would have missed them all together. “He burned me!” She breathed, and Riju grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck…” Zelda saw her mouth, and Riju tilted her wrist to and fro, brow furrowed.

“H-U-R-T M-E…” Zelda signed with her free hand. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t make sense. He hurt her. He hurt her. Riju frowned, releasing her hand. “He spoke strangely.” Zelda signed.

“Strangely?” Riju signed back, and Zelda nodded.

“Didn’t call you by your name. Demanded you open the tomb and ran inside as soon as you did…”

Riju frowned, brow darkening. "I don't like the sound of that. Not one bit. The Link i know would rather take off his own hand than raise it against you, and you know it. but we can’t stay out here. We’ve found the mural’s ending, now all that’s left is to go inside.”

Zelda gave a sound of acknowledgment. She had a hard time shifting her attention from her wrist. He hurt her. He hurt her, hurt her, hurt her.

Zelda forced herself to keep her eyes on Riju.

“My best guess is that the secret stone is at the top and the queen is guarding it. I bet Link is headed up there too. We get to the top, two birds, one stone.”

Zelda nodded and, together, hand in hand, they entered the tomb’s crumbling entrance.

---

The tomb was dark, and smelt of dust, thick and bitter, with the hint of something that might have once been mourning incense hanging in the stale air. Sand coated every stone, every crack and brick, swirling in the black air with every step the girls took. Zelda called light into her palm, and Riju mimicked the movement, lighting her arm up with crackling golden electricity. Together, the barest bits of the tomb were illuminated, and what Zelda saw, she couldn’t help but gape at. Carvings inlaid with stone, beautiful pillars chiseled in the shape of women, a motif of seven on every wall.  They came to a great stone archway, covered head to toe in topaz—and bricked up, each spread of spackle purposeful as it sealed the archway shut. Zelda brushed her fingertips along the closed doorway. Something—someone?—had forced their way inside, disturbing the stones enough to squeeze through and stopping to shove them back in place after them. They must have been in a hurry; the stones weren’t well replaced, and Zelda was able to shove them free with only a little wiggling.

Before them was a winding hallway, dark save for a single pillar of light in the center of the room. The room appeared to be a dead end, with the far stone wall holding a glyph of a woman, tall and proud, dressed in the robes of a leader. One hand was extended, holding a lightning bolt, the other a stone shaped like a teardrop. Zelda snapped a photo, bookmarking it on her pad to examine further at a later moment. Her heart sank at the sight of her last entry to Link. It was dated days ago, far more days than she’d like. Oh well. She’d be able to speak to him face to face once she found him again, wherever he was in this temple.

Speak to him, and demand answers.

Riju waved her over, and Zelda held her lit hand closer, allowing Riju better sight. The younger girl squinted at an inscription across the ceiling that circled the hole that let in the bright, near-holy feeling light.

“The Room of Hopeful Light…”

Riju slid the Daybreaker from her back and angled the light towards the woman.

Clever girl.

Dust billowed up at the wall folded in on itself and disappeared. An illusion spell. It hadn’t been disturbed by Link—how’d he get in without opening the door?

She could ask him later. For now, she and Riju need to keep moving. Squeezing Riju’s shoulder, the two continued onwards.

The main room was wide and open, the walls sloping inward as each floor—six all together—rose to the sky, up towards an inky black hole in the ceiling that dripped dust. Rock and sand scattered the floor; someone had busted through the ceiling, and the likelihood that it was Link made Zelda’s stomach clench. What in Hylia’s good name had gotten into him?

Riju tapped her on the shoulder. “We need to get to that hole,” she signed.

“Climb?”

Riju furrowed her brow.

“Long climb. And we don’t have any ropes.” She froze suddenly, jerking her head around to the center of the room. Her head tilted, ears perked. Listening.

A platform stood in the center, elegantly decorated with hieroglyphs.

“The Room of Ascension.” Riju translated, taking a step closer. Zelda followed.

There, on the floor in the center of the platform was a Zonai symbol. It looked like it had been clawed at, the stone around the glowing center chipped, and gloom pooled in each grove as if the hands that had to rip the symbol apart had been made of the stuff. Zelda knelt, remembering the symbol on the great wellspring, up in the sky with Sidon. She pressed her hand on the symbol and didn’t even bother to try and reach for Hylia’s power. The golden power Nayru granted her surged forward with startling ease, and the Zonai symbol flashed an electric yellow-green. The platform shuddered, trying to move upwards, before groaning and coming to a stop. An elevator? If so, a broken one.

Behind her, Riju stiffened.

Zelda looked over her shoulder, head cocked, and flashed a quick “O-K?” with one hand, the other still resting on the symbol. Riju took a shuddering breath and swallowed.

“I can hear her. The voice.” She signed, and Zelda slowly nodded. “Clear as day, calling to me… dearest descendent… beloved daughter of the Gerudo… this broken platform connects to the great burial room of the temple. Charge the four batteries to restore its power. Come to me, but be on your guard.”

Zelda sat back on her heels for a moment, bottom lip between her teeth. It was so similar to Sidon—too similar to be a coincidence.

“Riju,” She signed, and the girl stepped forward, face furrowed.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” She signed. Zelda expected her hands to be unsteady or unsure, but Riju stood tall, face set, and her hands carried a strength that spoke to Riju’s royal heritage. “The sage of lightning. This woman—that’s why she’s calling out to me, isn’t it? With Sidon, was it like this?”

Zelda nodded. “It was.”

Riju took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut before nodding. “Very well. Then let us defeat the queen gibdo, find Link, and meet this sage of a time long past.”

“Riju—”

“It is as it is. Let’s get those batteries running, shall we?”

Zelda frowned but signed an affirmative.

Riju marched the circumference of the room, running her hand over each wall, feeling each statue’s face, and pressing fingertips into each gem.

“Royal tombs—because whomever this was for is royalty, no doubt about that—often had side rooms on each level of the pyramid for visitors to come venerate the body and pray for the departed. So, my best guess, is that these batteries are hidden in one of the rooms—gotcha!”

Riju waved Zelda closer, and, sure enough along a seem in the stone came the barest bit of—

“Light!” Zelda signed, and Riju nodded vigorously.

“Light. Now we just have to pry it open. There should be a rock or stick or something…” Her signs trailed off as she knelt to look, but Zelda just raised her arm and summoned Ultrahand. Grasping the stone in her mind, she pushed, and--

Riju’s head popped up and her eyes went wide as Zelda gently placed the chunk of wall to the side.

“Or we could do that.” She signed, and Zelda laughed, gesturing for Riju to take the lead. Daybreaker in one hand and one of her twin electrified swords in the other, Riju stepped into the room.

It was small, with trays full of ash and half-burned incense and what looked to have been offerings of some kind, their shape long lost to time, placed before an elegant altar. Shinning down on it was a pillar of pale golden light. A mural of topaz and gold spread out behind where the light hit, decorating a wall of bars that had, behind it, a strange metal contraption.

The battery?

Zelda began to inspect the bars-- solid metal, and unfortunately thick. “I think we can access the battery if we just figure out how to open those bars—”

Riju hoisted herself up on the altar, the gold of her ornaments, swords, and shield lighting up like electricity in nighttime under the light. She drew her shield, angling it at a place in the carving where a large stone seemed to be missing. The whole wall lit up once the daylight reflected from the shield hit the bare spot of the missing gem, and the bars slid upwards, exposing the battery. Zelda grinned. Her sister was so clever, so clever—she wouldn’t be surprised if Riju didn’t even need her here.

Riju lit up the battery with a quick flick of her wrist and an explosion of lightning. Zelda watched her hop off the altar and turned, expecting Riju to follow her outside, only to pause. Riju knelt before the altar, her forehead pressed into the sand and, after a moment of hesitation, Zelda returned ot her side and did the same. It felt silly, mimicking Riju’s prayers when she knew nothing of the woman this tomb hadbeen carved for, but Riju’s shoulders carried a weight to them—even if they didn’t know the royal’s name, it was clear that she was someone of great importance to have such a monument built to hold her corpse. Riju straightened, holding her hand to her heart, and Zelda did the same, before standing and offering Riju a hand. Riju took it, smiling ruefully.

“We best keep going,” She signed once Zelda pulled her to her feet, and Zelda nodded.

They ducked out of the side prayer room, and Riju frowned at the crumbled stairwells that led to the second story upwards.

“I can Ascend us,” Zelda signed, and Riju nodded slowly.

“I can’t tell if the damage is purposefully made or not…” She signed, stepping closer. “It quite possibly  could just be the passage of time, but if something rests here of such great importance…”

“Then those in the past could have tried to prevent access to the top floor.”

Riju straightened her shoulders. “Well, we have Ascend. We’ll be fine! Come.”

Zelda smiled softly to herself as the comfortable bossiness she knew so well finally began to creep into Riju’s stance. She’d missed that strength, and it warmed her heart to see it now.

---

They moved quickly: Ascent up a wall, move past walls of fire and rolling boulders and lingering gibdos, reach rooms of light and watch Riju shine them into walls and onto switches and across gems, opening up doors to altars and batteries, each opened and charged with a quick flick of Riju’s electrified wrist. Each time, without fail, Riju stopped to say a prayer of veneration and thanks to the inhabitants of the tomb, and each time Zelda joined her. It was methodical in its movements, but Zelda appreciated the company. There was little conversation between her and Riju, more focused on the task at hand than small talk, but having her by Zelda’s side was a constant comfort, especially with Sidon’s Vow left behind wherever the Vow lingered when not beside her.

Sidon. Was he doing well? Was the Domaine back to normal? She hoped so. Sidon deserved a break, deserved a day of kindness and peace. A life of kindness and peace.

“That’s the last one, I think!” Riju signed triumphantly and grinned at Zelda, who couldn’t help but grin back. Yes, this Riju, this bright light in the dark, despite all the struggle around her—Zelda had missed her, ached to see her instead the fear and uncertianty that had plauged the girl since the Demon King's fingers began grabbing at the Gerudo. Riju's brightness... Zelda had missed that more than she could say.

It took no time to reach back to the main room, the Room of Ascension, and Zelda and Riju paused to listen for any coming voice before they triggered the elevator. None. Very well then.

Zelda pressed her magic into the Zonai symbol. The elevator rattled once, twice, before rising slowly into the air. She checked her ear plugs. Nothing, not a sound. Good. If queen gibdo’s voice was half as bad as it was outside, then Zelda was rather sure that hearing it unmuffled would be more than paralyzing, and potentially even deadly. Riju squeezed her wrist, and Zelda gave her a tight-lipped smile as the elevator moved through the hole in the ceiling.

It was dark. Light drifted up from the hole in the floor, exposing a room of sand and gibdo hives, though the hives seemed to be dormant. And there, in the far back of the room, something glittered, glowing a pale, beautiful topaz-gold, hidden behind woven metal and stone … The secret stone?

They were not alone. Far from it. The queen gibdo stood before the closed-off resting place of the secret stone, hissing and growling with her wings flared, whipping up the sands. Before her, teeth bared as he shouted something at the beast, was Link. His face was contorted in rage, gesturing wildly with his single hand, but the gibdo queen merely howled.

“Move!” Link barked, Zelda struggling to read his lips through the wind and sand. “Move you hideous thing—!”

“Link!” Riju shouted, and Link turned, eyes searching wildly through the sand before landing on Zelda.

“Oh, Zelda—” He said, face splitting open into a relieved smile. He took a step forward, arm outstretched. “I’ve been worried sick—”

The gibdo queen flung out one of her many arms and caught Link in the stomach, sending him flying. He hit the base of a hive with an ‘oof!’ and before Zelda could rush to his side, the queen gibdo’s eyes were on her. Riju caught her eye and gave Zelda a clear nod. The gibdo queen charged, but this time, the two girls were ready.

Zelda sunk down into a clear, steady stance, drawing her bow. She could almost feel Revali’s feathers on her hands, adjusting her grip, steadying her legs, straightening her back, and talking her through the process of pulling back the bowstring, settling the fletching on her cheek—the queen gibdo ran for Zelda on her many legs, and Zelda let a golden arrow fly, landing in the queen’s open eye socket. She screamed, standing up on her hind legs to claw at her face, her antenna flashing as she thrashed, and just as she snapped off the arrow shaft, a bolt of lightning struck her right in the chest. Riju whooped, before running in as the queen dropped.

Riju readied electric blades, slicing into the gibdo queen’s stomach. The queen shuddered, gloom water falling out of the wound, brown, mummified skin turning a sickly grey. Zelda raised an arrow, planning to join the gash, when the queen reared up. With a mighty beat of her wings, the air filled with sand, too thick to see, almost too thick to move, and Zelda grit her teeth against the stuff. The queen gibdo screamed, loud enough to shake the room and almost seep through Zelda’s earplugs, and Zelda dove out of the way of a tornado of sand just as the hives began to open.

Zelda readied her bow again, drawing the bowstring to her cheek, and let forth a volley of glowing arrows that struck the base of a hive, sending archs of light into all the nearby gibdos. The hive crumbled, exposing bright light. The light felt different than the sun Zelda knew; it felt golden. It felt purifying.

Zelda let out a shrill whistle and the gibdos turned to her, insectoid heads lolling. Riju could handle the queen—Zelda would keep the gibdos off her back. Pulling power from the light, Zelda let out shot after shot of golden light arrows, picking off gibdos one by one. Far in front of her, Riju danced, slicing and dicing and electrocuting while the queen gibdo screamed, leaking gloom.

A sudden gust of wind knocked Riju off her footing with a cry, and Zelda set out a sharp breath of distress, abandoning the gibdos to run to her sister’s side. The queen towered over Riju, and without thinking, Zelda thrust her hand forward, encasing Riju in a ball of light. The queen gibdo threw herself down on Riju, only to scream as the light ate into her exoskeleton. She bashed herself on Riju again, again, again, and each time, the holy light bit into her. Riju dragged herself to her feet, still engulfed in Zelda’s love, and with a cry of determination, thrust Urbosa’s twin, electrified swords up into the queen gibdos’ exposed ribcage.

The queen seemed to stutter, almost as if she was surprised, before Riju let out a battle cry that would have put any other Gerudo to shame and flooded electricity through the queen’s body.  

The queen exploded. Insect parts went flying, wings ripped from their place on her body, antenna and mandible scattered across the room. But the queen wasn’t entirely gone. No, in her place, pierced by the swords, was a shriveled body.

 A corpse of an old, old woman, mummified by thousands of years. Bald, hair long since rotted away, with peeling skin and missing eyes. She was dressed ornately, dripping in topaz. Riju slowly, delicately, lowered her swords and slid the mummy free, gently laying the woman onto the sands.  

Zelda removed the ear plugs upon seeing Riju had done the same.

“That monster,” Riju hissed, the anger in her voice cold and heavy, a deep growl in the base of her throat. “The Demon King couldn’t even make a creature of his own, had to twist some poor woman into one for him.”

Riju carefully, being sure to avoid the lingering gloom on the body, straightened the fabric with a reverence that Zelda rarely saw from her, humming a Gerudo mourning song that Zelda remembered well enough from Urbosa, back when her mother first passed. Slowly, the corpse in Riju’s arms cracked away, too old to hold itself up after such a beating, and collapsed into a puddle of dust and ornate fabric.

Riju murmured a prayer in Gerudo, and Zelda averted her eyes. They fell instead on the hive Link had been thrown into. Gone. He was gone.

It was gone. Because while Zelda wasn’t sure what exactly it was that had spoken to her… that couldn’t be Link. It couldn’t.

The thought of something taking Link's face send something hard and cold boiling inside her, but there would be time for fury, for scheming, later. Now, the stone was most important.

Zelda stood, moving now towards the secret stone. In the battle, the metal barrier had been crushed, exposing a beautiful room of shining mosaics and light, as well as water that rushed around Zelda’s legs, seeping out the windows and down the side of the pyramid. The water slowly stopped bubbling out from the lotus-like sculpture holding the secret stone, and soon there was none left. The fountain feeding the Great River had stopped. Would the river dry up now? Or would it continue to flow, bringing an age-old prosperity back to the Gerudo?

The Great River had begun to dry up just at the end of the first renesance, at the unification of Hyrule. Maybe the Demon King's attempt to unearth the tomb in this day and age had brought it back to the surface. Or, perhaps, the stone had awakened the Great River that she and Riju might be able to find the three pillars and access it themselves. Regardless, the power pulling the water from the ground like a mighty pump was gone now, and only time would tell if the river continued to flow. The thought of the Gerudo losing the river that had brought such hope and happiness in times long past made Zelda's heart ache.

Zelda didn’t hear Riju approach, the girl silent on the sands, and jumped when she spoke.

“So, this is the secret stone?”

Zelda nodded. “It carries great power, though I’m still unsure how it works. It didn’t seem to give Sidon any new power, aside from the Vow, just amplified what he already had.”

“Like a magnifying glass…” Riju murmured, creeping closer. “A magical magnifying glass…”

She reached out, fingertips hovering over the stone. “It’s… warm.” She said softly. “I can feel its heat from here. But there is a chill? Almost? It’s strange. Come, try—”

Zelda shook her head. “It’s not mine to use. It belongs to you.”

Riju bit her lip, suddenly unsure, before squaring her shoulders and grabbing the stone firmly.

The air, already still, seemed to stop completely, the smell of ozone thick as Zelda’s hair bristled with static electricity. She felt a sudden wave of nausea as the world seemed to tilt, only for a voice to come from behind them.

“Dearest descendent, daughter of the Gerudo.” The woman behind them said, her voice thick with an dialect long since lost to time. She stood before what little was left of the mummified corpse, her clothing and jewelry matching the gloom-splattered and death-stained fabrics on the body. She was short for a Gerudo, likely in her fifties, with long red hair pulled back in simple bubble braids and lip stain as bright as lightning.

Riju sucked in a breath. “You’re the voice. The one I’ve been hearing. The sage of lightning—it is truly an honor.”

The woman—the sage—smiled, crossing her arms. “We are all Gerudo went the sands come to claim us.”

“That we are.”

“My name is Naboris.” The woman said, moving before Riju and swiping a thumb across the simple circlet she wore in place of her royal headdress in times of battle. “I was a Gerudo advisor during what you call the first renaissance, and then, upon the rise of the Demon King, took on the title of Chief. You bear my lightning, which has been passed down from daughter and son since my first child’s conception. You wield it well, daughter of the Gerudo.”

Riju nodded, bowing before Naboris for a count of three, hand curved around her heart. “It is an honor, Chief.”

Naboris waved a hand. “There is no need for pleasantries. We haven’t the time anyway. The creature I had become, that gibdo thing, was created by the Demon King’s magic with the intent to destroy you as he worked to gain access to my secret stone. He did not think to consider that, even under his spell, my spirit would continue to protect it. We are lucky I held on for so long, or his followers would have been able to breach my tomb and take it.”

“Why take it?” Zelda asked. “The sage of water—the Demon King tried to stop us from getting our hands on his stone, not get it himself.”

Naboris smirked. “I think he’s realized he’s underestimated his opponent and is working to take the offensive. You must be Zelda.”

Zelda dipped her head in respectful acknowledgment. Even if Naboris didn’t seem one for manners, she was still a Chief!

“Link spoke highly of you.”

Zelda’s eyes widened, but Naboris waved her off when she opened her mouth.

“Now is not the time.” Naboris said. “I have no doubt the Demon King’s followers are heading for the next stone as we speak.”

“We’ll stop them, no problem!” Riju said, hand going to one of her blades’ hilt. “We defeated the gibdos once before, and we can do it again!”

Naboris’ smile was painfully sad. “I couldn’t be prouder to have such a descendent. So brave, so willing to fight. You will do great things.”

“She has done great things,” Zelda said, and Naboris’ eyes lingered on her.

“Tell me, princess, what do you know of the Imprisoning War?”

“Ruta said it was during the union of the Kingdom of Hyrule. King Rauru and Queen Sonia worked with the other sages to bring peace, but they were betrayed, and the Demon King took power. All of the sages came together, but they could not defeat him, leading to the King sealing away the Demon King… at the… at the cost of his own life.”

“You speak well. Ruta informed you of the basics. She was never a flowery woman, choosing to never mice words or spin long sentences.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Riju said. “This Demon King—if he betrayed them, does that mean he was a friend?”

“He presented himself as an ally.”

Zelda’s gut clenched. The dragon's vision. The vow of fealty. Ganondorf's worn allegiance to Hyrule. Rauru and Sonia’s mistrust.

A man from the desert.

A man from the desert. The Hero of Time spoke of the King of the Gerudo, of the desert, desert, desert—

Naboris was speaking, spinning a more detailed explanation of the Imprisoning War, of its casualties, and the vow the sages took to bear the stones, but Zelda wasn’t listening.

A man from the desert.

As Naboris spoke, pictures seemed to flicker on the mosaic walls, moving images of shadow and light, and they spun faster and faster until they were all Zelda could see, and—

Naboris was battered and bruised, but she still held a regalness that only Gerudo royalty could. She was in a room of white stone and gold accents, motifs of Hylia covering the walls. Not a Gerudo hideaway, that was for sure. She lay on a bed, veiled women in white tending to her wounds, and her lips were pursed as she glared at an effigy of Hylia with impossibly tired eyes.

It almost looked like she’d been crying.

There was a knock on the door and one woman scrambled to open it, letting in the same woman as Ruta’s vision—dark skin, long blond curls, veil, and vestal garments white as snow. Next to her, looking, frankly, like shit, was Link. Now that Zelda had seen his prosthetic arm in the dragon’s vision of the throne room, she could tell that this missing arm was from the prosthetic being… being torn off.

Zelda thought she might vomit at the thought. The baby was nowhere to be seen, but Naboris perked up at the sight of Link.

“About time you came to visit,” Naboris said, voice raspy. “What am I, chopped molduga guts?”

“We’ve been busy.” The woman in white said, her voice gravelly but not unkind.

“He can speak for himself,” Naboris said, and while Zelda couldn’t see the other woman’s face, she could feel the displeasure.

“The Demon King—”

“He can speak for himself.”

Link made a rough gesture that, even one-handed, clearly meant for Naboris to let it go. Naboris did not.

“Leave us.”

“Lady Naboris—”

”Leave us. All of you—I’m tired of being preened over. Out! Out!”

The woman in white huffed, turning to Link, who shrugged, squeezing her shoulder. The woman spun out on her heels, followed by the other white-dressed healers.

“You don’t think Rauru’s seal will hold,” Naboris said to Link as soon as they were alone.

“K-N-O-W” Link finger spelled with his one good hand, and Naboris buried her head in her hands, breathing out a curse in Gerudo. Link snorted, making a vague ‘me too’ gesture.

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Naboris said, voice deathly serious. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

Link nodded. “Z-E-L-D-A.”

“Your princess?”

“M-A-G-I-C.  S-T-O-P.”

“One person cannot possibly stop him.”

“H-E-L-P.  S-T-O-N-E.”

Naboris’ hand went to her ear, where a secret stone hung. She nodded. “Alright. When the time comes, I will see it that she receives my stone.” She swallowed. “And I will see to it nothing ever happens to it. I shall keep it with me till my dying breath, and when I do pass, Din as my witness, I swear I shall be buried with it, and watch over it even in death. I vow, as the new Chief of the Gerudo, that my tomb shall serve as its resting place until the time comes. May the desert eat it and the Great River burry it-- I will not let it be taken. I swear on my life.”

Link’s tired eyes softened. He brought his fingertips away from his chin. Thank you. Naboris nodded.

“Thank you for caring for him, even if it proved to be pointless in the end.”

“F-R-I-E-N-D-S  M-A-T-T-E-R, E-V-E-N  B-A-D  O-N-E-S.”

Naboris let out a bitter laugh. “If your princess is half the person you are, then Hyrule is surely saved.” She eyed the stone on the Master Sword’s hilt, eyes narrowed.

“Mineru will never forgive you if you do it.” She looked at Link, who wouldn’t meet her eyes. “but I understand.” She said softly, and Link looked up.

“I think it’s a terrible idea.” She said, “but… but I have spilled my family’s blood for my people. I understand how it feels to be deseperate.”

Naboris cleared her throat. “So, the power of the Demon King will return, and when it does, your Zelda will rise to stop him, ey’? Well, she’ll need help. I swear, on my title, my people, and my soul before Din that I shall provide a sage of lightning. The Gerudo will rise to Hyrule’s aid once again.”

Link's smile was tired, pained, but when he offered a hand, Naboris took it, squeezing tightly, before pulling him into a mighty hug and whispering something in his ear Zelda couldn't hear.

The vision faded, and Zelda eyed Naboris with new interest.

"Link knew him. THe Demon King. You both did."

“I can tell you of the Demon King, his power and his actions but... for the man he was. Forgive me. I wish to keep that version of him unsullied." Naboris said softly. Zelda wanted to tell the woman she was being selfish, that she was withholding powerful information, but the look on her face... it was grief, still bare and pained after centuries. Zelda couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. Naboris straightened. 

"So, daughter of the Gerudo, I asked you as a Gerudo to my Chief—will you help me fulfill my promise?”

Riju looked Naboris in her dark eyes, her stance radiating power.

“Aye.” She said, and Naboris grinned.

“I knew you would. We Gerudo have no taste for unfinished business.”

Riju squeezed the secret stone, and in less time than it took to blink, Naboris was gone, and Zelda and Riju were alone with the sand.

“So…” Riju said softly, running her fingers over the stone. “It is my destiny to fight by your side… my vow as a sage, my duties as chief, and the rebuilding efforts, all while fighting side by side with you…”

Zelda swallowed. “Riju, if it is too much—”

Riju spun, grinning a wolfish smile that looked so much like Urbosa that it hurt. “Ha! Sounds like fun! I will gladly strike down this so-called ‘Demon King’!” She fixed the stone onto an earring, just as Naboris had worn it, her very skin radiating ozone and bright, enthusiastic power.

“As sage of lightning,” she said, squaring her shoulders with a strength that made Zelda’s stomach soar with pride, “I offer you this vow, that my lightning might fight beside you!”

The air suddenly crackled, reeking of thunderstorms and sand, and two Riju’s stood before Zelda, one real and one a half-opaque body of yellow and electricity. The Vow grinned, flicking its hair, and Zelda couldn’t help but laugh.

“I gift a shard of my lightning to you,” Riju said. “I shall travel beside you, protect you, and fight for you. I shall aid you in your quest!”

Zelda pulled Riju into a bone-crushing hug, and the younger girl burst into giggles.

“As sage of lightning,” she said in Zelda’s ear, “I swear that I shall stand with you. No matter what. Do you understand?”

“I do. Din be my witness, I do.”

Chapter Text

Link—

I saw someone who bore your face today. He had your eyes, your crooked tooth, the gold of your hair, but when he spoke, his voice rang hollow and wrong. He had one arm, just as the you I’ve seen in the past had, but he looked so ill, like his entire being had been infected with gloom, his blood drained and replaced with the stuff. He looked on the edge of death.

Zelda bit on the tip of the Purah pad’s stylist, drumming her fingers on her thigh. She sat on her purchased bed in Kara Kara’s inn, snuggled up against the chill that seeped in from the open window. She couldn’t help herself—even with the temperature dropping, she had to have it open, to hear the blessed silence that came from the sand storm finally passing.

“Oh, Zelda—” Link had said, his face bright with the force of his smile, sunny and full of false love despite the gloom below his flesh. “I’ve been worried sick—”

Did it have the muscles to smile? Was it even a solid creature, or an illusion? It seemed solid enough when Naboris, infected and twisted by the Demon King’s magic, sent him flying into one of the hives. It/he, it/he—what do you call a not-person? An unknown creature that bears a known face? Zelda turned her attention back to the pad.

How did the Demon King—because it has to be him, that’s the only answer I can think of—know what the end stages of gloom sickness look like? Were the people in the past, back during his first attack, suffering from gloom’s touch? You didn’t look too well yourself, in those few visions from the dragon… pale and clammy… and when you were with the sages… well, you looked painfully similar in color to the mimic. Same white, waxy skin, same raw, red wound where your prosthetic had been. I have seen those close to death from gloom, and you… you look… and your eyes… his eyes were wild, strange, almost inhuman. Yours were so…

So tired.

Zelda sighed, turning her attention to the window. Outside, the sand was beautifully still. She hadn’t seen a single damn gibdo on her way to Kara Kara from Gerudo Town. Gerudo scouts said that the river was holding steady, not drying up as Zelda feared it would, though only time would tell. The Demon King’s influence was waning. All was finally well, at least for now.

Riju had been surprisingly understanding when Zelda told her she couldn’t stay to help rebuild Gerudo Town, despite how much she desperately wanted to. Zelda had expected her to put up a fight, but instead, she had simply pressed a kiss to her older sister’s forehead with a bittersweet smile.

“I understand, Zel,” Riju had said. “The Rito are waiting, and if Sage Naboris is correct and the Demon King has moved on the offensive instead of the defensive, well… who knows how much time you have. Come visit quickly, though! And you—” She’d turned to look at her Vow, who looked to her expectantly, its blank eyes surprisingly expressive. “Take good care of her.”

The Vow grinned, all lopsided and wolfish and Riju and saluted its maker. Riju grinned back, squeezed Zelda tight, and then stepped back with a pensive look in her eye. One hand curled over her heard, palm up, she bent at the waist for a count of three. Zelda’s breath had caught in her throat as she tried to pull Riju up, but Riju had just given her that bright smile, a smile that Urbosa would have loved.

“It is only right that I show due respect to the Hero of Hyrule.”

Zelda’s jaw had dropped. Her? The Hero of Hyrule? That was Link’s title, not her’s.

“You’ve saved the Zora, saved my people, and are setting off to save more. That seems pretty damn heroic. You’ve picked a fight with a Demon King for Din’s sake! You two can share the damn title,” Riju had said in response, and that had been that. Now, hours later, Zelda was curled up in bed at the inn, listening to the bustle outside the window as Gerudo families packing up their tents to finally return to a safer Gerudo Town. Zelda’s mind wandered as she opened another page in her journal to Link. Link, who had been in the past and now, all information considered, likely still was. At least the creature that had attacked Dorephan and Zora’s Domaine was a fraud, and she could clear Link’s name. Sure, there was a very real possibility that he was trapped, or even died, thousands upon thousands of years in the past and Zelda would never see him again, but hey! He didn’t try to kill their friends! Yipee!

Zelda groaned, burying her head in her knees. Something semi-hard and smelling of ozone poked the crown of her head. Riju’s Vow. Zelda looked up and the Vow cocked its head with a frown.

“I’m fine,” Zelda reassured it; it scoffed.

‘I’m fine’ it mimicked silently, hands on its hips, from where it sat cross-legged across from her on the bed, and Sidon’s Vow, who lounged across the baseboard of the bed, snickered. Zelda threw her pillow at it, which went halfway through the Vow’s head before flopping harmlessly onto the quilt. Sidon’s Vow’s chest shook with silent laughter and Zelda rolled her eyes. Even from miles away, her friends were a bunch of nuisances.

Friends.

Zelda looked back at the pad, returning her attention to the journal entry.

I’ve met two sages—Ruta and Naboris. You seemed to know them, and spoke frankly with Naboris… the woman in white, who is she? She reminds me of the High Priestesses of old, back when the Elemental Sanctuaries still stood. Is that where you are? The time of the Hero of the Minish? No… no, that’s not far enough, is it? The Era of Myth, when the inhabitants of the Sky first joined the Surface? Or is that too far back? What have you seen? Who have you met? What news of our past have you learned, what things lost to time have you felt firsthand? What forgotten languages? What…

I’m getting distracted. None of that matters, not when you are so far from me, home,  Hyrule.

I miss you.

I had held onto hope that he was you. That you were home.

I am a fool.

I miss you, I miss you I--

I cant do this without you.

But hey! At least you didn’t try to kill our friends.

Zelda tapped the stylus against her teeth, glancing up at the Vows, who had begun are arm wrestle, and swallowed.

I’ve been thinking of this not-you all day. The Demon King formed it, of that I am certain, but the question is, why? Why your face? I have my… suspicions that this Demon King and Ganondorf are one and the same, and if that is true, then you have met. Even if, somehow, there is a difference between the two, the Demon King must have known you somehow to produce such glamor. But that doesn’t answer the question! It knew my name! It demanded my whereabouts from the Zora! It… it told me it had been ‘worried sick’. Like it was expecting me.

Zelda’s eyes wandered to the fingerprint burns on her wrist. They’d fade away soon, but until then they served as an ugly reminder of just how false, how purely wrong, that Link was. Again, she nibbled on the stylus, mind wandering farther than she could reach. She shook her head, as if that could settle the thoughts, and put the pen to the pad.

And then there is Fi, and Rauru—he spoke so kindly of you on the Great Sky Island and seemed to know your final requests and thoughts and emotions. You gave him orders to give to me instead of coming to me yourself, so does that mean that you knew you would be unable to do so?

Did you know you cannot come home to me back?

I found Fi in a dragon’s head. They say, in that strange realm between history book and fairy tale, that the first Hero, the one who descended from the very Skies and founded the Hylian race, forged Fi with the breath of three dragons and the power of the Triforce. She screamed when she broke, Link. I could feel it. Could you?

Again, the stylist went ‘tap’ tap’ tap’ on Zelda’s teeth. She should talk to Link about happy things, but things weren’t all that happy right now, were they?

I tried to pull her, but a voice stopped me. Would you believe me if I told you that Blessed Nayru has been speaking to me? I was unsure it was Her at first, but there’s no one else it could be. She stopped me from pulling the sword, said I wasn’t ready.

How could She? How, after all this time, could I not be ready?

Zelda grit her teeth. She couldn’t let herself dwell on Nayru—she didn’t want to be angry when she was talking to Link. She didn’t want to be angry, or frightened, but it seemed she was those things more often than not these days.

What he frightened, where ever he was?

Don’t we deserve rest? Zelda found herself writing.  Is it too much to ask? Hylia, Din, Farore, Nayru—have we not suffered enough? My old Sheikah nursemaid, back before Father did away with her for coddling me, used to tell me stories of the Sheikah’s history of Hyrule, the memories they held onto when no one else did. The Royal Family, she told me, likes to blame the Gerudo for the fracturing of the Triforce and the death and destruction that follows. But, Demise, the Demon God from the Era of Myth… it was a curse that bound us to our duties, not the Golden Three, not Hylia, and certainly not the Gerudo. Do you think… do you think that’s true? Are we cursed?

I… sometimes, I really, really feel like it.

Zelda suddenly found herself overwhelmed with the sharp, angry frustration that had been building in her chest and chucked the stylus at the wall. It bounced off and rolled with a soft, metallic sound and Zelda buried her face in her hands. Suddenly, Zelda was aware of the weight on either shoulder: the Vows, curled up on either side and holding her tightly, Riju’s Vow’s head tucked into her shoulder blade and Sidon’s resting on her head.

“Thanks,” Zelda mumbled, and the Vows just squeezed her tighter.

They stayed like that till the chill from the open window became too much. Zelda closed it before hunkering down in the quilt, a friend on each side, and surprised herself with how easily she fell asleep.

---

Zelda found once she’d begun to put her words to Link on paper (on pad?), they flowed easier and easier. She still struggled with what could be said, what should be censored—the first 17 years of her life had been spent learning to hold her tongue, to be silent and perfect and act as expected, the next hundred not even corporeal, and while the past few years free of the pressure of the crown of Hyrule on her head or the expectations of her father had been both grounding and freeing, it was still hard to let herself speak freely. Link was the only person whom she dared trust with her most intimate thoughts, and writing to him just, well, just wasn’t the same. It made it difficult to put completely honest words down.

The children on the ground floor of the inn had fawned over Riju’s Vow when Zelda finally came down the next morning for breakfast, pulling on the Vow’s hands and giggling at the sight of their leader glowing like a lightning bug in a sandstorm. Zelda had called it back after that, letting the Vow rest quietly in her heart beside Sidon’s, as the innkeeper’s wife was seemingly unappreciative of magic in her lobby. Still, Mola had led Zelda to a quiet table in the very back corner to enjoy a hot coffee and cooling clotted cream and honey to prepare her for the hike out of the desert, and Zelda had been writing ever since. It was freeing, almost, and she pictured Link sitting across from her as she wrote, dipping flatbread into the honey and munching down at alarming rates, nodding along to her words as she told him of her travels so far, his smile carefree and his skin a healthy hue.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice asked, and Zelda didn’t look up from the Purah pad.

“Actually,” she said, midway through writing a word, “I’d rather not dine with company… to… day…”

The stranger sat, and Zelda’s heart stopped as she looked up. The woman’s mousy brown hair stuck to her tanned forehead with sweat from the growing heat outside, and her wide eyes black were deep set in her skull. She looked tired, bandages peeking out from her traveling tunic that spoke of a still-healing shoulder injury. Zelda knew that wasn’t the woman’s real face, merely a skilled mask of glamour, but Zelda would recognize that glamour in her sleep.

Ere smiled, hand shooting out to grab Zelda’s wrist when Zelda lept to her feet. Her grip was crushing, so tight that Zelda knew it would leave a bruise. She wondered for a sliver of a moment if the bruises would last longer than ‘Link’s’ burns.

“Careful,” Ere purred, “this is a very crowded lobby, and I’d hate to cause a scene. After all, there are little ones present. What a shame it would be if they were collateral damage because you decided to make a stir.”

Zelda eased back down in her chair, and Ere released her wrist. She picked up a triangle of flatbread from Zelda’s plate and dunked it in the cream, stuffing it in her mouth.

“So,” she said through her food, “How’ve you been?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not very nice,” Ere said, washing down Zelda’s breakfast with the last half of her coffee. “The boss was very impressed with the weird tomb thing, by the way. Said Link was too stupid to ever do something like that. How’s the search coming, by the way?”

“Fuck you.”

Ere clicked her tongue. “Aren’t princesses supposed to be polite?” She snatched the Purah pad off the table.

“Aw, did he make you your own little slate? That’s adorable!” She said. Zelda lunged across the table for the pad and Ere swatted her away, opening the screen with a cheery chime.

“Don’t we… don’t we deserve rest? Is it too much to ask? Hylia, Din, Farore, Nayru—have we not suffered enough?’  Oh, you poor thing,” Ere snorted, tossing the pad back onto the table. She leaned back in her chair and kicked her boots up on the table.

“You won’t believe what we found when we went looking for your obnoxious ass,” she said. Despite her cool casualness, Zelda could see the bowstring tightness in the curve of Ere’s spine, like a viper in the sands just waiting to strike when you glanced to the side. “I’ll let you guess. It’s smelly and red and will give you rabies.”

Zelda’s eyes widened. No, no, no—

“You found more blood glyphs?”

“Bingo! And what a sight they were!” Ere’s grin was deeply unsetting, and all Zelda could picture was this horrible woman’s eyes on Link. Link had his most defenseless, voyeuristically watching him without his consent, taking advantage of the silent dragon’s suffering for her own gain. It made Zelda’s stomach churn.

“Demon King indeed,” Ere said near reverently. “All this talk of Calamity Ganon avenging us, securing our revival and our return to greatness, when such a creature existed, just waiting under Hyrule Castle?” Ere let out a low whistle. “The things I saw…”

She leaned forward. “You know… all you have to do is ask. Say pretty please. I’ll tell you everything.”

“He’ll kill you,” Zelda said. She took Ere’s hand into her own, as if physical touch could somehow bridge the violence between them. “I know you think you know what you’re doing, but you have no idea the kind of power you’re working with. He’ll kill all of you in an instant.”

“Not when we bring him Link,” Ere said. She slotted her fingers with Zelda. “When we find him and gift him to the Demon King, he’ll reward us handsomely. No more hiding in the shadows. We will see this Continent united under him and relish in the power he gifts us.”

Zelda stared at her. “You’re insane.” She said bluntly, and Ere rolled her eyes.

“You’re simply short-sighted.”

“No, no, you’re insane. You have a fucking death wish.”

“Language,” Ere said. She let go of Zelda’s hand, leaning back in her chair and tossing back the dredges of Zelda’s coffee. “This is so damn sweet, how much sugar did you put in this?”

“Ere—”

“I didn’t come here to talk breakfast foods,” Ere said, cutting her off. Her face was just as open and lazy, but something was heavier, darker in her voice. “The Yiga know we can’t find Link on our own—but you most certainly can. My people will be here soon. More that I bet you’re willing to tussle with, given the children around.”

“…Why are you telling me this?”

The handle of the coffee cup creaked in Ere’s hand. “The Hatamoto was unhappy with your escape, particularly my inability to recapture you in a timely manner,” she said through grit teeth, “As well as the Big Banana. If I bring you in, they’ll forgive me! So, you come with me, and I’ll make sure none of the civilians here get hurt. Because I promise you—promise you—that the Hatamoto will leave no survivors if she thinks that bloodshed will be necessary.”

Zelda’s gut twisted hard. The Hataomoto. Zelda remembered her, her massive frame and ever more massive sword as she towered over the other blademasters, barking orders and granting personal access to Kohga. Zelda didn’t doubt that the woman wouldn’t think twice about civilian casualties.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Zelda said, forcing strength into her voice. Ere shrugged.

“You don’t. But, hey, if you’re willing to take that risk, be my guest. What’s in this clotted cream, by the way? It’s delicious. Glory to the Yiga and all that, but ever since we moved underground, food ration quality has dropped dramatically. And quantity, for that matter. We’ve got kids starving in the Depths because Link destroyed the Hideout. Most Hylian thing he could have done, honestly.” Ere looked over the rim of her empty cup as if she expected Zelda to come rushing to Link’s defense, but Zelda was too busy staring at the woman speaking to the innkeeper.

The truly massive woman.

She was covered in a thin film of dust and grit that spoke of a traveler, tall and blond with a blinding smile and a chipped tooth, her ruddy skin a mess of freckles, the suncream smeared across her cheeks not fully buffed into her skin. The glamor was good, almost perfect—if Zelda hadn’t specifically been looking for cracks and flaws in the magic, she never would have guessed the woman didn’t actually look like that.

“Really, ma’am, if it isn’t any trouble, I’m looking for a friend—”

Zelda’s head whipped back to Ere, who simply raised an eyebrow.

“You won’t hurt anyone?”

Ere lazily crossed her heart. “I swear on my master himself.”

“And if I don’t go?”

Ere grinned. “Do you really want to find out?”

No. No, Zelda didn’t.

She clicked her pad back onto her hip, dumping her napkin on her plate and swallowing thickly. She’d lose Ere as soon as Kara Kara was behind them, but for now, if leaving with the footsoldier meant keeping people safe… well, then it wasn’t really a question, was it?

Ere stood. She offered Zelda her hand. Forcing her body to stop shaking, Zelda took it. The door was so close. They’d make it through the door, then out into the courtyard, past the water reservoir, and out the town limits, and then Zelda would ditch Ere and it would all be okay. It would all be okay. It would all be okay—

“Ere?”

Ere froze. Lounging against the doorway was a short teenage boy, scrawny save for his arms, which were toned and strong, likely from using the two shot bow on his back. Ere slipped her arm around Zelda’s waist, lowering her head, and pivoted directions, speed walking to a side exit.

“Hey! Ere! Aren’t you grounded?”

Ere swore, shoving her and Zelda through the door. Zelda stumbled as Ere caught her wrist and broke into a sprint. Civilians yelped as Ere pushed through the crowded main plaza, her fingernails digging hard enough into Zelda’s wrist to leave cuts. She nearly knocked a Rito woman to the ground in her haste, the fledgling in the woman’s arms tumbling to the ground, and Zelda wrenched her hand out of Ere’s grasp.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am—” Zelda said, scooping up the little one. “Here, let me help—”

The Rito gave Zelda an understandably dirty look, snatching her child from Zelda’s hands.

“You should watch where you’re going,” She said, “running around like a bunch of hooligans—”

Zelda stammered out an apology, just as a massive hand came down hard on her shoulder.

“Forgive my friend, ma’am, she’s always been a bit too excitable for her own good.”

Zelda paled. The Hatamoto smiled blandly at the Rito, who looked down her beak at her.

“Hylians!” She scoffed. “No manners! Why I ought to—”

The Rito woman didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence, not she dropped to the sands, pink feathers suddenly red. Someone in the crowd screamed, and all hell broke loose in seconds. The smell of old magic flooded the courtyard; one Yiga archer appeared, then two, then four, followed by footsoliders and blademasters. Zelda watched in horror as the sands darkened with the Rito woman’s blood, and the grip on her shoulder tightened. She should scream, she should wail, she should do something, but Zelda couldn’t seem to make a noise.

“Princess,” Hatamoto Aymu purred in her ear. “A pleasure to meet you again. I hear you made quite the stir in Gerudo Town. I was stationed there once, you know, before your precious hero snuffed out our spy ring and obliterated our home. It will be a pleasure to reunite the two of you before the Great Demon King.”

Aymu straightened, wrapping a massive bicep around Zelda’s throat and pinning her to her side.

“And you,” She said to Ere. The woman, now but another faceless masked footsoldier, was fiddling with her fingers as she stood before her superior.  “Were demoted. You aren’t even supposed to be above ground! If you think I won’t be having words with the Big Banana when we get back—”

Aymu looked down at Zelda in mild surprise, as if her thrashing was but the wiggling of a gnat. She tightened her grip on Zelda’s throat.  “Did you just try to hit me?”

Zelda, who had indeed just slammed her elbow into Anymu’s armored side, earning only a growing bruise for her trouble, tried not to panic as the woman began to shake with silent laughter. Laughing—the monster was laughing!

“She tried to hit me!” She yelled to a blademaster, who joined in on the laughter.

“ENOUGH!”

Aymu went silent. In its place, a chill grew, and Zelda could feel her narrow her eyes at the Gerudo guard who had spoken, even if she couldn’t see behind the mask. Ripp, the head guard stationed in Kara Kara, and Boraa, her second in command, stood shoulder to shoulder, decayed spears at the ready.

“Unhand the Princess, and your execution will be swift, Yiga scum.”

Aymu’s grip tightened further, and she took hold of Zelda’s chin with her other hand. “What do you think, Princess? Should I?”

“Please,” Zelda wheezed, vision blurring. “Don’t hurt them—”

“You don’t get to give me orders, little girl,” Amyn said, her grip on Zelda’s face hard enough to bruise. “I do what I want. Kill them.”

Ripp tackled Boraa to the side, the wind from a windcleaver cutting through the air where the woman’s head had been seconds ago. The courtyard, already packed over capacity by travelers who had been seeking refuge from the sand storm, exploded into chaos, people pushing and shoving to avoid flying arrows and the whistling of windcleavers, trampling over one another in the process. Zelda didn’t know if the lit lantern falling across a tent flap was an accident from a fleeing civilian or a purposeful fire from the Yiga, just knew that as Aymu dragged her through the crowds by her throat, the haze of smoke and flicker of fire was unmistakable.

Zelda needed air. She couldn’t breathe, not between the smoke and Aymu’s choking grip, and especially with the smell of burning flesh filling her lungs. Zelda knew that smell, would never be able to forget it. She would forget the screams as the buildings of Castle Town exploded, Link gripping her hand like a vice as he pulled her through the winding streets. There was a woman, her melted wedding ring all that truly remained of her as the city streets burned; Zelda smelled her clear as day as Link dragged Zelda forward, the sounds of Guardians coming from all sides. Fire, so much fire, licking at her heels as they ran, the corpses of her people tangling their undead fingers in the hem of her prayer dress, the screams from the newly made redeads indistinguishable from that of those left behind to burn alone.

“I know!” Link had screamed when she clawed at him, demanding they go back, they try to save someone, anyone. “I understand, I do, but none of this will mean anything if you die here!”

Once they hit the freedom of Hyrule Field, the smoke completely cloaked the sky, the once green grass now grey with ash as the smell of cooked bodies wafted from Hyrule Castle. For a hundred years, all Zelda could smell was fire.

Zelda couldn’t breathe, just knew the sand below her feet was scarlet as someone dragged her along by her hair. She needed to do something, but she couldn’t breathe—

She stumbled, a clump of hair ripping free as she fell into the sand, so thick with blood that it was almost mud. People were talking in Sheikah above her, but she couldn’t seem to make sense of the words. The smell, it was too much, too thick--

“…Cut off the exits…”

“…No, survivors serve as a reminder …  what happens to those who oppose the Eye of the Yiga…”

“…And the soldiers…”

“… Couldn’t care less … Riju’s attack dogs…”

Zelda was dimly aware of a panicked foot stomping on her stomach as its owner pushed through the crowd, and a boot hitting her skull as someone ran for safety. A stampede had grown as people tried to flee the growing flames, and Zelda couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, hands were on her, far smaller than Aymu’s, pulling her up.

“Come on, Princess,” a voice said in her ear.

“Ere...?” Zelda slurred, and the voice shushed her.

“You’re no good to us dead.” The footsoldier said, hoisting Zelda into her arms. Despite her actions, there was no kindness in her movements. Gone was the joking, carefree woman from just a few minutes earlier, replaced with the coldness of the Yiga that Zelda had come to know so well.

Zelda drifted. Help, she needed to be helping, but Ere’s chest was warm and her heartbeat was steady, and if Zelda didn’t try to think too hard, it wasn’t Ere holding her but Link, his grip firm and promising protection as they fled Hyrule Field.

Hateno, they’d make it to Fort Hateno, where the sky would be blue again and the rain would wash away the smell of smoke and the charred bodies would be but a horrid memory as reinforcements from the Citadel came. Link squeezed her tight, and the pressure was grounding, keeping her from unraveling inside her own skin.

Expect this couldn’t be Link. Link was missing, replaced with a foul puppet of some kind, the Demon King using his likeness while he plotted and worked tirelessly to steal the secret stones. Secret stones that, unless Zelda got to them first, would lead to the destruction of the Continent.

Zelda’s eyes shot open. She jammed an elbow into Ere’s exposed jaw and the women shouted in pain, letting go of Zelda, who rolled to her feet. Behind them, Kara Kara burned. Rage build steadily in Zelda’s gut, louder than the memories that threatened to pull her back under, and she gladly clutched that rage. How dare they? How dare they?

Ere threw herself onto Zelda, who thrashed in her arms, beating her fists against the bigger woman’s chest.

“This is all your fault you know,” Ere hissed above her. “You’re the reason she’s killing all those people. Their blood is on your hands, so stop fucking struggling and let me drag you back home before anyone else gets hurt!”

 “I didn’t raise a hand to anyone!” Zelda spat “You did all by yourself, you bloodthirsty monsters!” A fist rang true, catching Ere in the chin, and her head snapped back with such force that the woman would surely be feeling it for days. Ere grabbed a fistful of Zelda’s hair, forcing her face into the sand.

“It seems you’ve found our missing flower.”

Ere glanced over her shoulder and immediately jumped to attention at the sight of Aymu, kicking Zelda to the bigger woman’s feet.

“I didn’t want her getting trampled or burning, not when we need her to find the swordsman.”

Amyu nodded. “You may have disobeyed orders, but you’ve shown nothing but dedication in tracking down her Majesty, footsoldier. It is clear you understand the importance of your transgression and wish to rectify it. That shall be considered when I mention this shitshow to the Big Banana.”

Zelda forced herself to her feet with grit teeth.

“If you think I’m going with you, you’re sorely mistaken.” She said, raising her head. This was a version of Zelda she rarely used anymore, but remembered well—Zelda the Princess, Zelda the Royal… Zelda the Divine. Aymu crossed her arms.

“Here’s how this is going to go, Princess. You submit yourself for a magic dampener and come willingly, or I break both your legs and drag you to the Depths on shattered femurs. And if you need more persuasion—” Aymu gestured to a blademaster. Shoulders squared, the man dragged forward a charred, bleeding, but somehow still alive, Ripp. The woman’s nose was a squashed tomato, her hands unrecognizable, her eyes swollen shut from smoke and violence, but still she held her head high.

“Princess, whatever they want, my life is not worth—”

“Oh, shut her up.” Aymu drawled, and the blademaster smacked the Gerudo soldier upside the head with an armored hand.

“I have no particular opinion either way if this woman lives or dies. That’s up to you. We make it to the Yiga Hideout Chasm in one piece, then I’ll leave her in the sands to make her own way home. If that doesn’t happen… well, you can guess.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Maybe, from a certain point of view.”

Zelda seethed. As the anger built, it was easy to reach down behind her heart to where the power of the Triforce, still wobbly and growing but learning to leap to meet her touch, sat. Zelda gathered it into her bloodstream, pushing it into her muscles and fingertips, and for the first time since the destruction of the Calamity, the power of the bow of light hovered just in reach, ready for her to take it. Just as Zelda reaching in her mind’s eye to close her fingers around the bow, Aymu choked. Yellow split from her stomach, the smell of electricity strong enough to bite into as the woman’s chest jolted before sliding down off of Riju’s Vow’s electrified blade. The being of light’s eyes narrowed; the fury clear in its expression was clear regardless of the blankness of its eyes.

Beside Zelda, Ere shrieked, running to Aymu’s side, but Zelda moved faster, bow of light shimmered in her hands.

“Touch that body, and you’re dead.”

Ere took a shaky step back. “Zel, please—”

“That’s not my name.”

Ere swallowed. “Princess Zelda—”

“No. No, you and your friends are going to turn and march your asses back to that hellish hole in the ground and I swear if you so much as breathe in the direction of Kara Kara again—"

“You wouldn’t kill someone.”

“I don’t have to.” Behind Zelda, Sidon’s Vow’s trident gleamed. “They’ll happily do it for me.”

Ere took a step back.

“You—” Zelda said to the blademaster holding Ripp. “Bring her over here.”

The blademaster made a move to throw the Gerudo at Zelda, but Zelda firmly shook her head. “That’s not what I said.”

The blademaster, looking very unsure of himself, passed over Ripp. Zelda helped the woman stand. The blademaster glanced to the body of his superior lying still on the ground, then to the scattered Yiga forces.

The bow of light shone brilliantly, the light arrow in it deceptively soft, and Zelda’s arms were strong and confident as she held the bowstring against her cheek. The blademaster took a shaky step back. One by one, in a flicker of red and spell paper, the Yiga vanished, likely to go running back to their Chasm to tell Kohga of their failure. Zelda didn’t know what the clan’s leader would do to them, but she doubted it would be anything good.

Kara Kara was silent save for the flicker of dying flames. Slowly, survivors crept back into view, some smothering tent canvas in the water reservoir, others calling for family, and more still standing blankly in the sand, eyes wide and empty as they took in the ash and blood.

On the ground, Aymu continued to bleed. Zelda wasn’t sure if she was dead or not, but as a remaining Gerudo guards scooped the woman up anyway, slinging her over her shoulder and marching off into the smoke and ruin, Zelda found that frankly, she didn’t care. Another guard marched to Zelda’s side, looking exhausted, and after a bit of awkward shuffling before Riju’s Vow, unsure how exactly to address it, dipped into a traditional Gerudo bow, her hand curled over her heart.

“My Lady,” She said gruffly to the Vow, and the Vow inclined its head. “And Princess. Let me take the Capitan, I’ll see to it that she’s well cared for. I’m taking a team to Gerudo Town with the worst of the injured, and I shall be sure to inform the Chief that the Yiga have been regrowing their numbers.

“There’s a Chasm near their old Hideout that leads into their new base in the Depths,” Zelda said. A sharp guilt grew between her shoulder blades at not taking the time to tell Riju of the Yiga’s resurgence. Sure, they’d both been more than busy, the sandstorm and gibdo taking up all their attention, but Zelda’s failure to inform Riju had put Kara Kara in danger, had cost lives. How could she?

“I’ll send a platoon down with Buliara's support. We’ll see that it is Kara Kara is rightfully avenged.” The guard said. Zelda shifted anxiously at the thought of guards leaving behind Kara Kara, terrified some masked bastard might take advantage of their absence and the guard’s face softened. “I’ll be sure Kara Kara and all left are safe. I swear on Din Herself." She said, sensing Zelda's hesitance and concern. "Will you be leaving us?”

Zelda swallowed tightly. She should stay, help, heal. But the Yiga could return at any time if they decided they weren't finished with Zelda, and every second she spent around Riju's people brought a greater chance of more destruction.

“Yes,” she said, forcing emotion from her voice. “My quest calls me.”

And my lingering presence in Yiga territory just endangers us all.

“Princess, I hope you know that you hold no blame here, at least in my eyes,” The guard said softly as if she had read Zelda’s mind. “The Yiga are sand roaches—they refuse to die, always have, and maybe even always will.”

Riju’s Vow nodded, reaching out and taking Zelda’s hand. Zelda felt a spark run up her arm.

“Thank you,” Zelda said softly, “that’s… very kind.”

“Allow me to provide you with an escort to the mouth of the Gerudo Valley.”

“That’s really not necessary—”

The guard raised an eyebrow. Blood crusted her brow, but at least it didn’t seem to be her own.

“A platoon of Yiga bigger than any we’ve seen in years just set the town square on fire in their haste to drag you away. With all due respect, Princess, I’d rather no soldier let you out of their sights until the Yiga’s main desert hunting grounds are far, far behind you.”

“You say this like they never pass the mouth of the valley.”

“Do you want me to send you with a permanent bodyguard, then?” the guard said, giving Zelda a look that dared her to argue.

Zelda’s stomach ached. The familiarity of the sentence and the exhaustion of the morning's attack pulled at memories she long tried to bury.

I don’t need any escort, let alone a permanent bodyguard! This is ridiculous!

The Champion’s destiny lies with you—with the uptick in Yiga sightings, you are lucky a whole platoon is not guiding you to the Sacred Springs.

I can handle myself!

How? Has your Power revealed itself as we speak? Have I been speaking to the Goddess Incarnate all this time?

…

I do not want to hear complaints from you again, Zelda.

The memory merely flitted across her mind, not enough to truly drag Zelda into the wallowing that came with thinking about her father, but it was enough to make her chest hurt. Father had always had the last word back then, regardless of how small the argument was, and his words always seemed to find a way to cut deep into her, even when the sentences were short and benign. Link, still fidgety and unsure of her just after they annihilated Ganon, had taken her to Mount Hylia’s peak.

A mountain raven had sat on the peak of the headstone he led her to, old and greying, and Zelda, freezing in Paya’s second-hand coat, no clothes left to her name by her prayer dress, had gaped at it. Was she supposed to cry? Mourn a father who never loved her? Link gifted her with Rhoam’s diary. She never read it. She already knew what cutting words to expect—she’d heard them for seventeen years; she didn’t need to read them, too.

“To the mouth of the valley then.” Zelda said to the guard, “There is a small pop-up stable run by a gentleman named Pirou. I have a horse stabled there. I will part ways with the escort then. Is that agreeable enough?”

The Gerudo guard smiled. She was missing a tooth, her mouth bloody and bright. “Of course, Princess.”

---

Three days had past, and still, Zelda was scared to sleep. Sleeping on the road was too open, too many places for one to hide. The problem wasn’t monsters; clearing out a monster camp was easy enough, especially now that she’d found it easier and easier to draw the bow of light out from within her, up to the point that her old bow had been left behind days into her ride. A bloody sun had followed her up and out of the Gerudo Desert, but while the gloom magic stirred her insides, the Gerudo guard’s knowledge of monster tracks and the tale tell signs of a monster camp rendered it mostly harmless. No, it wasn’t the monsters—at least, not the bokos or lizalfos—that kept her up. No, it was monsters of a different making that tailed her even in her dreams, leaving her too on edge to sleep in the open: the Yiga.

The Gerudo guard who insisted on escorting her’s name was Safflina, which Zelda found incredibly funny, near inappropriately so. At least the older woman had also howled with laughter upon meeting Safflina the Horse, once they exited the mouth of the Gerudo Valley, leaving the desert far enough behind to reach Pirou and his little pop up stable. Safflina the Gaurd had cackled as Zelda rubbed the mare’s nose and cooed into her neck, thanking her for being ‘so very well behaved’ and ‘such a good girl.’ Link might not be here to spoil his beloved horse, but that didn’t mean Zelda couldn’t do it.

 Pirou had taken good care of Link’s horse, and his face fell with disappointment when Zelda told him that no, Link still wasn’t with her and no, she wouldn’t be able to bring him by to visit for a while.

(She might not be able to ever bring him by, she thought bitterly, because, for all she knew, he died ages ago, deep in the past.)

Still, she forced a smile on her face and kissed Pirou and Safflina the Gerudo’s cheeks, thanking them each for their help. Then it was just a quick flick of the reins to begin the trek north, deep into Tabantha, an urgency at the base of her skull pushing her forwards faster and faster. The sage of wind, both past and present, was waiting for her, as was the secret stone… And ‘Link’, or whatever foul amalgamation of the Demon King’s power that made it was. She had to hurry. She couldn’t let that thing get there before her.

Which left her where she was now, exhausted and high strung, twilight quickly falling. She could stop at a stable, but she’d learned by now that her presence was a beacon in the dark for vile creatures, and any moment she spent lingering around civilians was a moment too long. She wouldn’t have anymore blood on her hands.

Not your hands, a voice that sounded painfully like Link’s said, never your hands.

He was right, and Zelda was slowly convincing herself of that fact. The Yiga acted on their own accord. No one held a knife to their neck or an arrow to their skull—their actions were theirs, and theirs alone. Still, the image of the Rito woman in the sand clung to Zelda like a vice, impossible to shake.

The cool breeze across Saflua Hills were a blessing compared to the heat of Gerudo, and the tall swaying grasses left stripes of dew on Safflina’s ankles. The mare was soaked up to her belly, as was Zelda. The bridge across the South Regencia River had collapsed under a chunk of sky island, so she had to wade across, leading Link’s horse by the reins. He’d kill her if she let anything happen to the sweet thing—Zelda had never met someone so dedicated to a horse before. Maybe it should have been annoying, to almost be surpassed in care by Link’s horse, but Zelda had always found it endearing. After all, you could tell a lot about someone by how they treated animals, and Link always treated them with a kindness that spoke to a quality of character few could match.

Maybe he should start a stable, Zelda thought to herself, once all this is over. Hateno could use a mini stable like Pirou’s. The image made her smile: Link, champion’s leathers discarded and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he mucked stalls and polished tack and braided Safflina’s hair, singing to her and mimicking her whinnies. The image shifted—Link only had one arm now. Could he muck a stall one-handed? She’d have to make him a prosthetic if he consented to it. She could use the Sheikah parts still left in the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab, but she wasn’t sure if Link would feel comfortable tying his physical body to the ancient Sheikah after their technology had hurt him so. Heavens knew he was quick enough to demolish the Shrine of Resurrection.

Link’s body reflected the anguish the Calamity had left him boldly and bluntly—Zelda had thought that, upon waking a hundred years in the future, all signs of his death would have passed—she thought wrong. Scars littered his body from head to toe, particularly upon the dip of his right side, and his face was shiny and taunt from burn tissue, right eyelid thicker and tighter than his left. The nerves may have regrown, the muscle strong and the bone reconnected, but the Shrine of Resurrection had cared little for cosmetics.

Zelda, too, had been worse for wear upon her rescue, limp and weak and malnourished. Her body hadn’t existed for a hundred years, slowly wasting away from magic exhaustion and over exertion, Hylia and Nayru’s powers eating into her flesh and muscle and very bone marrow. She’d been unable to stand after destroying Ganon, Link having to carry her to Safflina and hold her onto the horse, lest she fall right off as they moved to Kakariko. It took weeks to be able to walk for even medium periods of time, months to gain back muscle and body fat, and her bones would forever be more brittle than they had been before. Still, looking at her now, years later, one wouldn’t be able to tell how deeply the powers of Hylia and the Triforce had ravished her body. Not Link like, who carried the echo of his death with him everywhere. It ate at Zelda some days, more than she’d like to admit, but she’d learned not to mention it to Link. It was one of the few topics guaranteed to lead to an argument, which would lead to her hiding out in her lab and Link setting off to the Domaine to stew with Sidon. The steam would fade, and in would come the guilt, and then the avoiding one another, until finally Link would slip into their unlocked door in the middle of the night and creep into the bed upstairs, boots still on, and sign apologies into her skin, which Zelda would return tenfold.

She’d have to get him a writing tablet, or maybe find a way to transfer a text-to-speech function on the Sheikah slate, now that he was down an arm, unless he did want a prosthetic. She had no doubt she, Purah, and Robbie could make him one practically better than his own flesh and blood arm.

Purah. She should reach out the to older woman, let her know how everything was come on—heavens know she worried too much.

Zelda gave a slick click of her tongue, Safflina’s ears perking in response, and she dropped the reins to the horn of the saddle. Safflina let out a light breath, as if acknowledging Zelda specifically, and continued to follow the path through the hills without Zelda needing to steer. Link was a fabulous horse trainer, and he’d quickly established a path for his horse, one the mare could follow practically in her sleep. As long as Zelda kept her on the path, she could keep her hands free for a moment or two. She slipped the Purah pad off her belt, not bothering to pop stylist and instead flicking through the screens with deft fingers.

Profiles: Purah

Zelda typed out a string of ones and zeros, a string of binary code that she herself had invented during the first excavation of the Sheikah technology a hundred years ago, back before her father forbid her access and she instead spent the few hours free of prayer in the Royal Tech Lab, no longer a princess and instead a researcher and inventor, scholar and academic.

Purah.

Good To Go For Water Stone Lightning Stone STOP Sidon Sage Riju Sage STOP Destination Rito STOP

Then, after some thought—

Link Still Missing STOP If Sighting Report But Do Not Engage STOP

Much Love STOP

Zelda swore as a droplet of dark water fell on the pad, refracting the light, and quickly hit send. Above her, the darkening rainclouds that she had been ignoring began to leak.

“Well, shit.”

Zelda scanned the horizon. At least it wasn’t gloom rain. The path forked in just a few meters—to the east, Sanidin Park. The last stop her and Link made before that fateful birthday when the world ended. An elegant, insultingly posh park once reserved for the elite, now overtaken by the wild with only her to remember it by. To the west, Satori Mountain.

Easy choice. She steered the reins west. The sky continued to moan, the wind picking up, and Zelda almost—but not quite—missed the heat of the desert. She held the Purah pad, blessedly waterproof, over her head, trying to keep her hair some sort of semblance of dry, and spurred on Safflina, just for lightning to strike mere meters from them. Safflina’s ears flattened and she let out a panicked shrill sound, rising up on her hind legs and taking off in a different direction. Zelda clung tightly onto the reins, trying to regain control of the usually docile mare, but Safflina could not be deterred, letting out another horrid sound.

There was another crash of thunder as lightning split the sky and Safflina turned left hard, sending Zelda flying into a barrel roll across the hill. She gasped as she came to a bumpy, muddy stop, squinting through the rain. Safflina, where was Safflina? Oh Gods, Link would never forgive her if something happened to his horse!

Zelda bolted to her feet, head whipping wildly around—there! The horse was galloping faster than Zelda could ever hope to go, running wildly from the long gone lightning, spooked by nothing more than its memory. Zelda knew she could never catch up, but the image of Link’s desperate, despair-filled face spurred her on, and off she went, running through the tangled, muddy grass.

“Safflina! Safflina!!”

The horse screamed as she came to the edge of the cliff that bordered the hills, her wet hooves barely catching on the stone and scrapping to a stop. Thank the Gods! If she had fallen over… Well, Zelda didn’t know what she’d do. She didn’t think she could emotionally survive losing Safflina.

Panting, Zelda dragged herself over to the horse, shins aching and side screaming. She reached out a careful hand to the spooked horse, who whinnied and tossed her head to the side, almost like she was… beckoning?

“What is it, girlie?” Zelda said softly, reaching out again, and again Safflina jerked her head, this time moving her whole massive body. It was like she was trying to show her something… Zelda carefully stepped closer to the muddy edge, squinting to the Illumeni Plateau below. Slowly, the rain came to a stop, the moon splitting through the clouds and illuminating the grasslands below. Zelda could make out the lights of Tabantha Bridge Stable from here, as well as hear the groan of the windmills. The plateau was especially muddy, the wet grass glowing silver in the moonlight and standing as stark contrast with the lines upon lines of mud.

No, not mud.

Blood.

Zelda glanced at Safflina. She couldn’t leave Link’s horse here, but Illumeni Plateau was so far the road and so close now, just a quick glide away. No. No, she couldn’t abandon Link’s horse. He would never forgive her.

Begrudgingly, Zelda climbed back on a still skittish Safflina and turned her from the edge of the cliff back to the road.

Then they ran, ran as fast as Zelda could stand pushing the mare, sending her across the bridge of North Regencia River with such ferocity that she was glad Link couldn’t see her, because she had no doubt he’d be angry if he had. She cut through West Hyrule Plain, avoiding the slower, safer route through Seres Scablands, the damp wind cutting her face, until Washa’s Bluff towered on one side and the Illumeni on the other. She could smell the blood, clear as day. Her heart beat in two time in her throat.

The blood smelled like rot and copper, but to Zelda it was the sweetest thing she’d ever smelt. The lines made up the body of a woman, geometric and elegant, with locks of hair that curled around her ankles. Zelda gave herself a moment to take in the beauty of it, the elegancy, as if it wasn’t the blood from a rotting, infected wound, the silent dragon’s open gash where its arm should be slowly poisoning it, potentially to death. Then she knelt, uncaring of the blood on her trousers, and drank.

---

Zelda stood in the most different weather possible from that of her own world at the moment: the sky was bright and blue, the sun shining with gentle warmth, the clouds pink with a lingering sunrise. Zelda didn’t recognize her location, but it seemed to be some kind of palace garden, and before her was a gazebo not unlike the inner structures of the Shrines of Light. Grey and green stone and elegant, geometric carvings, all held together by neon light. In the gazebo, a group sat: dark skin, blond locked hair, white tattoos—Queen Sonia. Two Gerudo, masked in gold—the same that had been present the night Ganondorf vowed felty. And then, tall, broad, with a healthy layer of fat hiding massive strength, dressed far below his means with no crown in sight despite his title, his scarlet hair half up in a simple traveling style—

Ganondorf.

“—Forgive them.” Sonai said, passing a cup to each of the Gerudo women and pouring them tea from a surprisingly simple kettle. It smelled of silent princesses, nothing like Link’s favorite Hylian herb. “The last great ruler of the Zonai Empire… he was assassinated by Hylian rebels who disguised themselves as Zonai priests, hiding their faces behind ceremonial masks that they might enter the king’s quarters undisturbed. It was… far from a quick and merciful death. It may have been centuries ago, far outside of any living Hylian memory, but the paranoia has always remained, especially as Ra is one of the last pure-blood Zonai. Hiding faces in court has been a taboo since.”  

One of the two women, this one in blue, scoffed.

“Please. If we wanted your king dead, he would be.” She said, and the red one laughed.

“Besides, hiding behind masks is a coward’s way of killing. An honorable warrior would strike him head-on.”

Ganondorf’s mouth twitched. Zelda narrowed her eyes at the man. He was unarmed, his hands placed on the table in a sign of goodwill but… but Zelda knew her history. Nothing good came from Ganondorfs.

Ganondorf kicked Red under the table.

“Link!” Zelda’s head whipped around so fast her neck hurt at Link’s name There, in the gardens, just meters away, was Rauru, and more importantly—most importantly—Link. He looked exhausted but in good spirits, Fi settled on his hip. The Zonai had provided a new scabbard for her, and there on her hilt, a green-gold secret stone. Fi glowed, calling out for Link to be wary of danger, but he seemed to be uninterested in her warning.

“Link!” Rauru called from outside the gazebo, “Come, stretch with me. Magic is hard on cold muscles.”

“Pray tell why we’re up at the ass crack of dawn just to watch a spar?” Red said with a yawn. Ganondorf kicked her under the table again, and Sonia smiled into her cup of tea.

“You’re in for a treat,” Sonai said, “Link—”

“Link has come into possession of a Zonai artifact,” Rauru said. His stretching was unsettling to see, his movements unnaturally smooth, his bending unnaturally rubbery. “You should feel honored to have the chance to see it up close. They are not often openly discussed.”

“Oh?” Ganondorf said.

Sonai’s fingers fiddled with the stone at her throat. Was Zelda seeing things, or did Ganondorf’s eyes linger? Was the gaze curious, or hungry? Was he just tired? Or was this a crack in a mask no one else could see?

“The light you used to decimate my swarm.” He said softly.

“…Yes.” Rauru said, looking suddenly uncomfortable and far more interested in stripping out of his dressing gown as he prepared for… whatever he and Link were doing.

“They’re stones,” Sonia said. Her nails click, click, clicked on her own stone, like rain on still water. “They channel the innate power inside someone and convert it into physical, tangible magic.”

“A conduit?” Ganondorf said, voice soft. “How… interesting.”

“Yes. One isn’t given power by the stone; instead, it is amplified into something useful and useable.”

“Sonia…” Rauru said warningly, but Sonia, either unaware of her husband’s reluctance or uncaring, continued.

“My sister-in-law, her stone amplifies her connection to her spirit and the spirits of the world around her. I can manipulate time, Ra can call upon light and banish darkness—”

“Sonia—”

“And Link’s… well, we’re still learning about his. We hope that doing so will help him with the problem he has been facing at home.”

“The mummy,” Ganondorf said, and Sonia nodded. Zelda’s ears perked at that. The Demon King? Why on earth would Link tell him of all people about that?

“He’s mentioned it to you?”

“Aye.”

“The Gerudo are known for their magic and gibdos—any chance you would know…?”

Ganondorf shook his head. “From what Link has said, it sounds far too intelligent to be a gibdo. As for a redead or other reanimated corpse—it is a possibility, but I’ve never heard of a redead with such power. I could research it, but without access to the Gerudo archives, that is impossible.”

Sonia smiled. “We have a section of Gerudo texts in the library, modern, classical, ancient, fiction, nonfiction, myth—”

“Sonia has always had a passion for literature,” the Zonai woman who had crept behind them said. Ganondorf jumped, spinning in his seat, and the Gerudo women snickered in unison.

“Rue!” Sonai said with a brilliant smile. “You made it! Rauru said you would be helping with the new construct bodies.”

The Zonai woman smiled. It was an unsettling smile, like she didn’t make the shape often.

“I figured I could be of use,” she—Rue?—said. She sat between Sonia and the Gerudo. “Link. Ganondorf. Twinrova. A… pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Ganondorf said, all pleasantries and smiles, and across the grass, Link beamed.

Rauru cleared his throat. “Link. Let us begin.”

Link nodded. The Zonai king extended a hand and Link took it. “Here, look.”

Rauru made a fist with his prosthetic hand, laying Link’s fingers over the back of it, right on top of his secret stone. Light sparked up and across Link’s hand, and then the blindingly white stone came free, right into Link’s palm. Link gaped at it, eyes wide and sparkling.

Across the way, Ganondorf’s eyes glittered as well.

“The only person I allow to touch this stone is Sonia, and, once, Mineru when she imbedded it in my arm. These stones are precious and dangerous. Used flippantly or in the wrong hand, they can cause devastating destruction—there is a reason there are so few Zonai. Greed and desperation are powerful, deadly things. I thought there were only seven left in the world until you arrived—my sister’s, my beloved’s, mine, and four stones kept deep in the Great Temple of Hylia where no one but I or Mineru can reach them. Now, you have provided us with an eight. I cannot allow you to continue to wield it without further knowledge; that is a recipe for disaster.”

Rauru cupped his hands around Link’s hands, closing them around the stone.

“What do you feel?” He said with soft intensity.

Link frowned and raised an eyebrow, wiggling his fingers, and Zelda thought the Zonai might have blushed, or something close to it. “Of course. My apologies.” He said with an awkward laugh, and released Link’s hands. Link closed his eyes, brow furrowed, and turned the stone over in his flesh and blood hand before returning it to Rauru.

 “The surface is cold, almost chilly, like it’s been under cool water. But warmth radiates from it. An oxymoron. Hot and cold, mingling inside the stone. The surface… tingles?” He signed.

“Good, very good,” Rauru said with a smile. “The cold is the power of the stone, and the warmth is your own magic calling out and beckoning the power forward. The tingling… that’s something usually only noticed after years of work—it is how we communicate with our stones. That is a sign of great power or great insight. I’m impressed.”

“It feels like my sword.”

“Your sword is a weapon of light. I’m not surprised that your light power feels the same reflecting off of a secret stone. Now, let us truly begin. Take your stone in hand.”

Link’s hand drifted to Fi, who sang as soon as he touched her. He gave her hilt a soft, reassuring pat and took the stone in hand.

“Now, imagine a crystal prism. When white light goes through it, it is broken down into a rainbow by the prism. The prism refracts the light, shifting it. It is still the same light, just in a different form. The stone is the white light—you are the prism. Your innate power is what reforges the light into a myriad of colors, and that color interacts with the world around you.”

Link nodded slowly.

“Light magic is unpredictable. While time magic or spirit magic is useful for manipulating the world around you, we manipulate the power inside us to protect. We are defenders—champions.”

Zelda brew in a sharp breath at the word. Champions, champions… Rauru had no idea the weight the title held, the pressure the mere word placed on Link’s shoulders. She wished you could place it back in his mouth, keep it from ever being spoken.

“Mineru—your constructs.”

“Of course.” Rue, now likely Mineru, said. She stood, picked a spec of dirt off her dress, and called for the constructs in the garden to stand at attention.

“I am going to send a construct to try and pin you. Utilize the stone and take them down,” she said, “You can do this. I believe in you.”

“Magic only,” Rauru said, and Link nodded. “Watch me first.”

Mineru whistled and a construct soldier with a glittering blue blade moved forward. Rauru didn’t even bother to dodge. Instead, he swept his hand up, his third eye flashing, and his stone glowed pale yellow-white, the light moving with the movement of his arm, before solidifying into a shield. The blade stuttered where it met the shield, white-hot light moving up the construct’s arm, and it collapsed into a heap.

It reminded Zelda of her own light power, her own shield, though clearly from a more organic source. Zelda’s power was far from organic—there was nothing organic about the divine.

Rauru sent each construct spiraling back with another swipe of his arm. Zelda watched with interest, taking in his form--- could she do this? Use this? Would Rauru have been able to teach her more surrounding the Triforce instead of sending her on quests? It was unlikely, but still…

A fourth crept closer and Rauru held out a palm—there was complete and utter silence for a nanosecond before a blinding gold light shot from his clawed prosthetic and ripped through the construct. Under the gazebo, Sonia clapped.

Ganondorf’s face was unreadable. Fi screamed at Link’s waist.

Danger! Danger! Danger!

Come on, Link, Zelda wanted to scream. You’re clever! Can’t you see him? Don’t you know who this is?

“Are you ready?” Mineru called. Rauru rolled his shoulders back and flexed, and Zelda averted her eyes. She didn’t consider herself a prude—far from it! —but her ancestor’s state of undress made her feel gross. She didn’t want to see that. She felt like a child walking in their parents kissing for the first time.

“You can do this!” Sonia called from the table. Link took a deep breath and flexed his fingers.

“Remember, you aren’t controlling it, you are channeling it. It already wants to move the same way you do; you just have to give it a way out. We’ll take it slow, alright?” Rauru said, and Link nodded. Zelda doubted the others could tell how unsure he felt, but the clear discomfort behind his eyes made her ache.

“Good. Now, Mineru, if you please.”

“Construct 2.87, move forward,” Mineru called.

A soldier construct came forward, brandishing a blue sword in one hand and a glowing shield in the other.

“Construct 2.87, proceed.”

The construct surged forward and Link dove out of the way, circling the robot. It swung again, and again Link jumped back. It lashed out with its sword in a sloppy spin attack and Zelda watched with bated breath as Link let it get closer, closer, before vaulting backward in a perfect backflip. A perfect furry rush, even if he never drew a sword. Pride swelled in Zelda.

“Nice footwork!” One the Gerudo woman said from the gazebo. “Can we see some flashy lights, though?”

Link swallowed, grit his teeth, and threw out a hand.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Link didn’t manage to dodge the second spin attack, yelping at the zap of electricity, and instantly the construct stopped.

“Are you alright?” Rauru said softly, suddenly at Link’s side. Link nodded through his clenched jaw. “Good. Let’s take a break.”

"Again,” he signed, and Rauru frowned.

“Link—”

“Again!”

“Okay…” Rauru straightened, sounding unsure. “Very well. Prepare yourself. Construct 2.87, proceed.”

The construct reared back with surprising speed and Fi was screaming, so loud that Link’s head had to be aching.

Danger!

Link dove under the construct, inches away from its electrical blade, the heat of it just missing his ear. Link threw his hand forward. Nothing. Link let out a frustrated growl, throwing his hand forward again, and again, and again—

DANGER!

The construct caught Link’s side and Link stumbled back, grabbing at the skin with a hiss.

“Link—” Rauru said, stepping forward, “I think we should take a break.”

Link shook his head vigorously, and before Rauru could intervein, the construct surged forward, pushing Link back with its shield, closer and closer to the gazebo and away from the open air of the gardens, making it harder and harder to dance around it.

And then its eyes lit up. Link froze, his breath coming out in shallow, pained gasps, and Zelda knew all too well what he was seeing. The construct’s eye was red and flashing. It gained speed, steadily, steadily, and Zelda took a step closer, hand reached out to touch Link as if she actually could. Link’s breath was coming through his teeth and the sound coming from him was impossible to explain as he threw up his arms and screamed.

“NO!”

Light exploded from Link, brilliant and beautiful and deadly. Was this what Zelda had looked like when her power revealed itself, all those years ago?

Link lowered his hands, panting. Where the construct had once been was nothing but a pile of ash, and the gardens in front of him had been decimated. Link squeezed his eyes shut and slowly opened them. Shut, open. Shut, open.

Link dropped to his knees. Sonia was by his side at an instant, whipping his brow with a handkerchief and holding a cup of tea to his lips.

“Slow sips, that’s it, slowly,” Sonai said softly, running a hand through his hair as Link took slow, long sips. “You overexerted yourself quite a bit. So much magic is unwise for someone who is new to the concept of stones.”

Link leaned into her hand.

“There, how do you feel?”

 “Better,” Link signed. He was barely able to form the words with his shaky hands, and Sonai pursed her lips.

“Come, come, let’s sit,” she said, helping him to his feet and guiding him to the gazebo. “I will say, we weren’t expecting that!”

Link flushed.

“I mean it kindly, dear.” She pulled out a chair for him and helped him sit. Across from him, Ganondorf raised a red brow and Link gave him a shaky smile.

“I’m fine,” He mouthed, but Ganondorf didn’t look convinced.

“I guess we did ask for a light show,” Blue Gerudo said, and the other one gave a low whistle.

“I think we’re done for the day,” Rauru said, and Link frowned.

“Link, if you think I’m going to let you try that again, you are sorely mistaken,” he said, and Ganondorf nodded.

“Making yourself sick helps no one, little one." He said, voice surprisingly kind. Kind. Why was it kind? Why was he being so kind?

“I shall go fetch some stamina elixir,” Mineru said.

“Yes, good. I think that will help splendidly,” Sonai said, and Rauru nodded.

“Twinrova, Ganondorf—would you be so kind as to join me?” Mineru said. “I think it would be best for Link to have some space right now.”

Link’s hand shot out and grabbed Ganondorf’s sleeve. He shook his head, and Mineru raised an elegant eyebrow.

“Are you sure?”

Link nodded.

“Very well. Twinrova—”

“Go with her,” Ganondorf said.

“My Lord—” The girls, who must be Twinrova, started, their voices slipping into a single sound.

“Go, make yourself useful,” Ganondorf said. Twinrova huffed, standing as one, and turned on their heels, marching after Mineru. Link slunk down in his chair.

“You didn’t have to send them away,” he signed, and Ganondorf laughed softly.

“They would have just pestered you, and I don’t think any of us want to listen to them gabber. You all haven’t had the pleasure of watching them finish each other’s sentences for hours on end. Just wait till they start speaking every other word for each other and talking in circles around everyone in the room. I swear, they do it just to annoy me…. But they are family. Family sticks beside each other, no matter what.”

Family sticks beside each other, no matter what. Zelda found, in her experience, that was rarely true.

Sonia nodded. Link took a sip of the tea and made a face that shifted into something so sad that it ached. He placed the cup down, but it slipped over the edge; Link dove for the cup, but suddenly it was hovering in the air, glowing gold. The sound of ticking filled the air, and then it rose backward and slotted itself back in his hand.

Recall? Could it be the same power?

Sonia reached forward and gently took the cup from Link, placing it on the table in front of him.

“Link? Are you well?”

Link nodded. It was unconvincing.

“What troubles you?”

“Nothing.”

“Link…” Sonia squeezed his hand. “We’re all friends here.”

Link sighed.

“I’m sorry. Just… lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh?”

“I—I keep thinking of home.”

“Ah.” Sonia said, leaning back. “A heavy thought indeed.”

Link ran the edge of his finger along the lip of his cup. “You have such mastery over your powers, you and Rauru. If I could learn that kind of control…”

Rauru set a hand on Link’s shoulder. “It takes—”

“Time, yes, I know, but I don’t have time!”

“Link—”

“My home is in danger, Your Majesty! People could be dying, my partner could be dying, and I don’t even have a way to know what is happening—!”

“Link!” Ganondorf snapped, and Link’s hands froze. “Panicking will do no one any good, and it will certainly do your land no good at all. Calm yourself.”

Link swallowed.

“You are far from home. There are unknowns at every corner—it is the same for me. I know how you feel. You cannot let this best you.”

“Okay.” He signed. “Okay.”

“Here,” Sonia took Link’s hand and placed it on the edge of the cup. “With my magic… the secret is to think of drawing out the object’s memory. You ask where it came from, where it was, where it is in the present, and then gently ask it to return.”

Ganondorf leaned forward. “I didn’t realize different stones could act so differently.”

“No, the stones all work the same. It is the person that alters how they work. Ra’s power to banish darkness—that comes from within. Mineru’s control over spirits—that comes from within. My ability to manipulate time, and Link’s own protective light—all of it comes from within.”

“How would one know what their power is—just simple curiosity, of course?” 

“Not everyone has innate magic; some are born with strong magical ties, some can learn it, and some’s magical wells are dry.”

“Interesting,” Ganondorf said, leaning back in his chair.

“The stones are complicated to use, but their rules are simple. Power is channeled and amplified. Magic is performed. Repeat.”

Ganondorf nodded slowly. “I see. Are they always so difficult to use?”

Sonia made a so-so motion with her hands. “Depends on the bearer’s control over their own magic to begin with. I was always strongly connected to my magic, so the stone’s power came naturally to me. Ra struggled greatly when he was younger, or so Mineru tells me.”

“Sonia!” Rauru cried, and his wife laughed, throwing back her head.

“Peace, Ra, we’re among friends. Anyways, Link, I’m sure the magic will become second nature in time, and you will find your way home. Though, I’m sure you are missing more than just home.”

Link blinked. “What?”

Sonia’s smile grew. “The princess you spoke so highly to me about is waiting for you as well, is she not?”

“Oh? A princess? Your Zelda?” Rauru asked, smile clear in his voice, and Link buried his face in his hands. Rauru chuckled as Link’s ears burned. Zelda felt her own cheeks heat. Link had spoken of her? Her? To the first King and Queen of Hyrule? Had me mentioned her to Ganondorf?!

…Was this how the Demon King knew her name?

“Yes, you must make it home to put her mind at ease,” Sonia said, leaning to pull Link’s hand from his face, squeezing them gently.

“That’s the woman you mentioned last night,” Ganondorf said, eyes bright, and Link groaned. “I thought you said there was nothing between you?”

“There isn’t!”

“Have you discussed this girl in depth with everyone but me?” Rauru’s said, voice teasing. “Go on!”

“Zelda is a... is my princess. I was originally assigned to her as her royal bodyguard many, many years ago, and I have served her since. She and I… she didn’t like me very much, at first. Her father was a terrible man, and he pushed his expectations onto her in a way that no one could handle, no matter how strong. But when a great Calamity attacked, she proved to be a formidable leader with a brilliant, holy power unlike anything I’ve ever seen. When I failed to stop the Beast, it ravaged the continent, destroying everything in its path. I was unable to stop it, and it fell to ruin—worse than ruin. But Zelda… she saved them all with her power, destroyed the Calamity once and for all. And she’s more than just her power… She’s intelligent, and creative, with a drive like no other. She’s a researcher more than a princess and is more at home in the wilds than she is with a crown, but she still leads brilliantly, with a kind, wise hand.

She’s dedicated, and determined, and would never back down from a challenge, even when there is nothing in it for her. She would never abandon someone in need, no matter the stakes of helping them. She’s faced a fate worse than death for her people before, and she would again in a heartbeat. It terrifies me.” Link signed.

“She is very brave…” Link’s hands trailed off. “And… and her heart is wise, and true…”

The gazebo was quiet. Sonia’s face was soft as Rauru squeezed Link’s shoulder. Ganondorf’s face was completely unreadable. He wasn’t looking at Link’s face, or his hands, instead his gaze trailing far, far away. Zelda took a step closer, reaching out to him—her hand went through his cheek like he wasn’t even there.

“You sound like you have complete faith in her,” Rauru said gently, and Link nodded. “Hearing you speak so highly of her, well, it makes me wish I could meet her as well.”

“You care deeply for her,” Ganondorf said finally, meeting Link’s eyes.

“Yes.”

“You would die for her.”

“… Yes.”

Ganondorf leaned back in his chair, and Zelda’s stomach flipped, though she wasn’t sure what made it do so, or how to describe the feeling. She suddenly wished she could touch him as well. She reached out a hand to his furrowed, strong brow. She could feel nothing, but she swore that for a moment, Ganondorf’s eyes flickered to her.

“Then why leave her to come to Hyrule?” Ganondorf said softly.

Link’s hands stuttered. “I…”

“Why come here? Why not fight your mummy beside her, sword be damned?”

“Ganondorf…” Rauru said, but Ganondorf just leaned forward, the table creaking under him.

“I was taken far away from her, forced to leave her behind.”

“Link, dear, you don’t owe anyone any explanation—” Sonia started, but Link cut her off.

“I didn’t have a choice! I didn’t want to go! I don’t want to be here! I want to go home!” Link’s eyes were glossy, close to tears. “I want to go home!”

Ganondorf was quiet. His face wasn’t hateful, wasn’t cruel, just cold.

“Then go home,” Ganondorf said bluntly. “Sword be damned.”

“I can’t.” Link hissed. The whole table took in a sharp breath at the sound of his voice. “She’s centuries away. Millenium.”

“…What?” Ganondorf asked. His brows practically reached his forehead.

“Link, are you sure that is wise—” Rauru said, leaning closer, and Link shoved off.

“I found the mummy under Hyrule Castle—my Hyrule Castle, millennium and millennium from now, far into the future. I found the stone and it brought me here, to the past, and I’m fucking stuck while Zelda is alone out there, saving Hyrule by herself again because I cannot be depended on!”

Link’s voice gave out. Ganondorf’s eyes were wide.

“The… future?”

Link gave a tearful nod.

“The future.”

“Ganondorf—” Rauru said warningly, “I will not have you—”

“No, no, I believe him. The sword, then, it’s more than just a sword, isn’t it?”

“It’s called the Master Sword.” Link mumbled. “The Blade of Evil’s Bane. A sword of pure light forged by a Chosen Hero.”

“Must not be that grand of a sword if a mummy can break it.”

“That’s why I must fix it before I can go back. I must.”

“You don’t even know how to get back to begin with, do you?”

Link’s cheeks flushed as he nodded. “No. No, I don’t.”

“I think that’s more than enough,” Sonia said softly.

“The Gerudo—what of them, all those years from now? Are we strong? Are we thriving?”

Link swallowed. “They’re surviving.”

“But not thriving?”

“The Calamity… it took a toll on everyone. No one is thriving.”

“The Calamity you failed to stop. The Beast you let ravish the continent. What of the Chief?” Ganondorf continued.

“Riju is doing her best.”

“So, a Gerudo still sits on the throne? Is she a warrior, a magician?”

“She will be, one day.”

“What?”

“She’s a child.”

“… A… child.”

“Yes.”

“The Gerudo have fallen so far as to let a child rule?”

“These are desperate times! Riju is doing her best!”

“She shouldn’t be there at all!”

“Zelda is helping the best she can—”

“The Gerudo government is allied with your Hylian princess?”

“There isn’t really enough government to be allied with anyone.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s Gerudo Town, and that’s it.”

Ganondorf reeled back as if Link had struck him. “One town? One damn, fucking town?”

“Times have been hard on everyone. No one was left unscathed from the Calamity.”

“The Calamity you were unsuccessful at defeating. That destroyed the Continent—and my people—until your princess picked up your mess and saved the day?”

Link took a sharp breath. “I— Yes.”

“So you admit it—that you were so inept, so incapable, that my people were demolished before your Zelda destroyed this Calamity?”

“We did our best!”

“It was not enough!” Ganondorf roared, and Link’s mouth shut with a click of his teeth.

“I think that is more than enough,” Sonia said. Her usually soft voice was hard enough to cut diamond. “Lord Ganondorf, my husband will escort you back to your sisters.”

Ganondorf stood, his massive body clattering the table as he did so.

“Very well.”

Rauru stalked over to the Gerudo king and took hold of his elbow. The Gerudo king held up his head, and the look he gave Link was indescribable in its fury.

And then it was all gone.

Chapter Text

Zelda came to face down in a pool of blood with Safflina chewing on her hair and a determination in her gut that she hadn’t felt since she first woke on the Great Sky Island. The despair in Link’s eyes lingered down her spine, as did the rage in Ganondorf’s—Zelda was struck by a sudden, desperate need to speak to Riju, to beg for the girl’s forgiveness, for her people’s forgiveness.

But.

What is it Urbosa had told Link, back on Vah Naboris? One of the first words he said aloud to Zelda after a hundred years?

“This is how things had to happen. No one need carry blame. Shed any worries. And know… that I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Urbosa was right. She was always right, both in life and in death, and Zelda wouldn’t let some haughty king from thousands of thousands of years ago make her or Link think differently. Zelda had half a mind to guzzle more dragon blood so she could try and see if it were possible to punch someone in a vision.

Try the blood again. Now wasn’t that a thought? Could the dragon tell her more, or would a second sip just return her to the same place?

Did she want to risk hearing Ganondorf’s rage a second time? Even then, shouldn’t she be blushing like a school girl at Link’s words about her, giggling while hiding her face in her hands?

My princess. Not a princess, not Hyrule’s princess, Link had said my princess, had called her a formidable leader—had said she was more than her power, more than Hylia or Nayru, said she was intelligent, and creative, complimented her drive, described her as a researcher and an inventor before he ever thought to mention the Gods.

“She is very brave…” Link had signed, a small smile on his lips, the exhaustion almost free from his face in that moment, his eyes sleepy but bright. “And… and her heart is wise, and true…”

Wise, and true.

And then came Ganondorf with his questions surrounding the fate of the Gerudo. Would Ganondorf think so highly of her if he met her? Or would he also see a failure? Zelda didn’t believe he intended to hurt—or, well, he had meant to hurt Link with his words, but not deeply wound with them, and she doubted it came from clear headed malice, instead the desperation of a ruler who cared deeply for his people.

How deeply? She always imagined the Ganondorf from her stories cared little for the Gerudo, given the obsession with Hyrule, but what ruler didn’t love their own in some way? And this Ganondorf, this Ganondorf spoke of the Gerudo as if they were his whole world. If Ganondorf was the Demon King, why turn his back on people he cared so dearly for? Why hurt the Gerudo so? The gibdos, the sandstorm—they could have been the Gerudo’s extinction, if not for Riju and her bravery. How could you hurt someone you loved so deeply?

When did love stop being strong enough to hold you back?

Link knew the Demon King. The Demon King knew Zelda, or at least knew enough to search for her with Link’s skin. It would make sense that Link informed him of her if they were friends…. were they friends? Ganondorf’s words had been kind enough at first, but the anger… could you speak to someone you cared for like that?

“What was he to you?” Zelda wondered aloud. She looked to the blood, the glyph that curved around her. “Can you show me? Clear his name? Or damn it? What am I walking into?”

Zelda glanced back at the blood puddles. Some lines of blood had begun to run down the side of the plateau, dripping rivers of black and red that converged at the base of the plateau, shifting and shimmering as they took a new shape. Was that… a sword hilt?

Zelda stood and began climbing down the rockface, following the steadily flowing blood as it began to shift from the plateau down into the valley of flowing grass, as if called into movement by her very questions. Long, thick lines built a blade, then a wrist guard, while smaller ones wove together a leather wrapping and hilt, all increasingly familiar, until a copy of an impossibly familiar sword sat across the valley, the blood from the plateau now completely relocated.

A shadow passed over the moon, casting the blood into blackness for only a moment, and Zelda squinted up. A line across the sky, moving in slowly meandering circles. The dragon. Zelda reached out and touched a line of blood—despite the chill of Tabantha and how long it had been left to sit on the plateau, it was warm to the touch, almost hot, completely different than it had been moments before. Like it was alive.

Was it trying to tell her something? She glanced at the sky. Was the silent dragon lower than it had been before?

Okay. Zelda knew what a sign from a divine being looked like. If the dragon wanted her to drink, she would.

Wait—if the dragon had been listening to her, did that mean it understood her? How long exactly had it been following her? The Great Sky Island, the Zora, above the Gerudo, now Tabantha… it was like it was trailing just behind her heels, a stray dog following the butcher in the shadows in hopes of dropped scraps. Just how intelligent was this creature? It had to have something to it, for Link to entrust it with Fi. He wouldn’t stick his sword in just anyone’s head. Link was impulsive at times, but he wasn’t stupid.

As if suddenly aware it was being watched, the silent dragon twisted over itself and rose further into the sky.

“Wait!” Zelda called as it climbed higher and higher, “please! Please!”

It was too late. The dragon was gone. Zelda glanced at the dark clouds to the north that had swallowed Rito Village. The Demon King and ‘Link’ were there, or soon to be. She needed to be too. These were her people. She couldn’t let them down! But…

But the dragon knew Link. The dragon, or the blood, or something, had just created a perfect glyph of Fi. This was more than a sign; this was Link practically screaming at her from across time and space. Zelda sat down, dipping her hands in the blood. She needed to get moving. She needed to beat the Demon King to the secret stone and protect the sage of wind. She had a duty to the people of Hyrule—she had promised Rauru!

But she had a duty to herself, and her knight.

One drop. If it wasn’t enough, well, then that was a sign that she needed to get her ass on the road. If it did… if it did, then that was a sign that the dragon was sentient enough to try and tell her something, and she’d listen. She’d get Fi out of its head, and she’d get it out today. 

Zelda dipped a finger into a bloody trail, and with a deep breath in, popped it in her mouth.

---

Link was hiding. The arms closet was large, lines of swords and blades and shields stretching behind him, but he was clearly there to hide, his good hand held over his mouth, his prosthetic clutching Fi protectively. Outside the sliding door, Zelda could hear footsteps. They were light, but not from lack of weight, instead because of it— whomever this was knew their strength, their size, and was good at hiding it. A shadow passed over the door and Link froze. Zelda could feel Fi pulsing in his hand, that steady chime of danger! that Link and Zelda knew all too well.

“Hm?”

The shadow stopped before the door, bending down to pick something up. “Huh. Sloppy.”

What was it? Was Link in danger? Fi seemed to think so. Link wasn’t one to hide, ever, even when it was wise to do so. What had him so anxious?

Fi’s silent begging in Zelda’s head suddenly became audible, the sword screaming of danger, and weak, flickering blue lit up the back room. The shadow before the door froze before slowly, slowly, sliding the door open.

It was Ganondorf, wrapped in a dressing robe that strained to contain him. Likely one of the royals, maybe even Rauru’s, given its height, though Ganondorf’s shoulders were far too broad for it. Link didn’t yell, didn’t slide into a fighting stance; he flushed, looking away as Ganondorf crossed his arms and raised a giant brow. He was embarrassed at getting caught, not frightened of the other man in any way, and the knowledge struck Zelda. What was he? How could someone so dangerous in Fi’s eyes be met with such nonchalance?

“If it isn’t our little foreign knight,” the Gerudo man rumbled.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be awake.” Link signed.

“So you spend most nights hidden in closets, then?” Ganondorf said. There was a lightness to his voice, like he was childishly excited to have caught Link breaking the rules.

“No! Besides, I doubt you’re supposed to be out of your suite without an escort.” Link signed, and only then did Ganondorf’s face sour.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you slip by your guards and go wandering?”

Ganondorf eyes flitted to the side, bottom lip sticking out just slightly. He was pouting, Zelda realized, and doing a bad job at hiding it. “I was looking for the library.”

“You didn’t find it.”

“No shit.”

Link snorted. “Still, you slipped your escorts.”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

This time it was Link who raised an eyebrow, his hands coming to his hips, and Ganondorf let out a bitter sound through his teeth, like Link had pulled the answer out of him at knife point.

“I was tired of being followed around by tiny judgy Hylians.” He said. Link smiled, and Ganondorf’s glower grew.

“I used to be a royal escort.” Link said, “Zelda felt much of the same.”

Zelda couldn’t help it. She laughed. She laughed, stepping out of the closet and moving closer to Link, inspecting the state of his skin and the gleam in his eye. Gloom sickness still hung on him, but he seemed fresh faced, like he’d at least had some rest and relaxation. Where in the timeline was this? Certainly not after the memory in the garden, that much Zelda was sure. So between that and Ganondorf’s vow of fealty?

Ganondorf’s eyebrows rose. “An escort?”

“Not like that!” Link signed, face growing redder and redder as Ganondorf laughed, a smile growing on the Gerudo man’s face. It looked surprisingly good on him, natural even. It made the corner of his eyes crinkle in a way that spoke of eventual smile lines. Far different than Zelda would ever picture any Demon King.

“I was her assigned knight. A personal bodyguard.” Link turned his back to Ganondorf, running a hand along the row of swords. “Long sword, short sword, or spear?” He signed over his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Do you prefer a long sword, short sword, or spear?”

Ganondorf’s brow furrowed. “Long?”

Link took the most elegantly gilded sword Zelda had ever seen from the wall, the great blade made of humming blue energy, and tossed it to Ganondorf.

“Are you sure this is wise?” The Gerudo man said, rolling the hilt over the back of his hand. Link shrugged.

“Will you give me a reason to regret this?” He signed. He plucked a short sword from the wall, testing its balance in his right hand. Link was left-handed, but his father had always made it clear in his training that a successful knight could fight with any hand.

The corner of Ganondorf’s lip quirked. “No.”

“Good. On guard.”

“Wha—”

Link Ganondorf hadn’t even raised his blade yet before Link was off, swinging wide and nearly hitting Ganondoref’s bicep. Ganondorf’s eyes lit up, and a breathy laugh passed his lips as Link surged forward.

“You didn’t give much time to prepare!”

Link just laughed, a bright happy sound, and Gods, had Zelda missed hearing it. Ganondorf’s sword came up, and Link slipped under it, swiping at Ganondorf’s side. Ganondorf spun out of the way, moving with surprising speed for one so massive— going by the glee on Link’s face, he didn’t mind. The spar was almost fun to watch; Link and Zelda didn’t spar often, and the man seemed to wilt sometimes with so few people able to give him a challenge. Riju and Sidon could keep up with him, but never beat him. Ganondorf, Zelda was sure, could do both with a little luck.

“I don’t think your king would be very happy with you if he found out about this,” Ganondorf said, and Link shrugged with a grin. Ganondorf’s laugh was fulled bodied this time, and Link’s excitement was a beautiful sight. “Very well then!”

The larger man dipped down, his hulking frame suddenly light and dexterous as he moved, his sword dancing, and Link rushed up to meet Ganondorf’s blade twice before the larger man managed to catch his hilt. Ganondorf pushed forward, relying on his strength and bulk, but Link simply shifted his weight and rushed forward, sliding his blade up Ganondorf’s in a shower of sparks, before sliding between his legs and bounding up behind him. He was up in an instant, sword at the small of Ganondorf’s back, who growled and spun. He brought his sword down hard. Link bounded out of the way and Ganondorf followed.

They danced like dragons, one small and lithe, one massive and powerful, daring the other into attacking, dangling feints like mice before vipers and spinning around each other like lovers in a city square. The spar was exhilarating to watch, and Zelda had no doubt that, should one decide to draw blood, the other would be hard pressed to stop it.

Link ducked back, guard open, waiting, waiting—Ganondorf took the bait, slashing forward, and Link backflipped.

Ganondorf stumbled back on his ass at the sudden flurry of blows, one, two, five, seven, over and over practically at the speed of light. Link landed on his feet, panting. He was out of touch, still clearly sick—aa flurry rush never should have left him so out of breath, Zelda thought with a lingering feeling close to dread.

On his side, his secret stone glowed, green and gold, pale but far from unnoticed by Ganondorf’s wide eyes.

“What,” Ganondorf wheezed as he stood, sword forgotten on the ground, struggling to catch his breath, “was that?”

Link grinned.

“F-L-U-R-R-Y  R-U-S-H” He spelt as he tossed the sword to the side. Ganondorf nodded. He wiped the sweat that had dripped into his eyes away.

“You have to teach me how to do that.”

“What in Hyrule is going on here?”

Both men turned to the open doors of the training room where a truly furious looking Rauru stood. He stormed into the room and a trio of guards hurried in behind him, spears drawn and pointed right at Ganondorf.

“Rauru, I—” Link started, moving towards the Zonai, who turned his glare to him.

“Silence.”

Link gaped at him.

“Do have any idea how worried I’ve been? How worried Sonia has been? Out of bed, no note, wandering the halls, giving a sword to a potential hostile instead of reporting that he is wandering around without an escort—”

“Rauru, it’s fine—”

“I said silence.” Rauru thundered. Any remaining color drained from Link’s already sickly face and he stared at Rauru with wide eyes, mouth gaping open. “I have been searching everywhere for you. I was worried sick. What if he hurt you? Why on earth would you think it was any kind of intelligent to give a sword to someone who just tried to invade your damn country? Are you daft? What were you thinking?”

“Your Majesty,” Ganondorf said, stepping forward, “don’t be angry with the boy, please. This situation is my fault—”

“Yes,” Rauru said cooly, “I don’t doubt that.”

Ganondorf swallowed. “Link heard me in the hallway and followed after. He wanted to keep an eye on me and ensure nothing went wrong. I bullied him into sparring.”

“So you fold so easily to peer pressure?” Rauru hissed. Link hung his head, making no move to defend himself, and Zelda wanted nothing more than to gather him up in her arms. Instead, she simply stood, unable to do anything but watch as Rauru sighed. “Fine. To bed. Ganondorf, a word.”

The three guards crowded Link out of the room into the hallway; Link’s hands were moving furiously, his mouth opening and closing as distressed frustration and growing anger wafted off of him.

“I want to speak to Rauru—I need to—stop it, stop manhandling me, take me to Sonia, this is ridiculous—”

“Link?”

Link spun around to where Sonia stood in the hallway, hair a mess and still in her sleep clothes. The woman still managed to look perfect in the humanity the dishevelment sleep gave her, and she rushed to his side and pulled him into a hug. “Thank goodness. Ra was so worried.”

“Sonia? Oh, thank Hylia, finally someone with some sense.”

Sonia opened her mouth, face twisted with concern as if she had expected Ganondorf to rip Link’s head from Link’s body, but Link grabbed her shoulders. He leaned close, his lips almost touching her ear, his voice clearly only for her.

“Rauru is drilling into Ganondorf when he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who snuck out, I’m the one who challenged him to a spar, I’m the one who gave him a sword, I—”

“He still left his suite without an escort, love.” She said softly, drawing back his face and resting a palm on his cheek.

“But—”

“Ganondorf is still a dangerous person, dear, even if he surrendered.”

“So he’s a prisoner. If he is one, say it!” Link yelled, the guards in the hall stopping to stare. Had they ever heard his voice before?

“He… He’s not…”

“Are you so sure?” Link said, and Sonia bit her lip.

“Go to bed, Link. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Is this what you want for Hyrule? To hold a man under lock and key, strongarmed by guards at every turn, when he is doing his best? He asked me to be his friend, Sonia—that is not the actions of a confident man, ready to go cause some unspeakable misfortune, that is a call for help. He is alone. I don’t care if he may be lying or if he’s playing us for fools, he’s still alone. No one should be alone.”

Sonia pressed her lips into a thin line. She was quiet for a long time, taking in Link’s panting face, clammy with over exertion, before taking his hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I let my fear get the best of me. Ra and I both did.”

Link pulled back his hands. “I’m not the one to apologize to,” he signed. Sonia bit her lip and nodded. She extended a hand, and Link took it.

“Let us go stop them before they set the castle on fire,” she said softly, and led him back to the sparring room. A crowd of servants and soldiers alike had grown, all listening in with voyeuristic ears, but they parted easily to make way for their Queen.

“We have granted you an unbelievable amount of leeway considering the circumstances—”

“Ah, yes, because guards at every doorway are such signs of trust—”

“Trust? Are you serious right now? What reason, on the Gods’ green continent, have you provided to me for me to trust you? I am many things, Ganondorf, but I am far from a fool. Not even two days ago you were content to send a molduga swarm to bash my doors in—”

“As if your hands are so clean. I know how you speak of me, of the Gerudo. Do not act like you hadn’t planned to do the same, to force your way past our Great River and take what is rightfully ours.”

“So, you’re to tell me that this wish to join my people and unite this continent is what, a trick? A ruse?”

“A surrender. Baring our necks first before you could force us to bend them”.

“Ra,” Sonia said softly from the doorway, “I think that is enough.”

"Sonia..."

"Be reasonable." She said, chin lifted. Rauru took a shaky breath and turned fully to his wife. Link stood beside her, arms crossed.

"Link- I simply--" The Zonai stumbled over the words, and Link made no motion to speak, simply staring up at Rauru with hard eyes. Then, Rauru did something Zelda hadn’t even thought to expect: he bowed. His hands were in the wrong position, awkwardly crossed and turned outwards instead of cupped on his heart, but the hands still showed his open palms. Zelda remembered the meeting in the throne room, the lack of respect Rauru had shown by refusing a bow, met in turn by Ganondorf’s groveling. Two kings insulting the other made for quite an introduction.

Maybe this was the moment that changed.

“Forgive me,” he said softly. “I let my fear for my people and my family control me. It was wrong to bark accusations at you when you have shown nothing but remorse. Trust is a two way street, and I have refused to provide it. When the other races came to me and offered allyship, I welcomed them with open arms. I have not done the same to you.”

“Rise,” Ganondorf said, voice even but empty. Rauru did so.

“Were I in your shoes, I would not trust me either.” Ganondorf said. “While I do not… appreciate… your hostility, I understand it.”

“I have been paranoid and unkind. I have freely gained your ire.”

Ganondorf chuckled at that, crossing his arms.

“Very well. How’s this—we compromise. Until my councilwomen and Lady Naboris arrive, I shall accept a single escort, as a sign of good will.”

Lady Naboris? Lady Naboris?! So Naboris had known Ganondorf. Was she Ganondorf’s Queen ? Advisor? Sister? There was a family resemblance, now that Zelda thought about it. Definitely not queen then. Rauru nodded, and Link cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it,” he signed. “I’d happily take up a spot beside Ganondorf until his people arrive. We get along well enough, and it seems I know the most of Gerudo culture in this castle.”

We get along well enough. Was that what the dragon was trying to tell her? That Ganondorf was a friend? One Link trusted?

In the era of the Hero of Time, that Ganondorf had presented himself as a friend to the Hylian king, but it only ended in bloodshed. Naboris said the Demon King was a traitor.

Was the silent dragon showing her the start of a friendship, or the start of a con?

Rauru’s hand came to his chin, fingers twirling the fur there.

“Are you sure?”

Link raised his head. “Positive.”

“Is that suitable for you?” Rauru asked Ganondorf, who nodded.

“Aye.”

“Then I give you both my blessing—though, please, if you wish to spar, save it for the morning when a medic can be on site.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Ganondorf said, and Rauru sighed.

“Very well. Sonia, I say it’s time we disperse the voyeurs and return to bed.”

“Are you quite sure?” Sonia said softly, and Rauru swallowed. He did not look sure.

“Positive.” He said. Sonia took his hand, and Rauru came to rest it on her pregnant belly. “Good night, Link. Lord Ganondorf. Please, go to bed as well, you two. The morning will come quicker than you think.”

And then they were gone. The doors closed with a creak and a bang behind them, and Ganondorf cleared his throat.

“Do you wish to return to bed? Because frankly, after that…”

 “I don’t think I could sleep.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Link sighed and slid to the floor, watching Ganondorf pick up and return the swords. Potential traitor or not, at least he was tidy.

“I think it would be unwise to linger,” Ganondorf said, “I doubt we should push our luck after all… that.”

Link nodded, but he didn’t seem to be listening, just running his fingerpads across Fi’s hilt.

Danger, danger, danger—

“That’s quite the sword. I’ve never seen such a beautiful hilt.”

Link nodded, still far away. “She’s something else.”

Danger, danger, danger—

“May I see it?”

Link flushed. “The sword has… seen better days.”

“Oh?”

Link wrapped his hand around the Master Sword’s hilt and drew her.

Zelda gasped. She knew Fi had been injured in the fight with the Demon King, but this… Fi’s blade was horrific to look at. Shattered and cracked, melted and burned by gloom, stained with otherworldly soot. Fi twinkled weakly, glowing blue.

DANGER—

Ganondorf’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my.”

Link flushed.

“That must have been quite the battle.”

Link nodded and Ganondorf frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said, and Link shrugged.

“It is what it is.” Link whispered, and Ganondorf didn’t manage to hide his surprise at the man’s rough voice.

“I didn’t think you could speak.”

Link moved his hand in a ‘so-so’ movement. “Comes and goes.”

“Ah. I see.”

“It’s been getting better.” Link said, voice whisper-quiet. “But still, it’s easier not to.”

Ganondorf sat beside Link, who placed Fi on the ground between them.

“I’ve never seen a glowing sword before.”

“She’s speaking. She speaks to me.”

“My sword was a gift from my mother. It’s passed down to each ruler of the Gerudo, as a sign of power and veneration of those that came before.”

“My sword has to be earned. Not just anyone can wield it—even drawing it can be deadly for someone not deemed worthy.”

“Then you must be quite the warrior.”

Link shook his head, and Zelda’s heart ached to see it. How many times had she promised him that his death wasn’t a failure any more than the Calamity was her fault? She wished she could be there, could bat the negative words aside, could take his face in her hands and hold him close. Instead, she sat before the two men and marveled at Fi and her monstrosity. “It took a long time to be able to draw her from her pedestal. Almost killed me the first time.”

“Killed you?”

“She’s a very opinionated sword.”

Ganondorf snorted. “So it seems.”

“She’s…”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to.”

“No, I just… it’s complicated.”

Ganondorf tilted his head back, eyes closed, and Zelda couldn’t look away from him. He looked so young all of a sudden, and almost kindness to his face that reminded her of the exhaustion that came with a crown. Ruling the Gerudo wasn’t an easy task, not now and certainly not then. Rauru spoke of moldugas, of invasions. Ganondorf had attacked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t come to exchange vows of fealty from good faith—no, he had been surrendering, least his people fall under the Hylian army. What had this man seen, that made Hyrule look so desirable to take? Was it desire? Or maybe hatred? Or something else, something painful and too complicated for blood visions to ever understand?

Politics, she thought with a hiss, brought nothing but death. Pain. Suffering. Worse than Ganon, honestly.

She hoped that Ganondorf’s story didn’t end that way.

“The Celebration of the Heroines is in a week, give or take,” Ganondorf said, opening a single eye and glancing to Link. “The members of my court should be here by then—Naboris is a stern woman until a party comes around. I’m sure you’ll get along swimmingly. Though, you never said. The Festival isn’t celebrated outside of the desert—just how did you learn so much about it?”

 “What, going to interrogate me again? Or shall you wait for the next group meal?”

Ganondorf grinned, the heaviness in his face finally fully gone. The grin fit his face well. Zelda had a feeling it didn’t stay. “Perhaps”

“I was part of a group of traveling warriors dedicated to protecting the crown: Revali of the Rito, a tad arrogant, but had the skill to back it up. Daruk, a Goron as kind as he was mighty. Mipha, a healer who swung a trident as well as she healed a wound. And Urbosa, a Gerudo warrior with great magical prowess. And…”

Ganondorf leaned forward on his arms, resting his chin on his hand.

“And?”

“My princess. Zelda.”

There it was again. Not a princess. My princess.

“I’m sure they’re missing you. Why not bring them?”

Link examined the long nails on his prosthetic before finally breathing in and saying flatly:

“They’re dead.”

Zelda recognized the look on Ganondorf’s face, the practiced false sincerity she herself had learned in court, but there was something truer to it than the courtiers she’d come to know. “All of them?”

“All but the princess.”

“I’m sorry. May the sands warm their spirits and the Great River fill them with second life.”

Link brought his fingers down from his chin. Thank you.

“It must be hard, being alone so far from home.”

“I’m used to being alone. Or, I guess I was. Once they all died, Zelda went on an adventure of her own and we were separated for a long, looong time. We only reunited five years ago.”

“Oh? What was she up to for so long?”

“Fighting a Beast.”

Ganondorf sat up, clearly intrigued.

“A creature of dark magic and great power. My princess… she was born with an amazing golden magic unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She slayed the Beast—I was there when she killed it. Technically, I threw the final blow but she obliterated the thing. Just. Boom. Boom.”

Ganondorf snickered. “She sounds like a fine woman.”

Link beamed at him, and Ganondorf’s snicker became a laugh. “What? She is! She’s an amazing woman. The most powerful fighter I’ve ever seen, but also so intelligent, and brave, and selfless, and—”

“I get it, I get it!” Ganondorf bumped his shoulder, grinning. “Is there any chance of…?”

Link made a face. “Goddesses, no. I love her, truly, deeply love her, but not like that.”

“Hm. I see.”

A comfortable silence grew between them, and even Fi seemed to quiet, lulled into comfort by stories of Zelda. Zelda picked at a hem on her tunic, biting back a smile. Link loved her. Truly, deeply. She knew that, of course, had always known to some degree, but after having to re-earn that love post-Calamity, the thought made heat rise to her face and a stupid grin stretch across it.

“The creature your Zelda fought—was it the same one that broke your sword?”

Fi woke up with a spark.

Danger

Danger

Danger

“There was a mummy.” Link murmured, and Ganondorf leaned closer.

“A ghibdo?”

Link shook his head. “Too intelligent. It moved with a purpose, it spoke to me, to Zelda—it knew our names. It knew my sword. And all it took was one attack to destroy my sword. Zelda and I managed to escape, but we were separated, and I ended up here. I don’t… I don’t know where Zelda is. I need to get home, to find her, but I have business with Rauru that I cannot ignore. And… and I have to fix my sword. I can’t go home with it broken. I can’t.”

Danger

Danger

Danger

Ganondorf shifted till he sat directly across Link, placing his hands on Link’s knees.

“You’ve stood beside me, Link, even against your king. As a Gerudo, I honor your actions, and I swear to return the favor—as long as I remain here, I will do what I can to help you repair that sword. I trust you not to speak of this to Rauru but—”

Ganondorf held out his hand and a flicker of red filled his hand. He made a fist and a red mist seeped out between his fingers before solidifying into a very familiar hilt. Link’s eyes widened at the perfect replica of the shattered Master Sword in Ganondorf’s hand.

“—I’ve always been gifted in magic, particularly illusions. A gift from my mother, I suppose. Together, I’m sure we can find a way to fix things and get you home to your princess as fast as we can.”

He opened his fist and the sword dissolved into nothing. Again, Link signed a thank you, and Ganondorf rested a large hand on his shoulder.

DANGER!

“What else are friends for?”

Link grinned, eyes wet, and Ganondorf met his smile. He’d just taken Link’s hand when the vision faded, and Zelda leaned over, worried she might spit up her meager dinner of jerky and trail mix.

What else are friends for?

“Traitor,” she growled, the anger in her chest all consuming. How dare he. She knew that magic, knew the feeling, the smell, the look of it all. She recognized that magic, just as she knew the Link she’d been seeing was not her own. “Filthy traitor!”

In front of her, Safflina whinnied, cocking her head to the side with a twitch of her ears. So, this is what the silent dragon had wanted her to see. Ganondorf was more than the Demon King. He was a traitor, who had played with Link’s heart, pulled strings and played with magic until… until… until the end of the world. Rauru, Ruta, Naboris—they’d all spoken of the past as apocalyptic. Ganondorf had nearly ended the world, and used Link the entire time.

When she found him… when Zelda got her hands on Ganondorf, she was going to make him regret ever putting his hands on Link in a sign of false compassion.

Zelda spat out the lingering remanence of blood and stood. Above her, the silent dragon was still circling. She’d promised it she’d draw Fi, and draw her she would. She just had to get up there.

---

Zelda spent the next few hours plotting as she rode Safflina deeper into Tabantha. She needed to get high— the silent dragon had risen up into the clouds, but still she swore she saw it out of the corner of her eye. When she looked up, it vanished, but when she glanced elsewhere…

Was it… shy? It reminded her of the first few weeks her and Link spent together after he was appointed as her royal guard: always at the edge of the hall or lingering in the doorway, never truly in sight but never far away, aware of how unwanted he was but determined to do his duty.

The silent dragon was definitely wanted, though. She wished her voice could travel up to the clouds, that she could talk to it and beckon it down with sweet words and gentle promises. Instead, she looked at the blank map that took up the Tabantha region. She was fairly sure that the Lindor’s Brow Tower, north of Tabantha Bridge stable, had been completed. She could move north, keeping an eye on the dragon as she did so, and use the height of its ballon explosion to hopefully land on up on the dragon. Justh hug the side of Mount Rhoam, following along Tanagar Canyon until she could climb up Upland Lindor and to Lindor’s Brow. Easy peasy.

As long as it didn’t take a million hours.

Zelda patted Safflina’s neck and picked up the pace from a canter to a hard gallop. It always felt a little strange riding with Link’s tack. He rode country while all of Zelda’s saddles were traditional, leading to constant mild discomfort as she adjusted riding with different reins and a horn in front of her. Link would kill her if she over worked Safflina, but Link had also explicitly told her to find Fi, so if one lead to the other… well, he’d understand, right?

Zelda slowed Safflina some, guilt too strong to justify such a hard gallop.

They reached Tabantha Bridge Stable by midday. Safflina was soaked with sweat, and, frankly, so was Zelda, thighs sore and shoulders tight. Still, she was sure to step into the shrine there, if only to have a warp point for later on.

She wasn’t expecting the Voice to call out to her as soon as she finished sniping a few soldier’s constructs and opened the door to the two statues that guarded the end of the shrine—Rauru, and Sonia.

“You’re not ready,” She said, just as Zelda extended an arm towards Sonia’s face.

“What, to except the blessing?” Zelda said with a snort, fully aware that wasn’t what the Goddess meant.

“To pull the sword.”

“She isn’t just ‘a sword’—”

“Find the stones. Do your duty. Then, you can pull her.”

Zelda turned, and her breath caught in her throat.

There, behind her, hands clasped in front of Her and head held high, as a woman. She was elegant in Her simplicity, not too tall, not too short, with soft curves of fat and a gentle face. Her dark hair was braided in seven strands, just like she had liked it, Her dark blue nightgown the exact same she had worn while slick with sweat under the covers of the royal sick bed. Except this woman shone with health, with power, with holy grace in a way that she didn’t back then.

“Mother?” Zelda choked out, and Nayru smiled.

“I wished to take a form that would be pleasing to you.”

“Stop—” Zelda said, hating how her voice trembled, squeezing her eyes shut. “Stop it—”

“You aren’t ready for distractions,” Nayru said softly, and Zelda ripped her head to the side when Her warm hand touched her cheek. “This sword, the secrets it holds—”

“You’re worried I’ll abandon my mission if I draw her.” Zelda said, anger growing in her voice. “Link told me to draw her! She knows something, doesn’t she? About Link? And if I draw her—”

“There lies the problem.” Nayru’s fingertips ghosted over Zelda’s closed eyelids. “You value one life over all of the Continent. That must be unlearned before you draw it.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You would disobey a Goddess?”

“I am a Goddess! Hylia’s blood is my blood!” Zelda said, voice cracking as it rose in volume, eyes flying open. Nayru was inches from her face, eyes narrowed.

“My Sister sacrificed everything for the good of this world—her life, her divinity, her hero! You would be wise to do the same.”

“Then maybe,” Zelda hissed through a clenched jaw, “I am not as wise as you think I am.”

Nayru looked her up and down before sighing. “If you come asking for my aid again after abandoning my Continent, this place I have blessed with my wisdom and created with my blood and tears, know you will not receive it.”

“I don’t need you.”

Nayru took a step back. “Very well. When you are ready to apologize, to accept what is asked of you—I will be waiting.”

And then she was gone. Zelda sunk down, her dead mother’s face burned into the back of her eyes, and wept. Wept for her mother, for her Continent, for her people. Wept for her father. For Ganon, whatever it had been before giving up on reincarnation. Wept for the silent dragon. Wept for Link.

Wept for herself.

And, after what felt like ages but was likely just a few minutes, wiped her face, stood, and took Rauru’s hand. The statue rumbled, gifting her with its blessing before dissolving away into light, leaving her standing at the foot of Makuruksi Shrine with nothing more than a new blessing and tear tracks down her face.

---

Zelda led Safflina into the stable not long after, taking off her tack and brushing her down, gifting her an endura carrot and a sugar cube on top of the stable’s signature horse feed, and then laid down in a bed—free of charge, for the princess!—with her boots still on, staring at the wall. She hadn’t seen her mother’s face so full of life since she was six years old. She’d almost forgotten when it looked like. And here Nayru was, taking it for Herself. It should fill Zelda with rage, but mostly, she was just tired. Tired of Gods and Goddesses and the Triforce and Ganons and Heroes and, and, and. Tired of a never ending cycle. Tired of it all.

Tired.

Her eyes drifted shut despite her lack of intention to sleep, and there she lay, in a half slumber, a dozing haze, ears tuned into the word around her but brain off. She didn’t want to sleep, she just… just didn’t want to exist for a while.

Zelda’s eyes flew open as the shouting started. Monsters? The blizzard, drifting down from the north?

Yiga?

It was that thought that had her shooting up in bed, scrambling for the door. She reached inside, behind her heart, for the bow of light, calling it into being and instead found… nothing. Hylia’s power was there, the light power that had been with her over the past 105 years, but she hadn’t realized how weak Hylia’s powers felt compared to the Triforce. The Triforce she couldn’t feel inside her.

Nayru wouldn’t actually cut her off, right? The Goddess had to know how vital the Triforce’s power was, right?? Unless this really was some kind of sick punishment, a way to show Zelda just how dependent on the Gods she really was. Zelda grit her teeth, focusing her power on her hands. The bow of light flickered into view, weak but at least there.

She’d have to get another weapon, a more consistent and reliable one.

One like Fi.

There! Nayru just proved how important drawing Fi was. Now Zelda didn’t have another choice, not if she couldn’t rely on the Triforce.

What could Fi be hiding that was so important? Zelda needed her to defeat the Demon King. Surely Nayru knew that too. So why did the Goddess want Zelda to wait? What was She so frightened of Zelda learning? Why was she so sure Zelda would abandon her task?

The Goddess’ certainty that Zelda would abandon her people, the Continent, the Rito and Gerudo and Gorons and Zora, stung. Did Nayru really think so little of her, that Fi’s knowledge would keep Zelda from saving her friends? Did Nayru think that, had Zelda pulled the sword when she had the chance, she would have left the Gerudo to suffer? Well, that just wasn’t true. Zelda knew how to prioritize. Finding Link might be her most important goal, but defeating the Demon King—defeating Ganondorf—that was the main one. There would be no Hyrule to love Link in if Ganondorf wasn’t destroyed. Link may be her light, but Zelda knew better than to say he out shone the Continent.  

A low, deep groan shook the grass and trees surrounding Tabantha Bridge Stable, the bridge swaying dangerously, and Zelda let the bow of light shimmer away into nothing. She knew that sound, knew it well, had come to take comfort in it over the years. A Guardian Dragon.

“What’s the matter?” She called to a stable hand as a crowd gathered around the bridge. “I thought this was a common path for Dinraal?”

“Not since the Upheaval!” The boy called back, climbing onto a box to see over the dozens of heads. “The storm has kept her away!”

Dinraal, red and shining and beautiful, ducked under the bridge and let out a tumultuous moan, arching her head back. Above her, miles higher, the silent dragon wiggled in acknowledgement.

Huh.

Dinraal began to curl back over the bridge, gaining altitude quickly, and Zelda knew in an instant this was her best chance to get up to the silent dragon. Was this, what, a sign that Din was on her side? A disagreement between Sisters? Or was the dragon working of her own accord? It didn’t matter, Zelda decided, sprinting for the bridge, shoving others out of her way with shouted apologies. She climbed up on the rickety hand rail, and as the crowd shouted for her to get back down, jumped.

Dinraal was warm, uncomfortably so. Zelda had been close enough to touch the dragon before, but never to crawl on her, and now as she slowly made her way up the dragon’s back to her horns, the scales under her feet were so hot they seeped up through the leather soles of her shoes and thick wool socks right to her toes. It left her hopping back and forth, pulling at her collar as the dragon radiated warmth. It was like standing in an oven, and Zelda was not enjoying it.

Slowly, she crawled on top of Dinraal’s horns, ignoring the uncomfortable heat pulsing through her palms, and tried desperately not to look down as they flew almost straight up. The dragon’s rumble was soothing, and for a moment, Zelda thought she might have felt a hand on her shoulder, feather soft, and the murmur of an apology. But then the feeling was gone, replaced with awe as she found herself nose to snout with the silent dragon—and Fi.

Fi glowed in the dragon’s skull, sending out streams of blue-purple light, reminiscent of the blade’s gleam when charged with the light of the heavens. Zelda patted Dinraal on the horn, untangling herself from her curving horn, and stepped carefully, carefully onto the dragon’s snout before giving a running jump onto the silent dragon’s. Dinraal left out a low, shuddering sigh and flew closer onto the silent dragon, nuzzling its underbelly before flying down and to the side, stretching her body towards Eldin.

And then Zelda was alone.

No, she realized as she watched the silent dragon’s massive eyes pivot inwards towards its snout where she stood, not alone. The dragon was aware of her, her movements, and she knelt down, laying a hand on its horn. The single horn made her think of Fi’s own cracked shape, the damage done to it inorganic, like the horn had been hit in a fight. She could smell the rotting shoulder wound from here, and when she rested a hand on the dragon’s mane, bits flaked off under her touch. If she didn’t know any better, she’d call the quiet decay akin to gloom poisoning.

“Hello,” She whispered, pressing her cheek to the dragon’s snout. “Me again.”

She could feel it rumble underneath her, purring silently at her touch.

“What happened to you, big guy? Did some bigger dragon come pick on you?”

No sound, just the gentle, warm purring as the dragon’s eyes slid shut.

“That wasn’t very nice of them. But it’s okay. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you. But first, I need my friend back, okay?”

The silent dragon’s eyes shot open, and it began to grain height, seemingly almost… anxious? At her words.

“It’s going to be okay,” Zelda said softly. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.” She stood, swallowed, and placed a feather soft hand on Fi’s hilt.

The silent dragon screamed. Zelda had never heard an animal make such a sound before, even in the throws of death, and her ears rang shrilly at the sound. The silent dragon whipped its head back, and Zelda had to scramble to grab onto Fi to keep from being thrown off. Below her, the silent dragon thrashed, and Zelda felt her grip slipping as the sheer force of the dragon’s writhing lifted her into the air. One finger popped free, then two, until only one hand was holding her steady on the silent dragon. Zelda grit her teeth and squinted her eyes against the wind as the dragon drew higher and higher past the clouds, till she could see nothing but white, freezing water vapor coating her like a blanket.

Zelda yanked herself forwards and, fighting the wind, managed to grab hold of the Master Sword with her other hand. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she fought her body weight against the thrashing of the silent dragon, who was now far from silent.

“I’m sorry!” Zelda whispered to it, “I know it hurts, but I need her! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

As if calmed by her voice, the dragon slowed slightly, panting, and Zelda resecured her footing, pulling Fi up with the last of her strength. The dragon let out a horrid choking sound, almost resembling a sob, and then went still.

The Master Sword was free in Zelda’s hand.

Gone was the shattered blade that Link had held against the Demon King, that Ganondorf had mimicked in his hand. In its place, Fi shone. Zelda’s breath caught in her throat at the green-gold light that radiated off new metal before peeling away like a flower opening a new bud, leaving behind pearly white and silver metal. Zelda had held Fi once or twice, but never like this. Never, ever like this. She called to Zelda, not with her voice, but with her soul, and Zelda suddenly realized what it meant to be Chosen by the Sword That Seals The Darkness.

Zelda looked up from Fi, and her breath stuttered in her chest.

“Link…?”

There, sitting on the nose of the silent dragon, who now flew higher in the sky than Zelda could ever imagine being, was Link. It wasn’t really him, couldn’t be, his body glowing emerald-gold as he lay Fi, still half mutilated, on his lap. He looked out to the sky, his face shrouded from Zelda, his prosthetic arm still ripped from its socket, hair limp, and skin clammy but body so alive.

“Zelda…” he whispered, his good hand trailing across the shattered blade, his head turned to the golden clouds. “The Master Sword… my sword—our sword… she is the key to destroying the Demon King. He defeated her before, but a long slumber will heal these grievous wounds. And when you take her in hand, and next face the Demon King, please know that you have my Courage to guide you, through her.”

He sighed, tilting his face to the sun.

“Zelda… you once called me the Light that must shine upon Hyrule once again, but I have always known you are that Light. You are our Final Light, our final hope.

I pray—no, I know, that this sword will find you in the future.”

He took a shuddering breath and took hold of Fi, resting his forehead on her hilt.

“I don’t know if I will be able to love you after this but… but I want you to know, that I always have.”

And then he was gone, leaving Zelda alone with the golden clouds, too high up to even dream of the ground below, Fi warm and perfect in her hand.

The sword chimed, glowing with radiant, holy light.

“Recognition complete. Zelda, my… Master.”

Chapter Text

Zelda knew something was wrong as soon as Fi spoke.

The holy blade had gifted her inside to its voice when Link first died. The voice had been but a small, tiny insight into the comfort and advice Link received each time he drew the blade, simple and quiet in its divinity. Zelda had been able to hear the voice, but now she was aware of just how far she'd been from being able to truly hear it. Before, Fi had just been an echo in Zelda's skull, warm and comforting but far away, an imprint of a voice moving through the waters of time. Now, though? Now it was as if Fi had taken her hand and whispered the words directly in her ear for only Zelda to hear.

“Recognition complete. Zelda, my Master”

Fi had never truly spoken to Zelda before, and now, hearing the sword's voice frightened her.

“I’m not your master,” Zelda said with growing unease, “That’s Link, remember?”

“In the name of the Creator, I was gifted to they who bear the Hero’s Spirit, or would so take up arms for the Hero’s Spirit.”

Zelda let out a nervous laugh. “Exactly. Link. Hero of Courage, bearer of the Hero’s Spirit.”

“There stands no current bearer of the Hero's Spirit.”

Zelda's stomach dropped. Surly Fi couldn't mean... didn't mean... but Link was fine. He was fine, even if he was too far out of reach to comprehend.

“Yes, yes there is—Link, he’s just a little far away right now!”

“There is no current bearer of the Hero’s Spirit. It is my past Master’s desire that I will be passed to one who would take up arms in the name of the Hero’s Spirit. He named me yours, just as I now name you: my Master.”

Zelda found her hand shaking, suddenly struggling to hold up Fi. Past Master. Past Master. Past.

“I’m not your Master. That’s Link! Link, you know him! You waited for him for a hundred years!”

“Under the circumstances, it is only logical that you would harbor some apprehension.”

“Logical?!” Zelda spluttered, and the sword warmed in her hand as if to show an acknowledgment of what, her emotions?

“To minimize your uncertainty, allow me to share some information. My projections indicate that this information has a high probability of altering your current emotional state. The one you seek, who watches your quest from beyond, my honorable past Master, is still alive, simply unreachable.”

Zelda’s breath caught in her throat. Alive. Link was alive. “Unreachable? Like, injured? Still in the past?”

“Long have the Heroes of Hyrule been chosen for great things—he has completed his part. It is now time you do the same.”

“That didn’t answer my question!”

“Does that information invigorate you? Are you ready to accept this sword, Master?”

Zelda swallowed down the tightness in her throat. Fi was a perfect weight in her hand. She’d always found the sword a tad heavy before, but now… now, the Master Sword felt just as natural as her own arm, just as much an extension of her as the bow of light did. No, even more so. The bow of light was called from a piece of her, the inward pushed out—Fi, Fi was her. They were one and the same, two parts of the same whole.

There was no denying it. The sword had chosen. She was its Master.

“It seems that further persuasive measures will not be required.” Fi chirped. “In the name of my Creator, the one whose blood runs so dearly within you, raise this sword skyward. “

Zelda stared at the hilt in her hand with uncertainty before slowly, slowly raising Fi skyward. The dragon below her feet let out a silent warble as light engulfed her, the sword glowing with holy brightness. There was the crackle of lightning and Zelda felt the overwhelming embrace of magic and divinity as she kept the Master Sword pointed high. In her hand, Fi hummed in pleasure.

Light exploded out from the tip of the Master Sword, arching across the clouds, and the silent dragon shivered, rumbling without a sound under Zelda’s feet. Spots danced across her eyes from the sheer brightness of Fi’s light and Zelda finally lowered the blade.

“Connection complete.”

Zelda looked at her reflection in the blade. Her hair had grown some over the past few weeks, and dirt and blood still clung to her. She looked far from any chosen hero or divine being. Slowly, she slid Fi into the sheath left tangled in the silent dragon’s mane. It wasn’t the Master Sword’s sheath—no, it was the finely carved Zonai one Link had worn in the dragon’s visions.

Link. He’d been ill with gloom when he’d arrived in the past. Zelda had seen the amputation of his arm, the gloom sickness stark on his face, but by the time he and Ganondorf had sparred, he'd been away from gloom long enough for his skin to flush and his eyes to brighten. In these visions, his arm had been replaced with an elegant prosthetic, his stance steady and strong. However, in the visions from Naboris and Ruta, after the sealing of the Demon King... he’d looked so ill, covered in gloom burns, his prosthetic gone and clearly not consensually removed. What happened, between the beginning and the end? Ganondorf’s 'Link' looked just like that, arm ripped off, leaving the jagged port of the prosthetic behind, absolutely sick with gloom poisoning… the shape of the burns on him reminded Zelda of the claws of the gloom spawn she’d faced, sending a shiver up her spine. That final battle between the Demon King and the sages, between Ganondorf and Link, when Rauru sacrificed himself—it hadn’t ended well for Link. Of that much, Zelda was sure.

Below her, the dragon began losing altitude, dipping below the gold of the clouds. Snow drifted, slowly at first, then heavy and hard, enough to lose almost all visibility. Zelda wrapped her arms around herself. She’d have to buy an elixir and get access to some warm clothes pronto.

Below her, she could barely make out the horse head of Snowfield Stable. Safflina was safe at Tabantha Bridge, but Rito Stable had exchanged hands, becoming the Lucky Clover Gazette, meaning when she got to Rito Village she’d have no place to tack up any horse she took out. Unsafe on a good day, but deadly in a storm. But if she walked all the way to Rito Village in a blizzard, well… Zelda didn’t see herself surviving that.

She’d just have to ask the Lucky Clover if she could board a horse there temporarily.

Making sure Fi was secured on her back, Zelda patted the silent dragon once, before leaning over the animal’s snout and freefalling down into the blizzard below. Zelda watched the ground steadily come closer and closer before whipping out the paraglider. Her arms ached at the sudden pull of harsh wind against the fabric, but she landed smoothly enough in a spray of powdery snow. Above her, the silent dragon faded from view, but Zelda took comfort in the knowledge that, more likely than not, it would linger close by. It always seemed to hover just out of reach, watching her with brilliantly blue eyes.

“Princess?” A voice shouted from inside the doorway of the stable, “Is that you?”

Zelda’s face broke out into a grin. “Kass!”

Zelda broke into a sprint, sliding and slipping in the icy snow, and just as she reached the entrance of the stable, the giant, brightly colored Rito scooped her up with a laugh. Kass had been traveling for months now, in and out of the Continent at a moment’s notice, in Hyrule one day and Labrynna or Ordon the next, following the battles of the Hero of Ages. The Goddess-chosen general had, with his own Princess Zelda, had ushered in the age of peace that lasted until the Hylian Royal Family banished the Yiga, setting the resurrection of Calamity Ganon in motion. It was a time not well documented in comparison to the heroes that came before the Hero of Ages-- The Hero of the Skies, the Hero of Time, the Hero of Twilight, all holders of the Hero’s Spirit who bore the Master Sword-- and Kass had been ecstatic at the idea of creating an epic bringing the Hero's adventures to the world.

Kass bundled Zelda up in his wings, quickly joined by his little girls—why on Earth was the whole family out here? Kass never traveled with family in tow, insisting it was too dangerous. What was happening in Rito Village that made him think Labrynna of all places was safer?

“Oh, am I glad to see you. You just missed Link— Zelda, what on earth happened? Castle in the sky, evil hands all over the place, Link—he looked like he was about to kneel over, and his arm—”

Zelda’s stomach dropped, all excitement to see her friend suddenly gone.

“What?  You saw Link?”

“It was hard to miss him, poor boy." Kass said. He shook his head, the girls mimicking his movements.

"He was asking all over for you!" One girl chirped, "Got reeeeeaaaaallly mad when we said we hadn’t seen you!"

Another nodded. "He through a real hissy fit!"

"Girls," Kass chidded softly. "I'm sorry, Princess. He... he was unwell, that much was clear. I think everyone was scared to say no to him honestly; I’ve never seen him so emotional before; he must be worried sick for you. Bullied the poor stable hand into giving him your horse.”

“He took my horse?” Zelda said, voice coming out embarrassingly close to a shriek. Her horse? Really? Her fucking horse?

“I was surprised too! Though, usually, the little gold thing is so happy to see him, but she made quite a mess before he managed to calm her enough to take off—”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Rito Village—he said you two were supposed to rendezvous there? Something about having ‘important supplies’ to help all the little ones stuck in the Village. Just like him, always helping—wait, Zelda! You aren’t ready to go out in a storm—”

“I’ll catch up later, Kass!” Zelda yelled over her shoulder as she took off for the building just off the stable's main room where they boarded the animals. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the time to explain!”

 Zelda nearly knocked her head into the double ranch doors as she slid across an icy puddle, catching herself on the rough wooden handle. It swung open with difficulty; the sheer weight of the snow drifts growing in front of the doors pinned it shut, but with a little yanking, Zelda forced the door open.

“I need a horse,” she announced, and Harlow, the woman in charge of Goldie (Link’s name, not Zelda’s) looked up from a truly destroyed stall. Her eye was swollen, the imprint of a hoof clear on her face, and Zelda gasped at her split lip.

“Oh, Princess!” Harlow cried, before wincing at the movements of her mouth and pressing a hand to her swollen lip. “Princess,” she said again, whispering this time. “Did Link find you? Is he okay? He was so upset, and his arm—”

“Harlow, I don’t have time, I’m so sorry. I need to get to Rito Village now. I need a horse.”

Harlow furrowed her split brow. Goddesses, how hard did Goldie hit her??

“Link took your horse, said he was gonna give it to ya— oh the poor thing, that gentle creature began making such terrible sounds, neighing and bucking around so hard it shook the stable. Link tried to calm it, and Goldie reared up and tried to kick him! If I hadn’t gotten in the way—”

Zelda swore, glancing down the line of horses. “What’s your fastest horse?”

“Well, probably that chestnut mare over there, but Princess—”

“Who does she belong to?”

“Just one of the stable hand's daughters—”

Zelda dug into her rupee purse, pulled out a handful of the biggest rupees she could find, and pressed them into Harlow’s hand, already picking up the horse’s tack. Epona was engraved on the saddle, and the mare obediently opened her mouth for a bit.

“Wait, Princess, you can’t just take someone's horse—”

“I’ll bring her back soon!” Zelda called over her shoulder, already on the mare’s back and leading her out of the barn. Visibility was zero to none, but she couldn’t linger, not when it was heading for Rito Village. Zelda didn’t think the strange gloom-Link needed the horse, not for one minute; most likely, it had needed information and wanted to slow her down. Well, Zelda wasn’t going to be going slow, and now with the Master Sword, she was all but unstoppable. With a press of her heels and a click of her tongue, Epona took off, leaving nothing in her wake but a flurry of hoofprints and Zelda’s panicked thoughts.

Epona rode beautifully. Zelda had ridden many horses in her life—Ru, as a child, an elegant midnight black pony named for the Goddess of Wisdom back when the idea of being chosen was still fascinating and delightful, back when she still spent evenings riding with Mother and Father, a happy family that loved each other. Archibald, the white stallion her father gifted her as an early seventeenth birthday present, a wild thing that Link had taught her how to tame between soothing touches and racing through the rain, all thoroughly unprincesslike activities. Goldie, the golden mare Zelda had found and raised herself, that Link had claimed was the ugliest horse he had ever seen and named while hopelessly drunk. The Puppet Link—because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A doll in Link’s shape, its strings pulled this way and that by the Demon King— had the horse in its hands now, and Zelda dreaded to think what the creature would do with it.

Zelda flew by the small settlement that had been Tabantha Village Ruins without a second thought. Now renamed New Tabantha by the handful of Rito and Hylians dead set on rebuilding the hometown of the Great Revali, the growing settlement was a frequent stop for Zelda. Usually, she made a point to always stop and visit when in the area—after all, Rito Village may have been important to Revali, a place of leadership and charity, but it wasn’t his home. That would always be Tabantha Village, and the little hamlet that had been birthed from the ruins, New Tabantha, made that clear. It boasted the biggest, newest flight range on the Continent, opened in his name, free of charge to any and all children, regardless of race. Revali had always wanted to inspire a new generation, and through New Tabantha, he had. Zelda was well known by the villagers and the village chief—Revali might not have been her closest friend, but she was his, and she made a point to pay her respects at his grave marker. It was an empty grave, Revali’s body most likely tossed from Vah Medoh to the mountains below by Windblight, but Zelda would bring a book of Rito poetry and wildberry tarts regardless and split them with her late friend.

There was no time for poetry and tarts today. Even if Puppet Link didn’t have the head start, the snow was so thick that most homes were boarded up and near buried, the roofs of some caved in from the sheer weight of the stuff. Zelda’s leather traveling gloves did little to protect her hands from the cold, and she scolded herself for not buying a warm elixir at Snowfield Stable. She’d long since changed from the cooling, heat-wicking clothes of the Gerudo, back in a simple traveling tunic, and Zelda was deeply regretting how breathable the linen was. The snow cut through her like a knife, the cold biting into all exposed skin, and she realized with bizarre fascination that the strange gummy feeling around her eyes was likely her eyelashes freezing.

And worse, was the puckering blisters on any exposed skin that made Zelda certain it was more than just frozen water falling from the sky. The storm had swallowed up the sky, leaving it artificially dark, but if Zelda looked at the light reflecting on the ice, she could see a pinkness that shouldn’t be there.

Gloom. The snow wasn’t just frozen water—it was frozen gloom.

Zelda pulled her sleeves over her exposed wrists and pulled up her hood, but it did nothing to stop the slow ooze of energy from her body. At such a low concentration, it would take ages for the gloom sickness to kill her, but the Rito had been buried under the stuff for how long now? She’d slept off two weeks of gloom sickness on the Great Sky Islands, spent a week with the Zora, another with the Gerudo… Zelda’s stomach twisted. A month. The Rito had been buried alive under freezing gloom for a month, and the storm was just getting stronger.

She needed to speak to Teba; as Patriarch, the Rito would know the most of what plagued his people, and likely any local histories that could lead to the stone’s resting place. Ruta had hidden hers in the great wellspring, leaving clues across the sky so old that the Zora had all but forgotten them; Naboris had been buried with hers, choosing a tomb that had only been reachable because of ancient hieroglyphs. What would the wind sage use to protect his stone? More hidden history? More ruins? Folktales? Something else entirely?

Zelda turned hard around the corner to the Lucky Clover Gazette, throwing the reins at the first worker she saw with a quick “sorry, so sorry, I’ll pay double for lodging as soon as I get back, thank-you-bye!” and booking it for the meters of bridges that crisscrossed Lake Totori before leading up into the Great Birdhead of Hebra, Rito Village.

The bridges swayed and groaned dangerously under the weight of pounds of snow and ice, and from here, Zelda realized something terrible—the sky was empty.

Not empty of snow or gloom—it had far too much of that—empty of stars. The Rito revered the stars, and understandably so; at such a high altitude the stars were almost always visible, and the aroura borealis appeared regularly, enough to become part of their monthly calendar, holidays and seasons written around it. But now? Gone were the very stars the Rito built their entire culture around, covered up entirely by a massive stormhead. Zelda searched for the constellations that she had come to know by heart from her time with the Rito; gone, all of them, swallowed by the gloom clouds of the storm. And worst of all, the Great Dragon Valoo, a holy collection of stars venerated by the Rito as the Founder and Protector of the Rito Race, had vanished, replaced by a tornado head of inky, bleeding red, visible even through the snow, as if Valoo Himself had been poisoned by the gloom. And who knew, maybe He had been. While Teba and Saki were atheists, following their cultural practices without actually venerating the stars, Revali had believed in Valoo with his whole heart. For Him to be missing, the place that His stars took up instead replaced by a massive cloud of gloom, high in the sky? Revali would have been horrified.

Zelda yelped as a hand grabbed her bicep, instantly pulling Fi and holding it to the woman’s throat.

Brown hair, dark eyes—but pale skin. No freckles. No shine of magic around her. Tiny where Ere had been strong, fat where Ere had been toned. Just a worker at the newspaper. The woman immediately let go, and Zelda lowered the Master Sword, stammering apologies.

“I, uh, guess I should be careful not to startle pretty girls with big swords, huh?” The woman said with an awkward laugh.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, I—”

The woman shrugged. “Dangerous times. I would know, I report ‘em. Come under the pavilion, please. Your cheeks are starting to sizzle.”

Zelda brought a hand to her cheekbone; sure enough, her fingers came away black and bloody. What she thought had just been the sting of cold wind had been the burn of gloomy snow.

“I can give you an elixir for the cold, but unfortunately waiting out the storm is the most you can do to keep safe. And I’ve been waiting it out a looooong time.”

The woman extended a hand and Zelda took it. “Juanelle. Let me guess, you have business in Rito Village as well?”

Zelda nodded. The village appeared deserted, but everyone was likely hiding inside. It was the time of year to harvest Tabantha wheat, gather wildberries, and hunt hearty salmon, but those had likely been demolished by the cold and gloom. What were they doing for food?

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the bridge is down,” Juanelle said. She beckoned Zelda over to her fire, and Zelda gladly ducked out of the storm and into the warmth. It wasn’t much, just a collection of sparking twigs, but it was something. Zelda glanced at the bridges. They creaked dangerously under the weight of the gloom-snow, and sure enough, the closest one had collapsed.

“Since I ran an article about the, well, everything shortage, food and medical supplies have been slowly trickling in, but with no bridge to get the donations across…”

“There’s no way to get them to the Rito.”

“Unfortunately, right on the nose.”

Zelda flicked open her Purah pad. She had to have something in here that would help… Link had shown her a pretty neat, if heart-stopping, trick with Revali’s gale that allowed him to soar, and, determined to show him up, Zelda had mixed together a concoction of oil, pine cones, and spicy peppers that, with the right spark, could cause quite the updraft. She had the supplies. It couldn’t hurt, right?

“Hey, wait, it’s not safe out there!” Juanelle called as Zelda stepped back into the snow. The gloom stung, like needles into exposed skin, but Zelda just grit her teeth and pulled out the ingredients. Pour a little oil on the pine cones, then set the kindling alight, now the spicy peppers… hot air rose up with a whoooosh, pulling at Zelda’s hair and clothes, and with a flick of her paraglider she was in the air, and over the gap, landing with an OOF! in a snow bank amongst the trees of Rito Village—and just in front of a shrine. Convenient.

Hesitantly, Zelda slipped inside.

Silence. So Nayru really wasn’t talking to her. Well, fuck Her. Two could play that game.

“Right, Fi?” Zelda whispered.

Fi simply chimed in her hand.

---

Gatakis Shrine turned out to only be a simple little ditty with wind magic that Zelda finished easily. In silence. Without a divine voice in her head. Weird.

Not bad, just… weird.

Which left her in silent, silent Rito Village. It looked like it had been evacuated, or something close, and as she walked through the pink-covered streets, the snow turned darker and darker, until she was running through blood red. She needed new clothes, both so she didn’t freeze to death, and to cover as much skin as possible. Which brought her to one of Link’s favorite fashion spots: the Brazen Beak. The store’s windows had been barricaded, its roof so covered in snow that it was leaning dangerously to the side, letting out a terrifying groan with each gust of wind.

“Nekk?” Zelda called, knocking on the door, “It’s Zelda. I’ve come to try and help, but I need some clothes. Are you home? Nekk—!” Zelda squeaked as the door flung open and tiny wings dragged her inside, shutting the door immediately and latching it closed against the howling wind.

“Zellie!” In the darkness of the boarded-up windows, Zelda could only vaguely make out the Rito, but it certainly wasn’t Nekk.  Instead of a tall, lithe, fully grown Rito, Zelda had the wing of a fledgling around her hips, too small to even reach her middle, and a voice she recognized easily enough. Mathias, Nekk’s plump, purple daughter, best friend of Kass’ girl, Kheel, local Link fangirl, and entirely too young to be left alone unsupervised, let alone left alone when the world was ending.

“What are you doing here?” Zelda hissed, “Where’s your father?!”

“Papa’s watching the sauna, and Daddy is with him getting food. I wanted to go but Papa said I was too small, that the monsters would eat me up!”

“Monsters?”

“Uhuh. Weird ones with wings and BIG teeth that make you feel really sick if they getcha! They got me when I tried to go out after Daddy, and Daddy got sooo mad, so now I’m stuck here and supposed to keep anyone who comes up the stairs safe! That’s my job!” Zelda was on her knees before the fledgling in an instant, flicking on the light of her Purah pad and shinning it over Mathias. The girl seemed well enough, a bandage across the top of her wing, slick with sundelion paste. Zelda knew the use of the herbal remedy well enough—gloom sickness. Whatever monster was out there was similar to the muck monsters and the gibdo, spreading gloom onto any wound it made.

And this time, it had targeted a child.

Zelda would make Ganondorf rue the day he set eyes on a secret stone.

“I need some new clothes,” Zelda said, resting a hand on Mathias’ shoulder. “Do you have any extra?”

Mathias nodded enthusiastically, grabbing Zelda’s hand and pulling her through the dim room into a back storage closet.

“I’ve got all sorts!”

The snow boots were a little large, but after layering two pairs of wool socks, they fit well enough. The snowquill tunic was warm and fluffy with Rito down, leather gloves replacing the archery ones, to protect her fingertips. Mathias had provided her with a plethora of colors—red, green, tan… but Zelda’s eyes had caught on the pale blue dyed fabric. It reminded her of the Champion leathers hidden away in the castle, and she couldn’t stop herself from picking it out and marveling at the look of the blue across her skin. Which left the face. Mathias had sworn she knew exactly what Zelda needed, digging through boxes deep in the back closet, and pulling out a cream woolen woven bundle of fabric with a triumphant cry.

“It’s a balaclava mask!” Mathias explained, helping Zelda pulled the pale mask over her head and giving her a pair of snow glasses to help with snow blindness. The little one pinned Zelda’s hood in place before stepping back with a pleased grin, wings on her hips.

“There! Now you can go fight the bad guys!”

Zelda smiled. “I promise I’ll beat them up, just for you.”

“Oh!” Mathias said as she unlatched the door. The wind blew it open as soon as the latch slid out of place, smacking into the wall with a bang and sending pounds of snow that had settled on the roof to the ground. “You should go talk to Molli! She’s kind of in charge now that Patriarch Teba is busy protecting the village while all the adults are looking for food and killing monsters!”

Zelda froze. “You’re here all alone with no adults?”

Mathias managed to pout despite her lack of lips. “The Patriarch is here! He’s just super busy.”

“But your dads aren’t here?”

“Yeah. I told you, Papa is at the sauna. Daddy is monster hunting!”

“They left you here unsupervised?”

Mathias crossed her wings. “You aren’t being very nice right now, Ms. Zelda.”

Oof. Ms. Zelda, not Zellie. Zelda winced.

“Okay, okay. Are there any other adults? Any at all?”

Mathias shook her head, and Zelda took a deep breath. Okay. So she had a village with at least two children and no adults. Fine. This was fine.

“Papa said to stay inside, and Daddy said to make sure anybody new got inside safe. I did my job.” Mathias suddenly sounded far too grown up for Zelda’s liking, but still, she nodded, patting Mathias’ tiny, fluffy shoulder.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, little one. Now, you said Molli is in charge now?”

Mathias nodded. Molli, Harth’s oldest, was a sweet thing, if awfully opinionated, and if there was anyone Zelda would trust to lead a band of children, it would be her.

“Where is she?”

“Probably helping Genli cook—she has a hard time with portions, and then she cooks too much and the food spoils and we all get suuuuuper hungry waiting for Mr. Harth to bring more food back.”

Zelda’s heart ached. In the light from the open door, she could see how thin Mathias had gotten. The little ones were starving, waiting for a month for help to arrive while Zelda drank blood and drew swords. Still, Zelda couldn’t bring herself to regret the detours. She needed to know if Link was alright—she’d go insane if she didn’t. Those little bits of knowledge kept her sane, and Fi… shew wasn’t sure how to feel about Fi, but she didn’t regret drawing the sword, even for a second. The Rito had suffered a little longer than they had to, but Zelda couldn’t bring it upon herself to feel guilty.

Maybe Nayru was right about her. Maybe she was selfish, in a dangerous, entitled way. Zelda looked at Mathias, her dull feathers and hungry frame. It didn’t matter. She was here now, and she was going to save Mathias. Save all of them. The Demon King and his puppet wouldn’t stop her. Nothing would.

Being sure that Mathias latched the door behind her—“I’m not stupid, Zellie, not with the monsters in the village!”— Zelda set off on her search for Molli. She wasn’t hard to find; Zelda just had to follow the sounds of yelling. She’d panicked at first, thinking it was the screams of children in pain, but no, it was Molli barking orders and Genli crying from the stress of it all.

What were the adults thinking, leaving children behind like this?

Zelda rounded the corner to the resting place of the communal Rito cooking pot—everything the Rito did was communal, from cooking to raising children. They really did stand by the thought that ‘it took a village’; Mathias might have a Papa and a Daddy, but the roost she lived in was shared with other families who lived and laughed and cooked together, raising their children as one. Even Teba’s son, Tulin, for all the responsibility that came with being the Patriarch’s only child, shared his home with others. Zelda wouldn’t pretend to understand quite how the disregard for a nuclear family unit worked, but everyone at Rito Village seemed happy with the arrangements, content, and at home with the sharing built into their community.

After a childhood locked away with only her father for company for so long, Zelda often found herself wishing she’d had dozens of aunties, uncles, and cousins to care about her like Tulin and Mathias did. Sure, she’d had a nursemaid, but Father had done away with her when Zelda was ten, claiming the woman was a distraction, and Impa’s presence was tolerated only because she was in training to be the new elder of the Sheikah, a role highly scrutinized by the Royal Family from their lack of trust for the Sheikah. Until meeting the Champions and Link… well, Zelda hadn’t had anyone.

She’d been so jealous of Link, of his ‘army buds’ and his closeness with Mipha, back in the Before. Now that he’d lost them, both to time and the Shrine of Resurrection’s mind-altering touch, the guilt surrounding that jealousy kept Zelda up at night sometimes.

“No, no! That fish is for drying, we can’t keep cooking it!”

“But I’m hungry—”

“You’ll be hungrier when you eat it and then we have nothing left! We dry the fish, and make fruit leather, and—”

“You don’t even know how to do that!”

“Y-yes I do!”

“Stop lying!”

Zelda could hear the shouting just barely over the wind, through the barricaded door that sagged under the weight of the bloody gloom snow. Zelda knocked on the door, loud enough to be heard over the storm but not enough to startle, and the voices went silent. Zelda heard murmuring—‘monster’ and ‘monsters wouldn’t knock’ and ‘where’s Tulin?!’

She knocked again. “Molli, Genli, it’s Princess Zelda. I’ve come to help!”

The door flew open, little feathered hands dragging her inside while the door was slammed shut after her, plunging the room into red-tinted almost darkness.

Molli, for all her yelling, looked exhausted. “You can’t be out there!” She hissed, but Zelda was more concerned with the armful of Genli she suddenly had, the little green fledgling sobbing into her hip.

“Are you here to make the blizzard go away?” The little girl hiccuped, and Zelda knelt down, gathering Genli in her arms and squeezing.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“So you’re gonna find the ark for us?” Molli asked, shoving herself at Zelda as well.

“The… ark?”

“The boat in the sky!” Genli said, voice vibrating with abandoned tears. “Like from the song—"

Suddenly, the door shook. Something rammed into it, and the door latch groaned against the strain. Again the door shuddered as something heavy and massive slammed its whole weight against it, and for one terrifying moment, Zelda pictured puppet Link throwing its weight against the door, tearing into these children’s last safe space to get to her. If she left, if she offered herself up, would the puppet spare the children? Would it be content with Zelda, or would it push for greater bloodshed?

The door cracked down the hinges, letting in a flurry of cold air, before splintering apart. The creature in the doorway shrieked, the girls screaming and scrambling back further into the roost. Zelda drew Fi, the sword singing in her hand, begging her to swing and cut and destroy.

It was a truly massive aerocuda, but instead of just taking to the skies, it walked on two clawed feet, its massive wingspan taking the whole doorway and then some, the membrane glowing with gloom, as did its dripping fangs.

Zelda’s gut dropped. White bloody feathers were clasped in its beak.

Molli scooped a coal from the fire with brave feathers and chucked it at the gloom aerocuda’s head. The monster hissed, gloom spittle flying from its beak as it zeroed in on the little girl. Zelda slid in front of her. She was very aware that she’d never really used a sword before, certainly not as much as a bow, but Fi hummed in her hand.

Trust me, Master. She all but sang in Zelda’s hands. Zelda felt a pull in her gut, a gentle tug on her hands, and suddenly the Master Sword was leading a dance instead of Zelda swinging a sword. Link had known how to fight before pulling Fi; the Hero of the Skies was rumored to have been a knight, and the Hero of Ages had been a general, but the Hero of Twilight had written in his now iconic journals of an otherworldly teacher. Is this what he had meant? Had the sword guided him, taught him, gently led him through vicious cuts and jabs, like a partner taking the lead in a complicated waltz?

A sword dancing. It was a strange thought, but as Fi led her feet, Zelda believed it. The aerocuda dove from the girls, and Zelda easily blocked the monster’s extended claws, the Master Sword letting out a grating spark as it dragged across the monster’s hooked talons. Just as she raised her sword—her sword, hers!— a second time, a flurry of arrows hit the aerocuda in the back of the head. The monster coughed gloomy blood as an arrow pierced its throat, before collapsing into the snow falling in the doorway. Behind it, swallow bow still raised, his brows furrowed and beak clicked into the closest thing to a snarl a Rito could make, was little Tulin.

Little Tulin wasn’t so little anymore. He hovered in the air and emptied another three arrows in the gloom aerocuda’s head. The two little girls let out whoops of praise, fear still lingering in their voices, as Tulin landed with slightly less grace than he likely intended. His feet and talons had been wrapped in linen and leather to keep them from being burned while standing in the snow, but his poor feathers were tinged pink and smoking slightly.

“Tulin!” A gruff, panicked voice called from further up the stairs, and then Teba was careening around the corner, clutching his bleeding wing. “We stay together!”

“But it got you!” Tulin—little Tulin, tiny Tulin, when had he gotten so big?— all but whined, putting down his bow. It was a child’s bow, almost too small for him—almost. “And it would have gotten them too! I did a good job!”

Teba let out a low breath through the tip of his beak, crossing his arms.

“Girls,” He said, his voice getting softer, “are you alright?”

Molli nodded, still clutching Genli to her. “Zellie was gonna protect us! She has a fancy sword and everything!”

Teba eyed Zelda up and down, and, realizing she was almost completely covered, Zelda unbuttoned the wool mask and waved. Teba’s eyes widened, then softened.

“The Gazette said you and Link had gone missing.” He said softly. “It’s good to see otherwise.”

“Where’s Link?” Tulin said, cutting his father off and darting into Zelda’s space. Link knew Tulin more than she did, having spent more time in Rito Village training with Teba than Zelda ever did. Teba and Link mirrored each other well, and the Rito warrior was surely the sage Zelda was looking for. Wise and proud of his people, caring deeply for them all, old and young, big and small, Teba was a Rito like no other. He may have failed to master Revali’s gale over the past few years, but when it came to leadership, the other Rito paled in comparison.

“Still missing,” Zelda said, and Tulin interrupted before she could continue.

“No! I saw him on your horse this morning, but he looked really weird, and-- ”

“It wasn’t him.” Zelda said bluntly. “Absolutely not. And if you think you see him again, you tell me immediately.”

Teba frowned. “I see.” He sighed, rubbing his temple with his good wing. “So, he’s found himself in trouble again, hasn’t he?”

Ha. That was one way to put it. “Unfortunately.”

Tulin let out an exaggerated sigh, poking the dead monster with his foot. “I need to get back to patrolling!”

“You need to get back to patrolling?” Teba said with a raised eyebrow, and Tulin puffed out his chest.

“You’re hurt! So, I’m in charge.”

“Absolutely not. And you ran ahead without supervision—what was rule number one?”

The poking turned into a proper kick. “I saved Molli and Genli.” He mumbled, and Teba’s sigh spoke of a month of teenage wrangling.

“And you still ran ahead. Princess, you remember my son, Tulin? It’s been a while since you’ve visited proper, after all. He’s grown taller—though perhaps not grown up.”

Tulin’s feathers ruffled and he scowled at his father.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t treat me like a little hatchling all the time—”

Teba raised an interrupting hand, wincing at the movement as his feathers continued to darken.

“As long as you still think you can take on the world by yourself, you’ll be but a little chick. My little chick.”

“What, you think I can’t do it? Please, I’m practically fully fledged you know!”

Teba met Zelda’s eyes and she struggled to bite back a smile. The little bird just reminded her so much of herself when she was fourteen. Funny how even across biology, the teenage angst continued.

“You’ll change your mind when I ace today’s scouting trip!”

Molli gasped. “Are you going to look for the Stormwind Ark?”

Tulin rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’m not a baby. You can keep wasting your time treating the song like it’s real, but I have better things to do!”

“Tulin!” Teba chided, but the teen just folded his wings, jutting his beak into the air.

“Song of the Stormwind Ark?” Zelda asked Teba, who had just opened his beak when Molli butted in.

“It’s a special song about the boat in the sky that saved Valoo! Kass does a really good job of singing it! It goes:

When the dragon fell from the sky into winds /

A god brough aid from the heavens /

From his great divine spark brought forth a line of soaring ships and a great ark /

Its winds brought us new life thanks to its great divine spark /

So when the world grows in upheaval we pledged to help the lord /

Again the arc would fall bringing peace and promise /

To end dark nights!’

It uh, rhymes better in classical Rito…”

Zelda squeezed Fi’s hilt, pretending for a moment that Link’s hand squeezed her back. The Zonai had been revered as gods… what if a Zonai did indeed build a giant ark in the sky, and in return the Rito pledged their ark to the Zonai cause? Maybe, when they did so, that included the sage of wind and their promise to hide the secret stone. So that when Rauru’s seal fell, the ark would protect the stone until Zelda could get to it. The song said when the world grew into upheaval, the Rito pledged aid—that sounded close enough to a sage’s pledge. The ark would fall—maybe from where it had been in the sky? Fall low enough to be reached? The storm had hidden away the stars the made Valoo—unless... what if the star dragon was real and the sage of wind had asked Valoo to watch over the stone, and when the Demon King tried to take it, brought down the ark as a form of protection? The storm would keep any Rito from investigating! What if the Demon King had found some way to reach the stone and made the blizzard as a way to ensure no one could get close enough to find out! Zelda would have to climb up with Teba to the ark… except Teba had yet to master Revali’s gale. He was a brave warrior, but not the strongest flyer, and now that his wing was injured…

Too many possibilities, not enough answers. But if there was one thing Zelda was positive of, it was that the stone was tied to that ark.  

“Ugh, this is a waste of time!” Tulin whined, stomping up the stairs.

“Tulin, wait—” Teba called after him, but then Tulin was running, his father starting up the stairs after him, leaving an increasingly concerning trail of blood behind. Teba and Zelda reached Revali’s landing just in time to watch Tulin fly down over the edge. Teba groaned and started for the edge as well.

“Wait, Teba.” Zelda laid a gentle hand on his good arm. “Let me. You’re injured, and you need to make sure that arm doesn’t get any gloom infection… and, frankly, Tulin’s more likely to listen to me than his father right now. Got a little bit of that Link hero worship on my side.”

Teba signed, rolling his bad shoulder and wincing as he looked down at the splatters on the snow.

“You’ll bring him right back?”

Zelda crossed her heart. “Promise.”

“Tulin thinks he’s big enough to find what’s causing the blizzard, and he’s having a hard time hearing ‘no.’”

Zelda chuckled as she buttoned up the wool mask. “We’ve all been teenagers once.”

“I swear I wasn’t this bad.”

“Listen, Teba, when I bring him back, there’s something very important we need to discuss. Things… they’ve gotten far more complicated than they seem.”

“Just what I need—more things of importance. No one said being Patriarch would be this miserable.”

“I one hundred percent understand.” They looked over past Revali’s Landing, and from this height Zelda could see twin bonfires. “But the girls, they mentioned a song?”

“The Song of the Stormark. Legend says that the Rito united with Hyrule after Valoo was stolen from the sky and eaten by a massive creature. A god came and together they built the Stormark, which was used to save Valoo. It watched over the Rito people for centuries, and the Rito vowed to use it to come to the aide of the godking during times of great upheaval. Now adays, you only really hear about it in children’s songs. But there have been reports of something inside the blizzard, and with this Upheaval… people are willing to believe anything.”

“The air is too turbulent to get anywhere near that stormhead.”

“Yup. And even if it weren’t, the stars…”

“The gloom has snuffed them out.”

“I’ve never been one for religion, but seeing the Great Valoo missing from the sky… it’s like the very wind refuses to hold me up anymore. They say that Valoo is the one who gift the Rito our wings and without Him… flight simply isn’t possible… Tulin thinks we cling to all of this out of cowardice. He’s too impulsive, you know?”

Zelda smirked. “Sounds like his father.”

“Oh, hush. He’s mastered the wind in a way I’ll never be able to—while the rest of us struggle to fly through this storm, he soars.”

“You’ve taught him well. I’ll bring him home—I promise.”

Teba smiled, squeezing Zelda’s free hand. Despite the freezing temperatures, Fi’s metal hilt felt warm.

“Harth has been leading the scouting missions. See those two bonfires? He’ll be there, so Tulin probably will as well.”

Zelda squeezed Teba’s hand back. “I’ll be right back.”

She gave herself a moment to take in Revali’s Landing, the favorite place of her long-dead friend. What would Revali take out of all of this? He’d be livid—few were as protective of their people as the Rito Champion. Suddenly, Teba grabbed her arm.

“I am concerned for Tulin,” He said softly, like the words hurt to say. “He believes he is fully fledged, but he has not grasped the most fundamental of lessons: one cannot accomplish great feats without allies at one’s side. Please. I can’t seem to get him to use his head, but he might listen to you. Try to get through to him.”

Zelda gave Teba a soft smile. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. She sheathed Fi, and then she was taking a running jump into the frigid air, fighting against the winds to reach the bonfires below.

---

Zelda didn’t like the cold. She’d gone mountain climbing through Link’s favorite path through the Hebra Mountains with the man once, and that had been enough. While Link found ice climbing invigorating, clinging to frozen waterfalls with no safety line in sight, miles above deathly cold water, lightheaded from thin air, Zelda much preferred the sauna at the base of the Hebra Mountain Climbing Path, nursing an aged hard cider with cinnamon and clove while chatting with tourists.

There were no tourists now. Now the sauna house had been converted to a safe house, the structure groaning under the weight of gloom snow despite being built with heavy winters in mind, its door barricaded against the aerocuda that circled overhead. There was no Rito in the sky, which was a deeply unsettling sight. Only one Rito was outside of the sauna house, armed to the teeth as he sat beside the bonfire, constantly adding more firewood to make up for the snow smothering the flames. The burning gloom spluttered unnaturally, letting out a toxic smell and heavy black smog.

The Rito looked up when Zelda touched down, instantly drawing his bow—tall, strong, with blue detailing on his dark feathers, the ones on his crest ironed flat over his eyes: Harth. Zelda held up her hands before thinking of a better sign of good faith. Slowly, agonizingly slowly so Harth could measure every movement, Zelda drew Fi, the Master Sword’s blade glowing a brilliant blue.

“Link?” Harth called, “when’d ya get so tall?”

“It’s Zelda! I’m here to help!”

Harth lowered his bow. “Zelda!” He said, a smile brightening his features despite the mess around him. “You’re alright! We were worried sick—the Gazette said you and Link went missing! Where is he? We could use a fighter right about now!”

“Link is still missing,” Zelda yelled over the snow, “But I’ve come to help in the meantime while I look.”

“We can use all the help we can get. Our feathers are beyond full dealing with all this shit—I mean stuff, sorry Princess—at the moment.”

“Can you please tell me why the hell the village is filled with unaccompanied children?”

“They’re accompanied! Teba is our best fighter!”

“Your daughter is up there!”

Harth winced. “It’s far from ideal, but it’s safest for them there right now! Everyone else is trying to scavenge what harvest we can or beat back the gloom aerocuda from getting too organized. Usually both a once; we’re finding less and less food and more and more aerocuda. I don’t know how much longer we can last like this, Princess. Buildings are collapsing under the weight of the snow, leaving people buried alive in gloom. Aerocuda are everywhere, picking off anyone outside for too long. It’s been a long month.”

Zelda winced. Month. It had taken her a month to get here. What a leader she was. Princess of Light. Laughable.

“You should be inside.”

“Someone has to keep the fire lit,” Harth said with a dark chuckle. “Everyone else is too scared to stay out long enough—I failed to beat back Vah Medo, but at least I can keep a fire goin’.”

Zelda studied Harth’s face. The feathers around his temples and in his down had begun to grow grey. Was that from the blizzard, or had Zelda just never noticed till now?

“You should be inside, Princess,” Harth said. “It ain’t safe out here.”

“I’m looking for Tulin.”

“Oh, great,” Harth said with a groan. “Did the kid run off again? I love Teba, I really do, and Tulin is a good kid, but I swear, he’s gonna get himself killed.” He sat up straighter, putting more wood in the bonfire. “You haven’t been around for it as much as Link, but the little guy has developed a way with wind that puts the adults to shame. They’re calling him a new Revali, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of Rito. Or he will be, if he ever gets his act together. He was using that wind of his to patrol and scout the eye of the blizzard, but after he almost got himself killed in a fight with a colony of aerocuda, he’s been grounded back to the Birdhead.”

“He just wants to help, Harth—”

“And help he can. Back in Rito Village. If I had to guess, I would bet he flew back to his old station with Gesane and Laissa. Usually, when they’d go forage for food, he’d scout to keep an eye on things. They’re up on the mountain as we speak in Hebra South Summit Cave. It’s easy to spot, right off the mountain road, bonfire marking the spot. Find the bonfire, and I bet you’ll find Tulin.”

Zelda nodded. “Of course. Thank you, Harth.”

“Stay warm out there, Princess. Stay warm.”

---

 Sure enough, just half a mile into the freezing, gloomy hell hole that was the blizzard, Zelda found a cave with a bonfire—though, bonfire was a bit generous, as it had been left to shrink under gloomy snow, belching black smoke that burned Zelda’s lungs through the wool as the gloom in the water vapor burned.

The outside of the cave had been barricaded, broken boxes and shattered decayed weapons used to create spikes on the roof of the cave opening, most likely to keep flying monsters out.

Going by the drips of red and trail of feathers, arrow heads buried into the stone walls and frantic Rito tracks leading deeper into the tunnel, the barricade had not worked. Zelda vaulted over a chunk of metal, hissing as it scratched the back of her thigh, cutting through the material of her snow boots, and bolted deeper into the cave system. Signs of a struggle were everywhere—the scrape of claw on stone, the chink of a feather edge against wooded boxes crushed beyond recognition. Blood. Pink and brown feathers littered the cave floor, and Zelda found her speedwalking quickly turning into a run, Fi drawn and ready in her hand.

No, no, no no—

Zelda spun around a corner, moving so fast she almost lost her footing on a patch of ice, and spotted a lump of pink and gray on the floor.

“Laissa!”

The Rito twitched at her name, letting out a soft groan, and Zelda rushed to her side. It was easy to see the blood of talon cuts across her back, cutting deep into her spine, but as Zelda softly, carefully felt the Rito woman’s spine and ribs, she let out a sigh of relief. The boning of Laissa’s leather corset had blocked the depth of the aerocuda’s blows, saving her lower spine and the flesh above her kidneys.

“Could it kill ya to be… a touch… more careful…..” Laissa hissed, flinching under Zelda’s touch. Her eyes drifted to the Master Sword laid beside her head, and the Rito relaxed. “Link…” she murmured, almost dreamily. “You saved me… my hero.”

Zelda said nothing. If it helped the woman to think she was Link then, well, she supposed that was okay. It couldn’t be too unethical, could it?

“I dreamed you came and fought the blizzard…” Laissa said, edges of her words slurring. Zelda slowly cut through the seam of her corset, exposing the back wound fully. Bless the Goddess, it seemed superficial. Not that Zelda knew all that much about Rito anatomy. She’d seen Mipha heal Revali a few times, but other than that, she had no idea. The best thing to do would be to flush out the gloom, right? Zelda screwed open her water canteen and slowly ran the clean water over the gloomy monster’s touch. Laissa hissed and Zelda squeezed her shoulder. Now that the lingering gloom was gone, she could see deep cuts, maybe deep enough for stiches, though Zelda wasn’t sure. Should she take the woman down the mountain to Harth? Zelda opened her aid kit, pulling out a clean rag, and ripped it into strips.

“Sorry,” she signed to Laissa before beginning to pack the three cuts. The Rito let out a wail that shook the cave, and Zelda squeezed her wing. Finally, the bleeding slowed to a stop.

“Where did Tulin and Gesane go?” Zelda signed and Laissa sighed.

“Tulin… took them through a short cut up out the top of the cave.”

Zelda stood, slinging the Laissa’s wing over her shoulder, wincing at the woman’s hiss of pain.

“No… gotta watch the food. Bears.”

“I need to take you down the mountain.”

“Nu-uh. If the food gets taken I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Laissa—”

“Princess, please, put me down.”

Zelda put her down.

“I’ll come right back for you.” Zelda said, kneeling to Laissa’s eyelevel, and Laissa shook her head.

“Light the jar of rhino oil… sitting by the fire. Burns blue. It’s the S.O.S.”

Zelda nodded, squeezing Laissa’s wing tips before snatching up Fi.

Quickly, she doubled back, chucking the jar of oil into the fire so hard it shattered on impact, roaring up a bright toxic blue, before moving deeper into the cave, searching for an upper exit. Finally, the spot, marked by the Rito blood dripping from the wall of the straight up cave exit, was straight above. Shoving her hatred of rock climbing behind her, Zelda slid her fingers into the chipped rock walls and began to climb.

---

Gesane was resting on a rock just outside the cave, out of breath with an open fracture on his upper wing and a fractured leg, but very much alive. Blood dripped from the bone exposed on his wing, but he perked up when Zelda pulled herself out of the cave. He spotted the sword on her back first, waving erratically at her from his hiding spot.

“Link! Link! Over here! I saw the distress fire, have you come to… save… Princess?”

“Just me. Sorry.”

“Did you come with a rescue party?”

Zelda shook her head. “I’m sorry, I only just found Laissa. I stabilized her and then went looking for you and Tulin incase…”

Gesane gave her a wonky smile, half pinched with pain. “We’re alive. Seen better days, but alive. You said Laissa is alright?”

Zelda nodded. “As close as she can be, at the moment. I cleaned and packed her wounds, sent out the S.O.S.”

“Oh, thank Valoo. I was worried sick, but with so many aerocuda, we all knew we couldn’t carry her and escape. She told us to leave, but I never would have forgiven myself if they ate her or something. One of them got my ankle as me and Tulin were running. He flew me up, but got sniped out of the sky, and we fell. He went after them, mad as a keese outta hell. Said something about pay-back. Damn kid.”

“How many aerocuda?” Zelda asked, stomach dropping. Gesane winced.

“At least six.”

“And he went after them? Alone?”

“Like I said, I’ve been worried sick. He few up to that pine tree just a few hundred meters from here at the top of the mountain—if you run, you can probably catch him—”

Zelda was already running.

---

Visibility was little to none—this high up and this close to the eye of the storm, the snow was blood red, smelling of death and rot, fogging up Zelda’s snow goggles. Still, she ran, ignoring her straining breath and burning thighs, just picturing little Tulin, tiny Tulin, Link’s Tulin, tore to pieces on Hebra Mountain’s peak. Bounding another corner, Zelda pulled herself over a boulder until the tree was in sight—as was Tulin, furious but unharmed.

“Stupid monsters!” He screamed into the wind, hovering above the tree. “Give it back!”

“TULIN! GET YOUR FEATHERY BUTT DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Tulin jerked in surprise, glancing down, before dropping into a dive and landing with insulting grace before Zelda.

He crossed his wings.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’d like to ask the same thing!”

“I went to scout with Laissa and Gesane and we were ambushed! By at least twenty aerocuda! Or, well, more like six, but they ambushed us! So I tried to fight them off, but Laissa and Gesane got in the way.”

“You mean they got hurt. You can’t do this by yourself, Tulin. People protect one another. That’s how they stay safe.”

Tulin kicked the snow. “You sound like my dad.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because I was gonna take them down when that rotten monster took my bow! See? That’s the bow-napper!”

 Tulin pointed across the mountain face and, sure enough, six aerocuda circled, the largest of which held a swallow bow in its fangs.

“I’ve got to get it back. Help me out, Zelda? Please?”

Zelda looked between the aerocuda and Tulin. Glancing below her, she could see blue fire and the shadows of Rito medics. She couldn’t let this kid go in by himself, he’d be killed. She needed to find Link, track down where he went, and more importantly, find the stone. The storm was getting worse by the second, and the sage of wind, wherever they were, needed her.

But… Tulin was a teenager. Zelda remembered what that was like being so desperate to prove herself that she would have done anything to gain her father’s approval. Tulin was small, and impulsive, and as skilled as he was, he didn’t have the capability to go against that many monsters alone.

Tulin was asking for help, which sounded like was something he never did. She couldn’t leave him up here to fly into danger alone. She couldn’t.

Zelda drew Fi. The sage of wind could wait. The stone could wait. Right now wasn’t the time for Zelda the Princess, it was time for Zelda the Friend.

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “What do you need me to do?"

Chapter Text

The aerocuda had made a proper, fully-fledged camp atop an outcropping of fallen stone, and that concerned Zelda. Aerocuda weren’t like bokoblins—they were unintelligent and incapable of strategy, instead motivated by food and bloodlust. Superb fliers, with impeccable eyesight that could track prey even in the dead of night, and strong, leathery wings with hollow bones that could outfly most Rito. Revali told her once, in complete confidence and under trust that she wouldn’t go spilling his secrets, that he had modeled the first drafts of his gale off of aerocuda’s intricate wing bones and musculature, taking extensive notes on how the monsters flexed the tenons in their wings to soar. Aerocuda had deadly aim, but they didn’t work together—they were known for fighting over prey and eating each other alive after fights for dominance. For six of them to work together, and then to disarm their prey… the gloom had done more than make the monsters bigger and stronger. It had made them smarter, and that was a truly dangerous thing.

“So, what’s your plan?” Zelda said, watching Tulin glare bitterly across the gap.

“Fly over there, kick their butts, get my bow back!”

“That’s not a plan.”

Tulin sighed, suddenly looking very much his age. “I… I don’t know.” He admitted softly. Zelda knelt in the snow beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re clever. You’ve got me to help—what could a plan be? First, let’s look at our enemy. What do you know?”

Tulin glanced away from Zelda, clicking his beak in thought. “There are six aerocuda—three scouts, and one leader on the ground. It’s big and smart—smarter than other aerocuda. It was able to take advantage of me being distracted to knock me out of that sky. Normal monsters don’t usually do that.”

“Good. So, we know that they can strategize, but we’re smart too. Think carefully. We’re working together; what can we do as a team?”

Tulin squinted across the peak to the monster camp. “You have a sword… Three are in the sky… two on the ground, and then the big one with my bow… I can fly you over to the stone—do you have any icefruit? We can freeze the guys on the ground and I’ll get the bow while you distract any that unfreeze… And then once I have my bow, I’ll fly up and knock the fliers out of the sky for us to finish off together?”

Zelda grinned. “See? Now that is a plan.”

Tulin’s feathers fluffed up at the praise. “… Thanks.” He murmured, and Zelda ruffled his feathers.

“But we do this together, okay? You may not be a little chick, but if we don’t have each other’s backs…”

Tulin nodded. “Right. Together. I can make these huge wind gusts—if ya just tell me where to point the gusts, I’ll make them for you. That way you can glide over to the monsters, okay?”

“Sounds perfect.” Zelda stood, flicking open her paraglider. “Ready? Together, remember?”

“… Together.”

Zelda slipped three icefruit from her pouch. They were freezing to the touch, even through her gloves.

“Ready!”

Zelda took a running jump off the mountain peak, and an icy gust that felt so much like Revali’s magic that her heart ached washed over her, catching her paraglider in open arms and throwing her across the gap, the cradle of the wind both gentle and overwhelming as it ripped the hood from her head and pulled at the folds of her clothes. It was an old friend, a loving parent, a seething storm of rage, all and nothing until she dropped out of the air above the aerocuda. The smallest of the three on the ground—the smallest being used liberally—let out a surprised squeak, and then it was encased in ice as the handful of berries were thrown, exploding on the stone in a shower of powder white sparks, catching the monsters mid cry. Zelda dropped in a roll, scooped herself up, and pried the swallow bow from the largest creature’s frozen jaw, shaking the gloom that dripped from its fangs off her fingers.

“Tulin!”

The teenage Rito was above her in an instant, snatching the bow from her hands with his talons. “Thanks! I’ll get the—”

“Behind you!” Zelda shouted. Tulin squealed in surprise at the massive aerocuda that dropped from high in the sky, drawing his bow and letting a volley of arrows fly. Zelda turned, hearing the creaking groan of the monsters fighting the ice, and plunged the Master Sword into the closest aerocuda. The ice exploded, showering Zelda in frost, and the aerocuda went sprawling across the stone, right into the second one. Above her, Zelda could hear arrow after arrow being pulled, aimed, and fired, along with the shrieks of monsters. Tulin may be many things, but she couldn’t deny he was a fantastic shot.

Zelda lopped off the head of the recovering aerocuda, followed by a strike to the gut on another as it exploded out of the ice, gloom leaking from it, until it was just the largest creature and two remaining in the sky. Tulin landed, back to back with her.

“Ready?” Zelda called.

“Mhm! I’ll pin them, you slice ‘em up when they’re down!”

Zelda beamed behind her mask. Teamwork indeed.

Tulin blasted a gust to the sky, toppling two smaller aerocuda, quickly grounding them with arrows to their wings, and Zelda spun into action. Off came one head, then another, until only the massive aerocuda leader was left. It squealed, rising up into the air and charging, and Tulin caught in between the eyes, sending the monster dropping down to the earth hard, right onto Zelda’s raised blade. Tulin let out an excited chirp, spinning around and taking in the battlefield.

“We did it! We did it!”

“We did it,” Zelda echoed, stressing the ‘we’.

“Huh… we did, didn’t we?” He suddenly grew very quiet, eyes quickly becoming red and wet. “Oh no, Laissa, Gesane, I… I left them behind. I was so mad, and I really thought it could do it myself, and they got hurt because of me!”

Laissa and Gesane—while the injuries hadn’t seemed life-threatening, Laissa had been bleeding for Gods knew how long on that cave floor. Tulin wasn’t wrong—he acted without thinking and let his overestimation of his abilities get the best of him, and it led to his friends’ injuries. But he was also a child, and Zelda wasn’t about to let a child blame himself for his impulses. Zelda knelt beside Tulin.

“Yes, Laissa and Gesane got hurt. I lit the distress fire—they’re safe. This goes to show how important it is to take time to plan and work together. You didn’t mean for anyone to get injured, but your actions… they were irresponsible. You can’t keep going like this, okay? Then something worse might happen, and we can both agree, this was already pretty bad.”

Tears began to drip into Tulin’s feathers and Zelda cursed herself. This wasn’t helping. She wasn’t bad with children—she taught schoolchildren for Goddesses’ sake! —but teenagers were a whole different breed on a good day, let alone during the end of the world. What would she have wanted to hear when she was fourteen?

“I’m proud of you for accepting help,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you for taking the time to plan and work together. I know that wasn’t something you’re used to—you may have made a mistake, but I’m still proud of you.”

Tulin threw his wings around Zelda’s neck, and Zelda squeezed him tightly.

“I’m scared,” he whispered into her ear. “What if the blizzard never stops? What if we run out of food? And the monsters, there’s so many… what if they eat all of us?”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Zelda whispered back. “You just can’t let it paralyze you.”

“How?”

“With friends. The Zora and the Gerudo were facing terrible troubles, but together, King Sidon and Chief Riju and I helped stop it. You can’t do anything alone, not really, but with others? You can do everything.”

“What about Link? Why isn’t he with you?”

Zelda’s stomach twisted hard. “He’s on his own adventure.”

“… Alone?”

Ruta. Naboris. Rauru. Sonia. The woman in white.

“No,” Zelda said, trying to force some belief, some certainty behind the word. “He’s not alone.”

What had happened, Zelda found herself wondering not for the first time, that had made it all go to shit? Ganondorf was a traitor—Zelda needed only to see his magic to be sure, and very sure she was—but he and Link had sparred together and shared tea together. For a moment, the two had seemed downright friendly, Ganondorf giving Link support in his struggles to control his stone. At least until the Calamity came into the picture.

Ganondorf had a stone of his own, right in the center of the diadem he wore mummified below Hyrule Castle. However, the more Zelda dwelled on it, the more the term mummified felt too generous. ‘Mummified’ implied intent, a burial of some kind… no, Ganondorf had been a husk, a shriveled, dried-up thing, more akin to forgotten jerky than a lovingly buried man. The husk had a stone, which Ganondorf didn’t have in the dragon’s memories, meaning sometime between the spars and tea times and Ganondorf’s final stand, the man had gained access to a stone. But from where? Did he take it? Rauru’s hand still had its own stone when they found it, so it couldn’t have been Rauru’s. Did he take Link’s stone? Sonia’s?

Link wouldn’t have let that happen to Sonia. He would stand by his friends until death itself took him. Zelda had seen it happen. She’d felt his heart go still under her hands in his determination to protect those he loved. She shuddered to think what might have happened if her power hadn’t awoken inside her when it did, all those years ago.

She desperately hoped Link didn’t do something so brave and so damn stupid again. There was no Shrine of Resurrection to hold him this time. This life was his only one.

“But I saw him, right before the aerocuda took my bow,” Tulin said, and his certainty frightened her. “He was trying to climb those rocks, those big ones over there, see ‘em?”

Tulin pointed to worn, yellow brick, accented in red and green that littered the mountain before them like sprinkles on a cake. They weren’t from a sky island, nothing like the Zonai stones… where on earth had those come from?

“That’s what made me lose my bow. The aerocuda swarmed me and I was outnumbered-- and then I saw Link and panicked, you know, with him looking like, well, like that. And the big monster knocked me out of the sky, and then Link just walked up to one like it was nothin’ and the storm picked up and he was just gone.”

Zelda swallowed. The Puppet was close. That wasn’t good— she didn’t even have an idea of where the stone could be yet; he couldn’t get to it before her.

“Tulin, we need to get you back to your dad—”

“Aw! Come on!”

“Something very important is about to happen that Teba and I have to talk about—”

Tulin crossed his arms and raised a fluffy brow in what he likely didn’t realize was a perfect replica of his father. “Is it about Link?”

Zelda clenched her fists in uncertain frustration. She didn’t want to lie to Tulin, but this… this was a little too much for a fourteen-year-old. “Kind of.”

“If you can tell Dad, you can tell me!”

“Tulin, please—”

“We just said we were working together—” Tulin froze and straightened, his feathers perking up, clearly straining his amplified ears before whirling around.

“Wait a sec! Hey! Hey Link! Wait!” Tulin cried, shooting up in the air and calling across the snow to the stones higher up the mountain, and Zelda turned so fast her brain rattled in her head. There, far, far up the mountain, struggling to climb, the single arm proving to be a growing hindrance as he clawed at the yellow stone, was the Puppet. With a grunt the thing pulled itself over the cliff, and as the wind shifted, Zelda could suddenly see an arcing wave of yellow stone caught hovering in the air. Zelda swore, tackling Tulin as he began to run across the snow.

“Tulin, don’t!”

“But Link!”

“That’s not Link, Tulin,” Zelda said, panting as she pinned the boy down, “I promise I’ll explain everything, but that isn’t Link!”

Tulin sent her flying with a gust of wind, and when Zelda pulled herself to her feet, Link was gone. Tulin hovered in the air, looking to the now empty line of stones, a look of pure confusion on his face. Suddenly, his head jerked up.

“…Did you hear that?” he asked.  

“Hear what?” Zelda replied. It wouldn’t be all that surprising if he heard something she didn’t, given his Rito ears, but Tulin seemed genuinely unsettled. “Are you okay?”

“… Must have just been… the wind.”

Zelda sighed. “Will you come down? We can talk? Please?”

Tulin clicked his beak, squinting hard at where Link had been. “Will you let me go look for Link if I do?”

Oh God, teenagers were going to be the death of her. “How about this—we talk, and then once you have all the facts, we can make that decision?”

“… I guess that’s alright.” Tulin said. He settled on the gloomy, snowy ground, and Zelda sat next to him.

“I know what caused the Upheaval.” She started, and Tulin’s eyes went wide. He opened his beak, vibrating with intensity, and Zelda held up a hand. “I was there when it happened. Me and Link—we were under Hyrule Castle and found a body. It belonged to the Demon King: a very dangerous man who had been sealed away for Hyrule’s protection. The seal broke, and he woke up.”

“And that’s when the Castle rose, and the blizzard started?”

Zelda nodded.

“So, you and Link are gonna beat him up?”

Zelda couldn’t help her snort. “No, we are not going to ‘beat him up’. Link is far away right now, helping in his own way, and I’ve been looking for special magical gems that will help me defeat the Demon King. They’re called secret stones, and I’ve already found two, see?”

Zelda still wasn’t sure how exactly calling Riju and Sidon’s Vows into existence worked, but she recognized the moment they arrived, Sidon’s river-cool touch and Riju’s electric warmth soothing on her heart. Tulin gasped at the Vows. Riju’s Vow smiled and waved, and Sidon’s bowed.

“But that’s people, not a rock.”

“King Sidon and Chief Riju were chosen by the secret stones to be sages, which is like a… like special friends to help me fight the Demon King. The sage of water and sage of lightning.”

The two Vows nodded, and Tulin gaped at them.

“How do you get chosen by a rock?”

“It’s… complicated. That’s what I need to talk to your dad about. I think the secret stone might choose him next.”

Tulin frowned. “And Link?”

“The Link you saw was made up by the Demon King. He’s looking for the stone, and we have to find it first.”

“Then we should follow him, right? Unless you have a better idea of where to look for the rock.”

Zelda bit back a sarcastic reply on what better idea she had. She would not be riled up by a fourteen-year-old. “Secret stone. And I… don’t really have a better idea. But we need to get back to your dad. Once your safe, we’ll figure it out.”

Tulin picked at a threat on his leg wraps. “How do you know that Dad’s gonna be the next sage?”

“Well—”

Tulin’s head suddenly shot up. He stood, stepping forward slightly in the snow and rising into the air. “It’s Link! Or, the Not-Link,” he hissed at Zelda. “Princess, I can hear him! He’s there—I can hear his footsteps. He’s…. above, and getting higher! He’s running, and, and, shoot, I can’t quite make it out, but he sounds really upset!”

Zelda bit back a swear. She shouldn’t curse in front of kids, but damn it, that thing had really got the head start, didn’t it?

“I know where he’s going,” Tulin said softly. Zelda turned to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“Brave fledgling, bold fledgling… follow the ocean’s trail to the sky… come to me,” Tulin said softly, still hovering, blood-red snowflakes fluttering around him. Zelda froze.

“Who told you that?”

Slowly, Tulin stepped back on the ground, picking at the feather tips of his wings. He made a point to avoid meeting Zelda’s eyes.

“I don’t know. I just… heard it.” He said, voice tiny.

Zelda knelt down to Tulin’s eye level, taking his wings in hand. “Tulin, I need you to be honest with me—have you been hearing a voice lately?”

Tulin nodded, looking anywhere but Zelda, eyes shiny with embarrassment. “For the past couple days. Everyone is so busy, and scared, and I didn’t want to scare them more by telling them I’m going crazy…”

“Oh, Tulin…” Zelda placed a gentle hand on Tulin’s back, pulling him in for a hug. “You aren’t crazy. I promise. You just have a very important decision to make very soon.” She pulled back. Fourteen. Close to the Rito’s coming of age, sixteen, but still a fledgling. A child. How could the sage of wind do that to him? Why not Teba? Why not Teba?

Because Teba had spent the past five years trying and failing to perform Revali’s gale while Tulin flew like no other. Teba might be a leader and a fighter, a father and a Patriarch, but Tulin was the wind. Since when did the universe care about making children fight its wars? The Hero of Time had been ten, the Hero of Minish even younger. The world was cruel, but so was the evil that pushed against it. Tulin was fourteen, and a sage, should he decide to pick up the mantel. What if he chose not to? Hell, what if Teba went and grounded him for it?

If she begged, would the sage of wind choose another, just for her?

“We need to get to that rock,” Tulin said with a sudden, overwhelmingly adult certainty in his voice. “The weird Link, I can hear him, higher and higher in the sky. We gotta get there first! I know where to go! The voice will lead us.”

Zelda swallowed, unsure, and Tulin squeezed her hands. He looked her straight in the eye. “We can do this. We can get the rock and stop the blizzard. We can get there first. We can beat the Demon King. Together.”

Together.

Zelda had held back the incarnation of malice and hatred for a hundred years on her own. Hylia’s blood and Nayru’s love had been inside her, but Zelda had still been alone without the comfort of a kind word or gentle touch as she held back the Beast. She alone had worked tirelessly to unlock her power, spending years in freezing waters without a friendly hand. In those last few weeks, Link had been beside her, but in the end, he had fallen, and she alone had saved them. Zelda, alone.

In the sages’ visions, Link stressed the importance of teamwork, that she would not succeed alone. Without Sidon, the mucktorok and its sludge would still poison Zora’s Domaine. Without Riju, Naboris never would have been freed and the Gerudo never saved from the sand shroud. Without the sages, the Demon King would succeed a second time.

Only together could they succeed.

“Where do we go?” Zelda asked, emotion heavy in her voice, and Tulin beamed at her.

“Follow me!”

Tulin rose into the air with a single, massive pump of his wings and spun across the stone, further up the mountain, blasting snow clumps off the cliff face to make way for handholds to help Zelda grip better. She could see smears of gloom across the stone, handprints of red and black left behind by the Puppet. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it looked like the stone had cut the thing’s palm, leaving behind streaks of gloom instead of blood. Could the thing even bleed? Just how close—or far—from human was it?

Zelda was sure she’d find out soon enough, once she stabbed the Puppet in the face with her fucking sword. The image of Link’s face, crushed and bloody under her hand, made her nauseous, but the idea of punishing it for everything it had done, for daring to take Link’s face and use it to hurt his family, brought her a cruel kind of joy. It was wrong to take pleasure in the suffering of others. That was Ganon-esc behavior. But Zelda was sure that she’d be forgiven if she took just a tad bit of pleasure in the Puppet’s departure from this world.

Tulin tilted his head, peering up into the clouds. Zelda wondered what he was seeing with those impressively clear and precise Rito eyes. Link’s face? She hoped not. She didn’t want any of Tulin’s memories of the man to be tainted by the Demon King’s influence.

“We’re going up.” Tulin said matter of factly “Very high up. The voice said ‘The Stormwind flies inside the eye—to reach it you must fall from above the storm.’ And if the storm is high enough and big enough to blot out the stars, then we’re gonna be doing a lot of climbing.”

“Stormwind… that was the name of the boat, right? In the song?”

Tulin clicked his beak and rolled his eyes. “I think we might need something a little bit more concrete than a song.”

Zelda couldn’t help it. A soft snort slipped out, followed by a laugh she couldn’t hold back, and then pearls of breathless giggles were pouring out of her to a near hysterical degree.

“Zelda…?” Tulin asked, head tilted. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” She wheezed, “I just—I don’t know, it’s not even funny—”

Tulin failed to bite back a smile, and then he was snickering too. Zelda couldn’t seem to stop the laughter—she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed like this. Definitely not since she had woken up on the Great Sky Islands. Her sides hurt, and it was hard to breathe through the wool mask, so with numb fingers, she forced it off, her hair spilling into her eyes as she doubled over.

She’d missed laughing. She hadn’t realized she’d missed laughing. She hadn’t realized how tired she’d been. Not gloom sickness tired, not fighting through muck and sand storms tired, not even tired from constant travel or constant danger. She was tired of feeling alone. Riju and Sidon—their Vows were present, loving, and filled with the desire to protect and care. They themselves had fought elbow to elbow, provided aid and love where Zelda would have been unable to succeed otherwise. They’d saved her life. But there was a loneliness, a Link-shaped hole in her, that she hadn’t let herself acknowledge. Her tears frosted her cheeks as they dripped down.

Link was gone. Fi had said there ‘was no bearer of the Hero’s Spirit’, and Zelda never let herself feel the despair that answer carried, just shoved it aside and insisted otherwise. Link was gone, and Zelda knew he wouldn’t have passed on the Master Sword without a fight.

She needed him. Oh Gods, she was in the middle of a blizzard on a goddamn mountain and she wouldn’t be able to do this without him. Not anymore.

“Princess?” Tulin said softly, hopping forward in a movement so utterly birdlike that it snapped Zelda out of her sobs. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Zelda said, voice wheezy and tight from tears as she wiped her face clean with her mask. Now that the heat of her tears was gone, the water they left behind was beginning to burn under the touch of the icy wind. She pulled the mask back over her head.

“Let’s go. We don’t want him to get a head start, right?”

“Zelda—”

“Tulin. Please.”

Tulin clicked his beak nervously but nodded.

“To the sky?” He said as Zelda buttoned up her mask. She nodded, making sure Fi was secure on her back.

“To the sky.”

---

 The climb was slow going. The cold had left Zelda’s muscles brittle and achy, and each step she took, each inch she pulled herself up, became more and more arduous. The sky was dark this high up, tinged red with gloom, the clouds near purple with the stuff. Every patch of snow that seemed slightly redder than the others sent Zelda spiraling into anxiety. Was that a footprint there? A handprint? A blood trail of gloom? Or just the snow piling up in organic shapes as they rose through the sky? Did the Puppet know they were coming? Was it waiting in ambush, murderous intent smeared across Link’s false face?

Was Tulin safe here?

No. No, he wasn’t, of that Zelda was certain, but as they climbed, she became more and more sure that he wouldn’t be anywhere. Without the sages, the Demon King would never be defeated and the Rito would continue to suffer. Tulin’s family, his friends, his countryman—all would succumb to starvation or monster attacks if the weakness from a month of steadily growing gloom exposure didn’t get to them first. Tulin’s home wasn’t safe; why would that change a thousand feet in the air?

Zelda waved for Tulin to pause as she sat on the edge of a stone. They’d been moving steadily upwards in a winding chain of islands for at least an hour, and every step was getting harder. She couldn’t breathe, and her head was increasingly fuzzy.

Link had gotten gnarly altitude sickness once, back when he first started traveling with her, and escorted her all the way to the Rito to examine Vah Medo. Link had been an experienced knight at the time, but not an adventurer, and had never seen cliffs larger than Lanayru’s, let alone true mountain ranges. A few days in the field left him bedridden, vomiting, and sickly, which Revali had scoffed at.

“You call yourself experienced, yet you don’t even know how to prepare yourself for a little climb? Please. Just wait till you go for a flight and hit the ‘death zone’ for the first time.”

The death zone— a range of altitudes where the presence of oxygen is insufficient to sustain human life for an extended time. Zelda had a feeling that range was fast approaching. She took slow sips of a stamina elixir, the potion viscus with cold. Tulin fluttered down with insulting grace and sat beside her.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Zelda nodded, lying, and Tulin appeared unconvinced.

“If we need to head down—”

Zelda shook her head, too out of breath to waste it on words. Not for the first time, she wished she had Link’s Sheikah slate and the pages and pages of magical element-resisting clothing it had, including his ruby circlet which protected one's lungs from chill and altitude alike, but that was still in Hateno too broken to use because of that stupid diving stunt with Sidon.

She should probably return home to get it once she was done with the Rito, see if Robbie could pick up the pace in fixing it, but the thought of touching it made her feel ill. That was Link’s, not hers. He’d always made that clear, and to take it, even for good use…

That, and she’d have to go to their house to get it. The thought of going through that door to emptiness, an empty kitchen and empty dining room and empty staircase, hurt in a way she couldn’t explain. His hair tie was still downstairs where he left it. The Champion’s leathers were still hidden. She’d never had the chance to give them to him. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t sit and take off her boots and eat a meal at their table, couldn’t wash up with their soaps… couldn’t sleep in their house, in their bed.

They hadn’t shared the bed, at first. Link had insisted she take it while he slept on the floor, much to her discomfort, but the man couldn’t be swayed—at least, not until he woke stiff as a board from nightmares that only she could understand and let her lead him onto the mattress and cocoon him in quilts. The blankets had smelled of detergent and nothing else; he hadn’t spent many nights in Hateno. Stability frightened him. The hero had learned to thrive in the wild.

Nowadays, the pillows smelled of his hair conditioner and aftershave just as much as they did her favorite soaps. It was their home, shared and beloved.

She couldn’t be in that home without him. She couldn’t.

“Princess?” Tulin said softly, and Zelda finished off the elixir.

“I’m fine, Tulin. Just thinking.”

Tulin looked unconvinced as he helped her to her feet, but he dropped the topic nonetheless.

They moved slower after that, though Tulin was kind enough to pretend it wasn’t because of her.

“What does a sage, like, do?” Tulin asked after the next stop. The wind whipped around them like a frenzied dog, and visibility was little to none. Zelda frowned.

“They’re like… like…”

Sage. A clear, feminine voice called to her.  A person venerated for experience, judgment, and wisdom. They serve as protectors and servants of light. In the past, sages have worked with the power gifted to them by other worldly means to seal away great evil, such as in the eras of the Hero of Time and the Hero of Twilight, and in the Other Times, the Hero of Legend and Hero of the Winds.

Zelda’s hand ghosted over Fi’s hilt on her back. The answer was nice, she guessed, but Hero of Winds? Other times?

This sword has seen more than just the passage of this time. I have lived beyond your linear thoughts and understanding and will continue to do so long after your passing.

Zelda frowned. Okay? That was completely unhelpful.

My apologies, Master.

“A sage,” Zelda said to Tulin, turning her thoughts from the sword, “is a person who has special powers that they use to help and protect others.”

“So you’re a sage?”

Zelda opened her mouth and slowly shut it. The Princesses of the royal family had often served as sages. The Sage of Time who fought beside the Hero of Time had been Hyrule’s Princess. Did Zelda not technically meet the definition Fi had granted?

“…I guess?”

“Do you have to be royalty to be one? ‘Cus Sidon’s a prince and Riju is a chief, and you’re a princess, so…”

“I don’t think you do. My history books tell the story of one sage who was simply a little forest girl, and another who was a nanny!”

Tulin made a face. “A nanny?”

“The Sage of Shadow.”

“Huh. What’s Sidon and Riju the sages of?”

“Sidon was passed on the mantle of the sage of water by his ancestors, and Riju the mantle of the sage of lightning by a past Gerudo queen.”

“What sage will I be?”

Zelda choked.

“Because I am one, right?

 “Tuilin…”

“I’ve been hearing this voice, and it talks so weird. Old weird, like from the old books the old Patriarch, Kaneli, used to read—the really, really old ones. And now it’s telling me to find the stone, and you recognize it! You said I have to make a decision, right? I’m not stupid, Zel. Am I the new sage? Because if I am, then I’m making my decision now. The Rito are suffering! All of Hyrule is! And if working together as a sage means I can save them, then I’ll do it! I’ll start right now!”

Zelda sighed. “I—Tulin… I… yes. Yes, I think you might be the next sage of wind. But I don’t know for sure. I can’t be positive, not until we find the old sage.”

Tulin grimaced. “Their body?!”

“No, spirit. Listen, Tulin, this is a bigger deal than you think—”

“I think? I have been here watching people die for a MONTH. Unable to do anything of any real value, fiddling with my feathers as people dropped dead around me. Valoo is GONE, Zelda, the storm ate him! The world is freaking ending! I will help. I’d rather die than let the Demon King keep hurting people.”

Zelda shut her mouth. She hadn’t realized it had fallen open. Tulin flushed.

“I—sorry. That I yelled. Not for what I said, though. I meant it, every word—”

Tulin squeaked as Zelda pulled him into a massive, bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, kiddo, you’re too good for this,” she said into his feathers.

“I’m not! I’m just some kid. There’s nothing ‘special’ about me. There doesn’t have to be. Anyone can save the day, anyone can make a difference. So, who cares if I’m a sage or not? I don’t! I’d help anyways! But if I am a sage… if I have been chosen… then this is proof that this, helping, is more than just something that I want to do. It’s something that I am destined to do. And that’s okay.”

Zelda sat back on her heels and Tulin blotted away a tear she hadn’t realized had been hanging on her lashes. This wasn’t her at fourteen. This wasn’t a Goddess-chosen kid who suffered under the hands of the Gods and was almost crushed by Their weight. This was Tulin, bright, brilliant, passionate Tulin, and she could not make this decision for him.

“Let’s get to the bottom of this first, okay? Then we’ll talk.”

Tulin nodded and helped Zelda to her feet. She wobbled, loosing her breath for a moment, and Tulin squeaked, pulling her back down.

“I’m fine—”

“You can’t breathe!”

“It’s fine—”

Suddenly, a shadow passed over them. It was the third time it had done so, and Zelda had just assumed it was just one of the hundreds of swirling storm clouds, but as she looked up, she couldn’t contain her gasp.

Was that… a boat?

Zelda stood, craning her neck back, and sure enough, there above them was a massive karve, painted yellow, red, and green with intricate details, massive oars, and a strange sail that stretched atop of the ship. It moved with steady speed through the air, rolling on the storm clouds like it would massive waves. What Zelda had thought was the shadow of the storms were the outline of more ships, more, more—

“… Follow the ocean’s trail to the sky. Come to me.” Tulin breathed. “Ocean’s trail… I thought it meant like, I don’t know, winds from the east or something. Not… boats.”

Zelda snorted. “Boats.”

“Boats.” Tulin turned to her, grinning, and rose up into the sky. “Do you think I could carry you? You aren’t that heavy, and I’m a strong flyer.”

“I’m not sure. I’d hate for you to fall.”

 “I’m stronger than I look!”

Zelda bit her lip. Her lungs were burning, and if she kept climbing by the time they reached the Stormwind Ark she might be unable to fight. Before she could ruminate further, she squeaked as Tulin grabbed hold of her snowquill tunic with his talons and took off into the air.

“Tulin! Tulin, I’m going to fall!”

“It’s fine, I carry Link all the time—”

There was a horrible ripping sound, and the beautiful baby blue of the tunic, worn thin by the sizzling gloom snow, tore free at the shoulder. Tulin screamed Zelda’s name, but she was already plummeting. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact as she grew steadily closer to the boat. She struck the sail and… bounced? One moment she was sure she was seconds from a broken spine, and the next she was rocketing into the air. The wind tugged at her, and she opened her paraglider with a fwip. The wind caught under her, yanking her up like she had wings of her own, and Zelda gasped as she broke through the clouds.

Ships. Lines upon lines of ships, massive karve with slowly moving paddles and horizontal sails fluttering violently against the wind, circling around the thickest part of the storm yet. It bulged outward like a bloated belly, backlit with lightning, but far above it, pale golden light shone down. The eye of the storm.

“Wow…” Tulin breathed, suddenly treading air beside her. “If all those boats are bouncy, then you don’t have to climb anymore! We can just jump!”

A crack of lighting cut through the gloom of the stormhead, followed by a massive roll of thunder, and Zelda gasped at what she saw when the light illuminated the stormhead.

The shadow was massive, bigger than anything she’d seen since… since the Divine Beasts were around. A giant warship, with massive sails the size of city squares and pole paddles that were easily the length of ten Rito. It’s creaking and groaning was almost hidden by the wind, but now that Zelda knew what to listen for, the sound of the Stormwind Ark’s was melodic, almost musical. And, underneath it all, was a strange moan that shook the Ark. Zelda recognized the sound. She’d heard it above her at every Sacred Spring, and watched the dragons dance above her with their elegant calls. That was the sound of a dragon.

Revali had believed in Valoo with his whole heart. He treated every aroura borealis with reverence, every holiday with respect, and worshipped the constellation that he claimed was a dragon in the sky. Most Rito these days saw Valoo more as a creation myth, but he had dedicated his craft to Valoo. He’d talked to Zelda about it with a humility she rarely saw from him, a tone of voice reserved for her and her alone. Zelda had respected his faith, though she never quite understood it. Valoo was a splatter of stars across the sky. An origin story to be revered, yes, but little more.

How had the children’s song gone?

When the dragon fell from the sky into winds / / A god brough aid from the heavens / / Fro m his great divine spark brought forth a line of soaring ships and a great ark ?

If the Stormwind Ark was real, what of Valoo? What of the moans echoing across the sky?

Had Valoo fallen to the mercy of the winds, just as He had centuries prior? Or was He pulled this time, dragged down by the Demon King and his gloom?

“Do you hear that?” Tulin asked, drifting closer, and Zelda nodded. “I’ve never heard an animal like that before.”

“That’s not an animal. That’s the call of a dragon.”

Tulin looked to Zelda with wide eyes. “Dragon? Dinraal never flies this high!”

“I don’t think that’s Dinraal.”

Tulin clicked his beak, vibrating with renewed energy. “Me either. Only one way to find out though. Ready?”

Zelda took a deep breath, filling her lungs with as much air as she could. “Ready.”

Tulin sent her sailing to the left with a pump of his wings, and then she was loosening her grip on the handles of the paraglider and plummeting down onto another ship. The canvas sail wrapped around her before flinging her up even higher than the last one, her stomach hovering inside her like gravity was but a suggestion. She couldn’t help the gasp of awe as she looked down. The snow may have been hideously pink and red and purple with gloom, but still, Rito Village was the crown jewel of Hebra, its Brid Head glittering majestically amongst the death and destruction that surrounded it.

“Pretty cool, right?” Tulin called over the wind, readying another gale. “I don’t know how anyone could wanna hurt something so pretty. Everyone says the Zora’s silver or the Gerudo’s gemstones make for a prettier city, but Rito Village really does outshine all of them.”

“It really does,” Zelda said. “It really, really does.”

Soon even Rito Village’s Bird Head was but a speck below them as they circled the Stormwind Ark, alternating between plummeting down onto ships and soaring higher and higher, propelled by the massive sails. Whomever had build the ship hadn’t been Rito, or at least had been working with someone who wasn’t. Why else bother with making a way for those without wings to get inside? Again Zelda was reminded of the Zonai and the Stormwind’s song, of the story of Valoo disappearing and being saved by someone descended from the heavens. Had Rauru saved Valoo, all those years ago? Another Zonai? Had there been many Zonai other than Rauru and the other one in the dragon’s visions—what was her name? Mineru?

Maybe the sage of wind would know more and would be able to answer her questions. She hoped whoever they turned out to be, they were as kind as Naboris and Ruta had been, but provided far more answers. Ruta had seemed to be almost… outside the circle of knowledge when it came to the full story, and Nabrois had been filled with grief, unwilling to tell any more than she had to. Who had the Demon King—had Ganondorf—been to her? Had he put the painful mix of grief and love on her face? Link had seemed close to her, or at least closer than Ruta. Zelda wondered if the sage of wind was even closer to him than the pervious two. She didn’t know if that would be a better or worse thing to find.

Finally, the largest ship of all sent Zelda soaring higher than any of the others hand, and for the first time in days, Zelda saw the sun. The churning storm sat below them, a sea of red-black-purple clouds and swirling snow, so thick that it resembled an ocean more than the sky. But up here, the sky was clear and the air was still. Zelda’s lungs still ached, but she felt a sudden strength begin to slowly fill her the longer she hovered about the storm head. It was the absence of gloom, she realized. Her body was relishing finally being free of the stuff.

This high up, the sun was frosted, it’s light frigid, but Zelda felt almost… at peace. She wanted to linger, wanted to soak up the sunlight like a starved sundelion after spending far too long away from daylight. Tulin glided around her, hovering with greater ease now that the winds were quiet.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed the sun,” He said, and Zelda smiled.

“Then we best make sure we bring it back soon.”

Tulin nodded, but he seemed almost absentminded.

“What do you think the sage will be like?”

“Kind,” Zelda said after a moment of thought, “And brave. Like you.”

Tulin’s feathers fluffed. “Then we better go meet them, right?” He pulled his wings against his body, and then he was diving down, down, down into the heart of the storm. Zelda took in one last breath of untainted sunshine, and dove.

---

The Legendary Stormwind Ark was more than a boat. It was practically a city above the clouds, truly an ark, with two figure heads of bowed birds and long rows of oars that stroked the air, pulling the ark in circles, the structure bucking and swaying with the wind. Icicles and snow covered every surface, but it was clean and white, free of gloom. It was all yellow stone and green and red detailing, and the organic curves and swirls reminded her of ancient Rito relics that had ones been housed in the Great Shrine of Hebra, a building that had served as part veneration shrine, part museum, and part cultural center deep in the heart of Rito country before it was blasted to rubble by guardians and Vah Medo alike when the Calamity struck. Revali had frequented the shrine, engrossed in stories of his history. Had situations been different, he might have even served there once he grew too old to draw a bow. But situations hadn’t been different. Revali had been murdered, and the shrine destroyed, so much of Rito history and langue lost with it. Maybe, whenever this was over, they could bring others up to the Stormwind Ark as a way of reintroducing lost Rito history.

Revali would have liked that.

The ark shuddered as a moan ripped through the air, before thrashing violently side to side. Tulin landed gracefully on the deck of the arc, and Zelda floated down beside him, snapping her paraglider open at the last second, only to almost immediately loose her balance as the deck floor rumbled beneath them. Something was underneath them, trying desperately to get out. The moan came again, this time quickly swallowed by an earsplitting screech, something so unbelievably othering that Zelda couldn’t even put a name to it.

Tulin took a hesitant step forwards. “So this was what was waiting for us in that big storm head? Wicked.”

He turned in an awed circle, wide eyes soaking in the carved stone and elegant curves. In the center of the deck was a massive metal hinged gate, held shut by gears and locks that rattled as massive gusts of air tried hopelessly to rip the gate open. And there, shining deep below deck, barely visible through the gate, was a glowing green light.

The secret stone of wind. They were close, so, so close.

“It’s really the Stormwind Ark from the kids’ song! Can you believe it? Some dumb song from a gazillion years ago told by a bunch of fledglings, completely true!”

Suddenly, the gate let out a screaming squeal of protesting metal and Zelda and Tulin jerked towards the center of the deck. There was an arch of stone, lit up the familiar green of the Zonai, and, down on one knee as he tried to pry open the Zonai controls, was ‘Link’.

“Hey!” Tulin shouted, puffing up, and Zelda had to grab him to stop him from charging the puppet. It glanced over its shoulder with wild eyes, but before it could do much else, the gate screamed again, wind so strong that it was near visible pouring out from the gaps and rattling the whole ark. The snow on the deck rose with a furious flurry, obscuring everything from view, and the otherworldly screech from before came again, almost, but not quite, drowning out the dragon’s moan.

When the snow settled and the wind died down, Link was gone.

“Well, we must be in the right place,” Tulin said bitterly, marching up to the Zonai arch. “Any idea what this thing is?”

Zelda nodded, and with a flicker of magic, Nayru’s touch noticeably missing, activated the archway. The gate groaned, this time from trying to slide open, the gears crunching and straining, but it failed to open even a sliver.

“I’ll bet ‘cha twenty rupees that the source of the storm and your stone are down there. Probably the dragon too. I bet we open it, and we’ll find everything we need. The question is just how to get everything unlocked…”

He knelt by the gate and pulled on a gear. It didn’t even creak under his touch, though if that was due to the locks or Tulin’s teenage strength, Zelda wasn’t sure. Suddenly, he perked up, head jerking upwards and glancing around wildly.

“The voice! The sage! I heard it again! They said their were five locks securing the hatch-gate-thingy, and that once we activate them and open the gate, we’ll find them!”

Not unlike the other temples then. That was good to know. Tulin’s beak was curved into the slightest of smiles.

“… They called me brave,” He said softly, and Zelda couldn’t help but smile.

“You are brave, kiddo.”

Tulin straightened up. “Maybe so. But that’s not the important thing right now! We gotta find those locks!!”

Zelda squeezed his shoulder. “Then, let’s get to work.”

---

Zelda wasn’t sure what was more surprising. How fast they were finding locks, which had proven to be strange wind tunnels propelled open by Tulin’s gusts, or how lived in the Stormwind Ark seemed to be. There were life boats tethered to the edge of the boats, turret cannons searching the skies, armories filled with both Zonai and Rito weapons, all speaking of the ark being used in a time of crisis, yes, but also washrooms, dinning halls, sleeping quarters, a captain’s deck! It seemed each time they opened a door they found more snapshots of a time long past. The ark was tidy, clearly decommissioned with care and according to protocol, but every once and a while, a piece of personality would be found. A forgotten bead for braiding under a bunk in the barracks. A sock left to collect dust in the washroom. Arrows left behind in the below deck archery range. Pots and pans still in the kitchen cupboards. The captain’s quarters proved the most interesting. Maps were pinned to the walls, showing the topography of a Hebra very different from the one Zelda knew. A stylus and writing pat were found in a desk, notes still unerased on it, written in Rito so ancient that Zelda was sure there were none alive left who could understand it. The bed might have been stripped of a mattress and sheets, but a book had slid between it and the wall, a bookmark made of strange material still left inside. The book was mostly illegible, save for the couple embracing on the cover. A romance novel.

“Look what I found,” Zelda said with a smirk, holding it out to Tulin. The teen faked a gag.

“Gross.”

“Hey, who knows, you might find it less gross soon!”

“Ugh, never!”

Zelda took back the book. “That’s okay, too. Some people never find themselves interested in all that, no matter how old they get.”

Tulin sighed. “Yeah, right. Dad keeps talking about how he met Ma when he was even younger than me and it was ‘love at first sight.’”

“Want to know a secret?” Zelda said, carefully placing the book and writing pad into the Purah pad for safe keeping. “The Champion Revali never dated anybody.”

“No one?”

“Nope. No girlfriend, no boyfriend, no partner. He said he was too busy, but mostly he just didn’t feel it was important to him. He was plenty happy with friends.”

“Were you friends? Dad asks Link about Champion Revali a lot and he always makes this funny face and changes the subject. I don’t think Link liked him very much, and it makes Dad get all puffed up.”

“We were friends. Link and Revali didn’t get a long most times, but they had a mutual respect, towards the… the end. You don’t have to get along all the time to care about someone. But Revali and I… He wasn’t my best friend, but I was his. It…” She paused, trying to figure out how to word the heavy emotions thinking of the Champions brought in a way that wouldn’t be too overwhelming for a fourteen-year-old. “It was an unequal relationship, and I regret that deeply. I wish I had been a better friend. I wish I had listened more. I wish I hadn’t taken him for granted.”

Tulin nodded. “You didn’t see the friend you had until it was too late.”

“I—yes. Exactly.”

“I can’t speak for the dead, but I think that if Champion Revali were still around, he’d be very proud of you. Just so you know.”

Zelda swallowed, pushing back something alarmingly close to tears. “If Revali was still here, I think he would be honored to have someone like you save the Rito. Though, I suppose for him, anyone would be better than Link doing it again.”

Tulin laughed, and with a gust of his gale, the lock nestled against the rudder steering wheel was forced open. Tulin bounced up and down on his talons, shaking out his wings.

“Time to go open that hatch. Ready?”

Zelda plastered on a smile. Not really, not when thoughts of Revali still weighted so heavy on her heart, but it was now or never. The sage of wind needed her. The Rito needed her. Tulin needed her.

Link, wherever (whenever) he was, needed her. Time to go kick whatever creature thrashed below deck’s ass.

---

The gate groaned under the explosive thrashing of the creature below deck, the lack of locks allowing for more and more give in the metal. Zelda steadied herself as they approached, and kept a hand of Fi’s hilt as she touched the Zonai archway. It chimed cheerfully, a thoroughly inappropriate sound for the situation they were in, and with a squeal of metal on metal, the hatch opened.

The sudden rush of wind was explosive. It was as if someone had set off a bomb, only instead of shrapnel there were gale force winds so strong you could see the very movements in the air. The entire ship seemed to rip itself into pieces, snow and ice flaring up like monsters with minds of their own, and suddenly Zelda was air born. Tulin yelped as the wind ripped him away from her and high, high into the air. Zelda panicked, waiting for the drop as she scrambled for her paraglider, but the wind was so strong that it held her up without the wood and canvas, whipping her from side to side like a hunting hound shaking a fox. Below them, something boiled. It flailed and writhed, grey as a storm cloud and sharp as steel, before bursting out from below deck and into the sky.

Zelda had spent a century holding back the might of the Calamity. She’d exterminated the Dark Beast. She knew what a mighty monster looked like—this creature was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It churned as if it’s spiky angular body was made of the storm head itself, taller than any mountain, with insect like pincers framing a massive skull with beady eyes. The body looked deceptively flimsy but Zelda was sure its exoskeleton was stronger than steel. It arched its body as it burst into the sky, exposing three stomachs (maybe? Zelda wasn’t quite sure what they were) covered in spikes and hard, boney plates.

How the fuck was she supposed to stab a flying monster?

“That thing must be what’s causing the blizzard!” Tulin screamed, barely audible over the wind. “We gotta take it down somehow! Don’t you have that fancy bow? Bow of bright? Link mentioned it once or twice.”

Zelda nodded, not bothering to try and be heard over the howling of the monster. She closed her eyes and dipped deep inside herself, burying down into the place behind her heart, and pulled. She waited for the wellspring of golden Power to bubble forth, hers for the taking and molding into the bow of light, but the Power did not come. Her eyes flew open. The Triforce—it was there, dimly, but unresponsive, far away, impossible to reach.

That holy bastard! It was one thing to ignore her in shrines and give her a cold shoulder, but Zelda needed the bow of light if she had any hope to take down this creature. She needed that Power, she needed the Triforce—Nayru couldn’t just keep it from her, not when it could lead to her failure! What was this supposed to be, some cruel idea of teaching her a lesson? How dare She!

“Zelda?” Tulin asked, and Zelda shook her head.

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“The bow—I can’t reach it!”

Tulin nodded, surprisingly calm. “That’s okay. I’ll take it down.”

“You absolutely cannot do that by yourself.”

“Maybe. But I have to try!”

The creature screamed, twisting its too thin, spindly body, and Tulin drew his bow and dived.

“Tulin, don’t!” Zelda screamed, but the teen was already dropping faster and faster, letting arrows fly as he wove around the creature, fighting the bitter winds. Again, Zelda reached for the bow of light, and again, she found herself lacking. Curse the Gods, curse Nayru, curse all of Them!

The creature whipped the lower half of its body forward, sending out a whirlwind of tornados, and Tulin wove between them, narrowly avoiding being batted about by the winds. The creature angled its back towards Tulin, whipping out its tail again, and the spikes across its back jerked forward like a giant, rabid porcupine. Tulin scrambled to reorient himself, but the spikes were too big, too fast—one came barreling into him, knocking the air from his lungs, and Tulin plummeted a dozen feet before being caught by a tornado and flung back up like a child throwing a broken toy in the air just to see the sound it would make when it came crashing to the ground.

“NO!”

Zelda pulled her arms close to her body and sucked in air as she nosedived. There was no way to combat the wind without wings herself, but she tried to keep steady as she dove for Tulin with grit teeth. She had to reach him, she had to. The monster turned to her, knocking Tulin to the side in the process, and the space on its back above its stomach was visible. It had exposed a gleaming purple membrane when it ejected its spiked scales, and Zelda had a sudden, completely mad idea. But right now, a mad idea was better than no idea. She pulled out of her dive, pushing with the wind to pull her closer to the creature before tilting herself back down into a swan dive and, which as much speed as she could achieve with the wind batting her about, plunged straight into the membrane. It shattered like ice, spewing gloomy mucus and frozen blood, and Zelda couldn’t help but laugh as the thing screamed, writhing in pain. Bow of light her ass! She didn’t need Nayru’s help! She could do this. She could.

Tulin, having recuperated, flew up beside her as she flicked out her paraglider.

“That was amazing!” He called, and Zelda grinned.

“The stomach-back thing is the weak point. If we can get the scales of the rest of the areas, we can shatter it and bring this thing down!”

“I’ll fly close and get it to fire the spikes—you hang up top and dive once the area is exposed.”

“Fantastic plan, Tulin,” Zelda said and Tulin preened.

“Teamwork, right?”

“Teamwork.”

Tulin drew his bow again and ducked down, soaring close and tight to the monster while Zelda let the winds whip her higher and higher. Sure enough, the creature let loose a volley of spikey scales, exposing the membrane, and once again, Zelda dove. It was easy to rip through the frozen purple mucus, and Tulin shot her a thumbs up, grinning, as she took to the sky again. One more to go.

Up. Wait for Tulin. Angle her body. Pull in for the dive—

CRRRISHHHHHHK

The final stomach membrane exploded outwards, icy gloom and exoskeleton raining down onto the Ark below, and the monster bellowed. Its exoskeleton began to crack, the stomachs no longer supporting it, and slowly at first, then all at once, the monster cracked like ice under a heavy weight, breaking into smaller and smaller pieces and melting away into gloom vapors that fizzled away in the wind. The monster shuddered once, and then was no more.

The winds quieted, allowing Zelda to slowly drift downwards on her paraglider. The snow and sleet was no longer cutting, just a gentle drift, before fading away all together. The sky was clear, peaceful.

Hebra had been a stain of red ever since Zelda arrived, and Rito Village’s gloom cover had been visible even from the sky, but as Zelda gently landed on the deck of the Stormwind Ark, the red began to evaporate, replaced by pure white. It would take time for the snow to melt naturally, but the gloom was gone.

Tulin landed beside Zelda and crept forward to the hatch, peering inside. There was a gentle moan, the tale tell call of a dragon and slowly, a ribbon of red scales rose out from below deck. The dragon unfurled itself, exposing a scarlet body with white accents, letting out a thankful sound as it rose into the sky. It circled the ark once, twice, each movement shining on its scales like the very borealis was written into its skin. It unfurled a clawed hand, and a small stone fell free, right at Tulin’s feet.

“Holy crow…” Tulin breathed, craning his neck to watch Valoo climb higher and higher into the sky, until he was but a constellation amongst the clouds. He managed to tear his eyes away and kneel down to touch the stone. A gentle voice laughed from behind them.

“Holy ‘crow’—is that something amongst the youth these days? Though I very much agree. Valoo tends to have that effect on people.”

Tulin spun, wing on his bow, but his eyes were wide with awe.

“I know you—you’re the voice!”

The Rito man smiled. He was the tallest Rito Zelda had ever seen, with a white chest and black-grey wings. He was dressed with simple elegance, his white and gold scarf tied delicately to his goal pauldron, and had golden piercings littering the thin skin of his face and harsh bone of his beak.

“My name is Medoh. I am your ancestor from a time long past, and was once the Patriarch of the Rito during the uniting of Hyrule.” He looked to Valoo’s stars above them, face melancholy. “I pray He’ll forgive me for putting Him in such danger. The Zonai came to our aid the first time Valoo was taken by an evil spirit, you know. King Rauru of the Zonai saved His life, and the Rito as well. We were indebted to him. Valoo gladly took the role of protector of the stone to help return the favor. And now look where that has gotten Him… thank you, Tulin, my brave fledgling, for freeing him.”

Tulin snapped his awed beak shut, quickly fixing his posture. “You’re the sage of wind, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Which means I really am a sage.”

Medoh’s smile was sad. “It is a mighty task.”

“I’ll take it gladly.”

“I knew you would.” He turned to Zelda. “What do you know of the Demon King?”

Zelda stepped forward. “He was once a Gerudo King named Ganondorf and claimed to be an ally of Hyrule, but he betrayed you all. He somehow gained the power of a secret stone and attacked Hyrule. You and the other sages failed to hold him back, so Rauru was forced to sacrifice himself to stop the Demon King.”

“An oversimplification, but we haven’t the time for lengthy history lessons…” Medoh said. “This monster you defeated was summoned to kill Valoo so his puppet might take the secret stone. Tulin, you must understand, the stone you hold in your wing gifts a power like no other. When the Demon King took a stone for himself, he was able to rip the world to pieces. He can do far more than summon monsters and snow storms, but I know that with this and your companions, you are more than equipped to stop him. I have watched your bloodline for more centuries than you could imagine. Where you go, the winds follow. Your heart is brave, your mind clever, and your spirit true. You truly are the pride of the Rito—"

“I’m just a kid, Mr. Medoh, sir. Doing what’s right doesn’t make me special.”

“Words like that are exactly why you are special. No one could be more deserving of my stone.”

Tulin feathers puffed up and he looked hard at the stone in his wing. Medoh turned to Zelda.

“And you, Princess… Link spoke highly of you. I hope he was right to do so.”

“Did all the sages know Link?” Zelda asked, and Medoh nodded.

“He was a trusted ally. I mourn the decisions he made, but I understand them.”

The more Medoh spoke, the more his words seemed to twist and flutter through the air, the ark becoming hazier and hazier, until Zelda wasn’t standing on the ark at all. It was a medical ward of some kind, and Medoh’s face and wing were heavily bandaged, his face sour as he glared at the wall. Quiet foodsteps came from down the hall, followed by a gentle knock.

“It’s open,” Medoh rasped, and the door opened to reveal Link and the woman in white.

“Oh. You two. Has Mineru finished yelling at you yet?”

Link grimaced.

“That’s unimportant. We’ve come to discuss the future,” the woman in white said, and Medoh nodded.

“Of course, you have, High Priestess.”

The woman—the High Priestess—looked pointedly at Link, who looked like he might fall over any second.

“The Demon King will return,” She said, “the magic holding him will be undone. When that time comes, Zelda, the Princess of Light, will oppose him. To triumph, she will need the aid of the sage of wind once more. When the time comes, will you pledge the support of the Rito once more?”

Medoh’s eyes were dark. “I will gladly pledge any support if it means Ganondorf will be unable to hurt anyone ever again. When the seal is broken, I promise I will find a sage to guide her. You have my word.”

“Thank you.”

The High Priestess turned, and Link looked at Medoh with wide, sad eyes.

“I know my part,” Medoh said. “I’m sure Link has made up his mind, regardless of what the rest of us think about it. The question of the hour is what you intend to do, High Priestess. Since you seem so keen on bossing everyone around.”

“You’re in pain. I will not hold your unkind words against you.”

Medoh scoffed. “Of course.”

“I will be waiting,” The High Priestess said. “Her Majesty will need a guide. I shall be waiting for her, for as long as it takes, here at the Great Temple of Hylia. You are not the only one with a duty to fulfill. Her Majesty was the best of us. Queen Sonia… Sonnie was the best of us. If waiting a millennia brings her justice, then I will gladly wait.”

 Medoh’s eyes were unreadable, but he nodded slowly. “Very well.”

“T-E-L-L  H-E-R” Link finger spelt with his one good hand, and Medoh perked up.

“Her?”

“Z-E-L-D-A. T-E-L-L  W-H-E-R-E  W-A-I-T-I-N-G.” He moved his hand across his chest in a clear ‘please’. Gods, he looked so tired.

Medoh sucked in a breath. “I will. You have my word.”

The vision flickered and faded, and Zelda blinked once, twice, three times. In front of her, Medoh was talking lowly to Tulin, who had stars in his eyes. The Rito Patriarch stopped speaking, inclining his head to Zelda.

“Do you understand?” Medoh said softly, looking Zelda dead in the eyes. “The Great Temple of Hylia. She waits for you, just as she always has. It has been so long, though I wish we would have had longer. Please, do not keep her waiting.”

Zelda nodded. “I understand.”

“Brave fledgling,” Medoh said, turning back to Tulin. I pray you decide to uphold my promise.”

And then he was gone, no one on the ark but Zelda and Tulin. The wind was still and quiet. The sky was bright. The snow was white and clean. Tulin’s head whipped around, but Zelda knew Medoh was gone and that he would not be coming back. Tulin looked down at the stone in his hand, glowing green.

“Tulin? Are you okay?” Zelda asked, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tulin squeezed the sacred stone tight.

“So I do have a destiny… it’s my destiny to fight the Demon King beside you!” He looked up at her, eyes shining. “Zelda! This is so, SO amazing!!” Tulin pulled her into a massive hug, squeezing her so tight Zelda swore her ribs creaked.

“I can’t believe my ancestor gave me such an important mission! I get to get to fight along side you! If we don’t do anything, the world’s gonna be in big trouble—I can’t let that happen. But you and me, together, we can stop him! And Riju, and Sidon! We’re gonna kick his ass!! Alright, Medoh, I happily accept your secret stone.”

Tulin bounded back and secured the stone to the wrapping on his talons, watching it glint and glitter in the light with ecstatic interest.

“I am the sage of wind! Look what I can do now! To make sure you’re never alone!”

Tulin’s feathers rippled at the strong wind he conjured, and up out of the gale came a Vow, green and glittering, smelling of pine trees and freshly fallen snow. It landed deftly, grinning, before taking to the sky again and climbing higher and higher, so high Zelda could barely see it, and then divebombing down before disappearing into a gentle breeze, tousling Zelda’s hair. She could feel it in her chest, beside Riju and Sidon, and it brought happy tears to Zelda’s eyes. This time, it was she who crushed Tulin in a hug.

“I, Tulin of the Rito, swear now to fight by your side until the end,” Tulin said, throwing his wings around her neck.

“I, Zelda of Hyrule, accept your Vow.” Zelda replied, and then she was laughing for the second time today, only this time it was a light, bright laughter, unaccompanied by tears.

“You can call on my power anytime, alright?”

Zelda pulled away from him.

“I will. I promise.”

Tulin took her hand and pulled her to the edge of the ark. The sky was so clear that she could see the Bird Head of Rito Village perfectly. The snow still lingered, but it was beautifully clean. Zelda was willing the bet the massive, mutated aerocuda were gone with the gloom. The Rito might not be fully out of the woods, but they were safe.

“Now let’s head back to the village—I gotta tell Dad!” Tulin said, bouncing slightly, and Zelda grinned.

“I’m sure Teba will be so proud.”

And then she was diving over the edge of the Stormwind Ark, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. The Great Temple of Hylia might have been forgotten after the Calamity, but Zelda had spent enough of her childhood praying at it’s giant Goddess statue to know exactly where that was—the Tanagar Canyon, decrepit and falling to pieces, but not destroyed. Yes, the Forgotten Temple was crumbling, but far from destroyed. And now, the Temple could make up for all the suffering it had caused Zelda for seventeen years. Zelda had questions, and now a way to solve them. The High Priestess was waiting for her with answers.

Zelda was more than ready to go get them.

Chapter Text

The Bird Head was white, the ice no longer a dreadful, dingy black, the snow no longer swirling pink in the sky or red as blood on the ground. No, the Bird Head was white, as was the snow, and Tulin wouldn’t stop talking.

“And then you were like BANG through that thing and I was like, pew-pew-pew and that thing—‘cus you saw that thing right?—it just exploooooded and—”

“Tulin, I was there,” Zelda said, more than a little exhausted but still amused by the Rito’s excitement.

Tulin’s feathers fluffed and Zelda let out a silent sigh of relief as they touched down on Revali’s Landing. A swarm of Rito—including adults, thank the Goddess—had taken over the platform, children weaving through the crowd to tackle parents and loved ones into hugs, crying into feathers as laughter bounced through the air, replacing the bitter quiet that had consumed Rito Village just hours earlier.

“TULIN!” a feminine voice screamed—it was Saki, pushing through the crowd. The pink Rito was as puffed up as a fledgling from worry as she snatched Tulin up and squeezed him to her chest. “Oh, Tulin, I’ve been worried sick! Princess Zelda, you—”

“I promised I’d bring him right home, and I didn’t,” Zelda said, head up and prepared for the lecture she was about to receive. Saki was a good, kind woman, but an overprotective mother, and Zelda had no doubt she must be furious. “But things have become more complicated—”

“Complicated how?” Teba asked, appearing behind his wife. His wing was clean of blood and wrapped in a sling, and the exhaustion on him was more obvious against the white snow than it had been in the gloom, but his beak was quirked in a smile. “Am I right to assume that this is your doing, Princess?”

“More so your son,” Zelda said, resting a hand on Tulin’s shoulder. “You should be very proud.”

“Should I?” Teba raised a fluffy brow and Tulin puffed out his chest.

“Yeah, Dad! …But uh… Zelda is right, things are a bit bigger than gloom snow now.”

Teba nodded, placing his wing over Zelda’s hand on Tulin’s shoulder. “I’m ready to listen when you’re ready to tell me.”

“Well… I’m ready, now.” Tulin said, sounding more nervous than he probably realized, shaking off Zelda and Teba’s grip, taking his parent’s wings in his own, and pulling them further up the steps of the landing. “Come on, Dad, Ma, let’s talk somewhere quieter.”

“Oh?” Teba said, tilting his head and Zelda nodded.

“I think getting all of this out in the air as quickly as possible would be best,” Zelda said, and Teba clicked his beak.

“In that case, son, lead on.”

Tulin led the three of them up into a back alleyway with a glorious view of the skyline and, high above them, moving in lazy circles high in the sky, was the Stormwind Ark. Tulin turned to Zelda and his parents, wings on his hips, beak jutted out, and said, “Valoo is free. Zelda and I freed him, up on the Stormwind Ark, where we met the sage of wind, Medoh. He passed on his secret rock—”

“—Stone—”

“Secret rock, secret stone, whatever. Anyways, he passed on his secret rock and now I’m the sage. And we fought a giant monster—”

Saki eyes were wide and glassy with concern. “Monsters? Sages? Darling, please, slow down—”

“It’s the Calamity again, isn’t it? Princess, is it back?” Teba said, whirling around to face Zelda.

“Teba, with the most respect due, Tulin has more than proved himself during all this. Listen to him, not me.” Zelda answered, and Tulin preened under the praise.

“Like I said, we fought a giant monster, and stopped the Demon King from hurting Valoo and the Village any longer! So. Yeah.”

Saki yanked her son to her breast. “Demon Kings? What have you gotten yourself into?”

“It’s the Upheaval, Ma. The Demon King started it! He wants to control the world, but a really, really long time ago, these sages sealed him away with their special rocks—”

“Secret stones—”

“And I am one! I’m a sage, Dad, look what I can do!”

With a sudden gleeful cry, Tulin leapt from his mother’s wings and jumped into the air. There was a bright flash before a cerulean copy of him fluttered free from his feathers, swirling around the four of them with its own silent giggle. Tulin’s Vow. Saki’s jaw dropped, and Teba’s eyes went wide as the Vow soared straight up, spun with a wide flourish of its wings, and nosedived, pulling up in the last second and landing with a laugh in a pile of snow. It flickered out of sight in a flutter of feathers, and Teba sank down to the wooden floor.

“Okay.” He said softly. “Okay. So. This is all very real then?”

Zelda nodded, and Tulin gently landed with impossible grace before his mother and father.

“We did it, Dad, Ma. We stopped the blizzard. We freed Valoo. And we’re gonna stop the Upheaval—together!”

“And Link, how does he tie into this?”

Tulin opened his beak, likely to spill all there was to know about the Puppet and the Link they saw in the past, but Zelda beat him to it.

“He was taken during the Upheaval. I’m still searching,” she said. Teba didn’t need to know the intimate details. Not yet, anyways.

“Hm.” Teba said, looking unconvinced, but he let the topic drop. “Saki, Tulin and the Princess must be exhausted. Why don’t you and Tulin go make some warm safflina milk? I’d like to speak with the Princess.”

“But—” Tulin started, and Teba knelt to his level.

“It’s politics, son. You’d be bored out of your mind.” He said, and Tulin made a face.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his wings. “Go talk politics.”

Teba laughed, and Saki gave an uncomfortable chuckle as well, before steering her son down to their roost. Teba watched them round the corner and waited exactly one minute, before turning to Zelda.

“So, it’s not the Calamity?”

Zelda shook her head. “…Worse.”

“Shit.”

“Link and I, we were at the start of the Upheaval—I’m beginning to fear we caused it. We went under Hyrule Castle to investigate the gloom—”

“That’s what the Gazette said. That you went to investigate, and then the castle rose and you two vanished.”

“We found a mummy deep under the castle. It was the body of the Demon King, who had been sealed away hundreds of thousands of years ago by Hyrule’s first king. He shattered the Master Sword, and Link vanished, and I woke up in the sky only to meet a ghost. He told me of the secret stones that five sages had used in battle to seal the Demon, and that they had been scattered across Hyrule, waiting for the next generation of sages to take them up and defeat the Demon King once and for all.”

“…And Tulin?” Teba asked, his voice tight. Zelda had never heard him sound so unsure before.

“Yes. He has taken up the stone and become the new sage of wind.”

“Fuck.” Teba buried his face in his wings. “He’s so small, Princess, he can’t do this—”

“I won’t pretend that his age doesn’t concern me. But you should have seen him up there, Teba. The monster he fought. The way he flew up there. He saved Valoo—honest to Gods, saved the star dragon. I didn’t even think He existed, and Tulin gave it his all to protect Him and ensure His freedom. Your son is a hero, Teba. A genuine hero.”

Teba swallowed, then sighed, a deep sigh that sagged his whole body.

“He won’t stay a chicklet forever, will he?”

“After all of that up there on the ark… I don’t think that’s a possibility anymore.”

Teba clicked his beak, and Zelda was struck by the sudden urge to hug him. So, she did. She wrapped her arms around the giant bird’s middle and squeezed him gently.

“I know this is fucked up,” She said softly, “but we have to trust him.”

“Link,” Teba said suddenly, pulling back. “He’s more than missing, isn’t he?”

“I—yes.”

“I figured as much. He wouldn’t leave during all of this and, forgive me for saying so, Princess, I do not see him giving you that blade willingly. You have to find him. You have to protect the both of them, alright? Tulin and Link. I’m trusting you with my sons—promise me you’ll protect them.”

Zelda’s breath caught in her throat. She knew Link was close to Teba and his family, had always had a suspicion it was more than a mentor-pupil relationship, but hearing it out loud, having her suspicions confirmed while Link was so very far from home…

“There is no bearer of the Hero’s Spirit...” Fi had said, “He named me yours, just as I now name you: my Master”

No, Link wouldn’t part with Fi unless things were truly dire, wouldn’t have trusted a dragon of all things with her if he didn’t see no other option.

“I’ll protect them,” Zelda said. “The both of them. I’ll bring them home.”

 For a moment, Zelda felt a flush of shame, making promises she was not sure she could keep. She quickly shoved the thought aside. She would bring Teba’s sons home. She would. No matter the personal cost, she would protect everyone. Tulin, Riju, Sidon, Link—she would not fail them.

---

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Tulin said, leaning over the railing of Revali’s Landing. The snow crunched under his talons, pure white and beautiful. It had long since stopped falling, and reports from further into Hebra confirmed that the aerocuda had retreated, no longer infected with gloom and harmless as long as one stayed on the path. Zelda, pack filled with enough fairy tonic and hearty elixir to feed an army, as well as a community pool of rupees to ensure she could afford fireproof gear when she arrived in Goron City, felt anxious about leaving Tulin behind. Being a sage was a major responsibility and while she didn’t doubt him for a second, she still worried. This was different than Sidon or Riju, who had both fought the Calamity successfully—Tulin had taken down the creature on the Stormwind Ark, but his experience stopped there. Zelda ached at the thought of leaving him unprepared, though she knew Teba would never let that happen.

“We could train some, hit the Flight Range, or, or practice with the Master Sword. Or go over the rock powers. Or, or, Harth has been reading Kanali’s old books and found something about a helm, by the hot springs? Or—”

“The Princess has a duty to fulfill, Tulin.”

Tulin spun, grinning wildly at the sight of his father and mother.

“Ma! Dad! I thought you’d be doing Elder stuff all day!”

Teba gave Tulin a gruff hug. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to do before the Princess left for Goron City,” he said, before reaching for the bow on his back—Revali’s bow. Zelda was always keenly aware of the Great Eagle Bow on Teba’s back; it was Revali’s pride and joy, hand carved and hand painted, kept in pristine condition while being cared for with his meticulous wings. Link had cherished it when it was given to him by the Rito during his fight against the Calamity, but once the Beast had been annihilated, he’d been quick to return it to Teba.

“He would roll in his grave knowing I kept it instead of passing it on to his successor,” Link had signed to Teba as the Rito took the bow in wing with nothing short of reverence. “It deserves to be with someone who understands the significance of a bow like this.”

“And you don’t? Understand the significance, I mean.”

Link’s smile had been wry as Zelda watched him and Teba crowd around the bow. “This is the bow of a warrior. I am no warrior.”

“I’d be amiss to say such a thing, kid. You took on Vah Medoh—you killed the Calamity—”

“I’m not a warrior. I’m just Link. This is a warrior’s bow; take it. Cherish it. Give it the respect I will never be able to.”

Zelda wasn’t sure what Revali would have thought of the display. Sure, him and Link had gotten off on the wrong foot to begin with, but as time had passed, Revali’s jealousy and feelings of constant inadequacy—something Zelda related to well enough—had grown into begrudging respect of Link’s skill, and then something almost close to friendship. Revali cared for Link, however strange he was at showing it, and Zelda was sure in that moment that she was the only living person who knew that. Link didn’t remember the friendly banter, the eye rolls, the shared wildberry tarts. Didn’t recall Revali teaching him better archery form, or Link giving Revali tips on how to better cut with his feathered edge. Didn’t know the comradery that, in the end, could almost be called friends.

Link didn’t remember any of that—and more likely than not, he never would. So, Zelda kept her mouth shut. She let Link pass on Revali’s bow and mourned in private that night. By the morning, she told herself she was okay with the decision to return the bow, no matter how much comfort the sight of it gave her, and she almost believed herself. She and Link moved on, and at each visit to the Village, Zelda found her eyes constantly drawn to the beautiful bow on Teba’s back.

Now, in the present, Teba pulled the beautiful bow from his back and presented it to Tulin.

“You’ve done good, son.”

Tulin preened. “Turns out it’s easy when you work together.”

“Hm,” Teba’s tone was no nonsense, but his eyes were soft and kind. “This was no easy feat, regardless of the Princess’ help.”

“I still can’t believe a children’s folk song turned out to be real,” Saki said with a twittering laugh, and Teba nodded.

“But there was more to this than just a folk song. So, here it is. For a job well done.” Teba placed the bow into Tulin’s hand, and the teen’s jaw dropped.

“Wha—but, this bow means so much to you! And you’re just giving it to me?”

“I always intended to do so once you came of age as a warrior. It’s a tad early, but all things considered, I’d say you earned it.”

With reverent wings, Tulin took hold of the Great Eagle Bow. He gently twisted it this way and that, observing it from every angle.

“Dad…” he said softly, “thank you. But I need more than just your permission.”

Tulin turned to Zelda, and he seemed to her five years older. His back was straight, his head tilted up to hers with both humility and pride, his large eyes shining with eagerness.

“Princess, you said yourself that you were Revali’s closest friend. Out of everyone living on this Continent, only you truly remember him and his achievements. So, may I have your blessing to wield his bow?”

Zelda drew in a short, soft breath.

“Tulin… I… yes. Yes, as Revali’s last remaining friend, I give you my blessing. May it serve you well.”

“Thank you. I’ll prove to you both that I am a warrior worthy of carrying it.”

“I know you will.”

Tulin nodded, and, near reverently, secured the bow to his back.

“Stay safe, okay Zelda? There’s so much information just waiting to be found up on the Stormwind Ark; I’ll do some digging and let you know if I find any information surrounding sages—or Link. I’ve heard bad things about Goron City now a days. Please, be careful!”

“I will be,” Zelda promised. Regardless of what she had told the Rito of her next stop, Goron City was going to have to wait. The High Priestess had been waiting thousands of generations for her; Link himself had directed her to the Forgotten Temple. Zelda wouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.

---

Epona was waiting for Zelda at the Lucky Clover, boarded and cared for by a very begrudging intern named Jessi, as well as Goldie. Thank the Gods, the golden mare was fine, though a little skittish and giving Jessi a tad more trouble than she usually did strangers.

“You know,” Jessi grumbled, “I’m supposed to be learning how to write and do investigative journalism, not care for your horse.”

Zelda apologized profusely, and as she saddled Goldie and Epona, an idea suddenly dawned on her.

“I have something you can investigate if you don’t mind suggestions. Has your paper written any about the Depths?”

Jessi shrugged. “Just that they appeared and are dangerous. Why?”

“In Lookout Landing, there’s a Sheikah named Josha who has been studying them. I’m sure she’d love for the chance to spread actual information about them instead of fear mongering, if you’re interested. Maybe you and a team could go down east and talk to her?”

Jessi furrowed her brow. “I… I’ll ask Penn. I’m sure he’d be excited to get a lead from the Princess herself.”

“Please, let’s just stick to Zelda.”

Jessi cocked her head, barring into Zelda with calculating eyes.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you got the gloom to go away. That was you—right?”

Zelda nodded. “More or less.”

“Figures. Stay safe out there, Pri—Zelda.”

“You as well, Jessi.”

Then Zelda was off, leading Epona behind her as she and Goldie moved north to Epona’s owner at Snowfield Stable. Windblown and snow-burned, the little girl who came out front to bring Epona to the back was a whirlwind of energy, demanding all the ‘juicy gossip’ of the Rito to make up for stealing her horse. Her hair was red as apples, her skin even ruddier and covered in freckles, and she talked with a hearty accent that spoke of years raised in the countryside. As she took Epona’s reins from Zelda’s hands, she marveled at the calluses on Zelda’s hands— “Well, I never expected a working girl’s hands on a Princess!”—and flushed when Zelda complimented her horse.

“The Rito are safe,” Zelda said for the fifth time as Malon forced sugar cubes in her hand to give Goldie on the road, trying to answer Malon’s rapid fire questions. “All is well.”

“Well, no shit! I wanna know about the big boat that appeared from the storm clouds!”

Zelda steered the conversation back to horses for the fourth time. “I really don’t need any horse treats, I actually wanted to return Goldie to the stable for a bit—”

“Are you going all the way to where you’re goin’ on foot? Nah-uh!”

“It’s really not that far.”

“Goron City, that’s far!”

Zelda leaned in close to the little girl. “Wanna know a secret? You have to promise to keep it!”

Malon nodded enthusiastically and crossed her heart with her finger.

“I’m going to pay a visit to the Mother Goddess statue. For good luck.”

Malon gasped. “I heard bad things about the Forgotten Temple, miss. Heard it’s full of monsters.”

“Guardians? Not anymore. I promise. Link got rid of all of them.”

“You sure?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“I dunno. I barely know ya.”

Zelda couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of her. “Yes, you don’t know me very well. You’ll just have to trust me. Can I trust you? Will you keep my secret?”

“Absolutely!”

“And you’ll watch over my Goldie?”

“With my life!”

Zelda held out a pinkie, and Malon took it with her own. Solemnly, the two girls shook pinkies, before dissolving into pearls of laughter. And just like that, Zelda was off.

---

The rocky path into Tanagar Canyon stretched and stretched and stretched. Zelda left with the rising sun, dressed back in her traveling clothes, Purah pad a tad heavier than it had been when she arrived at Rito Village. Teba had let Zelda into Link’s ‘room’—a back section of Teba’s family’s roost with a hammock and a cooking pot separated from the rest of Teba’s home by a strung up sheet—to pick out anything she thought she might need on the road. She ended up grabbing a change of clothes she found neatly folded on his hammock from laundry that had yet to be put away before they left for the castle, just in case she when found him he needed to change, as well as a book or two, and his lucky blanket that he thought she didn’t know about. Link lived in Hateno, but he had homes everywhere. His personal chambers in Zora’s Domaine was where he spent most of his time when not by her side, and was as at home by Sidon’s side as he was in her arms, but Link also had his own reserved bed at Hotel Oaisis, where the owner would turn a blind eye to the strangely voe like vai that had saved her home, and Teba’s own roost, which, while not frequented often, being so far from Hateno or the Domaine, was clearly home enough for Link to trust his lucky blanket to be safe there. Zelda folded it with reverence as she placed it in the pad.

Son. Teba had called Link a son. Did Link see himself that way, or was it just Teba who felt their mentor-esc relationship was familial? Zelda had heard Link refer to the Deku Tree as his father before—could Link have two fathers? Two families? Zelda wondered if Link would prefer they spent more time at Rito Village, if he wished he visited more without her by his side. The lucky blanket, a dark green thing that seemed to smell of mold and musk no matter how many times it was washed, was something Link had found in the Shrine of Resurrection, left for him to take on the road. Zelda didn’t tell Link she left it there for him, though surely, he knew. She also didn’t tell him that it had been his a hundred years ago as well.

Zelda didn’t know much about Link’s life prior to becoming a knight. She knew his biological father was a general and the head of the royal guard in her father’s army, knew he hated his son as much as his son hated him. Knew that any kind of relationship with Link had with his father had disintegrated when Link pulled Fi at fourteen. Fourteen. Gods, why were they all so young?

Zelda didn’t know much of Link’s life, but she knew of his sister. She’d never met her, but Link spoke of her often until he didn’t. When Aryll died, Link never uttered her name again. Zelda knew something had gone wrong at the funeral, some sort of confrontation with his ‘father’, but little more. That had connected them, back then. A lost mother and a lost sister, the only loving people in their lives stripped from them, leaving them behind with cold fathers who loved their countries more than they loved their children.

The blanket had been Aryll’s. Now it was Link’s, even if he didn’t remember Aryll, would likely never remember her. He loved it, and it tore at Zelda as she placed it in the Purah pad. She decided that would be the first thing she did when she found him. Wrap him up in that hundred-year old blanket and smother him in it while she told him how much she loved him, that if he wanted to move to Rito Village to be with a new family she would happily follow him. If he wanted to become a permanent resident with the Zora, or the Gerudo, or the Gorons, she would happily move with him. It was his life, and she wanted him to know, truly know, that she was happy following for once.

She’d be happy following forever if it meant seeing him again.

Zelda’s feet ached by the time she finished the trail down the side of the canyon, sweat trailing down her neck and between her shoulder blades. Still, despite the walk, the insane down hill climb, the time spent sliding down the cliff face on her bottom when it was too steep and narrow to walk, dodging the lingering chuchus and avoiding coyotes and wolves as she moved deeper into the canyon, the time spent moving down hill was rewarding. The windmills that towered over her, groaning in the wind, seemed to sing to her: answers, answers, answers. They proved to make a beautiful song. Zelda broke into a jog when the Forgotten Temple, the once great Great Temple of Hylia, now as decayed as the guardians that once invaded it, came into view. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she couldn’t help herself as she broke into a run, jumping over rocks and laughing as Fi sang along to the windmill’s song—

Answers, answers, answers…

Zelda was moving so fast that she almost didn’t notice the Sheikah woman sitting on a rock at the entrance to the Temple. Dressed in a disheveled manner, she was midsized and lean, clearly strong but appearing at first glance to be deceivingly simple bodied. Her white hair was pulled above her head in a simple, nontraditional style, more a mop of hair than the elegant braids and curls Zelda had come to expect from the Sheikah. Her brown skin was littered with bruises and her ruby eyes were red lined. She’d been crying. Zelda slowed her gait and came to a stop. There was something about the angle of the woman’s chin, the slope of her nose that was so familiar.

The woman looked up, eyes meeting hers, and Zelda’s stomach dropped. She drew Fi in an instant, shifting into a fighting stance. Zelda knew Fi would guide her, but she couldn’t help the tremble in her hand. There was a tug at her insides, and then pale ocean blue, electric yellow, and cerulean were surrounding the Sheikah, the Vows’ weapons all drawn and held at the ready.

“Wait!” Ere said, stripped of any and all glamour, maskless and out of uniform. “I just want to talk!”

“Bullshit!”

“I’m unarmed! I promise! Well, I guess my word don’t mean much, but—but I swear, I swear I am! Please.”

Zelda didn’t lower Fi and Ere let out a shaky breath, running her hand through her rats nest of a bun.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” She choked out. “I—we knew you were heading to the Rito, so we branched out in Hebra. And, and I heard rumors of Link by Snowfield, so I went and, and I didn’t find anything. So, I went east, to Elma Knolls, by the Chasm there and the blood, Zelda, the things I saw, what he’s capable of—I can’t. He’ll kill us all.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes. “Who?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“The Demon King. Ganondorf. My Master is building this, this thing, this mech or construct or whatever, and he thinks if he gives it to the Demon King to use as a new body that he’ll avenge us, but the Demon King doesn’t care about us. I don’t know what he cares about, but it sure as hell won’t be us.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Take him down. My Master. Please, before this gets any more out of hand.”

Zelda, against her better judgment, lowered Fi just a smidge. She waited for the attack, for the manic laughter and demon carver, but it didn’t come. Instead, Ere started crying.

It wasn’t quiet tears but the ugly, snot-nosed, eyes blurred tears of complete exhaustion.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “Oh Gods, thank you.”

Zelda stared at the woman, feeling rather dumb. Right now, she was between Zelda and answers, which was unacceptable, but she also was in obvious distress and Zelda couldn’t just leave her here.

“Alright. Let’s think this through—there’s an entire armored force in Lookout Landing. The Zora and the Gerudo have sent their best there as a sign of good faith and protection, and Rito warriors should arrive soon. Robbie knows the Depths well enough, as does Josha—”

“My Master is stronger than any Hylian army and you know it.”

Zelda grit her teeth. “I’m trying to help, damn it! I have business here, you know, important stuff! You’re kind of making a mess of that right now.”

Ere winced. “I’m sorry.”

Zelda glanced up as droplets suddenly began to fall from the sky and swore as lightning rippled across the sky. There was a growing, stinging pain as each drop of gloom rain struck exposed skin, and Zelda yanked her hood over her head as the smell of sizzling hair slowly built. Ere yelped, hiding her face with her hands, her knuckles quickly reddening with gloom burns. Sidon’s Vow made a sharp, determined sound and waved Zelda closer to Ere, before sending out a bubble of water that surrounded both women. It sizzled and wobbled against the acidic nature of the gloom rain, but held well enough, and Ere marveled at the display of magic, her eyes wide as she peered out from a gap between her fingers.

“Wha…?”

“The Vow’s magic won’t hold forever. Let’s get to shelter,” Zelda said through clenched teeth, and Ere nodded enthusiastically. Zelda took her hand, Fi gripped tightly in the other, and surprisingly, the voice in the sword did not warn of danger. Likely because each Vows’ weapon was drawn, a trident, scimitar, and bow all pointed to the small of Ere’s back, but maybe… Zelda refused to let herself get comfortable. If Ere was serious, had defected, then she had yet to prove it. Zelda bolted for the entrance to the Temple, scrambled over the giant, crumbling lip that had once been an elegant stairway, and pulled Ere over the edge. Just as they made it past the doorway, the sky opened up, the gloom filled clouds black and red, snuffing out the light save for the flickers of lightning that seemed to flash endlessly across the sky.

“I don’t know,” Ere said softly, “how I thought something that could create pain out of rain could possibly care about anything.”

He might have cared for Link, Zelda thought, watching the Yiga woman shake out her hair. They sparred. They shared tea. They seemed to care for one another, at least until the Calamity came to light. Had that really been enough for Ganondorf to turn against Link? Had he planned to the entire time? Was his plan from the moment he knelt before Rauru to create destruction, or had Zelda’s failures regarding the Calamity all those years ago created that resolve? Was this her fault? She was the reason Link had died, after all. If… if Ganondorf had decided he hated Link enough to betray him because of their argument surrounding the Calamity, did that mean all of this, the Imprisoning War, the Upheaval, was her fault?

Had she damned Hyrule again?

In her hand, Fi chimed, warm and comforting against the chill of the Temple.

It is statistically impossible to know what dwells in the hearts of others with 100% certainty. However, I can say with a significant degree of confidence that it is statistically likely, given the future actions of Ganondorf, that his motivations were far more than a single conversation. And… Master. I have lived through times where Heroes fall. Two timelines of many are defined by the downfall of a Hero and the inability for another to appear when needed. Mortality is fickle and unable to be predicted with certainty or statistics.  

Let it be known, that I shall never hold that against them, nor your own imperfections against you.

Ere looked down at the sword with wide eyes. “I didn’t know it made noise.”

“It speaks to me.”

“Wicked.”

Zelda snorted. It was slow going as they picked their way through the Temple. The Great Temple of Hylia was once said to have been the resting place of the First Chosen Hero and the first Spirit Maiden, though if this was true, the real answer had been lost to time. It had been a place of splendor when she was a child, marble walls and stained glass, the handmaidens and priestesses that took care of the Temple dressed in rainbows to represent the shining beauty of Hylia and gold as a reminder of Her title, the Golden Goddess. The smell of incense was long gone, but it still seemed to linger in Zelda’s heart, along with the tolls of sacred bells and shadows of worshipers unfurling of holy scrolls. The Temple was far grander than the Temple of Time ever was, a sign of how the image and belief in the Triforce and the Goddess of Time had shifted in prominence in comparison to Hylia. Zelda had loathed it with every fiber of her being as a child. Loathed the smell of burning flowers, loathed the sound of bells and murmured prayers, loathed the giant Goddess statue that she would spend hours kneeling before until her knees were bruised and her voice gave out, all while the statue smiled blandly down at her.

She knew how the gossipmongers referred to her. An illegitimate child, not actually from her mother but instead her father’s many mistresses. A changeling, replaced at birth by Yiga, or, worse, a byproduct of her ‘slut’ of a mother’s imaginary affair—all reasons that she would be denied the Goddess’ blessing, in their eyes. Or, if not her blood that was questioned, her loyalty. Her closeness to Impa and Purah, surely a sign that she was a class traitor, more dedicated to Sheikah filth than her pure blood. Her not-so-secret romp with a servant girl, proof that she had too much disdain for Hylian tradition and morals.

“Look at her bruised knees,” the courtiers would laugh behind fans and flutes of champagne, “Would you say those are from praying at the altar or praying at some kitchen boy’s prick?”

The whispers changed slightly when Link arrived. Then, it wasn’t who she was supposably fucking, but who she wasn’t, because surely a dedicated Princess would be fawning over her hero, and her distaste for the man—boy then, they were just children—was proof she had no love for Hyrule and the expectations of a Hero and Princess. The first time one of them made any such comment to her in front of Link, the boy had smashed his wine glass in the woman’s face, cutting her cheek and breaking her nose, snarling that she should mind how she spoke of those above her. Zelda had been terrified he would be punished, but when she told him that, wrapping his cut knuckles in strips of her petticoat in the shadow of some staircase, he had laughed. It was the first time she heard him laugh.

“Champion.” He signed. He never signed to her this early in their relationship, never talked, and seeing the hand motions had been startling. “Royal Champion. Watch them try.”

And sure enough, Link was untouchable. He was the royal Champion, and he could do as he pleased.

Not a week later, he sliced a Yiga in two as he shielded her prone body before Kara Kara, face stern but eyes blazing, and helped her up with hands so gentle she thought she might shatter. From then, they were inseparable.

There were holes in the ceiling of the Temple now, and it let in puddles of gloom rain that Ere helped Zelda over with surprising gentleness. They wove through the ruins, listening to the drum of rain on the ancient roof, until they came to the back wall of the Temple.

Or, what had been the back wall.

The Goddess statue, that horrible, horrible statue, had been toppled, her face shattered and wings clipped, exposing a hole in the wall behind her.

“Shit…” Ere breathed, stepping closer to Hylia’s statue. “You think the Upheaval did all this?”

Zelda nodded. “I don’t see how else. The last time Link and I visited, the statue was fine.”

“You visit? What, like often?”

Zelda shrugged. “Link likes to keep an eye on it. It did used to be crawling with guardians after all. Now, it’s just an empty shell.”

Ere nodded, finally tearing her eyes from the statue and instead looking to the hole.

“Do we…?”

“I should just tie you do a pillar or something—” Zelda said, no real bite behind the words, but then Ere extended her wrists, meeting Zelda’s eyes head on.

“Okay.”

“Ere?”

“Okay. If that’s what you feel like you gotta do, then do it.”

Zelda searched her eyes for deceit, for mockery, for something, but found nothing but desperation.

“You’re scared.”

Ere nodded. “They’ll kill me as soon as they realize what I’ve done.”

“You really left, didn’t you?”

Ere shrugged.

“There’s a man in Kakariko who left, you know.”

“Dorian. We killed his wife. Tried to kill his kids too.”

Zelda swallowed. “Impa offered her protection for him, after he came clean.”

Ere’s laugh was bitter. “Dorian grew up in Kakariko. He had a life to go back to when he deserted. I was raised in the Clan. I’ve got nothing, nobody. No one would care about me there.”

“You never know until you try.”

Ere shrugged, and Zelda placed a hand on her wrists, lowering them.

“Just stay close, okay?”

“Okay.”

Zelda stepped into the hole. It was more of a crack or a crevasse than a hole, and a tight squeeze, but Zelda managed to shimmy her way through and help pull Ere in behind her. The hole opened to a long, sloping hallway, nearly dark save for the cracks in the roof letting in dim light and drops of red gloom. They rolled down the slopped floor, pooling at the door at the end of the hall. It shone with the green of Zonai technology, a lock made just for her. Zelda picked up the pace, quickly jogging down the long, long hallway, careful to avoid areas that hung heavy with gloom. Only, the gloom hadn’t cut and fizzled into the marble—the gloom had created slick puddles that were far thicker than usual, and despite the tale tell red color, didn’t glow. Zelda suddenly realized it wasn’t gloom dripping down from the ceiling and pooling before the door.

It was blood.

“Is that…?” Ere breathed, and Zelda nodded. She slowly knelt, dipping her fingers in the blood. It was still warm. Could it be dragon’s blood? Surely there were more things that could bleed in this world than just a damn dragon. But… but if it was…

“Of all places,” Zelda said with a sad laugh, “you follow me here too, big guy?”

“You’re not gonna lick that, are you?”

Zelda nodded. “Yup. Then I’m gonna open that door and finally get some answers.”

Ere perked up at that and opened her mouth.

“Nope,” Zelda interrupted. “No comments from you. This is about me and me only.”

Ere deflated, but nodded. She sat cross legged on the floor, and the Vows, which had followed behind them, Sidon’s Vow’s water bubble fizzling away now that they were safe from the rain, sat around her, weapons still drawn.

Ere waved at Riju’s Vow, who glowered at her.

“Keep watch, okay?” Zelda said softly to Sidon’s Vow, who nodded with a bright, if a little sharper than usual, smile. It turned its attention back to Ere, and with surprisingly steady hands, Zelda dipped two fingers in the blood and placed them against her tongue.

The world shifted, spinning slightly, before it was gone.

---

The night sky was beautiful. The stars shimmered from the top of the Zonai Castle, and below them, Link gleamed in the stair light. He was dressed strangely, different than he had been in the previous memories—because they had been previous, that much was clear given the color to his face and awareness in his eyes. The gloom sickness had finally begun to fade. He was dressed in what Zelda could only assume was some kind of traditional Zonai costume, with a headdress that reminded her distinctly of Farosh.

Behind him Queen Sonia watched him lean over the far wall of the castle roof and tilt his head back to the stars.

“Alright, Sonia, I’ll admit the view is beautiful, but what is it you needed to show me so badly?” His voice hung in the air, as if he was the only one breathing.

Behind him, Sonia was still, her chest seeming to not even rise and far. Her face was hidden in the dark, unilluminated by the stairs. 

“Sonia?” Link called, head still turned from her.

“You know,” Sonia said. Her voice was cold, almost inhumanly so. “You are far too trusting.”

Zelda jerked forward as she saw the Gerudo scimitar flung at Link’s back with perfect aim. Zelda knew she couldn’t really stop it but she moved forward anyway. Before she could reach him, the blade froze in the air. It glowed a perfect, shimmering gold, and Zelda spun to Sonia, lips turned back in a snarl. The woman’s off center face was wide with surprise, and behind her, whatever her was, was another Sonia, the secret stone on her breast glowing a brilliant gold.

“Oh, my,” Sonia said, voice soft and smug. “I must say, it’s a bit strange to hear myself say such a thing. I would like to think it is quite out of character. But then, you aren’t me, aren’t you, puppet?”

Puppet.

Ganondorf.

Now that Zelda knew what to look for, she could see the same wrongness in this Sonia as there was in the Puppet Link back in her reality. Zelda’s stomach dropped. The puppet back in her reality, with its forcibly removed prosthetic and gloom sickness and gloom burns so severe it looked like it might drop dead any second now... This was it, wasn’t it? This was when Ganondorf gained his stone. This was when the world finally began to fall apart. Zelda felt herself slip in front of Link, shielding him with her body, a subconscious movement that lingered despite the separation of time and space. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, to look away from Link and whatever shit storm this was about to become. She wanted to bury his head in her chest, protect him from whatever was about to happen. Instead, she kept her eyes glued to the false Sonia.

Puppet Sonia sneered at the woman, but Sonia simply laughed, wholly unaffected and unafraid.

“Did you really think I hadn’t realized your deceit, Ganondorf? What a coward, sending magic to do what he himself cannot.”

With a flick of her wrist, the scimitar dropped from the air. Sonia kept on her guard, stone glowing, arm raised, and the Puppet laughed in her face, smile too large and showing far too many teeth. As the laughter grew, the false Sonia’s body went limp, like someone had cut the strings holding her upright, and she melted into a puddle of smoking gloom.

Sonia took a step closer and Link held out a warning hand.

“Careful,” he said, “That stuff is dangerous.”

Dangerous. Ha. That was some way to put it.

“Are you alright?” Sonia asked. She cupped Link’s face in her hands and tilted it this way and that, inspecting it for any injury, and Link nodded, his cheeks squished in her hold.

“Fine. I’m fine. But you said—surely, he couldn’t—do really think that Ganondorf—?”

“Positive.” Sonia said darkly. She let go just long enough to pull Link into a tight hug. Link looked up (and up, and up, Gods he was short) at her and began to say something about how Ganondorf couldn’t have possibly done this when their embrace was interrupted by smug, slow claps. Link let go of Sonia in an instant, pushing her behind him and drawing the Master Sword. The sword looked pitiful, cracked and molten from gloom, but he held it with a fierceness that made it clear Link still trusted the blade with his life. At the door that led back down to the castle below stood two figures Zelda recognized, if vaguely, dressed in red and blue and gold, their movements slow and mocking. What had their names been? Twinrova?

“Her royal idiot and the sand rat finally figure it out.” They said as one, their smiles obvious in their voice, even if their faces were covered. Sonia stepped around Link, head held high, arm extended, her stone glowing brilliantly.

“Let us pass.”

“’Fraid we can’t do that, your Majesty.”

Sonia lifted her chin, eyes hard. “Fine. Then I shall make you.”

Sonia surged forward; the blue half of Twinrova ran to meet Link, pushing him farther and farther from with queen with her Gerudo longsword. It was massive, glittering as gold as her mask, and Fi’s new pitiful length was quickly becoming a problem. Link spun, dodging her swings desperately, and Zelda knew him well enough to recognize the concern hidden in his face. The Master Sword caught the longblade at the hilt with a screech and Twinrova One laughed as she shoved him back.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be merciful. We’ll take you out first so you don’t have to see your king follow. It’s a pity you didn’t get a knife in the back from the puppet—that’d be much, much kinder than what we’re going to do to you.”

Zelda’s gaze kept fluttering to Sonia, just to be sure the queen was safe; she moved with the power of her stone like a waltz with a familiar partner, mouth a hard line as she jerked the other Twinrova’s arms this way and that, forcing her to hold positions and rewind, spinning her around via the manipulation of time itself. Zelda was surprised by how much the movement reminded her of Link’s flurry rush. Not in its actual shape, but that the feeling of time magic was the same, the same determination in each movement. Zelda turned back to Link after the woman sent Twinrova Two flying, confident the woman could care for herself.

Suddenly, pounding footsteps came from the doorway, and relief flooded Link’s face as he turned, calling out for Rauru—only it wasn’t the Zonai who entered the roof.

Ganondorf was beautiful in the starlight. Zelda didn’t recognize the exact designs or folds of his clothing, but she knew traditional Gerudo wear when she saw it. Black, green, and red, the linen and silk robes fluttered around him like a dragon around its mount. Jewels glittered on every piece of exposed skin, and his scarlet hair was a beautiful braid of elegant twists. On his forehead was a golden diadem, the only piece of jewelry Zelda recognized. She knew that diadem. She’d seen it on the mummy, just as golden and beautiful then as it was now.

“Ganondorf, what the fuck is going—” Link called. Ganondorf drew his blade, a long, beautiful saber, the same Link had returned to him in the throne room.

Sonia had been right. Of course she had been— still the look of utter betrayal on Link’s face burned as he abandoned his fight with Twinrova and swung. Fi wasn’t holding up well to the fight; Zelda could see holy electricity working its way up Link’s sword arm, and her chest ached as he grit his teeth against the pain.

She had to help, to do something, but there was nothing to do. This had already occurred, thousands of years in the past, and there was no undoing it. Link’s sword ran straight through Ganondorf’s chest, the man melting away into gloom, quickly replaced by more, more, more, until it was Link against five. The Phantom Ganon’s circled, their swords moving with perfect precision, and Zelda choked on the sheer smell of gloom. Link was wavering. The electric pushback from Fi was getting worse as she struggled desperately to meet the needs of her Master, and the proximity to so much gloom seemed to be dragging down what recovery Link had made on his own gloom poisoning.

He was lagging.

“How could you?” Link screamed, voice catching. “I trusted you! I vouched for you! I gave you chance after chance!”

He swung. Each limb he sliced through fizzled away, each gut he stabbed belching gloom instead of blood. Behind him, Twinrova, both of them, had turned their attention to Sonia, who was becoming more and more distracted as Link fought.

“You really think,” the Phantoms echoed as one, “that I would let this kingdom steamroll my people? Abuse the continent?”

“You’re a traitor!” Link spat, and the Phantoms laughed.

“Your king will bring nothing but destruction to this land. I am a savior.”

Link grit his teeth. Unstable magic ran up his arms, and Zelda could smell burning flesh, holy lightning cutting into his muscle and skin. Exhaustion pulled on his fingers, and Ganondorf’s Phantoms had taken notice. Link let out a cry and in a move Zelda recognized as his last-ditch effort in a fight, swung outward in a spin attack. It cut through the gloomy Ganons, leaving one left standing, staring at the thin trickle of blood down his chest in surprise. Still, Ganondorf looked far from impressed, his brilliant eyes dark as he laughed, swiping away the blood on his sleeve.

He raised his blade high, and Zelda could see the movement before he even made it. Link wouldn’t be able to dodge; exhaustion hung off of him, Fi screaming in his hand, too broken to ever hope to win this fight.

“I see now why you failed against your Calamity. You are weak. You were then, and you are now.”

Link’s exhaustion was pushed aside with a flare of anger, but it didn’t last long. His jabs were sporadic, his dodges sloppy.

He was thoroughly overwhelmed. As Link stumbled back, Zelda realized with horror that this was not a fight Link was going to walk away from. Even if she knew, objectively, that he survived, that he lived to see Rauru’s downfall, it was impossible to have faith in that knowledge, not when Fi fought against his very touch. Link was many things, but he wasn’t immortal, and without Fi’s cooperation—

“Link!”

Ganondorf moved with inhuman speed, but Sonia moved faster. She seemed to hover in the air for a moment, the air silent save for the sparking of Link’s prosthetic and Fi’s screams, and then she fell. Blood stained the air, the floor, Ganondorf’s blade; it had cut from navel to breast, sending out a splatter of scarlet heat. Sonia’s sternum was visible, white against the red of her blood and brown of her skin as she dropped.

“SONIA!”

Link’s cry was almost unintelligible as he gawked at where the queen had fallen from his place on the ground where Sonia had thrown him. He forced himself to his feet and near dragged himself to her. She’d been cut from her belly all the way up her neck, gore visible and shining under the starlight. Link pushed his hands over the worst of the bleeding—Sonia’s belly was still thick with the fat of recent birth, but Goddess’ be blessed, she wasn’t pregnant anymore. Zelda lowered herself to her knees and rushedto them. Link had to know there was no saving this. He had to know there was no way she’d live. Still, he tried to apply pressure.

“Link,” Zelda couldn’t help but breathe, jaw slack in horror. “Link, please—”

Please what? Let go? Get up? Flee? Zelda didn’t know what she was asking, just knew she had to ask it.

“You’re gonna be okay, I swear it, I—” Link babbled as Sonia took hold of the hand on her stomach. She pulled it to Fi, wrapping his fingers around the Master Sword’s hilt.

“Link. You must… protect…”

“Hylians have always been weak.”

Zelda could feel Twinrova’s gaze on Link from behind her, but Link didn’t respond to their words. His eyes were frozen on Sonia’s ashen face, his lips moving in silent prayer. Above him, Ganondorf stepped closer. He readied his blade, pressing it to the back of Link’s neck, his stance perfect for a swift and what, merciful? Beheading. Twinrova giggled together, but Ganondorf ignored them. His face was drawn and quiet, almost sad.

Bullshit. He had no right to claim grief in this.

“You’ve done your best.” Ganondorf’s voice was soft, insultingly so. “And I shall grant you a swift warrior’s death. It is simply the nature of the world. I shall save this continent, and your sacrifice will not be forgotten.”

Master

Zelda flinched in time with Link, her hand flying to the Master Sword on her back.

Master

The Master Sword was heavy on her back, and warm, and Fi glowed with desperation in Link’s hand.

Master!

Your job here is unfinished.

There are things you must yet do.

Get up!

Link rolled, just as the sword came down. Instead of striking him, it cut Sonia’s dying body with a sickening sound; Sonia let out a single pained noise, and then was silent. She was gone.

The door to the roof flew open, Rauru bursting forth, followed by a face Zelda recognized by hadn’t expected to see. Naboris, sage of lightning.

“What—” Naboris spat as she took in the carnage, “the fuck have you done?”

Ganondorf’s gaze narrowed. Rauru screamed for his wife, a horrid, guttural sound that cut Zelda like a knife, running to her body, and Ganondorf took a sharp breath.

“What you were too cowardly to do.” He said. His eyes still carried grief as he took in the Gerudo woman unsheathing her twin swords, but it left when Twinrova moved, circling Naboris.

“Can we kill her?” Twinrova shouted, and Ganondorf ignored them. He looked at his palm , where Sonia’s secret stone glittered.

Rauru’s breath caught as he realized what Ganondorf held, but Ganondorf paid him no mind. The stone seemed to beat in Ganondorf’s hand, some grotesque heartbeat as he placed it to the diadem on his brow.

All went quiet. Twinrova’s swinging swords were silent despite their movement, as was Naboris’ lightning and Rauru’s sobs, as if the world had decided this moment called for perfect silence. One by one, the stars winked out as the sky reddened, and then sound exploded around all of them, screaming wails pouring from the skies like vile rain. The clouds opened, and more gloom than Zelda had ever seen in her life rained down, though no one seemed to care as it ate into them. Gloom seeped up from the ground, pooling around them while the gloom rain hovered in the air as the sky became scarlet.

The moon swelled, bloody and red.

Ganondorf screamed. He doubled over, and Zelda’s breath caught as Link eye’s widened and he reached forward in concern. Concern. All of this, and still he worried for the man he thought had been his friend. Ganondorf panted, curling around himself as the gloom thickened, and let out a horrible, gut-wrenching sound.

When Ganondorf straightened, he wasn’t Ganondorf. His warm brown skin was grey, his forehead sprouting still-growing horns, his hair slithering behind him like fiery snakes.

This wasn’t Ganondorf anymore. Gone was any resemblance to Naboris, to Riju’s people, replaced with a hunger Zelda had seen only from the Calamity.

Gloom poured down on them. Zelda swore she could feel it on her own skin, phantom touches leaving searing trails down her flesh.

“You’re too late, your Majesty” Ganondorf rumbled. His smile was chilling, triumphant and proud as he addressed Rauru. “You took for granted the godlike powers in your hands—do you now see the potential you squandered? As for her, she is merely the first victim of your arrogance. I had planned to take the boy from you, but she did well enough. You tried to control me, Rauru, to control all the continent, and you shall die knowing you have failed!”

Link struggled to his feet. Ganondorf cocked his head.

Run, Zelda wanted to scream, you can’t win this fight! But that would be an antithesis to all Link was.

“Really, Link?”

Link spat at his feet.

“Very well. Fight me, and lose pitifully, but do not look away when I strike you down, sand rat. You must witness the arrival of a King, and the birth of his new world.”

Link grit his teeth.

Eyes on your enemy. You must not fail.

The voice wasn’t Fi. It was someone else entirely, melodic and beautiful, divine in a way Zelda heard only from Hylia and… and Nayru. It wasn’t Her, but it was certainly someone, and Zelda wasn’t sure she wanted to know who that someone was. Link struggled to stand, but he raised Fi, no longer seeming to notice her spasms

Link shook with exhaustion, but his gaze was hard with hatred. Ganondorf quirked a finger and beckoned him forward. Behind them, Twinrova and Naboris fought, the sage keeping the women away from Rauru, who seemed to be unable to look away from his wife.

Link charged and Ganondorf sidestepped, batting Link away when he rose his sword again.

“What’s the matter?” He cooed. “Tired?”

Link barred his teeth. Zelda felt her hands grow hot with magic that would be of no use here, yearning for the chance to set something alight, to help, to save, to protect. Link circled Ganondorf, Fi crackling with unstable magic, and Ganondorf’s face was somehow cold in its smugness. He knew he would win this fight. Zelda knew he would win this fight. Fi was too delicate, too broken. She couldn’t hold her own against the Demon King at his weakest, let alone Ganondorf now.

Ganondorf lunged forward, letting forth a barrage of blows, almost hitting Link across the middle before bringing the blade down on his head. Link caught the blade with the forearm of his prosthetic, face scrunched in pain. He lurched forward and Ganondorf stumbled back, quickly recovering and slamming forward with a blow that Link barely sidestepped into a flurry rush. Ganondorf merely grunted, glowering. He raised a hand, gloom building and building and building and Zelda all at once could see that it would eat them all alive.

“LINK!”

Rauru finally lept into action. His shield was gold and intricate as he threw himself in front of Link, third eye open and alight. The light shield shuddered under the weight and heat of the gloom blast, slowly chipping away, and Ganondorf growled, pushing harder. Rauru’s arms shook.

Behind all of them, one of the Twinrova screamed, taking Naboris’ lightning to the chest and losing her hand as the sage spun in an elegant spin attack. Ganondorf was so focused on smashing through Rauru’s shield that he didn’t notice the woman go down, or Naboris straighten, face red with fury, and angle a bolt of lightening so like Riju’s own at his chest.

It struck with a bang! and Ganondorf stumbled back, concentration broken and assault stalled.

“You stupid fucking woman,” Ganondorf growled, though his eyes seemed pained looking at her. Zelda remembered Naboris’ difficulty speaking of the Demon King, her shared words with Link.

“You fool.” Naboris hissed, “You damn fool, what were you thinking?”

“I can save us,” He said with a surprising desperation, “all of us!”

“Your mother would be repulsed to see you like this.” Naboris spat. “And I am as well.”

The pain in Ganondorf’s eyes was gone. “Frankly, auntie, I don’t care. You bleed just as well regardless of what you think.”

Naboris scoffed.

Ganondorf dodged the lightning this time, weaving closer as bolt after bolt was thrown his way. There was sudden yelling at the entrance to the roof. The other Zonai woman, Mineru, and the sage of wind, Medoh, as well as a bare bones group of Rito warriors.

“Your Majesty!” Mineru called, and Rauru, who was all but carrying Link, near comatose with exhaustion, looked relieved enough to cry.

“No!” Ganondorf lunged for them, only to be knocked back by a wave of lightning.

“Come with me—” Medoh said, offering his back to Rauru. “We’ll get you someplace safe.”

Rauru placed Link on the sage’s back, and a second warrior carefully took Sonia’s body—or the pieces left of it.

“Naboris!” Rauru shouted, and the woman grunted in acknowledgment. “Come on,”

Naboris bolted towards them, and the last thing Zelda saw was the group rising to the sky, heading west, towards the direction of Tanagar Canyon.

“They came here, afterward. We tended to their wounds, and buried their dead. It was the least I could do, for my sister and her people.”

Zelda looked up from where she had collapsed on the floor. Ere’s hands were hovering over her, the Yiga woman’s face alight with panic and distress. Behind her, the door at the end of the hall had opened, exposing a woman aglow in pale green light, flames licking at her white, lacy dress without burning. A ghost.

Her pale gold hair was locked and decorated ornately, falling down her back, and while her face was veiled, Zelda had a feeling the woman was smiling. Her voice was bland and soft, devoid of emotion, and echoed through the hall. Ere leapt to her feet, putting herself between the spirit and Zelda.

“I didn’t expect you to bring guests. That is… unfortunate, but I shall make due. It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Zelda of Hyrule. I tended to the first in the royal line to take your name, you know. My niece, the first Princess Zelda. I am the High Priestess of this Temple; even as its splendor fades, I remain its caretaker. My name is Sayuri.”

The High Priestess extended a hand, helping Zelda to her feet.

“Now. Come. I’ve had a long time to practice my speech, and it would be a pity if I never got to deliver it.”

Chapter Text

The door behind the High Priestess—behind Sayuri, as she called herself, said with a simplistic certainty that made Zelda doubt her name was something the ghost had given out often when she was alive—was ajar, exposing stale air that spoke of centuries of stillness. Whatever the room held, the door had been sealed for a long, long time.

Sayuri stepped aside, gesturing to the open door, and Zelda swallowed. She looked to Ere, whose jaw hung open, eyes wide.

“You—you’re dead.” She squeaked, and Sayuri nodded curtly. Fire licked at her heels, and Zelda was reminded of Rauru’s own ghost, of Link’s descriptions of the ghosts he’d seen in his adventures: Mipha, Daruk, Revali, Urbosa… her father.

“I don’t understand,” Zelda said as Sayuri stepped into the room, beckoning the two other women inside. “It’s been hundreds of thousands of years. You should be in the Sacred Realm; you’re a priest! That’s the end goal of serving, isn’t it?”

“I made a promise,” Sayuri said. “Though I find it… amusing that you would find the biggest ‘goal’, as you say, of serving at the feet of a Goddess to be what happens when your service finally plays its course.”

Zelda flushed. “I didn't mean to offend. I apologize.”

“How long have you been waiting for your own service to play its course, Princess?”

Zelda spluttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I'm perfectly happy where I am!”

“Hm.”

Sayuri turned her back on Zelda, stepping further into the room. It was a tomb, with two elegant slabs of marble covered in carvings of sundelions and a symbol vaguely similar to the earliest depictions of the Hyrulian crest. The arched feathers of the loftwing were present, but the Triforce was in the wrong place, with a teardrop at the intersection of the feathers.

“It would take surprisingly little time for the Zonai addition on the crest to fade,” Sayrui said, running her finger down the teardrop. “Funny, isn’t it, that we remember the First Hero and the Spirit Maiden, the loftwings and Hylia, the Triforce and Master Sword, but the Zonai crumbled so quickly from memory. I’ve always thought that it was the intermingling of blood combined with the sudden extermination of the royal Zonai line. With Hyrule’s Zonai founders lost before Hyrule could truly become great, is it any wonder that we forgot them? However, I had always held onto hope that, even as my brother-in-law faded from view, some memory of my sister would one day resurface. Perhaps you are destined to be that hope.”

“Sister?”

“Queen Sonia. This is her final resting place, her and her daughter.”

Zelda suddenly recalled the truly hideous baby in Link’s arms when speaking to some of the sages and Sonia’s belly still fat with recent pregnancy as Ganondorf sliced her in two.

“Link will remember them better than I,” Zelda said. Now that she gave the baby more mind, she could see both Rauru and Sonai in her. The pale-gold curls, the little snout, the mix of soft grey fur and brown skin. “He’ll carry on that memory what he returns.”

The Priestess looked up, tilting her head as her hidden eyes bored into Zelda’s own.

“No.”

“…No?” Zelda said with an anxious half-laugh.

“Well, that’s just ridiculous.” Ere snorted, hopping onto one of the tombs. “He’s Link, he’s like a cockroach, or a rabid chuchu. Completely incapable of not inserting himself into everyone else’s business.”

Then, to Zelda’s surprise, Sayrui made a rough sound that might have been a laugh.

“You’re not wrong there,” She said, and Ere preened. “Now get off my niece’s grave. Now.”

Ere rolled her eyes but still slunk off when asked. Sayuri ran a gentle hand across the marble top.

“She lived a long time, longer than her mother ever had the chance to. I raised her well, as both a Priestess and a Queen, gifted her a respect for the Three and the Golden Goddess. It’s strange to think that, had she not outlived her father and the Zonai’s lingering atheism, Hyrule’s dedication to their namesake Goddess might have dwindled past saving. Could you imagine? The Gerudo would still have their Din, the Zora their dedication to Nayru in their own way, the Spirits of the Forest still securing Farore’s existence, but Hylia… She might have faded for a long, long time.”

“Perish the thought,” Ere mumbled, and Zelda swatted at her.

“You cannot kill a Goddess, not one like Hylia who had survived the rejection of immortality itself, but… I cannot help but imagine how the course of history might have been changed. How the holy Power inside you might have grown differently. Though, Hylia has dwindled inside you, over the years, hasn’t She, Princess? Understandable, I suppose. A hundred years is a long time to serve a mortal mistress while holding back Malice Incarnate. And I can sense the sudden discontent, internally, surrounding the Golden Power you have earned. How … petty Gods can be.”

“I—there isn’t discontent, not when I haven’t done anything wrong--!”

“I haven’t said you have.”

Sayuri knelt before the second grave. She rested her forehead on the cool stone lovingly, as if she was straining to hear Sonia’s heartbeat. The only light came from her, ghostly green, and the Zonai lock on the door.

“Have you ever seen a bisected body?” She said softly, and Zelda averted her gaze.

“The Calamity—I saw… I saw many things I wish I hadn’t. Children in pieces, villages blasted apart until all that remained was rubble. Fort Hateno was… was unlike anything you could imagine. The carnage was more than I can describe.”

She couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting to Ere, who picked nervously on her tunic hem, biting her lip. She was uncomfortable, and Zelda hoped she was feeling some kind of guilt.

“The blade that cut my sister was sharp,” Sayuri said. Her husky voice was but a whisper, but it echoed throughout the room. “The first blow cut just above the kidney. It sliced through the small intestine and stomach, right through her lung. The second was less elegant. When Ganondorf brought the blade down he’d been angling for your knight’s neck, not her body. He cleaved her heart in two.”

She looked up, and Zelda could see grooves in the marble. Was it from clawing fingers, desperately scratching at the seal on the grave, begging for one last look at Sonia, over and over for countless centuries?

“Your knight, he swore he would make Ganondorf feel that pain tenfold; he will not be able to carry out his promise. You must do so in his stead.”

“With all due respect, Priest Lady,” Ere said, sounding in no way respectful, “How exactly do you propose we do that? I don’t know about you, but when I saw that battle on the Knolls—the man can summon lynels and blood moons with his mind.”

“Link had the utmost faith in you. I do not think he would put it there wrongly.”

Fi fluttered on Zelda’s back, preening at the praise. It would have been cute, given different circumstances.

Ere made a show of rolling her eyes. “Right. Link. He seems to be quite content making everyone else do his work for him these days, especially considering he's the one whose whole thing is Ganon-defeating in the first place--"

“Don’t make me drag you back into that gloom rain,” Zelda hissed, and Ere held up her hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine, okay, we put our faith in Link. Where is he anyways?”

“Sleeping.”

“What?” Zelda couldn’t help it. Of all the answers she had expected, this was far from the one she thought she would be given. She'd already waited for a hundred years while he slept off death, and now they were back to slumbering all over again? “Again? A-fucking-gain?”

Sayuri snorted. It was the first truly human sound she had made. “Perhaps sleeping is not the best word. He is awake, alive, simply unaware. Far different from the slumber you placed him in all those years ago.”

“Where is he?” Zelda said, taking a desperate step closer, “Please, I’ll wake him up! If anyone can, it’s me!”

“She’s not wrong. If anyone could get that asshole going again it would be her.” Ere echoed, and Sayuri shook her head.

“I’m afraid we’ve passed the point of… complicated.”

Sayuri moved from the grave, giving it one last bitter look, before moving towards the back of the room where another door stood ajar. She moved through the stone. Zelda struggled to shove it open, and Ere jumped to help her, flashing her an unsteady smile when the door fully opened. Zelda did not return it.

The room was large, with carvings not unlike the ones Zelda had first seen under the castle across each wall, surrounding a pedestal shaped like a lily in the center, each petal holding a place for a sacred stone. Zelda stepped closer to the glyphs on the walls. It wasn’t similar to the ones below the earth—they were exactly the same.

The words from only a little over a month ago echoed in her head painfully—

(It looks just like the carvings found in my studies, but so much more intricate!)

(According to the writings I’ve been able to salvage from the castle library, the Zonai were a race of people that lived long ago in the Skies. They had a prosperous civilization and godlike powers—)

(The written histories of the royal family include stories of a great war fought long ago. It was a bloody conflict between allied tribes and a creature only ever referred to as the Demon King. Is it possible? Do these carvings depict the same legend?)

(Do you know what this means? This changes everything! Every history book, every ancient scroll, all of it!)

( Well then, let’s keep going. I’m sure we’ll find even more further down. Are you ready?)

They hadn’t been ready. Link had warned her they needed to turn back. They hadn’t been ready, they hadn’t been ready—

A heat grew on her back. Fi let out a gentle, soothing pulse of warmth like a slow heartbeat, encouraging her to breathe with the sword. Ere, chewing on her cuticles, watched the flashing sword warily.

“The story of the Zonai has been forgotten even in legend,” Sayuri said. “Mineru will be able to tell you more of the Imprisoning War, of her last days, but for now, I can tell you this.”

“Mineru?” Zelda said, “The Zonai woman? From the dragon’s memories?”

“The dragon…. So you really have no idea?” Sayuri said. Zelda bristled at her tone.

“I—”

Sayuri sighed. “Then let’s begin at the beginning.” She moved to the far left wall, where the mural began.

“In the distant past, long before your modern concept of the kingdom of Hyrule was even a forethought, back when the idea of a united Continent was still new and Hylians were simply a clan claiming divine ancestry in the name of Hylia herself, a tribe decided from the heavens. They bore with them sacred stones of magnificent power, and because of that, were seen as gods.”

Her ghostly hands brushed over glyphs of large eared beings in the sky. Their eyes, glowing zonaite, shone brilliantly despite the dim light, and at each of their breasts sat multicolored teardrops.

Secret stones. Or was it sacred stones?

“The stones could amplify the power of their wielder, creating any gifted with magic the ability to perform great feats. They are not morally aligned, of course. A conduit can be used by any hand—it is the wielder who makes them what they are. Just as the lust for the Power of the Three has torn apart Hyrule over and over, the desire for stones left the stones soaked in blood, hidden away in secret to avoid bloodshed and, most of all, to save others from their greatest and most dangerous use: dragonificiation.

As Mineru told me when this all, as one might say, ‘went to shit’: to swallow a secret stone is to become an immortal dragon. It is to lose oneself completely, thought, heart, and mind. It caused dragonification, a deeply forbidden act of magic, where one’s body was ripped apart and rebuilt as a dragon, its soul so completely warped by the stone that it is nothing more than a physical manifestation of the power once amplified by it.

It is, as she put it, ‘living death'. Your very being erased but your soul is forever forced to live on. A living corpse wandering the sky for eternity.”

Zelda started at the woman, at the dragon mural that circled the room, in horror.

“Wh…why would anyone want to do such a thing?”

“To harness complete and utter power. The stone magnifies one’s magic—when you are nothing but magic, you are more powerful than any being on earth.”

“Wouldn’t there just be hundreds of dragons all over the place, then?” Ere said, examining the lily pedestal.

“The Zonai put fellow Zonai who dragonified themselves to death. It was seen as a mercy. No Zonai-born dragons remain.”

Zelda pursed her lips, following the circling stone dragon as it spiraled across the room.

“And non-Zonai dragons?”

“Your Spring Guardians. The Rito’s Star Dragon.”

“So, you don’t technically have to eat a rock to be a dragon?” Ere asked. She began not-so-subtly pulling on one of the larger diamonds in Queen Sonia's carving, and SIdon's Vow smacked her hand with the flat of its trident.

"Ow! Hey!" She hissed, and Sayuri continued, ignoring the outburst.

“A holy being like a Guardian Dragon is created by the Three, similar to Valoo. As for others—well… one needn’t be a Zonai to ‘eat a rock’.”

A dragon who was not divine, but also not a Zonai? Zelda thoughts twisted the idea around in her mind. A dragon who was neither Zonai nor divine… Who would have a stone? The sages, obviously, but who else? Rauru? Sonia? Mineru? Link? Were there even any non-Zonai or divine dragons?

Zelda ticked off the dragons she knew in her head. Dinraal. Naydra. Farosh. Valoo.

The Silent Dragon.

“Who was the Silent Dragon?” Zelda asked.

“Wait, the dragon bleeding all over the place?” Ere asked, and Zelda nodded. The dragon she’d first seen on the Great Sky Island, at the altar of the Temple of Time, injured but still preening at the sound of her voice, all that was left of the mangled wrongness that had been Link’s aura lingering in the holy place.

Rauru’s stone was still in his hand when he died. Sonia’s was in Ganondorf’s head. Saynuri spoke of Mineru as if she was still alive, so it couldn't be her. Link’s stone was…

Link’s was…

That mangled feeling in the Temple of Time, that Link-ness that had still been so wrong. The dragon that had followed her down from the Islands, saving her time and time again, bleeding viciously from a missing arm, giving her visions that it itself was never present in but always seemed to center Link.

The dragon that had had the Master Sword in its head.

(“I don’t know if I will be able to love you after this but… but I want you to know, that I always have.”)

“He wouldn’t,” Zelda breathed. “No, no he’s smarter than that, he wouldn’t give up like that! You don’t know what you’re talking about! This is bullshit, all of it!”

“Alright,” Sayuri said softly. “If that’s what helps.”

“What—what helps? Fuck you.”

Dinraal. Naydra. Farosh. Valoo.

The Silent Dragon, seen just above the clouds once every hundred years. Zelda had never put the timeline together but… once every anniversary of Link’s awakening.

No. No, no, no—

“If you are unwilling to hear it from me, might I suggest another option?” Sayuri said. “If you have come to me, then you have met Medoh, correct? And have begun to collect the other secret stones?”

A cool, semi solid touch smelling strongly of cinnamon and bow tallow wrapped around Zelda’s middle, squeezing tight. Riju’s Vow followed Tulin’s in its embrace and then Sidon’s Vow joined in on the hug. Zelda forced herself to feel grounded by it.

“Yes.” She forced out through shaky breaths. “Medoh, Naboris, and Ruta.”

“Then only Rudania and Mineru remain.” Sayuri said. “The question is, which one to go to first.”

“I—what?”

“Rudania will hold the stone of the sage of fire. I’m sure it shall prove useful. Mineru—you remember her, yes? My sister-in-law?”

“I’ve seen her once or twice in the silent dragon’s memories.”

“She left her mortal body behind long ago. Her injuries from the final battle were… significant. But she trusted me, as her last remaining adult family, and Medoh, as the holder of my location, to connect you to her. There is a collection of isles, high above the clouds, marred by perpetual storms. Find your way there, and Mineru will be waiting to entrust you with her stone behind a door accessible only with holy power. She can give you further information on the Imprisoning War—she lived through it, after all. And dragonification. She and I put the plan in place, after all. No one knows how it happened better than us, as loathed as Mineru is to admit her role in it.”

Plan in place. Plan in place, plan in place, plan in place—

Tulin’s Vow squeezed tighter.

“But… but Ganondorf’s puppet, his ‘Link’—he’s heading straight for Goron City. If I don’t get there before him, then he might get the stone, and we’re all doomed.”

“Then I guess it’s time for you to choose. Find Mineru, and learn about the choice your friend made. Or find Rudania’s stone, and stop your ‘puppet’.”

Zelda gaped at the woman. “I— but—”

This was exactly what Nayru had warned her about, wasn’t it? That if she went after the silent dragon she’d learn things, things that would distract her. But that didn’t matter because it wasn’t true. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, so she didn’t need any of Mineru’s damn answers.

But Fi was in its head.

Fi was… was…

(“I don’t know if I’ll be able to love you after this”)

They hadn’t been ready.

“I… I need some time alone,” Zelda choked out, before turning on her heels and bolting outside, almost slipping on the puddles of blood, until she was out of the damn room, the damn tomb, the damn hallway, in front of the toppled statue of Hylia. Zelda’s legs suddenly felt weak. She felt herself sliding down against the Goddess statue, not one hundred percent aware of the world around her. She… she’d been here, as a child, felt this same overwhelming emotion of being twisted and torn between her duty and her wants, her have-tos and her desires.

But Link had never been a part of those wants and desires before.

Zelda drew her knees to her chest and buried her head in them. She could sense the Vows nearby, but she squeezed her eyes shut and willed them to leave her alone. Hesitantly, they did so.

She could hear the gloom rain pouring on the room outside.

Zelda wasn’t sure how long she sat, trying hard as she could to pretend she didn’t exist. That this whole adventure was a dream pushed on her by the Calamity, a vivid hallucination Ganon had thrust into her mind to distract her as she held it back, and soon, soon, Link would wake up in the Shrine of Resurrection and come save her from this horrible nightmare.

She wished she was a child again, praying on these marble floors until her knees bruised.

She wished—she wished Link was here, but that wouldn’t happen because he… he…

No. No, he wasn’t, she just didn’t have all the facts. The High Priestess was a gazillion years old and clearly senile. She didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about! She was crazy! This was all crazy!

Zelda was suddenly aware of a weight beside her, leaning against her shoulder, an arm pressing against hers, a thigh against her hip, a head on her shoulder.

“G ‘way, Ere.” Zelda mumbled, trying very hard not to sound like she’d been crying. “I can’t put up w’ you right now.”

“I’m the second youngest of my sisters, you know.” A soft, melodic voice said. It sounded sad, but there was a sweetness there. “Din was the oldest, the strongest. Farore took after Her. But while They Created a beautiful world, I waxed about wisdom and philosophy and tried to force mountains and creatures to fit in that. I wasn’t very good at Creating.”

Nayru, a yearning in her voice so strong it was almost alarming, laughed softly, “Hylia was the youngest, and She was horrid at making things. She was a born protector with a heart bigger than the Three of Us, but She couldn’t make a flower bloom, let alone Create the world. That’s why She guarded the Triforce instead of helping Create it. We bonded over that. Our difficulty with Creation. When She picked that boy over the Three of Us… I was alone again. I understand now, of course. Demise would have destroyed the Triforce with his corrupting touch, ruined Our Creation before it even began.  Of course, Hylia would do anything in Her power to protect it. Anything.

And then Link died. She was inconsolable. She insisted that he was the only one who could stop Demise, that without him, Our world was doomed. She had this plan, this, frankly, insane, idea of time travel and forging the Master Sword and using the Triforce. She was desperate when She told me, but so excited, because She felt like She was finally helping Create a good world, instead of just protecting it.

I hated her when She gave up Her Divinity. Abandoning Her Sisters for some human child. As if that boy wouldn’t be the one to save the world. ‘Chosen Hero’ they call him now. Oh, how I hated him. Farore adored him, of course. Din respected him. Yet, his Spirit Maiden was so similar to Hylia, so wise, that I couldn’t help but love her. I see Her in you, you know. I see Her in every Zelda. Din can have Her Powerful leaders, Faore her Brave adventures, but I will always have Hylia. I will always gift Her my Wisdom.”

Zelda looked up, blinking away tears. Her mother’s face looked back at her. She seemed to have aged a hundred years.

“I trust your Wisdom,” Nayru said. “Sister. I trust you to do what’s right.”

“I’m not Her,” Zelda said in a soft voice. “I’m not. I won’t ever be. Hylia, as you knew Her, has been gone a long, long time. I cannot be Her for you.”

Nayru’s face fell.

“Zelda…”

“Is that all I am to you? The lingering soul of your Sister? Is that all my bloodline has ever been? Ever since the first Spirit Maiden, just some vessel for you to project onto?”

Nayru said nothing but did not look away.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you. I just… I need you to see me as a person. Is that really asking too much?”

Something shimmering and wet dripped from Nayru’s lashes onto her cheeks. She was crying. She couldn’t be—Zelda had to be seeing things.

“I don’t know.” The Goddess whispered. “I just want Her back.”

“I want him back. I want my Hylia back.”

“You… you want your Hylia back.” Nayru breathed. She swiped a golden tear away.

“Look what’s become of this world I helped Create.” She murmured. “Did you know Din’s long since chosen a champion for this generation? This… Ganondorf… he set off after secret stones long before any lust for Power, for the Triforce, ever escaped Demise’s seal.”

Zelda blinked. “He’s not—he’s not the bearer of the Triforce of Power?”

“No. That’s a little Lurilin girl, and, should Din have Her way, she shall grow into a great leader never knowing of Demise’s poisoning touch. Ideally, the Triforce shall stay peaceful in its incompletion this generation. Who knows. In a timeline far from this one, it stays buried under a great sea, forgotten and never lusted over again. Hyrule is at peace, the cycle broken. I pray to see such a thing again.”

Zelda chewed on her lip. “I can’t leave him. He's my Hylia.”

“I know.”

“I will not abandon Hyrule. Mineru has a stone of her own. She will undoubtedly help me against the puppet, when the time comes, as well as the others. I have faith in my abilities. But, I cannot leave my Hylia.”

Nayru’s fingers brushed her arm, her cheek hot on Zelda’s shoulder.

“I give you my Blessing.” She whispered, voice tight with anguish. “Find your Hylia.”

“… Thank you, your Grace.”

Nayru smiled, and then Zelda was alone.

Chapter Text

Naydra was waiting for them when the gloom rain finally stopped, curled up away from the acid under the safety of the shadows of the ruins atop the Forgotten Temple. Ere stared at her gap-mouthed, her scarlet eyes as big as an octorock’s.

“That—that, that-‘s a—”

“A dragon,” Zelda drawled, taking hold of Ere’s wrist and pulling her closer as Naydra lowered her head to the bottom of the canyon, her updraft playing with the women’s hair. “I know you’ve seen one before. You know, right after you stuck your fingers in my leg?”

“But—but it’s—”

“She, Naydra is a she—”

“—Huge.” Ere finally squeaked out. Zelda reached up and patted the cool scales of Naydra’s snout.

“She doesn’t bite.” She said. Naydra purred under her touch, and Zelda scratched that hard-to-reach place below the holy creature’s eyelashes and Naydra let out a thankful rumble. Zelda couldn’t help but smile, despite it all. Zelda had always been close to the Spring Guardians. For almost ten years, the dragons had been her only companions as she prayed at the Goddess Springs for hours on end. Link often compared their sleepy eyes and low moans to a cow, grinning all the while, but to Zelda, they would always be beautiful in their otherworldliness.

Despite his teasing, Link adored the Spring Dragons, particularly Farosh. He loved riding on her horns and taking in the sky as the wind pelted his face and lightning crashed overhead. He’d been enamored with dragons of any kind ever since Zelda first met him, a century ago, and while Zelda didn’t quite understand his awkward explanations of feeling a sort of kinship with them, she found his excitement adorable. That was what first caught his eye when he first escorted her to the Spring of Courage for another prayer session: the countless images of mighty dragons. The discovery left him giddy and breathless.

How cruelly ironic that a man with such childlike wonder for dragon scales and horn shards would be tangled in Sayuri’s bizarre dragonification delusion. Because that’s what it was. A delusion.

Naydra groaned again under Zelda’s palm. Zelda’s fingers were already red and numb with cold, and Ere yanked on her captured wrist.

“Doesn’t bite? Zelda, that thing has fangs the size of my leg!”

“Thing? That’s awfully rude.”

“Rude!?” Ere hissed. She yanked against Zelda’s grip as hard as she could, and suddenly three weapons were pointed directly at her, the Vows not wasting a second as they prepared to pounce.

“She’s lovely,” Zelda said with a sharp sweetness, looking over her shoulder at Ere, whose brown skin had gone ashy at Sidon’s Vow’s sharp-toothed snarl. “Right?”

“…Right.”

“Good. Are you here to take us to meet Mineru, my Lady?” Zelda asked the dragon, who cooed. That was a yes, then. And, most likely, a sign from Nayru. Zelda was unsure if it was forgiveness, understanding, or acceptance, but Zelda wasn’t about to take it for granted. She was just glad to feel light, true light, shining brilliantly inside her once again. If Zelda took the time to look, she would be able to feel the Triforce of Wisdom getting comfortable once again inside her, reacting with the Master Sword on her back like two old friends. It was a good feeling, a content one. Zelda could feel the golden, pure power of the Triforce feeding into Fi, further pushing light into her; together, the two would help each other grow. A symbiotic relationship. Maybe that was why Link left the Master Sword with the silent dragon— Fi preened and flourished when close to light magic, and the dragon clearly carried light inside of it. Maybe, Link knew that Fi would draw strength from that light through the millennia.

Of course, with Link bearing the Triforce of Courage himself, unharnessed but so strong, his light would be able to connect with Fi far better than Zelda, or some strange dragon. The Triforce of Courage had to be earned, and the power that came from that far surpassed even a Guardian Dragon’s. Link had shone brilliantly with Faore’s powerful blessing a hundred years ago, but never really relearned how to harness it once he woke in the Shrine of Resurrection. She didn’t know if Link had ever even consciously used it after waking up.

The Chosen Hero that forged the Master Sword did so with the power of the Triforce— if Zelda had to choose how to fix Fi, it would definitely be with the power that had created her in the first place. A hundred thousand centuries with the Triforce would be far more helpful for the Master Sword than if she spent the same time in the head of a light dragon. But maybe Link hadn’t realized, or hadn’t been able to figure out how to use his Triforce in time, and that was why he left Fi with the dragon. Though Fi felt so much for powerful than she had been when Ganondorf shattered her. A random dragon couldn’t add so much power to her, could it?

Could it?

It had to be able to. It had to. Because if the dragon was more than some strange creature hiding in the sky that Link found then…

Then…

Zelda swallowed. The High Priestess was full of conspiracy theories and pointless ramblings. Link was fine, and Zelda was silly to entertain such thoughts.

“Naydra said she’ll take us the Mineru. Get on.” Zelda said as she climbed behind Naydra’s horns, careful of the slick frost that coated the scales. They would have to hurry—Naydra would never purposefully hurt her, but the cold of her body certainly could.

“On?” Ere said, face somehow becoming even more off color. “I’m sorry, did you say—”

“To get on? Yup. Sidon, would you? Thank you.”

Sidon’s Vow hoisted Ere up by the scruff of her tunic and deposited her behind one of Naydra’s spiked horns. Ere’s breath came out in puffs nearly instantly, and she shivered, shoving her hands in her armpits.

“Hylia’s tits, it is gonna be this cold the whole time?”

“Nayra is a frost dragon that lives above a mountain. Believe me when I say that she can get much colder.”

Ere squeaked as Naydra lifted her head and began to gain altitude. “This thing really know where we’re going?”

“Nayru sent her, so I assume so.”

‘Nayru…’ Ere mouthed, looking absolutely bamboozled.  

“Is it always like this with you?” She said suddenly, and Zelda let out a breathy almost-laugh. Tulin’s Vow’s bow was still drawn as it treaded air above them, the Forgotten Temple becoming smaller and smaller down below, and Riju and Sidon made sure to position themselves between the two women. Sidon’s Vow seemed ready to push Ere off at a moment’s notice, but then, it had been there to see Zelda almost fall to her death, get pelted with arrows, roughed up, and stripped of her magic. It might have been dormant when Ere decided to get up close and personal with Zelda’s wounds, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been aware. Zelda wondered if the real Sidon felt his Vow’s rage down in the Depths, its desperation and helpless fury. Zelda found, looking at Ere, that her heart lacked all those feelings. Mostly, she just felt pity. Ere was, frankly, a little pathetic, and Zelda took comfort in that. It was easier not to hate a pathetic person than it was not to hate someone who gleefully shoved their body parts into other people’s open wounds.

Zelda swallowed, willing away the memory of the feeling of Ere’s hand inside her, the woman’s fingers digging into shredded muscle, curling under ripped flesh, squirting blood down Zelda’s trousers and sending a lick of fire through her that even malice didn’t compete against. No, Zelda couldn’t allow Ere to be anything but pathetic, because if she did, then she would never be able to look her in the face again.

‘If you think I’m bad, you should try traveling with Link,’ Zeda almost said, but decided against it. Mentioning Link around a Yiga, defected or not, seemed unwise.

Naydra flew with deceptive speed, her fluid, graceful movements making it easy to forget just how fast she was. She’d changed her main path over the years, moving from hovering above the Spring of Wisdom and moving through the snow fields to now slinking in and out of Chasms at the base of Mount Lanayru. Today, she carried them up above Faron, higher and higher than Zelda had ever been, towards a truly massive thunderhead that seemed to glow against the sunset.

Ere fidgeted beside Zelda, and Zelda did her best not to pay too much attention to it. It was hard to be scared of a simple thing like flying after facing the Goddess damned Calamity, but Ere had never been this close to something as large as Naydra other than a glance at Farosh moving past in the Depths, and to fly on a massive dragon had to be terrifying. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth moving silently, though what she was saying was lost to Zelda. Ere’s hair had been ripped from its bun, the silvery strands whipping around her face. In the cool blue light of Nayrda’s horns, the bruising on her face looked otherworldly.

“I’m a school teacher—” Zelda said over the wind, “Did you know that?”

“What?”

“A school teacher. I teach kids, reading, writing, arithmetic, science, you know, the works.”

Ere blinked at her. “Why?”

“Why teach?”

“I—you’re a princess. People are supposed to do things for you, not the other way around.”

“I’m a princess, yes, but there’s not exactly a monarchy around, is there? I make far more of a difference helping make this land smarter and kinder than I ever will forcing people to answer to the divine right of kings again. I’d rather create a world of kind people than subjects.”

Ere looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“There’s this one girl, Melanie, she’s a real firecracker. Her family is Sheikah and Lurelinian; wicked smart, can do long division all in her head. She wants to be an architect and build new communities on the coast. And then there’s Josaline, she reads a book a day, I swear, but she wants to be an artist. She cuts paper into little shapes and glues them together and makes little figurines.”

“… Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re frightened. I’m trying to help.”

Ere looked at Zelda, searching her face for something that she did not seem to find, before turning back to the approaching thunderhead. A flash of lightning lit up the clouds, exposing long arching shadows through the rain, and Ere jumped at the massive explosion of thunder.

“More,” she said softly, snatching Zelda’s hand. “Can you, can you tell me more?”

“There’s a new girl in town from Hateno’s first Rito citizens. She loves Cece’s fashion, carries a little Cece designer purse with her everywhere. It’s a knock-off, but her father would never tell her that, it would break her heart. Do you know Cece?”

Ere tensely shook her head.

“She’s a fashion designer, down in Hateno.”

Finally, the storm was right over them, the rain as clean and fresh as it was icy and charged with an electric tang.

“I’ve never really worn anything for its looks.” Ere said. “Yiga uniforms are about making a statement, not looking pretty. Not like you all dress.”

Naydra let out a rough moan, and Zelda realized they had come to solid ground. It was almost impossible to tell, with the thickness of the rain. Zelda could barely make out Ere’s face, even with Naydra’s glow, and, careful of Naydra’s slick scales, Zelda stood. She shimmed off of Naydra’s neck, jumping onto the island with a ‘splash!’. The rainwater rushed over her feet, up over her ankles and pulling at her with a surprising current. Zelda offered Ere a hand. The probably-ex Yiga eyed the island wearily but took Zelda’s hand and let herself be led off of Naydra and into a puddle.

“Thank you,” Zelda said to the dragon, dipping into a deep bow, and Naydra pressed her snout into Zelda’s stomach. “Okay, big girl, we’ve got it from here.”

“Do we?” Zelda hurt Ere mutter, and Zelda frowned. If there was one thing Zelda had learned in her years since the Calamity, it was that believing failure was a possibility made it far more likely to occur.

Nayrda pulled back, dipping below the rocky outcropping, and then she was gone, leaving Zelda and Ere alone with the storm.

It was dark without Naydra’s glowing brilliance, the sky black with clouds and the air grey with rain despite the Purah pad saying the sun had yet to fully set. The air reeked of ozone, and every once and a while, the sky lit up with lightning so bright the whole island was visible.

It was a collection of islands, each of varying size, shape, and height, and the foliage, what little Zelda could make out with each snap of lightning, reminded her of the Great Sky Islands—yellow and orange instead of green, cloud-like mushrooms, and glowing sundelions. The pale trees smoked, split by lightning, their height serving as lightning rods.

Lightning rods!

“Do you have any metal on you?” Zelda asked, grabbing hold of Ere’s bicep.

“What? No, I’m unarmed—”

“Not just weapons, any metal.”

Zelda could barely make out Ere’s wrinkled brow before the smell of ozone began to grow, sparks flickering around them. Zelda swore, flicking open the Purah pad and sliding the Master Sword inside.

“Ere, now, please.”

Ere nodded, flinching at the explosive lightning overhead, and quickly unbuckled a belt with a metal buckle and slid off her boots, their cheap tin buttons already beginning to spark. They disappeared into the pad.

“I’m gonna need those back,” Ere said with an uncertain laugh before peeling her already soaked wool socks off.

“Here, let me,” Zelda said, taking the socks and sliding them into the pad.

“So, we’re weaponless?” Ere said, glancing around the grey. There was zero visibility. Zelda was barely able to see the hand in front of her face, let alone Ere. Only her outline was visible, hallowed by the lightning’s glow, and Zelda had a feeling it was only going to get darker. “Did the ghost lady tell you where we’re going to be going? Or,” Ere leaned closer to whisper, “Nayru?”

Zelda opened her mouth, then quickly shut it. “No. Neither did.”

“Fantastic.” Ere groaned. She leaned over the edge of the island, squinting down at Nayrda’s dimming glow. “Any chance you can call her back over here and she can help us out?”

Zelda shrugged. “If she was meant to help, she would stay.” She said, and Ere groaned.

“Of course, you’d say that.”

There was a crash of thunder following a strike of lightning that took down a massive, pale tree in a flare of white-hot flame, and for a brilliant moment, the island was alight. The collection of isles was connected by rotten, waterlogged wood bridges and metal rungs that sparked and spluttered. Trees bent and swayed in the howling winds, and beautiful ruins of white stone dragons curved around the islands. They did more than curve; they danced, swirled and moved with elegant grace despite being sedimentary stone. Ere sucked in an awed breath as the light faded.

“Have you ever seen Zonai stone work?” Zelda asked. She took Ere’s hand, inching forward in the direction of a stone tail.

“Just the construct parts and such,” Ere said, “and the mine in the Depths. But those were so… utilitarian. This is beautiful.”

Zelda latched hold of the dragon’s back and placed Ere’s hand on top of hers. “Keep holding on,” she said, “and hopefully we won’t lose our way.”

“What are we even moving to?”

A good question, one that Zelda didn’t have the answer to—yet. Didn’t have the answer to, yet. Ere flinched as lightning struck mere meters away, the thunder so loud that it drowned out her strained breathing.

“You’re okay,” Zelda said, and Ere laughed.

“I’m gonna walk off the edge of this fucking island and not even be able to tell!”

“I won’t let you fall.”

Zelda couldn’t quite tell the look Ere gave her, given the rain, but it stung all the same. Suddenly, Zelda was aware of another roll of thunder, this one not accompanied by lightning.

Bum. Bum. Bum.

“Do you hear that?” Ere hissed, and Zelda squeezed her hand. That wasn’t thunder. Clutching the dragon statue’s long, long tail like a lifeline, she shuffled forward towards the sound. Ere’s hand was slick with rain as the woman hesitantly followed behind, sticking close by. Zelda squinted through the rain towards the sound and her heart leapt at sudden color. Red shone out into the storm. Red light, like that from a lighthouse! Someone else was in the storm, or something else, left behind to guide travelers!

“Come on!” Zelda said, hope bubbling up inside her, and she yanked Ere along as she broke into a run.

“Zelda, wait—!”

Zelda did not wait. Zelda had done far too much waiting, and the chances that they’d find Mineru there were better than the chances they found her wandering through the rain trying not to fall to their deaths or be struck by lightning. Zelda slowed as the ground sloped, rain rushing past her heels, and bent her knees, recentering her center of gravity.

Bum. Bum. Bum.

It was almost like a heartbeat, mechanical and organic at the same time. The red light continued to circle and Zelda all but crawled forward, feeling the ground for any possible give that might warn of a tumble off the island. There was a gap, a wide one that her arm barely stretched across while fully extended, but when she reached the other side, there was no grass or mud. Instead, the ground was smooth stone, with carvings along the rib. If she did a running jump, she could easily cross it! Zelda took Ere by the forearm despite her sudden squirming and yanked the both of them onto the flat, circular island.

Zelda looked up. And up. And up.

A shadow towered in the rain, glowing green. That was not Mineru.

“Zelda,” Ere said, voice thick with panic, “I know what that thing is. They have them in the Depths, the Zonai made them to protect mines. We need to go, now.”

She tugged on Zelda’s tunic, but the woman couldn’t tear herself from the red and green glow of the creature—robot?— as it drew itself up to its whole height. Cubic and abstract in design, the flux construct barely resembled the other constructs Zelda had seen in the past. Those had been dangerous, but small and wiry, electrical insides exposed to the air—and to her blade. The flux construct had no such exposed weakness, built like a mountain rockslide. It might be humanoid in shape, but Zelda knew a guardian when she saw one.

The guardian’s gaze flared red, locking in on Zelda’s face. She couldn’t breathe— when had the air gotten so hot? When had her heart forced its way to her throat? When had her stomach bottomed out, falling into her intestines?

(The Master Sword was limp in his right hand. Zelda knew Link was ambidextrous and could fight either way, but his left hand, burned and mangled beyond recognition, was as horrible to look at as it was to smell. Half-attached fingers dangled, and Zelda was certain some of them were connected by sinew only, the muscle and bone destroyed by a Guardian blast to his left arm that had been meant for her. Link still held the Master Sword before him as he shoved Zelda back, his hand on her chest as he narrowed his eyes at the approaching guardians. One, two, five, twelve, and Fi was so fragile, so dim—)

Someone was shaking Zelda, screaming into her ear, but she couldn’t hear them, not over the sound of the guardian’s footsteps.

(“Link, save yourself, go! I’ll be fine, I—I always am, please!” Link had promised the Citadel would provide protection, but then it fell. Then, he said Fort Hateno would keep them safe and it would soon fall too. They were going to die. Mipha, Daruk, Revali, Urbosa, Father, Link, Link, Link—)

“Princess, you are too fucking heavy for me to carry you, you have to move!”

(Link shoved her back and Zelda nearly fell. He brought his mangled left hand onto his right one, stealing himself. He raised his sword as the guardians locked on and—)

Zelda yelped as Ere bulldozed into her just as the flux construct slammed down its arms.

“Damn it, Zelda! Get up!”

Zelda sucked in one breath, two, before she realized Ere was shielding her with her body. Ere was shielding her, exposing her back to the construct to keep Zelda safe. Zelda shimmied out from under the Yiga and forced herself to her feet, steadying her breath.  

“Thanks,” she wheezed. “You said you found these in the Depths? How do you kill them?”

“We didn’t,” Ere said, and Zelda could practically hear her teeth chattering. “Their bodies are practically indestructible.”

Zelda had just fought a massive creature while free-falling without a bow. She could take down a fucking robot.

Zelda forced herself to her feet and reached deep inside her, behind her heart. Nayru’s Power leapt up to meet her, tangled in Hylia’s own lingering magic like a welcoming embrace, and a golden bow came to life in her hands. Zelda drank in the holy Power’s embrace and drew back the bow string. Zelda summoned one, two, three arrows and let them fly—two struck uselessly on the construct’s head, but the third pierced its neck, which let out a sharp ‘ping!’ and glowed a brilliant green, illuminating hundreds of cogs under the surface.

A weak point!

Zelda leaped to the side to avoid a hurled volley of robotic parts that would have easily crushed bone. The construct surged forward with more speed than Zelda thought possible, and she circled it with as much calm as she could muster, letting out arrow after arrow. It was slow going—the robot moved with obnoxious speed, and each time her arrow struck, the glowing cogs shifted somewhere else on the body, far from reach. Whatever this thing was, it was intelligent. It sent out a wave of robotics, and Zelda ducked under them, vaulting back when it formed into a mammoth cube, tumbling closer and closer with such ferocity that it shook the ground. Its weak point was hidden underneath; there was no way she could get to it from a safe firing distance. She would have to get closer.

Zelda lowered her bow and, squinting through the rain, the construct’s glow refracted through the rain, she moved closer. The construct seemed spurred on by her closeness, moving with greater speed and aggression, trying its hardest to squash her flat. Zelda fired an experimental shot; it was already hard enough to aim, and, this close, the construct moving with such ferocity that shooting straight was nearly impossible, even with a weapon like the bow of light. Zelda grit her teeth. Link had probably killed a thousand creatures harder than this—

(The smell of burning flesh, of seared muscle, the screams of children left behind in the chaos, her hands burned and her feet bloody, clawing at Link and begging he bring her back, that she be able to die with her people where she belonged—)

Zelda blinked rain and memories out of her eyes. No. No. Now was not the time for spiraling.

The flux construct rose in the air, changing tactics, and Zelda raised her bow, angling it at the exposed glowing green cube in the center of the garbled collection of robotic parts in the air. She hit it once. It wobbled. She hit it a second time. It shook violently. Dimly, she was aware of Ere yelling

“It explodes when it dies! Zelda, it’s gonna—”

Zelda glanced over her shoulder— she couldn’t see Ere, but her voice cut through the rain. Zelda fired one last shot, but this time the robot clump flung itself out of the way and exploded into a shower of massive cubes, each corner razor sharp and heavy as a grown man. Zelda dove out of the way, and the cubes went flying across the stone ground. It had been a last-ditch attempt by the flux construct. By exploding its body, it had hoped the shrapnel would take her out with it. Zelda lay on her back, panting where she’d fallen. The robot parts slowly lost their glow, leaving her surrounded by chunks of strange material. She sat up slowly and touched a now cold, lifeless cube. If not for Ere’s warning, she might not have been prepared to dive.

Ere just saved her life.

“Ere?” Zelda called. Nothing. She stumbled around the cubes, just in time to fall back on her ass as the ground shook, splitting open to reveal the familiar green spiraling light of Zonai technology and a long staircase up to a door that pulsed with light and power. Zelda took a step closer, hesitant but still hopeful. The flux construct had been a guardian, protecting what she bet her ass was the way to Mineru. She couldn’t help the exhausted smile that spread on her face.

“Ere! Come on! I found something!”

A strangled groan came in response. Zelda turned, brow furrowed. She couldn’t see Ere’s outline in the rain. “Ere…?”

Another pained sound, this one wetter. Zelda knelt, groping the ground with her hands, carefully avoiding the razor-sharp edges of the flux construct’s shrapnel. Her hands found another puddle, only this was warm and thicker than rain.

Zelda scrambled forward, her hands finding a foot, then a leg, then a hip, before catching on a cube of shrapnel and slicing through her palm. A trembling hand found hers, and Zelda squinted through the rain. She could make out the darkness of blood, the outline of Ere’s body as it leaked red, a chunk of flux construct deep in her gut.

“Oh Gods…” Zelda breathed.

“What… did you.. find?” Ere wheezed, and Zelda shushed her, carefully wrapping her fingers around the shrapnel. “Was it some way to the lady?”

“Stop moving--"

“Was it?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

Zelda didn’t like the tone of Ere’s voice. She didn’t like it one bit.

“I can’t get this thing out of you on my own, help me lift.”

Ere shoved Zelda’s hands away. “I’ll, I’ll bleed out, no—”

“I won’t let you.”

Ere’s laugh was shrill and terrified. “Right. Sure you won’t. Just go. Don’t let your lead get away.”

Zelda grit her teeth. “Just grab the cube, damn it!”

“No!” Ere wasn’t laughing anymore, shoving at Zelda’s arms. “Please, I don’t want to die—”

“You’ll bleed out if you stay here anyway. Take my hand,” Zelda said, keeping her voice as calm and as steady as she could while still being heard over the scream of the storm. “We’ll push on three. I swear to you, I won’t let you die.”

“Bullshit,” Ere said, and Zelda could hear the terror clear in her voice. “Get the fuck away from me—"

“I need you to trust me—"

“Trust you? I tried to kill you! I stuck my hand inside your leg!”

“And I’m trying to forgive you for that! Just take my damn hand!”

Zelda could barely see the glint of Ere’s eyes in the dark, but she could still make out the fear. Ere took Zelda’s hand.

“We’ll push this to the side, and then immediately apply pressure. I promise you, I will not let you die.”

Ere let out a sound that might have been a sob, but nodded. She wrapped her fingers around the cube and pushed. A horrible squelch came from her side, muffled by the even worse sound that slipped out of her mouth, and then the shrapnel was abandoned to the side, and Zelda’s hands were on the wound.

Zelda had saved Sidon from gloom damage. She had saved Buliara from a gushing neck wound. She could—and would—save the same Yiga woman that shoved her down a Chasm, that had dug into a raw wound with her fingers, that had threatened all of Kara Kara. It didn’t matter what Ere had done. Zelda wouldn’t let her die on her watch.

Zelda reached for Nayru, just as she had in Gerudo Town, cold to the touch but loving, closer now than she had ever been. In Gerudo Town, Zelda had felt the Goddess’ hands on her own, but now it was as if Nayru’s hands were her own hands, moving together as one, no need to lead the other or tell them how to move. Zelda reached inside her to the place under her heart where the Triforce slept and pulled. She pulled and pulled, until all of her shone, gold in every pore, in every breath. Ere’s face, tear-streaked and ashen, was clear in the light that poured from Zelda’s palms, from the back of her left hand, triangular and holy.

“It’s… cold.” Ere breathed, and Zelda nodded.

“Nayru’s touch often is.”

Ere’s eyes widened even more than they already had.

“I’m not dying?”

Zelda moved a bloody hand from her side and cupped her cheek. “Not on my watch.”

Ere’s head fell back onto the stone ground as Zelda moved back.

“Any pain?”

“Sore. Like someone hit me with a horse. But nothing life-ending.”

Zelda smiled. “Good. Hopefully, all this damn rain will wash some blood away.”

She stood and offered Ere a hand, who hesitantly took it, and hauled the woman to her feet.

“So, you can just… do that? Channel… Nayru… or whatever?” Ere asked, whispering the Goddess’ name. Zelda made a ‘so-so’ motion with her hand.

“It’s the Triforce more than Nayru specifically, but I suppose?”

Ere ran her hands over her face. “Okay. Okay. Right.”

“You’ve been trying to kill Link and bring about the Calamity for half a decade now—surely you’d know that we bear the Triforce? And have the Goddesses’ blessings? Isn’t that kind of the whole point?”

“It’s not that I didn’t know, it’s just that… well, the Yiga try to hold close to the Sheikah’s original way of life. The way we were before the Royal Family decided to butcher us all or pin the cowards who gave up who they were under their thumb. And ya know, since the Sheikah were Hylia's first protectors, a lot of the ancient texts I grew up reading included Hylian Gods. They were updated, of course, to include how Hylia abandoned us, how She chose Hylian murderers over us, ya know, real history, but still, the Goddesses were a part of my education. My childhood. I’d say all of us have a little awe left in us. Except for maybe the Hataomotos. And my Master.”

Zelda wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“… Sorry.” Ere said softly. “You just saved my life and I made you uncomfortable.”

Zelda bit her lip. “I—I guess I need to remind myself that leaving Kohga doesn’t mean you stop being…” Zelda swallowed. “… I mean that……Ere, if Kohga wasn’t trying to work with the Demon King, would you have left?” She said finally. Ere stiffened.

“I…”

Ere was frozen next to Zelda, shivering in her bloodied, shredded tunic. Zelda waited. Ere said nothing. Zelda fought against her urge to fidget. Ere still said nothing, eyes downcast.

“It’s fine,” Zelda said softly, finally ending the stalemate between them. “Not sure what else I expected.”

She turned from Ere, moving instead towards the opening in the ground.

“Zelda, wait, I’m sorry, I—”

Zelda kept walking. The green glow was the spiraling light of a shrine, seeping up from a circular hole that had opened up in the ground with a spiraling staircase that led down deep into it The shrine’s light was ghostly in the rain, and Zelda pressed her hand to the stone. She wasn’t about to leave Ere alone out here, not when she almost died ninety seconds ago, but by triggering the shrine, hopefully, she could travel there quickly if something went wrong, assuming Ere could come with her.

…Just how long was the Yiga supposed to be traveling with her? What was she supposed to even do with her? Ship her to Lookout Landing? Kakariko? Hyrule didn’t exactly have a unified court system yet, not that Zelda thought Ere would get a fair trial to begin with if the magistrate wasn’t heavily, heavily monitored. Would she want Ere to face punishment for her actions?

No. No, Zelda may not have any love for the Yiga, but this Hyrule, her Hyrule, was one of new beginnings, fresh starts. She wasn’t rebuilding the monarchy for a reason. Gone was the time of divine right of kings, of prisons and executions, of the cruel history of the Hyrulian family. She was making a new Hyrule, a better Hyrule, one that Ere would find a place in.

Zelda jumped when Ere brushed her shoulder. Zelda was aware of how quiet a Sheikah could be, but watching Ere move with complete silence through the rain was still somehow startling. Maybe because she thought of the Yiga as far bolder than the Sheikah ever were ... but then, the Sheikah she knew were defanged, centuries of their own history stolen from them by the Hylian royals of the past.

Zelda’s hand hovered by the stone.

“What do you learn about your history?” She asked softly, not turning to face Ere, instead letting the comment hover in the air. “I mean… not like ‘death to the crown’ stuff—forgive me if I don’t exactly want to hear that—but… There’s a woman in Kakariko. She’s been researching the ways that the Sheikah of old practiced their religion, of their connections with the Gerudo, of the forgotten and… and destroyed culture. Anything, big and small. She wants to rebuild the Sheikah, or at least save what little of their past remains.”

Ere’s face twisted into something uncomfortable.

“I’m sure the Chief is on board,” She said, tone biting, and before Zelda could stop herself, she was answering Ere’s comment.

“She is. Because that woman, she is the Chief. It was certainly… controversial before she was elected, but she’s been met with growing support. Dorian in particular is fiercely protective of her and her decision to try and restore the Sheikah.”

“Paya? Little Paya?”

“She’s not so little anymore. She’s almost 21—she’s trying to instate the Shadow Council again, instead of the Sheikah being led by a Hylian-appointed Chief.”

Ere picked at her nails. She looked quite similar to a drowned rat that had lost a fight with an alley cat.

“We don’t have a Shadow Council,” She said quietly. “Not even the Hataomotos have a say in what we do, just the Master. Which is fine, he knows best—”

“Does he?” Zelda said, not unkindly. “You said yourself that he’s determined to serve Ganondorf despite the danger it poses his people.”

Ere hissed as she dug too deep into a cuticle bed. Blood welled up around her nail. The rain fell in earnest, but the room under the hole was surprisingly spacious, even with the shrine, allowing for the two of them to stand outside the lip of the entrance and out of the rain. The chill was worse without the rain, but it was wonderful to be able to see.

“My Master… he just…” Ere bit her lip. “I…”

“He must not know best if you’re willing to ask me to kill him.”

“Kill is a strong word…”

“What else could ‘take him down’ mean, then?” Zelda asked with a raised eyebrow, and Ere curled further into herself.

“I—I don’t know.” She said finally, voice painfully soft. “I… I…”

Zelda took Ere’s bleeding hand in her own and squeezed it. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. How about that?”

Ere opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind, simply nodding instead. She turned from Zelda to look at the shrine.

“It’s so different from our technology,” She said, reaching out a hand to touch the grey stone. “So… dull. The Zonai are about as creative as a rock.”

Our technology. As in the Sheikah and Yiga. The more Zelda listened to Ere speak of the Sheikah, the more certain she was that the footsoldier felt a kinship there Zelda had never heard of from Yiga before. The Yiga she knew all spat at the average modern Sheikah, claiming superiority for refusing to submit to any other, but Ere seemed to carry something different with her. A longing almost, to be a part of something bigger—or so Zelda hoped.

“It certainly isn’t as flashy as Sheikah tech,” Zelda said, “But it is fueled by light power, not science or magic. That makes it distinctly unique.”

“Hm.”

Zelda turned from the shrine to the spiral staircase that led to the base of the hole, which seemed more and more man-made by the second.

“Can you walk?” She asked Ere, and the woman scoffed.

“I’m bruised, not dead.”

Zelda frowned. “I just wanted to make sure.” She said, and Ere wilted at the hurt in her tone.

“Thank you,” She said. “Ya know, for the magic healing stuff.”

Zelda waved it off, and started down the stairs; Ere simply hopped over the railing and landed on the bottom of the pit with cat-like grace.

“Shit, come look at this.”

Ere stood before a massive door, marked with a familiar lock. Rauru had appeared to Zelda before such a lock, claiming that opening it would test her power, back when using the Triforce had been a frightening idea she didn’t quite grasp.

It was clear to her then; Mineru had to be behind this door.

Ere touched the flat, palm-shaped door handles and jumped back with a yelp, cradling her hand to her chest, the palm now fiery red.

“It’s a test,” Zelda explained, looking over Ere’s pulsing hand. The burn was magical in nature; the best they could do was wait for the pain to fade. “There was one like it on the Great Sky Islands where I was taken to heal after meeting the Demon King. It was to test if my power was strong enough to enter the Zonai’s Temple of Time, to see if I was ready to begin my quest.”

Content Ere wasn’t dying again, Zelda turned back to the door. Stealing her shoulders, she took a deep breath and placed her hands on the door hands.

Light flooded her instantly, blooming forward from the place under her heart, rushing to meet her like an old friend. The door groaned, glowing brighter and brighter, light running up the Zonai lettering along the frame, before the seal broke with a soft, airy sound. Dust burst forth, coating Zelda in a thick film that clung to her wet clothes and hair, and then the door swung open. Zelda braced herself, ready to meet the Zonai woman from the silent dragon’s bloody visions.

The doors scrapped the wet earth with s squelching sound, and Zelda stepped inside, squinting in the dark. As the door opened, some kind of mechanism was triggered, and the hieroglyphs and Zonai figures on the wall began to glow, casting the large, white stone room in a ghostly green glow. Could a Zonai live long enough in here? No, definitely not. So would Mineru be some kind of ghost like the High Priestess?

“Daaaamn,” Ere whispered behind her, stepping into the room. “That’s quite a light show.”

There was a pedestal in the center of the room, and on it, an owl-esc mask. Its eyes were wide, its feathers carved from Zonaite and the strange, pale green not-quite-stone that they seemed to favor so much in décor, and it thrummed, seeming to vibrate with something uniquely alive. Zelda recognized it—in the visions, Mineru had worn an identical design upon her head. Zelda reached out with her magic, searching for other living auras that might be hiding, and gasped. There was one other living creature with them: the mask. Life poured off of it, pooling in the air, radiating out an aura that Zelda recognized.

“Rauru?” She said softly. It wasn’t the same, not entirely, but it was similar, sharing a magical DNA and a sense of self. The same Zonai touch, the same shimmer of magic, the same blood and pumping heart.

Zelda reached out and brushed a finger over the closed third eye on the brow of the owl mask only for a spark of electricity to run from her finger and the eye to snap open.

Zelda jumped back as the mask began to glow green and vibrate, the hidden grate behind it opening with a groan before the mask turned its eye out past the sky into the sea of Faron’s trees below, a beam of energy shooting forward with such force that the owl mask almost fell off it pedestal.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Zelda, Link’s Chosen Princess,” a soft melodic voice called. Zelda looked around, waiting for a ghost ringed in green fire to appear like Sayuri, or a spirit of grey and green to float forward, like Rauru. Nothing. The room stayed empty. Zelda’s fingers ghosted over the Purah pad, drawing the Master Sword and holding it at her side, not a threat but definitely a sign to the voice that she was not one to be trifled with.

“Oh. So you found it.” The voice said, and the pure relief in its tone left a strange ache in Zelda’s insides. “Good. If this damn plan of his didn’t see itself to fruition, I could never forgive him.”

Him. Him, him…

“Zelda, Link’s Chosen Princess—you have found me sooner than I expected. I sense only three sages’ spirits with you. You will need their blessing as we continue onward.”

“Who’s we?” Ere called behind Zelda. Zelda had almost forgotten about her.

“Forgive me. I am the Royal Technician of the Zonai, the eldest twin of King Rauru of Hyrule, Sage of Spirit. My name is Mineru.”

“You’re a hunk of rock,” Ere said, and Zelda shot her a glare over her shoulder.

“I am happy you arrived. At last, we can speak to each other. Even if the added company is unexpected and unwanted. This conflict is between us and the Demon King. Outsiders need not be involved.”

 Ere opened her mouth and Zelda quickly swatted at her, giving her a warning look lest she decide to start trouble with the closest thing Zelda had to answers.

“Unfortunately,” The mask—Mineru?—said, “I no longer have a body. It was destroyed in the final battle with that monstrosity. But my magic has always allowed me power over spirits, particularly my own. With Link and the High Priestess’ help, I have lingered, waiting here for you in this vessel, above the clouds and cloaked in lightning for my protection while Link guarded his—your—sword. But as I am now, separated from a body and my secret stone, I am weak. Come. Take the mask. It will guide you.”

Zelda stepped even closer and slowly lifted the mask from the pedestal. It sang for a moment as it was lifted, before settling in her hands.

“Please, we must meet face to face as soon as possible. My senses may have dwindled over the centuries but even then I can tell something is very wrong. My stone is in grave danger.”

Mineru went silent, surprisingly light in Zelda’s arms. She walked closer to the steep drop just outside the open far wall.

“How the hell are we gonna get that down to wherever?” Ere said, and Zelda shrugged.

“That’s easy. Grab my wasit.”

“What? Why—”

“Just do it.”

Ere wrapped her arms around Zelda’s chest and Zelda chucked Mineru over the edge.

“Zelda—!”

Whatever else Ere was going to say was lost to the winds as Zelda made a running jump, tugging the other woman closer, and plummeted towards the ground.

Chapter Text

Zelda supposed that chucking a priceless artifact from the side of a Sky Island was, in fact, a terrible idea when it came to archaeological conservation. It was almost funny to consider how, back under the castle, the oils on Link’s fingertips had concerned her so much where as now potentially mangling Mineru’s mask caused no such alarm. The thought should frighten her—archeology, research, academia, that was her soul. Treating an arifact with so little care should horrify her, but instead here she was, treating Mineru’s owl-like mask as little more than a piece of a puzzle she could force into any available place. Which, she supposed, it was. The mask was one more thing between her and Link, and she would force it to fit into any gap before her if it meant getting the answers she wanted.

Ere was screaming in her ear, clinging so tight to Zelda that her nails left crescents on the flesh of Zelda’s arms. Zelda was deeply glad she had cut her hair off long ago as Ere’s long hair ripped free from the ex Yiga’s bun, her wet strands cutting into both their cheeks.

Carefully, being sure to keep one arm tight around Ere’s waist, Zelda awkwardly flicked open her paraglider. It yanked painfully on her one arm, not quite catching the wind, but thankfully Ere seemed to understand the plan. She wrapped her arms tightly around Zelda, who let go of the other woman and grabbed the other paraglider handle. Immediately, their descent slowed, the wind around them no longer howling, simply singing as it carried them down to the ground where Mineru’s mask waited. The mask pulsed softly, a green beam of light shining from the third eye on its owl-like forehead, right towards a collection of ruins Zelda didn’t recognize.

Tobio's Hollow had apparently changed drastically since her and Link last scouted out here. The bottomless bog that had surrounded the Hollow and served as a hunting ground for a hinox had retreated, giving way to clear, clean water, and, just barely under the waters, the feathered tips of a bird statue. It was easy to tell it was Zonai in origin, given how close it appeared to the other Zonai ruins that peppered Faron, but didn’t seem to have fallen from the sky, instead pushing up out of the waters like a sapling. The air seemed to carry an electric charge, like the ringing of bells in the wind. Zelda landed, her footsteps quiet as they hit the ground, and Ere swore, flopping down. With the rain gone, the blood on her clothes was obvious, as was the rip in her tunic, long and clean from the sharp edge of the flux construct’s cube, right across her kidney.

Ere could have died, should have died, yet didn’t, all because of Zelda. Because of Nayru’s gift, the Triforce of Wisdom blooming inside her, golden and brilliant and terrifying.

Triforce. It felt strange to finally think of the word, to label the power inside her, but it was a good strange.

Zelda leaned down and picked up the mask. It buzzed in her hands, its light flashing toward a stone pedestal before them. Cautiously, Zelda placed it down on the pedestal, jumping back as soon as she did. She doubted it was dangerous, but better safe than sorry. The mask trembled, then, with a mighty shiver, left out a beam of light straight into the submerged forehead of the bird. The bird’s stone eyes fluttered open in a shower of dust, glowing green, before raising its wings. The stone groaned, and as the wings rose, so did the pedestal. Zelda took a step back, and suddenly the pedestal was rising faster and faster until it was no longer a pedestal, but the entrance to a… cave?

Zelda took a step forward. The smell of gloom was faint but present, clearly coming from the cave. Not the cave—the chasm.

“Woah…” Ere breathed behind her, and Zelda couldn’t help but agree. This had been here, under the sludge, for all these years, long before even the Calamity’s resurgence, long enough for the ruins to be forgotten all together. Though maybe a wisp of a memory had still held on—Tobio’s Hollow. Hollow. Something carved out and empty, carved out and waiting.

Zelda straightened and picked up the mask when it began to let out a soft whirling sound, like a bumblebee or a hummingbird.

“Are we headed down there?” Ere asked.

We. Are we headed down there.

Zelda nodded, hoisting the mask above her head, and moved forward into the dark. Behind her, Ere groaned, but still stood and started after her. The dark stretched on and on. The smell of gloom was thick, but the whisps of deadly smog were absent, not curling around their feet like it did other time Zelda neared the Depths.

“The last time we were this close to a chasm, you tried to make me go splat.” Zelda called over her shoulder as darkness overtook them, and Ere let out an uneasy laugh.

“I did, didn’t I?”

Zelda tried to reply but found her mouth too dry to make words. Ere had tried—and almost succeeded—in pushing her to her death. And now, Zelda was exposing her back to her, as if it was water under the bridge. She shouldn’t be this trusting. She should still be on her guard. What would Link do? Frankly, Zelda didn’t know.

A light flickered to life in the corner of her left eye, and Tulin’s vow, soft and cerulean, chirped silently beside her. Zelda sighed and ran a hand across the strange, not quite solid feathers. Almost as if it was jealous of the attention, a crackling golden light flared up at Zelda’s right, and Riju’s vow took Zelda’s hand. Ere stifled a yelp—yep, there was Sidon’s vow, its trident in hand, left most prong resting a little too close to Ere’s thigh for the ex-Yiga’s comfort. Zelda couldn’t help but wonder just how aware Sidon was of what his vow had seen over these past few weeks: saving Zelda from a long drop and a quick death, forced to watch as Ere thrust and curled her fingers inside Zelda’s leg, listening beside the other vows as Sayuri spoke of Link and dragons. Sidon, Riju, Tulin… how did her world appear to them, all the way back in their hometowns and domains?

The three figures of light and magic seemed to glow brighter as Zelda and Ere moved further down, as if Mineru’s stone was calling to them, drawing forth their power. The increasing downward slope of the chasm came to a stop. There was no drop, no hole, no entrance to the Depths, no matter how much of a chasm Tobio’s Hollow clearly was. Zelda squinted in the dim light. The ground below was stone, not rock, worn smooth by the deft hand of a carver. It was man made.

Riju’s vow let go of Zelda’s hand and stepped forward, raising its swords. The light of its lightning exposed a white floor, flush with the walls but clearly not a part of them, and another pedestal.

“Zelda…” Ere said wearily, “Are you sure we shouldn’t—”

“What, turn around? What other choice do I have?”

Ere bit her lip. “I just… we seem a little underequipped to keep moving forward, ya’ know?”

“You might be, but I have her.” Zelda placed down Mineru’s mask and slipped the Purah pad from her hip. With a flutter of her fingers across the screen, Fi was in her hands once more. The Master Sword’s glow, brighter than it ever had been before her nap in the silent dragon’s skull, illuminated both women’s faces—Zelda’s pale determined one, and Ere’s bruised, nervous features. The sight of the fresh bruising in the Master Sword’s glow had Zelda wondering just what Ere went through to find her. Just who she fought, which Clan members she raised a weapon against. Zelda swallowed. There was time to dwell on such things later.

“We haven’t much time.” The mask said, its strange, melodic voice echoing against the man-made floors. Both girls jumped. “My apologies for startling you, but I can no longer sense the body left waiting for me— Zelda, Link’s Chosen Princess, something is very wrong. I fear we have little time. Place me in the pedestal.”

Ere glanced at Zelda, eyebrow raised, but the other woman had already begun latching the mask in place.

“What exactly do you think we are walking into?” Ere asked. The room trembled, and she stumbled back away from the cavern walls as the floor began to sink down. The little light from the entrance of the cavern disappeared as the floor dropped, moving down, down, then sideways and opening into a world of black.

The smell of the Depths, the smell of gloom, was overpowering, as was the blackness, but Mineru’s mask kept its headlight shining, exposing the occasion flash of an otherworldly tree or gloom-covered collum, before the light of fires began to glow ahead of them, followed by the glitter of zonaite, bringing a truly breathtaking building into view. Multistoried and beautifully carved, decorated with zonaite, the construct forge was the biggest collection of Zonai ruins Zelda had ever seen, most notably because they weren’t ruins. Despite being clearly Zonai in design, they were intact, with forges lit and fires glowing as constructs worked to process the zonaite around them on each of the four floors.

The forge sprawled, the building breaking into four pieces connected by running water lit by artfully carved lanterns, but clearly all was not well. The constructs on the ground floor had hidden themselves in their own bodies, while a shrill alarm blared. The floor had been trashed, Zonai construct pieces strewn about and smashed, but the floor was empty of combatants. Where were the monsters?

Mineru’s mask gasped. There, in the center of the first floor, was a strange glowing mechanism in the shape of a lotus. In it was the outline of a robotic body, but wires spluttered and frizzed around it, like something had been ripped free. Whatever it had once held, it was long gone.

“No…” Mineru said, voice tight despite the lack of body. “I fear we are too late. Millenia ago, I had my forge constructs craft a physical form to house me once you freed me from the Dragonhead Isles. It should be here, safe from the Demon King’s minions, yet still…”

“Zel…” Ere’s voice called out from behind them, wobbly and unsure. “I, I think I know who our minions are.”

Zelda turned. Now that she was really looking, she could see drag marks coming from the empty lotus, clear enough to be sure that whatever this ‘physical form’ was, it had fought back. Footsteps occasionally stumbled around the deep grooves, and packed patches of dirt painted a picture of bodies thrown prone. Ere knelt at one such patch. Even in the dim light, Zelda could make out a splatter of something darker and redder than the Depths’ soil. Blood—and crushed to pieces, but still recognizable, shards of smooth, polished wood, painted white with a red design across the grain. Zelda knelt beside Ere, who, with trembling hands, picked up the pieces of the broken Yiga mask and reassembled them on the bloody soil.

The Demon King. Ganondorf. My Master is building this, this thing, this mech or construct or whatever, and he thinks if he gives it to the Demon King to use as a new body that he’ll avenge us…

Kohga wanted a body for Ganondorf. Mineru had a body waiting for her here. If he had gotten a hold of a construct as well-made and powerful as the one Mineru had made for her was, then who knew what he could do with it. Who he could hurt with it...

“My best guess,” Zelda said, standing and turning back to Mineru, “an adversary of mine, Kohga of the Yiga, took your body. But we have a whole forge here! Surely, we can build you a new one!”

“Hmm..." Mineru pondered the idea for a moment, before making a sound of agreement.

"Place me in the head of the lotus.” Mineru said. “Do you see the storehouses connected by the waterways in this area? Each one had pieces needed to build a body for me. Please, I know my people have already asked so much of you, Link’s Chosen Princess, but we must prepare me a body. I am far too weak to take you to the secret stone’s hiding place without one. Take a piece from each storehouse and bring it to me. I’ll help you attach them when you arrive.”

“I understand,” Zelda said, hoisting Mineru off the pedestal and hauling her up, over her head, and into the lotus. “I shall do as you request.”

Zelda swore the mask smiled down at her. “You are as brave as he said. Go. Please.”

---

They followed the waterway to the first storehouse, which smelled of brimstone and radiated a strange heat that sis not seem to affect the water, leaving sweat on Zelda’s brow but not burning her skin. Once she and Ere entered, the source was obvious—a winding river of faux lava, trailing from a workshop bench to the waterway. Zelda stepped closer. Zonai contraptions in various states of repair were spilling from floor-to-ceiling shelves, and signs of chaos coated the room. Crushed boxes, spiled zonaite, shattered crystalized charges—even the remains of a forge construct, ripped to pieces and left twitching and sparking on the floor. The room smelled sickly sweet from the left-over banana peels scattered across the room and left to rot, like this piece of living history was the Yiga’s personal trash yard. Zelda rushed to the remains of the forge construct. It let out a mechanical warble but managed to half open one stone eye.

“Y…ou are not… an intruder…” It managed to chirp out. “I was… instructed… to wait for one such as yourself…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here soon enough,” Zelda said. Behind her, Ere shifted awkwardly. The three vows had surrounded her, their white eyes hovering on her trembling shoulders.

“The… terminal…”

Zelda glanced around; there, knocked free from the wall, was a sparking terminal with a strange arm-like appendage encased in mesh. Zelda stood and moved to it.

“Is this the arm we need? For Mineru’s body?” She called to the construct. The construct did not answer.

Zelda took a deep breath, forcing the anger in her stomach out through her lungs and into the air where it could harmlessly disperse. A beautiful, sentient piece of history, destroyed, and for what? All this history, all these near perfectly preserved ruins—tainted, ransacked, riffled through, and stolen from like it was common pirates’ booty and not all that was left of long-forgotten society. Had they no shame?!

“… ‘M sorry,” Ere said softly, and Zelda shook her head.

“You didn’t do this.”

“I—still. I’m sorry.”

Zelda freed the left arm from the mesh and turned it this way and that. It was sparking, twitching, the fingers’ beautiful zonaite dull and absent of the electricity that flowed above the elbow. The wiring was complicated, but not completely foreign. If she used a bit of imagination, it almost… it almost resembled…

“Are there any tools on that bench? Screwdriver, soldering iron?”  

Ere nodded, running to the table beside the fallen construct and scooping up every tool in sight, as well as any blueprints she could see, rushing over to Zelda, and dumping them in front of her.

“You know how this stuff works?” Ere said, and Zelda made a so-so motion with her hand as she began flipping through the blueprints.

“I studied the guts of guardians a lot before the Calamity, and when we deconstructed the Sheikah tech around Hyrule to use for rebuilding efforts, I learned how the guardians that had been hidden below the Castle worked. And Robbie and Purah—well, you can’t have family like that and not learn a few things. I always wanted to be a researcher, a scientist. Looks like all that ‘playing at being a scholar’ is going to good use.”

Ere looked at her curiously, then kneeled down.

“What do you need me to do?”

Zelda passed her the arm and, slowly but surely, the two worked, Ere holding the arm while Zelda screwed something here, re-routed a wire there, and soldered zonite across strange not-metal. The blueprints proved invaluable, and even if the language was too old and too strange for Zelda to translate herself, the diagrams were beyond useful. Riju’s vow held its electrified sword into Sidon’s vow’s bubble, the brilliant electrical light refracted through the room by the water, allowing for perfect visibility. Finally, the left arm creaked, then groaned, then lit up all the way and flexed its fingers. Zelda shouted in glee, and Ere dropped the arm to pull her in for a hug. The feeling of Ere’s squeeze, the tickle of her hair under Zelda’s nose—it was nice. Nicer than Zelda would ever admit. How old was Ere? No way she was older than Zelda, that was for sure. Had the woman ever spent this long with someone outside her cult? Had she ever hugged someone who wasn’t Yiga? Zelda wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know.

Zelda pulled away and stood, hoisting the arm on her shoulder.

“Shall we?”

Ere looked through the grates that made up the windows of the storehouse. The waterway stretched back into the main factory, moving briskly.

“Ya sure you can carry that the whole way?”

Zelda frowned. It was awfully heavy.

“Maybe we can find something to tie it to and float it down the waterway…” Ere said. She began to pick through the garbage and destroyed artifacts left by her ex-brothren. “But the current… we’d never beat that current.” Sidon’s vow stepped forward. Ere flinched, and it squeezed her shoulder with surprising gentleness, flashing her a smile, and, with a wave and a flex of its hand, the construct arm in Zelda’s arms was engulfed in a glowing bubble of water. When Zelda placed it on the ground, it hovered, the walls of the bubble cushioning it. Tulin’s vow bobbed up and down on its talons and, with a quick burst of speed, sent a gust of wind towards the bubble, sending the arm rolling merrily into the waterway where it bobbed easily against the current, further and further down stream.

“Well come on!” Zelda called over her shoulder as she bolted out the door, careful of the forge’s lava flow, back towards the waterway. Ere followed after, unable to take her eyes off of the vows, who seemed to be doing the same.

They reached the lotus in no time, Sidon gracefully maneuvering the arm through the air with its bubble, and Zelda skidding to a stop before Mineru with a beaming smile.

“We got the left arm!”

“Fantastic. The other three storehouses should have the other arm and legs. Here, let me talk you through how to attach the arm—” But, before Mineru was able to finish, Zelda was already settling the arm into place and lighting the soldering iron she’d brought with her, quickly connecting wires and screwing together bolts and springs. Mineru let out a surprised hum.  

“Link said you were smart. He called you a scholar. Yet still, I hadn’t expected such quick learning from you, Chosen Princess. Forgive me.”

Zelda shrugged. “Most people see the crown before they see the brain.”

Mineru laughed. “You remind me of my sister-in-law. I think you would have liked her. Her child bore your name.”

“… That’s what the Priestess said as well. Zelda.”

“Sayuri is a… difficult person to get along with. She and I… when Link proposed his plans, well, her fingers tainted every word he said to me. It may have been millennia, but bitterness, anger… it still threatens to rise on my tongue. Quickly. We haven’t time to talk. My body.”

“… I understand.” 

---

They moved even faster after that. Riju and Sidon’s vows would light up the dark storehouses with their electrified bubble, followed by Tulin and Sidon working together to send the arm or leg down the waterway to Mineru, where Zelda would quickly put it into place with a few tips from the spirit sage. What Zelda feared would take hours instead too only a little more than one, and soon Mineru’s body was complete, each limb brought to life by Zelda, with Ere’s fumbling but appreciated help. Zelda’s hands were slick with otherworldly grease, and her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat—she hadn’t realized how much she missed getting her hands dirty. She loved teaching, adored the children of Hateno, but still, she had been more than just the slightest bit bitter that Link had been so set on deconstructing the Sheikah tech and leaving nothing behind to be studied. So much information, lost… even if she agreed that if anyone had a right to want a fresh start, it would be the man killed by the mechs, Zelda couldn’t help but feel cheated out of a dream she’d never had the chance to actualize, that century ago.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…” Ere started, passing Zelda a different screwdriver head, “hands on?”

Zelda tightened a joint screw on Mineru’s right leg. “I actually dreamed of being a scholar or an engineer when I was younger.”

Ere laughed. “You were already a princess—wasn’t that good enough? Every little girl wants to be a princess.”

“Did you want to be one as a child?”

“I—no. I didn’t really think about what I wanted to be.”

“Nothing at all?”

Ere took back the screwdriver head Zelda passed her. Zelda slid the fixed leg into place and began the attachment process. “… I had this one thing, I guess, as a kid… but it was stupid.”

“Nonsense!”

Ere’s skin flushed. “I remember—I… I was with a foot soldier doing reconnaissance on Kakariko, back when I was really little, and we stayed at a stable to wait and sky on traveling Sheikah. There was this horse… it was blue. I’d never seen a blue horse before. And it was so soft… the stable hand let me feed her and showed me how to brush her down. She was so big but so gentle… I thought that, once the hero awoke and we killed him, and you died and the Calamity rose, and the modern Sheikah returned to the old ways with us… well, then there wouldn’t be a need for the Yiga Clan anymore. We could just be the Sheikah again, and there would be no more masks and no more hiding, and I could work at a stable with blue horses.”

Zelda blinked. She hadn’t realized she had stopped blinking as she listened, or that she’d zapped her finger on an exposed wire, just that Ere, in that moment, sounded so young that it hurt.

Objectively, Zelda knew she and Link were far too young for the job put before them. But to see someone who might be even younger talk of a world where her only dream was to work at a fucking stable was grim in a way Zelda didn’t want to dwell on.

“I know what we’re going to do when we get out of here,” Zelda said, and Ere furrowed her brow.

“Stop the Demon King?”

“Well, yes, of course, but I’m getting you a horse. A blue one. Maybe even a foal, so you can raise it! And a job—Dueling Peaks is always hiring, regardless of experience, and with Kakariko nearby, you’ll be protected!”

It was Ere’s turn to blink at her, white eyebrows up to her hairline. “Zelda…”

“Don’t ‘Zelda’ me, it’s decided. There!” Zelda crawled out from her precarious place half under Mineru, grinning. She gave Mineru’s leg a final thwack and ran a greasy hand through her hair. “That should do it, more or less. How does it feel, Mineru?”

The construct shuddered mechanically as light flushed through the exposed wiring. Not Zelda’s best work, but better than nothing.

“Mineru?”

Mineru’s whole body shivered again, before suddenly lurching forward. The hips freed themselves from the lotus first, then the shoulders, and then each arm and leg fought against the magnets and wires as they pulled themselves free with agonizing sluggishness, before finally, finally, Mineru’s owl-like head popped free. She stumbled forward, her massive feet sending up dust clouds, before dropping to one knee. She grunted and slowly managed to right herself on two feet.

“Forgive me,” she said, “Having a physical form again may take some getting used to.”

Mineru towered. Her arms dragged on the ground with massive fists, her chest bulging and electrified. Her head was aglow with crystalline charges, and she was as beautiful as she was terrifying.

“Damn.” Ere breathed. Damn indeed.

Zelda stood. This was Rauru’s sister, his twin, one of the last people to see Link, to have the answers she needed. The mask’s glowing, hollow eyes seemed to hover on her, and Zelda tried to imagine Zonai eyes in their place.

“Thank you,” Mineru said. “You proved to be a quick learner. I am glad. It would have been frustrating to find Link’s Chosen Princess inadequate when so little time is left. He placed much faith in you, and lofty expectations on your shoulders. Him and Sayuri both. I’m sorry.”

Zelda straightened. “I would do anything for—” Link “—Hyrule.”

Mineru seemed to smile, even without the ability to do so. “I am sure you will. I have the utmost faith in Link’s judgment. Now, we must go. I can sense my secret stone, but the connection is weak. I will need it if I am to continue inhabiting this body much longer.”

Zelda nodded. “Where is it?”

“Hidden away in a temple not far from here—I can take you. But the way is treacherous. The Depths of this time are so different from the mines and factories that the humans and constructs in my time stewarded.”

“When you say, ‘your time’,” Ere said, taking in the towering construct, “How long are we talkin’? The Sheikah first sealed Calamity Ganon 10,000 years ago—”

Mineru shook her head. “Link spoke of a Calamity once, and it ended in quite an explosive conversation between him and the Demon King. The Sheikah are few and far between amongst the followers of Hylia—or so I have been told. Little is known of them.

Ere’s eyes were wide. “So you’re before the 10,000-year slumber of Ganon… I… uh. Wow.”

Mineru laughed. “Wow.”

“How did you stand it? Being locked away for so long?”

Mineru’s shoulders shifted minutely, but enough for Zelda to pick up on her discomfort.

“It was a struggle.” She said stiffly, “But necessary. The Demon King must be stopped. My brother must be avenged. Link’s sacrifice must not be in vain.”

It was Zelda’s turn to stiffen. Link’s sacrifice…

No. No, no, it was pointless to dwell on possibilities that likely weren’t even true when there was a job to be done. She squared her shoulders.

“So, how to we reach this temple? Do you have a map?”

Mineru knelt on one knee. “I shall take you. Climb on my back. The way will not be without struggle, but this body you have made for me is far from helpless.”

Mineru’s back shuddered, her shoulders sliding deeper into her back and out further into her sides, exposing a handlebar and foot grips.

Zelda took a deep breath and hoisted herself up. The strange not-metal-not-stone that made up the construct was warm to the touch, and she was careful to avoid the electric stream between the plates. The crystalized charges inside the electrical stream were a beautiful pale mint green, and she was tempted to touch it, even if she was sure that was a terrible idea.

“When you say ‘far from helpless’—” Ere started, and Mineru cut her off by raising a mechanical arm and forming a strange-shaped fist. The plates around her forarm shifted, clinking together softly, and pulled back, exposing blinding light from a charge. Wires and plates lept free from the innards of the arm, and in a flash of green light that left Zelda squinting her eyes, they came together, barbs and spikes poking through until they formed a massive ball of spiked metal the size of Zelda’s head, clearly heavy enough to crush bone with a strong enough hit.

“Woah.” Ere breathed, stepping closer and poking it, and Mineru snorted.

“This body can do far more than that.”

“Really? Holy shit, Goddesses above, like what? Can you blow up things? Can you fly?”

Mineru’s laugh was as bright as it was elegant. “Both, to an extent. I have a canon on the left arm, though it needs ample time to recharge between uses. A rocket can propel us upward from my back, and I can shield for a limited time.”

Zelda twisted around and offered Ere a hand. “Come’on. There isn’t much time.”

Ere grinned, taking her hand. “Let’s ride a robot.”

Mineru’s shoulders shuddered for a moment as Ere clambered on, before moving slowly and wrapping around the women’s backs like a shield. The plates didn’t cover everything, but they would ensure they didn’t fall, and, if it held, should deflect a blow or two thrown their way from behind. Not perfect, but definitely better than nothing.

The ride was bumpy and slow. Mineru apologized, saying that without her stone, it was becoming harder and harder to ensure her strength and vitality, and Zelda truly meant it when she reassured the Zonai that the slow speed and nauseating turbulence were fine. Mineru had been a spirit possessing a Zonai artifact for millennia, her sheer determination keeping her from fading away as the centuries passed, and now she was controlling a whole new body without the aid of a secret stone. The woman had real determination, and an unwavering spirit, to be able to do such things, and Zelda deeply respected that. She was sure Link would respect it too.

“Were…” The word slipped out before Zelda could stop it, and Mineru’s owl head cocked.

“Yes?”

“You and Link. Were you close?”

Mineru did not answer. It was painfully quiet for one minute, two, five, until Zelda began to accept Mineru would not answer her. But finally, she spoke, quieter than Zelda had ever heard her.

“I wish we had been closer. He was family, to my brother and sister-in-law, and the baby. Our friendship never bloomed in the same way it did with Queen Sonia, and now, I wish desperately it had. I was so angry after Sonia’s death, after Rauru’s death, when he came up with his asinine plan with the stone…I turned cold towards him. He deserved better in those last days. Grief is, as they say, a bastard. But that isn’t to say there was no warmth between us. I built his arm, after all. And he inspired a new love for learning in me that I hadn’t felt in years on the day he showed me the Master Sword. For so long, Hylia, the Golden Goddesses, the Master Sword—all of it had been frivolous Hylian fluff. But to see it in his hand, to witness its power… it certainly left me with a reignited desire for discovery. If only we’d had the time for me to do so.”

Zelda swallowed. Sonia’s death had been horrifying to witness, and objectively she knew Rauru had died, but when she tried to picture the Zonai failing, falling, it felt near impossible.

“My people,” Ere said softly, “likely took your body. They’ve been attempting to locate and serve the Demon King. I won’t let them give it to him. We’ll get your body back.”

Mineru all but growled. “If Ganondorf were to ever go near my tech, I’d smash his hands to pieces before he even had the chance to touch it. He has no right to anything of mine, not after what he’s done.”

Ere shifted uncomfortably in her perch on Mineru’s back. “I saw a vision, of him fighting. Back on the knoll. It was… was unlike anything I’d ever seen.”

“That battle was a painful failure. We should have taken it as a sign that we, as we were, even with the stones, were far from prepared, or that we didn't have what it took to take the Demon King on. That last fight, deep in the Depths…”

Mineru took a shuddering breath.

“Medoh fell first, right from the sky. Ruta and Rudania not long after. Naboris… she held on for longer than the rest, but not long enough. I was… one of Twinrova bested me. And all that was left then was Link and Rauru. We knew then, there was no winning. Rauru knew.”

Despite her lack of a throat, Mineru choked down a swallow. Her whole body shuddered, the crystalized charges flickering.

“He saved us. He sacrificed himself. My brother… he had the power to purify evil, a mighty and genuine power of light, increased by his secret stone. He knew that he and Link would be unable to take down the Demon King. The Demon King had grabbed hold of Link with these hands, these vile hands made of gloom, ripped his prosthetic clean off—my brother… my brother… he…"

The crystalized charges in Mineru’s body glowed brighter, brighter, until Zelda couldn’t see, a strange ringing in her ears growing so loud that her teeth hurt. A voice, two voices, echoed in her head, and she squeezed her eyes shut, slamming her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth together.

“I am going to kill you slowly, and enjoy every moment of it. I’ll make you beg, beg, for death, and deny you over and over. Maybe I won’t ever kill you. Maybe I’ll dangle it over you, a treat never to be given. I will make your body the mascot of my rule!”

“That pride will be your downfall, Ganondorf!”

There was a sudden feeling of holy purity, the otherworldly light washing over Zelda, so close to Hylia’s own that it brought tears to her eyes. A weight pressed on her chest in the shape of a massive hand, then a horrible pain, and Zelda choked as she felt something sink into her and wrap around her heart with a sickening crunch. The holiness continued to pulse inside her, growing heavier and tighter until she couldn’t breathe.

“Stay down,” a soft voice called, so far away but so close. Desperation poured over Zelda, and she longed to reach out to the voice, to beg for, for, for something, though what she didn’t know. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You bind my heart and steal my magic. You plan to hold me here… what a clever way to solve your problems.”

“Link, go get Mineru and the others. Do not wait for me. I know what I’m doing. The miners had been in the process of bringing explosives—they should be here any moment. Go.”

“Are you ready to pay the price for this?”

“Link. Please, hurry. They need medical attention.”

A laugh echoed, pained and weak but so filled with hatred.

“Don’t be so smug. I know exactly what this will cost me—cost us.”

“Thousands of years will pass in the blink of an eye. You only delay the inevitable.”

“You’re wrong”.

“A millennia from now, a woman will appear with power from the Gods, a holy power unlike any other. The woman who will gladly smite you—Zelda.  Remember… that... name.”

The ringing in Zelda’s ears faded. The light of the crystalized charge did as well, and the holiness she felt slowly slipped away.

“Zelda?” A voice called, a tight, panicked hand on her shoulder, “Can you hear me?”

Zelda took a shuddering breath and nodded. “Y-yeah,” She forced out, and Ere looked unconvinced.

“Stop,” Ere called to Mineru. “Let her catch her breath.”

Mineru came to a stop. Zelda hadn’t even realized they’d been moving.

“I’m sorry,” Mineru said softly. “I… I got caught up in memories, and my magic—as a conductor of spirits I can sometimes brush too closely to another’s soul. I… I am out of practice. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s fine,” Zelda forced out, and Ere crossed her arms.

“I heard him,” Zelda said softly. “The Demon King. And Rauru.”

“The Imprisoning War.” Mineru spat. “What a thing to call it. Two battles and a failed climax. Far from a war.”

“You won, in the end.” Zelda said, and Mineru shook her head.

“Did we?”

No. No, they did not.

The trek through the gloom was quieter after that, just the clink and clank of Mineru’s plates hitting one another and the whirl of the vents on her lower back panels propelling them faster than if she had been walking. The Zonai’s mechanical body shuddered more with each step—without Mineru’s secret stone, Zelda doubted it would hold together much longer. It wasn’t a surprising observation, but it made Zelda’s heart ache. She remembered the ache in her very bones when she returned to a fully mortal form, after Link and her defeated the Calamity. Her muscles had atrophied, her bones growing brittle and weak, her hair falling out from malnutrition after her skin burned to a crisp from  malice exposure. Hylia and Nayru, the Triforce, they had all kept her soul safe as she battled the Beast but cared little for her body. Zelda still marveled at the fact that she’d had a body intact enough to return to, once it was all over. Mineru didn’t have that. Even the false body she had created for her had been taken, ripped from its resting place by the Yiga’s creeping hands. Zelda’s body may have been broken, but Mineru’s had been stolen, and Zelda couldn’t imagine how the Zonai woman must be feeling.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a treacherous journey?” Ere asked after ten minutes of silence. Mineru hummed.

“I had expected it to be,” she said. “When we first descended into the Depths, my brother and the other sages, we were met with great opposition from the Demon King. I had expected his kind to linger.”

“Wait—there!” Zelda patted Mineru on the shoulder. The construct came to a stop, and Zelda hopped out. There, among the dirt, was a decayed knight’s broadsword. It’s blade was covered in gloom, yes, but also dark blood. Zelda picked the sword up gingerly, careful of the gloom.

Why would a sword be down here? The Yiga used very specific weapons, blades with ties to the Sheikah of old, duplex bows and eightfold blades. This was not a Yiga weapon. Zelda swiped her thumb down the bloody blade, being careful of the gloom and decay, and popped it in her mouth. The tangy copper was disgusting, but was not the foul, rich blood that came from a boko or a moblin. No, this was humanoid blood. Yiga, most likely. A steward construct wouldn’t ever wield a sword, meaning this had belonged to a monster and had been drawn in combat against one of the Yiga. Zelda stepped further out of Mineru’s headlight, even as both women called for her to come back, and felt around the puffshrooms and muddlebuds on her hands and knees. Soon enough, her fingers caught on cold, clammy skin and the sharp edge of a horn.

Bokoblins. Dead ones. The Yiga had definitely been here. But why drag the monsters out of the path? Zelda turned back to Mineru and Ere. The packed footsteps of Mineru’s stolen body moved on, surrounded by scuffled movements in the dirt. Maybe…

Maybe Mineru’s previously built body, being so old, couldn’t maneuver as quickly as this one could, and had to have the path cleared anytime it wanted to move forward. Good. That would make it easier to take it down if they came into contact. Zelda weighed the knight’s sword in her hand, spinning the hilt over the back of her hand, just as she’d seen Link do so many times. If they were going to go head to head against meched out Yiga, they needed to be prepared—all of them.

Zelda squeezed the hilt, mind made up. Moving back to the mech, she presented it to Ere, who looked at the blade with pure confusion, before her eyes widened in understanding.

“Zelda--"

“Take it. It’s dangerous to be down here without a weapon—you know that as well as anyone. Your bases were down here.”

“But I... I could stab you! Or slit your throat, or disembowel you, or—”

“Or behead me, or cut my arms off, or, I don’t know, gut me and eat my liver. It’s dangerous to go alone. Take it.”

Hesitantly, as if the blade might bite her, Ere took the hilt.

“Are you sure?” She said softly as Zelda hoisted herself back on Mineru.

“Are you going to give me a reason to regret this?”

“No!”

“Then yes, I’m sure.”

“Are you ready to proceed?” Mineru asked, and Zelda nodded, slotting her hands into Mineru’s not-metal-not-stone panels and giving them a squeeze.

“Yes.”

“Good. I am sorry to say so, but my power is greatly waning. If we do not hurry, then I fear I shall fade away before we reach the stone.”

The walk, which had become a jostling run with the help of extra fans sprouting from Mineru’s back panels, was eerily uneventful. Zelda kept waiting for monsters to make their presence known, but over and over all they found were piles of bodies on the edge of Mineru’s headlamp beam. The Yiga had been brutal and thorough, and Ere couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the blade in her hand. She had no sheath or harness, meaning she couldn’t let go, simply held it with an experienced grip in her left hand.

Huh. Link was left-handed too. Zelda wondered if Ere would mind the comparison. The two were nothing alike, but Zelda hoped that, once this was all over and Link was back, they would get along well enough. Well, as long as Link never heard about the ‘pushing to your death’ or ‘sticking your fingers in and reopening a healing wound for information’. Zelda didn’t think he’d take too kindly to that.

Oh well.

“There,” Mineru said, voice strained. “The Spirit Temple. The secret stone of spirit’s resting place.”

The building was massive. White stone and zonaite formations glittered under torch light from Yiga guards. Some Yiga foot soldiers had tied ropes around the zonaite statues of elegent Zonai, each holding a secret stone carved from jewels, and had managed to topple the statues to harvest the zonaite inlaid in them. Scattered through the base of the temple were groups of Yiga, gathering crystalized charges and Zonai deceives, hoisting them on backs. They were ransacking the place— no. No, they were making room, preparing to build a new fort in the temple, not unlike the one in the Gerudo mine. Which meant, if they dug down deep enough, they would find the secret stone.

That wasn’t an option. Zelda had to get to it first.

“We need to utilize stealth,” Zelda said. “There is no way we make it out of this if we go in swords swinging.”

“I am not the best built for stealth,” Mineru said, her body clanking with each word.

“We can’t leave you behind—we need you to guide us to the stone—”

“I know. We’ll have to fight our way through.”

“No,” Ere said softly. “We don’t. I’ll get glamoured up and get you a uniform, and we’ll present Mineru as a mech we found while searching the perimeter that we wanted to show the Big Banana. I know the codes and the passwords, as long as they haven’t been changed yet—I’ll be able to convince them. Once we’re in, Mineru will show us to the stone and we can get the hell out of here.”

Zelda frowned. “Are you sure? I don’t want you putting yourself in—”

“What, danger?” Ere shot her an uneasy smile. “I betrayed the Yiga Clan. I’ll be lucky if my execution is swift and clean. Until then, let me do what I can to make up for what I’ve done.”

My execution. Ere spoke the words with such certainty, such conviction, like she really couldn’t imagine a world where she outlived the Yiga Clan. Itwas almost as unsettling as it was heartbreaking to hear from such a young face.

Zelda and Mineru clung to the shadows, watched, and waited as Ere hopped free of the mech, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck.

“Stay put. I’ll be back soon.” She said, before straightening and closing her eyes. She brought her hands in front of her, close to her chest, and made a few short, sharp signs that Zelda recognized as vaguely Sheikah, but too old or accented to be translated. Ere seemed to melt away, her brown skin replaced by pale flesh with blue undertones, her bruises melting away into freckles. Her long silver hair was short and red, curling around her temples, and she filled out, her already broad shoulders and hips taking on fat as glamour fluttered around her. Her tattered tunic was clean and whole, with a red detailing on the pockets. At that moment, Ere was gone, replaced by a whole other woman—until she smiled, winking towards the shadows, and Zelda could see Ere again in the upturn of her lips and the gleam in her eyes.

“Be careful.” Zelda pleaded. Ere gave her a quick two finger salute, and then she was gone, slinking into the torchlight as a foot soldier began to make rounds along the parameter. It was almost hard to locate her, even in the fire light, as if the shadows from the flickering flame were attracted to her very movements, wrapping around her like an old friend. She moved like she was herself but an extension of the darkness.

The Sheikah, back in the beginning of the world, having been Hylia’s right hand, hid in the shadows cast by Her glorious light, so close to Divinity that, should they have chosen to step out of the darkness, they would have burned to a crisp. The first Sheikah, the first Impa, covered her face, as she could not look upon her beloved’s Grace any other way, and to this day, Paya, Dorian, the other more traditionalist Sheikah covered their own faces in a show of remembrance of their history and reverence for their Goddess. Hylians and Sheikah had been tied together ever since the beginning, Hylia’s Chosen People and Hylia’s Shadowy Protectors, destined to care for one another and defend one another.

Care for. Defend. A fat load of good that did the Sheikah. They’d lost everything, everything, even while most still served Zelda faithfully. They were more than shadow people— they were her very shadow, following alongside and responding to any order she gave, even if she was sure not to give them.

If she gave Ere an order, a proper order, would something in the woman’s very soul sing out to follow, as the legends claimed? If she took the title of Hylia before the ex-Yiga, would the millennia of servitude boil to life in her blood? Would those who had come before both of them, Ere and Zelda, been happy in such roles, or would Ere’s ancestors fight against the Hylian expectation of themselves, just as the Yiga did?

… Just how many generations of Ere’s family lived alongside the Yiga? Surely, if she was raised in the Clan, her parents must have been members. Were her grandparents? Great grandparents? The Sheikah lived a long, long time—had Ere’s bloodline been a part of the Yiga before the return of the Calamity had even been foretold? How many branches of her family tree were twisted around Master Kohga?

“Thank FUCK!” Ere shouted, and Zelda nearly fell off Mineru’s back in surprise. The Yiga foot soldier shining a torch on Ere’s magically changed face seemed equally taken aback to see her. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for y’all!”

“Keep your voice down!” The foot soldier hissed, shinning the light closer to Ere’s pale cheeks. “Do I know you?” The foot soldier asked, nasally voice tight with annoyance, and Ere cocked her head.

“Duh? Kuzia, right? The one that told me the old bastard’s tech lab was ready for an opening? Said I should put in an application?” Zelda couldn’t pinpoint the accent Ere had chosen, but it sounded nothing like herself.

“What? I—”

“So I hike aaaaall the way up there, but nope, no opening, just a bunch of dead Yiga. Some ‘monster hunting crew’ decided to—”

“Shut up,” The Yiga, Kuzia apparently, said, voice low and dangerous, and Ere blinked stupidly up at him.

“What? Why?” She whispered, her voice about as obnoxiously loud as a whisper could get.

Kuzia muttered something under his breath that likely was not very nice. “We’re busy here, kid. Go bother the Gerudo branch if you wanna job so bad.”

Ere frowned. “Aw, man. But I’m here now!”

Kuzia sighed. “Listen, kid, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but the Big Banana has something big going on inside and we need all hands on deck—”

“Then why are you out here?” Ere asked sweetly. Kuzia spluttered. “I just mean, it’s dangerous to patrol without a buddy. That’s one of the first rules, ain’t it?”

“I’m perfectly capable of—”

Kuzia never had the chance to finish his sentence, and never would. Ere’s blade, so far unnoticed in the shadows, whipped up, and Kuzia gargled out something lost to the stale air as he swallowed blood from the slit in his throat. Ere knocked his feet out from under him and without so much as a twitch in opposition, the foot soldier went down. Ere made quick work of stripping the body, grimacing when she pulled the white mask free.

“You always were an asshole,” Ere muttered, but still took a moment to kneel beside Kuzia. Her hand brushed over his open eyes, sliding the eyelids closed, and Zelda could make out the movement of lips, a whisper on the wind, as Ere breathed out a prayer that Zelda didn’t recognize. Ere swallowed, took a deep breath, and stood, jogging back to Zelda and Mineru and tossing Zelda the gear. By the time Zelda was dressed, the ex-Yiga had wrapped herself in a new film of magic, this time a perfect replica of the uniform Zelda now wore.

“Shall we?” Ere said, and Zelda took a moment to steal herself.

“Let’s go,” She replied. She thought Ere might be grimacing under her mask.

Care for. Defend.

Ere had just spilled blood, her people’s blood, for Zelda. She’d slit the throat of someone she knew well enough to recognize behind a mask. Maybe she hadn’t done it for Zelda, done it instead to save her own skin from the Demon King’s wrath, not at all for the good of the Continent, but regardless, she’d done it.

Zelda didn’t know how to feel about that.

Care for. Defend.

“Let me do the talkin’,” Ere whispered in Zelda’s ear as she walked past, and Zelda nodded mutely. Mineru hung back as Ere took on a swagger Zelda didn’t recognize—she realized this must be the woman’s interpretation of the Yiga man she had just killed.

Zelda wished Link was here. She wished he could be holding her hand right now, giving it a tight squeeze as he looked up at her with eyes that always seemed to be so unbelievably understanding. But Link wasn’t here. Link was somewhere, and Mineru knew exactly where that somewhere was. They’d get the secret stone and then, as much as it made her sound like a mustache-twirling villain, Zelda would get her answers whether Mineru wanted to give them to her or not. Zelda was done being in the dark.

“HALT!” A voice called. Two Yiga foot soldiers came into view as Zelda and Ere moved closer into the torchlight and out of the shadows.

“It’s just Kuzia,” the leftmost foot soldier drawled. Her gaze seemed to slip right over Zelda, lingering on Ere instead, and Zelda wondered if Ere enchantments had something to do with it. The first foot soldier’s mask was slightly more detailed, her uniform marked with a symbol signifying an upper rank. Was that something to be concerned about? Ere didn’t seem phased. The rightmost soldier crossed their arms.

“It’s not his shift! We’re supposed to be—”

“Aw, chill, mate,” Ere said, “I was just taking a walk along the parameter—found something too! Is that such a crime?”  

“Yeah, mate, chill,” The decorated soldier said to her partner, who uncrossed their arms just to make a show of crossing them again.

“Newbies,” the decorated soldier said, and Ere laughed, slapping Zelda on the back.

“I know exactly what you mean, Sal. Somebody has been sneaking banana chips out of my hiding spot.” She gestured to Zelda, and Sal laughed.

“That’s Blademaster-in-Training Sal to you, punk!” The solider—Sal—said, punching Ere on the shoulder. “I got promoted! Didn’t you hear?”

“What? By the Calamity, B.I.T, that’s amazing!”

Sal preened. “I managed to alert the Big Banana to that bitch before she set off her little explosion in the Hatamoto dorms,” She said, smoothing back her ponytail. “The Master Kohga was most pleased.”  

“Oh.” Ere said, shoulders stiff. “So that was you.”

“Y-up!” Sal said with a pop of her lips. “If only I’d gotten a swipe at Ere too. Filthy traitor.”

Ere nodded, but whatever she said was cut off by the rookie foot soldier.

“The Boss says whoever can bring her in alive will be promoted to Hatamoto, regardless of current rank. Can you imagine? Direct access to the Big Banana whenever you wanted!”

“Alive?” Ere squeaked, and the rookie nodded.

“I think he’s gonna make a beautiful example of her,” they said. “Knowing Master Kohga, it will be particularly elegant and inspiring.”

“Here, here!” Sal said. “May his reign beside the Demon King be long and glorious. Under their combined power, Hyrule’s will will break with mere pitiful resistance—”

“We found something,” Zelda blurted out. All three masked faces turned to meet hers and Zelda cringed internally. She should have let Sal wax poetically about Yohga a tad more, but Ere’s seemed so stiff under her glamour, her left fingers tapping on her thigh. Had she really tried to blow up a superior’s dorm? In her head, Zelda had pictured Ere’s escape as one of stealth and deception, slinking out of Yiga barracks in the dead of night or slipping away when her ‘boss’’s back was turned. Not, well, explosives.

Behind Zelda, Mineru loomed into the torchlight more than she did move into it, and Sal swore, lifting a serpentine spear that barely came to Mineru’s chest.

“You just found that thing?” Sal said, voice high in disbelief and surprise, and Zelda nodded.

“Out on the edge of the building. It took a few, uh, kicks but we got it going again?” Zelda said, wincing at how her statement curled up into a question. Sal cocked her head.

“You got that thing working again?”

“Well, I—” Fuck, “I just meant that…”

“We got ourselves a fuckin’ prodegie here!” Sal said, lowering her spear and slapping Zelda on the back. “This is amazing! The Boss will be thrilled! The thingie he found has been giving him trouble. Hey—I bet, if you got this one working, you could get that one too! Right, Kuzia?”

Ere glanced between Sal and Zelda. They didn’t need ot see Kohga right now—frankly, that was the last thing Zelda wanted to do. What they needed to do was get inside and get out as quickly and clandestinely as possible. Zelda looked to Ere, channeling every ounce of feeling she could through her mask.

Do not ask about Kohga, she silently pleaded. In and out. Get us in and out.

“I…” Ere swallowed minutely, “I mean, uh—of course she can! My girl is bloody brilliant, I tell ya’ that! Give her some zonaite or a crystalized charge and you’ll be amazed!”

Great. Now get us in and out. In and out. In and—

“Hey… Sal… if you’re, ya know, a B.I.T. now, you have access to the Big Banana, right?”

Fuck.

Sal’s whole demeanor darkened. “No one’s allowed to see the Big Banana right out, Kuz. Not while he’s working.”

“But we’ve got someone who can help him with his work—”

“And a rouge Yiga who could have spilled any number of secrets to the Sheikah. We’re on high alert…” Once again, something ominous shifted in the Yiga foot soldier’s stance, far clearer than before. “You should know that, Kuzia. I know you know that.”

Fuck.

Still, Ere stepped forward to Sal’s chest, not shying away from the woman’s presence. “I only want what’s best for the Yiga. With an extra mech, we can stomp any opposition out! I’d like to see anything go against the Boss when he has two marvels of innovation under his control! Unless, of course, you don’t want the Big Banana to have access. Or maybe, you want to keep this mech all to yourself? We’ve already had one traitor. Why should it surprise me if another wants to take the Boss’s tech for their own?”

Ere drew her sword slowly, pointing it at Sal’s stomach.

“I bet you used the explosion as a front—hells, I bet you are Ere are in cohoots.”

“What?!” Sal scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Put that thing down.”

Ere pressed the blade closer. “What are you going to do? Kill me, traitor? Kill the three of us and take this thing back to your precious Princess?”

“I’ll do far more than kill you if you don’t choose your next words carefully—”

“Enough,” the rookie growled, stepping between them. “Stop it, both of you. Now is a time for comradery and brotherhood, not throwing around accusations. We’ll take you to the Big Banana—he’s right, Sal, that thing could prove useful, and I for one, am sick and tired of infighting.”

Sal huffed, and the rookie looked at her, clearly glaring under the mask.

“Stop.”

Zelda could tell the look Sal was giving them was withering.

“I’m sorry.” Sal grit out, jutting out her chin. “Things have been tense. It’s wearing on me more than I’d like to admit.”

Ere lowered the knight’s broadsword. “Fine. Apology accepted.”

“Good. Now let’s go. The Depths still give me the heeby jeebies.” The rookie said, spinning on their heels. Sal’s gaze lingered on Ere, but eventually, she turned with a huff, waving Zelda, Ere, and Mineru on.

“What happened to in and out with Mineru leading the way?” Zelda signed to Ere, being sure to keep the hand motions small enough to not be seen from the corner of Sal and the rookie’s eyes.

“The situation simply changed. We’ll work with it!”

“Work with it?! Work with it!?!”

“Hush. The Yiga are more observant than you think.”

With that, Ere glanced once over her shoulder at Mineru, back at Zelda, and jogged closer to Sal and the rookie, making awkward small talk between the two.

Zelda kept her eyes solely on the square of Ere’s back as they went deeper and deeper into the temple. It was smaller than it had first appeared, and filled to with signs of life. A box was overturned against one wall, becoming a makeshift table for a group of Yiga playing cards. Some Yiga sparred in the halls, and laughter, both adult and child, echoed through the stone hallways. A blademaster was curled up in a corner, using a B.I.T decorated foot soldier as a pillow as the B.I.T. wrote up some kind of report. Somewhere, Zelda could smell hot oil. Someone was frying bananas.

Ere was stiff as a board in front of her. Zelda reached forward and subtly squeezed her hand; Ere went even stiffer for a moment before squeezing back, so hard Zelda’s knuckles creaked.

The base was so much more empty than the one Zelda had been taken to before. As lively as it was, there were fewer children, and fewer families. Everyone was armed to the teeth, and clearly on high alert. They, Zelda realized, were frightened.

After a short walk down three staircases, deeper into the bowels of the temple, the group came to a massive stone door. Behind Zelda, Mineru began to whir. They were close.

“You Banana-ship,” Sal called, knocking on the door. “Some scouts have found something you’ll like.”

“Good news?” Came a painfully familiar voice beyond the door. Sal straightened. Zelda worried Ere wasn’t breathing.

“Great news, Boss. A new mech.”

“Hm? Bring it in.”

Sal took a deep breath, cracked her knuckles, and dug her fingers into the groove in the middle of the door, slowly prying it open. It was dim inside and stunk of gloom, with water softly sloshing around a large arena-esc platform. There, on the far wall, was a Zonai lock, clearly hiding away something of great importance. The stone. Zelda stepped closer to Ere, letting her shoulder brush reassuringly against the other woman’s.

Sitting in the center of the room, back to the door, in front of a truly massive mechanism, was Kohga.

“Leave the mech. And you, Foot soldier Kuzia, stay. You as well, Kuzia’s… friend.”

“Sir—” Sal started, but Kohga held up a hand.

“I did not ask for your input, B.I.T. Sal.”

“… Of course, Master Kohga.” Sal finally said, bowing at the waist, before dipping back out of the room with her rookie. The door rumbled shut behind them. Kohga continued tightening a screw on the construct in silence. It resembled Mineru’s own, but bigger, far bigger, with four arms and the symbol of the Yiga Clan draped across it. It was clearly more rundown, touched by the millennia spent in the Depths, but a majestic construct nonetheless. Kohga was silent, his back to the women, moving with precise movements. The silence dragged, before, finally, Zelda took a step forward.

“Master Kohga—” She started, pitching her voice as low as she could naturally make it sound, “my friend and—”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Kohga said with a hum, finally putting down the construct’s arm.

“Sir?” Ere squeaked, and Kohga held up a hand.

“Disguises will do you no good, Princess.” Kohga stood, rolling his neck and popping his shoulder, before cracking his spine and turning. There was an almost gleefulness coming off his mask, a sinister excitement as he took in the two women. Ere’s glamour flickered away as her concentration broke, and now that Zelda could see her normal face, the woman looked positively green. She was shaking, terrified—for all the love and adoration the Yiga spoke of Kohga with, Zelda had never thought of them being frightened of their Master.

“It is done,” Kohga said, patting the crumpled mech at his feet. “We had enough crystalized charges to fix what time had done to this beauty, and now, we’re ready. Our gift to the Demon King, a weapon—no, a body—beyond compare, perfected and readied to be presented to his glory.”

“Let’s not—let’s not be too hasty, Master!” Ere squeaked, “I mean, that looks like a lovely construct, I’m sure it could be of far more use for, for, taking back the Hideout, or storming Gerudo Town, or even Kakariko!”

“Shut it, pest.” Kohga spat, and Ere flinched, taking an involuntary step back as her shoulders curled around her. “Today will go down in infamy as the day of the beginning of the End! The Demon King’s resurrection, the triumph of the Yiga! Behold! My ultimate feat of engendering! My unstoppable Zonai construct!”

As he spoke, the construct slowly rose to its feet, higher and higher, until it towered over all of them, even Mineru.

“Holy fuck…” Ere breathed, and Kohga laughed.

“This time, I will gadly bury you, Princess, and then I will take this glorious body down under Hyrule Castle, where his Majesty waits..."

Zelda paled. Had Kohga managed to find Ganondorf so quickly with so little resources? If he could do that, who else could? Oh fuck, fuck--

"Oh?" Kohga said, glee curling offhis tongue, "Did you not know? We found him, under all that rubble when we went looking for your beau. And what lovely murals were there, such beautiful artwork! They told of such things, such terrible things.”

The Yiga mech moved faster than Mineru, that was certain. It raised its decorated arms, exposing electrified sockets as hands, and sent forth a volley of blasts of energy, ripping the stone floor to pieces as Mineru flung herself in front of both women. Ere yelped as she was knocked backward against the makeshift electrified fence Kohga had built around the water’s edge.

“Ere!” Zelda screamed, but Kohga was already in between them, the construct's four massive arms swinging.

“The Imprisoning War, when the Zonai sealed the Magnificent One away! Their failure, as their leaders fell. A swordsman, adrift in time.”

Zelda swallowed. Ere was likely hurt, but Mineru was presenting her back for Zelda to climb on. Ere might be okay on her own, but she certainly wouldn’t be if Zelda let Kohga keep swinging.

“Be careful!” Zelda yelled to her friend, before hoisting herself on Mineru’s back.

“Did you know, Princess, that your little friend saw it all? The glory he witnessed! The strength! The battle prowess! But he’ll never be able to tell you, because he ate his fancy magic rock and now, he’s a fucking worm in the sky!”

“Shut up!” Zelda maneuvered Mineru closer, and the Zonai woman quickly began working in tandem with her, as if she knew Zelda’s very thoughts. She likely did—Zelda could feel a presence pushing against her magic, Mineru’s spirit magic entangling with Zelda’s soul, working together with her very essence. Mineru slammed into the construct and it went skittering into the electrified fense. Kohga laughed despite the smell of burning, electrified flesh, and Zelda no longer found herself able to think of Ere, or even Mineru underneath her, just finally ridding the world of this monster. A canon ball burst forth from two of the construct’s four arms, catching Mineru in the gut and knocking Zelda clean off. Mineru cried out for her, but was quickly tackled by the construct. It slammed her into the ground, lifting her up and pounding her mechanical body onto the ground over and over. Zelda forced herself to her feet. She needed to do something, anything—

A hand grabbed her ankle. Ere, still prone but having ripped herself from the electrified fence. Zelda knelt to help her up only to be tackled. Ere pinned her to the ground, a knee on either shoulder and her sword pressed close to Zelda’s neck. Zelda thrashed, snarling at the woman above her.

Ere was crying. Zelda couldn't bring herself to care, not when Ere's hands were centimeters from her jugular.

“How could you?” Zelda screamed as the blade drew a droplet of blood. The power of the Triforce lept to meet her, ready to burn the Yiga to even less than carbon and ashes. Ere stammered something, her hair smoking and her tears dripping on Zelda’s open mouth. Beside them, the construct and Mineru continued to wrestle, ripping at one another’s wires and exposed mainframes, but Kohga had left his mech behind.

“Wonderful job, Foot Soldier Ere,” He purred, taking his sweet time to saunter over. “Go on. Give me her head and all will be forgiven. Your little stunt will simply be a… crisis of faith, cleansed by your dedication to the great good of the Sheikah deliverance."

“I…” Ere glanced between Kohga and Zelda. “Don’t you think killing her is, is a little, little excessive?”

Kohga went terrifyingly still. “Don’t try my patience, girl.”

“I just mean, Link’s what, dead? So she’s no real danger, is she? Right?”

“Foot soldier.”

Ere didn’t answer. She was shaking, visibly trembling, and Zelda swallowed.

“What would you name the blue horse?” She whispered, and Ere stared at her with wild, tear-lined eyes. “My horse is named Goldie. It’s stupid, but it’s cute. Link named his after a flower.”

Ere let out a particularly thick sob, and Zelda felt the blade prick skin.

“If this nonsence was all over a fucking horse then I’ll buy you a whole stable." Kohga seethed. "Kill her!”

Ere jerked forward. Zelda slammed her hands against the Yiga’s chest, calling forth a protective barrier from the Triforce, but nothing collided with it. Above her, Kohga choked. Ere panted, standing between him and Zelda, the blade of the knight’s broadsword in her hand buried hilt deep in Kohga’s massive belly.

“You—you—”

Kohga slumped forward, grabbing at his stomach, and with trembling legs, Ere kicked him off her blade, where he rolled into the electrifed fense with a horrid bzzt.

The Yiga Leader’s mech went still. Ere proceeded to empty her stomach all over her front, shaking even worse, if that was even possible. Mineru turned her flame emitter, safety still on but seconds from being deployed, at Ere, who had already dropped to her knees, burying her head in her hands. Zelda hadn’t heard someone cry this hard since the Calamity. Carefully, she waved Mineru to lower the emitter and toolk a step towards Ere. Ere keened and turned her head away.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Zelda said softly, sitting down beside the sobbing woman.

“You should,” Ere all but wailed, and Zelda shook her head. She pulled Ere against her chest. The woman froze for a painfully long time before all but collapsing in Zelda’s arms, chest heeving and face covered in snot.

“I’m sorry,” Ere choked out, “Oh Gods I’m, I’m, I’m—”

Zelda shushed her, holding her even closer. They needed to leave, to get the stone and get the hell out of here before someone realized what happened. But right now, there was no way in hell Ere could stand on her own, let alone get out of the building. Zelda just held her, and tried not to think about the electrified corpse that had caught fire just meters away, or the confirmation of what—who—was flying high above her, too far out of reach to ever be held like this ever again.

Chapter Text

The man who claimed to be the leader of the so-called ‘Yiga Clan’ was, frankly, a buffoon. He was loud and flamboyant, with a flair for dramatics, his broad shoulders and broader stomach hiding a strength and danger that simmered just under the surface, like a… a… fat viper, or— or something. The Puppet was made to fulfill its Master’s wishes, not to come up with similes.

Kohga was talking again, and the Puppet was only partially listening. Any respect that it had held for the man had faded the moment he first opened his mouth, what, two weeks ago? Something like that. The Puppet wasn’t good with time. Kohga had been so proud of himself, his betrayal of the Sheikah, the turn to the Calamity. The Puppet’s Master turned up his nose at all of it, seeing Kohga’s constant boasting of his treason as pathetic. Treason and secrecy were far from Gerudo values, something its Master was good enough at recognizing when it came to the Yiga, but seemed determined to ignore when it came to himself—not that the Puppet cared. The Puppet was there to do its Master’s bidding, not ruminate on its Master’s hypocrisies.

Of course, the enthusiastic history of betrayal wasn’t all its Master hated Kohga for. The largest failing of the Yiga Master was his determined and unwavering support of the Calamity, something that triggered a seething anger in its Master so strong that it would have called for the extermination of the Yiga, if not for Ganondorf’s need of them. The Puppet knew about the Calamity that Link failed to defeat, leading to the demolition of the Gerudo. Granted, most of that was because its Master was aware of the Calamity, of Link’s failures. Most of what drifted through its Master’s memories served as a blueprint for the Puppet’s brain, so just as its Master could see through its very eyes, share with it his very magic, the Puppet could sift through past thoughts. But some days, its Master seemed not to care about that. He showered his most intelligent creation—though, when the contenders were a slug shark, flying ice thing, rocky spider, and his aunt’s mutilated corpse, the Puppet didn’t think it was much of a competition—with stories of the time before the Imprisoning War, before the accursed Hylian royalty, before its template ruined everything. On these days, its Master would beckon it to sit beside him as his sister’s corpses braided his hair and told it of the Gerudo. Told it of myth, of culture, of history, and even his own childhood.

(If you asked the Puppet, it would say the cause of its Master’s near-constant monologue was actually loneliness, a longing for the time before all of this, especially before the man the Puppet shared a face with stole it all away. But no one asked the Puppet anything, so it kept its mouth, its lips the same soft red as its copy, shut)

Kohga leaned back on his chair, a wooden, ornate thing painted red that reeked of spell paper, balancing on one chair leg. Around him, Yiga Hatamoto stood at attention while foot soldiers carefully cleared away the failed prototype of the Zonai construct Kohga had been so excited to present to Ganondorf. It had taken two seconds to decimate the piece of trash, and Kohga was either very good at hiding his concern, or he hadn’t realized that the Puppet’s patience was growing thin.

Ganondorf had taken quite a bit of convincing from the resurrected dried husks that had once been his sisters not to kill Kohga the minute the sniveling excuse of a man found him, only a little less to agree to maaabye entertain the idea of a new body, but it took the Puppet whispering in his ear to finally get its Master on board. The Yiga were enemies of the Hylian Royal Family. In the past, they had nearly succeeded in killing the Princess, but more importantly, in the present tracked the ‘hero’ like bloodhounds, cornering him at every turn. If its Master kept them around, it would be only a matter of time before they located him.

Link.

The Yiga knew where the Princess was, not that its Master needed that information. After all, it was the Puppet’s job to know where her Majesty was at all times of the day, to know every step she took and every action she committed, right after beating her to the secret stones, collecting them for Ganondorf, and channeling its Master’s power to help him ruin the people his Master’s destroyers had held so dear by any means necessary. Yes, the Princess’ location was useless to them, but Link had yet to be located, much to Ganondorf’s fury. They knew he had to be alive—the monster had cheated death too many times to not have made his way home. They simply needed to find him before Zelda did and eradicate him.

The plan was quite simple. Decimate the Continent before Link’s eyes, let him see the consequences of his actions, the people Ganondorf could have protected if Link had stepped aside, had barred his neck, and had died on that rooftop. Tarnish Link's memory of Rauru and his family, the sages and Naboris, by proving what a failure they were through by drowning their people in gloom. And, finally, rip apart Link’s Princess, leaving her body to rot at his feet, the collateral of his actions. What happened to Link after that, the Continent after that, the Puppet didn’t know, but it wasn’t its job to know.

The Puppet did know, however, that Ganondorf was growing impatient with the Princess. The woman was smart, clever, kind, and brave— a true Gerudo, even amidst her faults. Its Master found it… distasteful… to define such a woman by a man, to define her life and death by Link’s actions. The Puppet didn’t think it was honestly worth agonizing over, not when Link’s suffering was the goal, but the Puppet wasn’t made to hold such opinions.

It supposed when you were created to hate and destroy, it was hard to understand grief, to understand pity, or remorse.

Oh well.

“You continue to disappoint,” the Puppet said, looking at Kohga with disdain. The man shrugged.

“Perfection takes time.”

“Do not presume to know how much you have.”

Kohga was clearly rolling his eyes behind the mask.

There was a bang, followed by a crash and the sound of falling rocks. Kohga startled, the chair falling back. The mural corridor below the castle was stuffed with Yiga junk and trash, bedrolls and dining tables of repurposed boxes, as if this wasn’t the courtyard of the King of the Continent, with Ganondorf’s hideous murder site just meters away, with his glorious throne room a mile below. They were so, so close to Greatness—how could they be so callous? Disgusting, the lot of them.

“Careful!” the Puppet spat, “these walls are important!”

A trio of Yiga looked up from where they had been messing with the blast cannon on the edge of the near unrecognizable Zonai construct body. It had taken the Puppet seconds to slice it to ribbons with the decayed copy of the Master Sword, miniscule in comparison to how long it had taken the Yiga to build it.

“Uh, sorry, I—we—” the middle Yiga said, glancing around at the other two, who were looking anywhere by her. The Puppet bit down a thoroughly un-Link-like reply and stepped to the mural, checking for damage. The Puppet had been the one to find it, back when its Master’s body had been too weak to do much more than create the Puppet to serve as his connection to the outside world. The rage at the Hylian presumptuousness to carve a bejeweled propaganda above his prison had filled Ganondorf with such a surge of energy that the sky rained bloody gloom for the first time. Its Master had marveled at the effect of his outburst on the world of the living from his Puppet’s eyes, and since then, its Master had grown stronger exponentially with each passing day, pulling and pulling from his sacred stone till his power reached farther than it ever had before.

“What I would have given for a guidebook,” Ganondorf had grumbled to the Puppet on one of those first few weeks after his awakening, during his first attempt to resurrect his sisters. “Sonia—she made it sound so easy.”

“If I may,” the Puppet had said, daring to reach out and touch its Master’s beautiful hair as it sat beside him. His Master was beautiful, truly, even as a husky corpse, radiating magic like no other. The Puppet longed to touch that magic, to tell its creator just how magnificent it was, but Ganondorf was not one for flattery, regardless of how true it was.

And Gods, was it true.

Ganondorf had waved for it to go on, turning the leathery skull of a twin in his hand.

“If anger could make the very sky weep blood, then all we need is to hold onto that rage, that hatred—”

“We?” Ganondorf said, the papery skin of his face twisting that would have been an eyebrow raise if he was more than a simple living corpse.

“Oh—forgive me, Master—”

Ganondorf laughed. He laughed, and it was beautiful.

“Anger is not sustainable. It fizzles out eventually, and to find a constant source of anger—that is merely a distraction, and an exhausting one at that.”

“Of course. I apologize for my input.”

Ganondorf brushed off the apology with an emaciated hand.

“Do you know how I made you?

“With magic, sir?”

“With hatred. Righteous hatred, born of wrongs done unto me. Anger fades, but hatred is forever. I need you, Puppet, as a vessel to show me the world our enemies made, that I need never forget this hatred. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Master.”

“Until I can learn how to best work alongside this stone, I need the hatred to bend it to my will. I am depending on you.”

The Puppet did not have a heart. Its blood was but gloom, its bone repurposed from the skeletons of the Depths. Still, somehow, its chest warmed.

“I will not fail you, Master.”

Ganondorf could not smile, not back then, not without cheeks and lips, but the Puppet had the feeling that he was smiling. Cruel in its triumphance, bitter in its loathing, but a smile nonetheless.

Beautiful.

In the present, the Puppet ran a hand down the wall, leaving a trail of gloom behind. The idiots’ explosion had knocked away some of the rubble that had coated the wall, rubble the Puppet had never considered having cleared away. And maybe it should have called for it, because under the rock was more mural, perfectly preserved by the protection of the rubble. While the Puppet was sure it would make its Master furious to hear more Zonai-Hylian propaganda had been unearthed, more work glorifying and gloating of their power and his attempted annihilation, it also knew he would want to be informed immediately. The castle of Hyrule would, of course, be razed to the ground once Link and Zelda were killed, remade into its Master’s grand design, but until then, Ganondorf liked a keen eye be kept on his home.

And, if the Puppet dared enough to allow itself to be curious about the carvings, there was also the fact that there, staring back at it, was its own face.

Link. Staring back, carved into the wall with care, was Link.

“Clear these rocks away,” the Puppet said, and as the middle Yiga from before rushed forward, quickly added a strained “Carefully.” It was hard for the Puppet to enunciate most of the time. Its Master hadn’t heard Link speak often, almost entirely communicating with him through sign, but with only one arm, that proved difficult. Ganondorf could have gifted the Puppet with an arm, a replica of its copy’s prosthetic, or silenced it completely, but its Master took great pleasure in seeing Link at his lowest, stump red with gloom, skin clammy and pale with sickness from the stuff, eyes bloodshot from tears, just as he had been when Ganondorf ripped his arm from his body. It must have been a sight to behold. Forgive the Puppet for being, perhaps, a tad repetitive, but surely it had been beautiful.

The Yiga slowed down her movements, approaching with far more care.

“Gaining interest in archeology?” Kohga asked behind it. The Puppet found that each moment he spent for the man, the hatred he felt for him grew. It wasn’t all that surprising—the Puppet was a creation of hatred, entirely and always—but that hatred was annoying at times, like when the Yiga man drew too close to the Puppet, reeking of too sweet fruit and magic that was nowhere near as elegant as its Master’s power. Not being able to act on the hatred bubbling inside it left it deeply frustrated, anger tight under its false skin. It longed to rip, to tear, to bite, but just as it did up above in the world, putting on a face of despair as it searched for its ‘missing best friend’, the Puppet held its temper. Instead, it leaned forward till it was eye to eye with the brilliant sapphires that made up Link’s eyes, carved with enough care that the anguish was visible even in the mural’s simplicity.

Kohga leaned over its shoulder.

“Huh. Who’da thought?”

Bit by bit, the Yiga uncovered more. Link, in the Imprisoning Chamber, arm bleeding rubies, Rauru (just thinking the name made the Puppet nauseous with anger) pinning down its Master’s glory before him. Hylians, covered in tiny lights (miners perhaps?) and carrying out bejeweled sages, Link trailing behind. A veiled woman in white, a Zonai woman—what was the name of that Zonai girl that its Master spoke of? Luga? No, that had been a teenager. Ah, Mineru, that was right— and, between them, Link. The Temple of Time, just before it soared in the sky. A sword. Link, standing at the edge of a ceremonial platform of some kind, a shining stone in hand. He opens his mouth and swallows it whole. The sages look on as a dragon rises from Link’s silent scream, a glorious thing with a stump arm gushing gloomy gemstones. A sword stands proudly in its head. The Master Sword. The dragon rises above the clouds, and then—

“Damn,” Kohga drawled behind it, “can you actually read any of that? Can you even read at all?”

The Puppet bit the inside of its cheek so hard that gloom flooded its gums. It can’t kill Kohga. Not yet at least. There was writing on the wall, bits and pieces in modern Hylian that, yes, the Puppet could not read. It could read Gerudo, knowledge picked up from its Master’s memories, but modern Hylian writing was one such skill Ganondorf had left it without.

“What does it say?” It grit out, and Kohga barked out a laugh.  

“You can’t? Was it a lapse in design? Or—”

Kohga’s words came to an abrupt stop as the Puppet spun on its heel and wrapped a hand around Kohga’s throat. The Puppet may look weak and sickly, but the might of its Master lay behind every movement it made, including now. It tightened its grip—alive, alive, they needed him alive—and Kohga gasped, smacking its bicep in a clear apology.

The Puppet released him. Kohga’s hands dropped to his knees, body shaking, but he did not fall. Disappointing.

“My Master makes no lapses, be it in judgment, design, or action. Do you understand?”

The Yiga nodded, still wheezing, and shot it a thumbs up. Slowly, he drew himself to full height. He towered over the Puppet, as all the Yiga did, but at this moment, he was awfully small. Behind him, the food soldier’s gaze lingered, her hands tapping nervously on her thigh.

“Fine, fine, don’t get your demon breeches in a twist. Let me see it.”

Kohga pushed passed, holding up a torch passed to him by a Hatamoto.

“Zelda—” Kohga started in a rather obnoxiously exaggerated voice, “I am leaving this for you, to complete the cycle we have begun. If you find it, then I am sure you know what I am. What I have become. To swallow a secret stone is to become an Immortal Dragon. Know that it was not the Priestess, or Rauru, or Mineru, or anyone else who made this decision. It is mine and mine alone. By the time this is being carved, I will have long since swallowed my stone, and by the time you read this, I will be high in the skies. But know I am not alone. The Priestess assures me that, as a holder of the Triforce, the Guardian Dragons shall care for me. Until we meet again, I pass this torch to you. You are our final hope. You do not deserve these words on your shoulders, not again, never again, but they are true.

I love you.

Your Knight, Champion, and forever friend.” Kohga gagged as he finished. “Ugh, they really are disgusting.”

“It was Link?” The Puppet asked, just to be sure, and Kohga nodded flippantly.

“Certain as sin, kid,” he drawled, and the Puppet’s skin prickled. Link, Link, Link. Its Master would be most displeased.

“Get your people and get out, now, all your trash and your stupid banana peels—all of it. I’ll give you twenty minutes to be above ground and out of here.”

“What? Why? You haven’t even taken us to see the Demon King yet—”

“His Majesty is busy with far more important matters than you, Kohga.”

Kohga scoffed. “Puh-lease, like what? Skulking in the Depths? I deserve to meet my—”

“You deserve nothing, not even the life my Master so graciously gives you,” The Puppet spat, and this time, when it struck Kohga the man stumbled back, tripping on a piece of Zonai construct and being saved from falling on his ass by a Hatamoto. Gloom crawled up both of them wrapping around the Hatamoto’s body, who yelped and tried to pull away, but there was no escaping the very ground. Kohga fell, sucking in breath as the puddle of gloom around him grew and flexed, forming spindly fingers that hovered over him, not punishment yet, but a sure threat of one. Kohga took a shaky breath.

“I’ll make it fifteen,” he said with a pathetic attempt at bravado, and the Puppet nodded.

“Good,” It turned back to the stone. Next to it, the Yiga foot soldier stared at its retreating hand, shaking in her boots.

“Boo,” The Puppet drawled, and she turned on her heel, rubbing her arms as if caught by a sudden chill. Good. The less Yiga involved in this new discovery on Link’s wearables, the better.

The Yiga were out in fifteen minutes, true to their word, leaving not a banana peel behind, and the Puppet took a deep breath, soaking in the simmering fear that hovered in the Depth’s air, left over from the Yiga. It was a wonderful feeling, strengthening and stabilizing. Hate might be what made it in its very core, and its lifeblood may be its Master’s gloom, but fear, anger, despair—it fed it in a way mortal food never would. The Puppet ran a hand over the words carved into the stone.

“Zelda—” It mouthed, trying to find meaning in the scribbles, “I am leaving this for you, to complete the cycle we have begun. If you find it, then I am sure you know what I am. What I have become. To swallow a secret stone is to become an Immortal Dragon. Know that it was not the Priestess, or Rauru, or Mineru, or anyone else who made this decision, just mine and mine alone. By now, I will have long swallowed my stone, and by the time you read this I will be high in the skies. But know I am not alone. The Priestess assures me that, as a holder of the Triforce, the Guardian Dragons shall care for me. Until we meet again, I pass this torch to you. You are our final hope. You do not deserve these words on your shoulders, but they are true.

I love you

Your Knight, Champion, and forever friend.”

Forever friend.

Forever friend.

Would they be together forever when Ganondorf crushed their skulls, or would they be separated even in death?

If Link was what the Puppet now suspected, could he even be killed? Was he good as dead, not worth bothering with? Or would its Master wrath and rave at losing his fight to destroy Link not to the man himself, but instead a rock?

The Puppet turned, giving the mural one last glance before moving deeper into the foundations, into the lair’s descent.

---

Kotake’s skin—or lack thereof—was leathery and cold on Ganondorf’s shoulder. All of the Depths was cold, but not the comforting, familiar chill of the Gerudo Desert, that dynamic feeling of the still hot sands, superheated from the sunny day mixing with the frozen night air, each gust of harsh wind hitting you at your core while the stars shinned above, glorious and beautiful in their soft light.

What Ganondorf would give to see the stars again. The Puppet stargazed for him, trekked through the burning head and blistering cold of the desert for him, and once even tried to drink a Noble Pursuit, made haphazardly by its inexperienced hands, for him, before they learned that Ganondorf’s illusionary magic could not truly mimic everything, including a Hylian stomach. The creature had been heartbroken, and Ganondorf had appreciated the thought, even if it sent him into a depressive spiral that left his lair littered with the corpses of monsters taken out by rage and grief.

Kotake took his chin in hand, his skull slightly less emaciated than her own mummified head, and tilted it down to her, where her empty sockets looked at him with might be concern. It was hard to tell. Ganondorf had looked like her corpse, once, before the power of the secret stone began slowly working to heal a hundred millennia of damage done to his body. He was still far from healed, but power thrummed in his veins, greater than it ever had before, growing more with each nanosecond. Had he had the time to practice with his stone, before Rauru ruined everything, then he wouldn’t be in this sorry state, would have already pinned Hyrule under his thumb, but alas, it was proving to be far too much trial and error for his liking. The Puppet had suggested, once and once only, that, having been stolen, the stone was hesitant to accept him as its master, unlike the stones of the sages in the past and present, which had been gifted. The rage-fueled episode had been stopped only by the lack of fear in his Puppet’s eyes. The thing hadn’t been scared of him, had accepted the violence without hesitation, preening under the pain, thanking him, and it horrified Ganondorf more than anything had before. Never again. Never again.

“You’re brooding,” Kotake’s rasped, and Ganondorf hmmed. “Stop it.”

“Of course. Poof. Gone.” Ganondorf said, and Kotake’s laugh was joined by Koume’s.

“Let us go out,” Kotake said, shifting against her brother. “We shall do far more for you than that creature.”

It was a frequent argument, and Ganondorf knew the beats and measures of it by heart. Or, rather by the hole in his chest where his heart had been. Rauru had crushed his heart too badly for even the stone to repair. Ganondorf’s features twisted, and Kotake sighed.

“Think not of him. Think of us. Think of the world as you’ll shape it.” Kotake said softly, tucking a strand of red behind his half-formed ear.

“Who said I was thinking of the Zonai?”

“Your face, dummy,” Koume said. Ganondorf snorted, and Koume plopped down in his lap, letting the decayed scimitar in her hand clatter to the floor. She was in worse shape than her sister. Rauru’s light magic had incinerated most of her chest, and Ganondorf’s own magic rejected the wound, too ‘dark’ or whatever shit the Zonai claimed to touch it. Still, the resurrection took hold well enough, insides or no insides, and Koume’s thirst for revenge left her even more restless than her sister, training in earnest in any way her destroyed body would allow her, that she might destroy Zelda and her sages and atone for her failure at Rauru’s hand.

“Can you imagine how much faster we would be than your little pet?” Komue said, settling against his chest. Ganondorf grunted.

“We would be!”

“Faster—”

“—Stronger—”

“—Cleverer—”

“That’s not a word,” Ganondorf said, and Koume made a truly uncivilized noise and swatted his chest, her fingertips sending a reverberating feeling of emptiness inside him when they brushed his chest cavity.

“I don’t know why you even keep it around,” Koume said, and Kotake seconded her comment. Ganondorf stiffened. The Puppet was a tense subject. They didn’t, couldn’t understand the way Ganondorf’s chest soared when the creature knelt at his feet, a perfect replica of Link at his lowest completely dependent on him, dedicated to him, adoring him. He was Link, if Link had turned his back on Rauru and had taken up Ganondorf’s offer when they met underground. Link, if it had all turned out right. Twinrova hadn’t known Link like Ganondorf had, only saw death and destruction when they looked at him. Ganondorf knew better. Link had been indescribable, something unable to understand, holding a meaning greater than Link’s own self, something completely alien, yet familiar.

Link might be a vile, traitorous bastard, but he was still Link, and the Puppet was Ganondorf’s, completely and utterly.

As if called by his thoughts, both sisters sat up, faces turned into the closest thing to scowls they could.

“Thing—”

“—Creature—”

“—it—”

“A blessing and a pleasure, as always, Twinrova,” the Puppet said, bowing deep for a count of three, his hand curled around his heart. The Gerudo was light and beautiful on his tongue. What Ganondorf would give to be surrounded by Gerudo again instead of the quiet, echoey halls of the Depths.

“What is it.” Kotake spat, and the Puppet took the disrespect with grace.

“I have news.”

“Well?”

“On the whereabouts of our hero.”

Ganondorf froze, and Twinrova glanced at each other before scrambling off of him. They knew better than to stand too close if the information disappointed. Ganondorf thought he wasn’t this angry before this all happened, hadn’t lost himself so much to rage and despair, smashing and destroying and breaking in an attempt for catharsis. The Puppet suggested that the stone amplified the emotions left by the trauma of Rauru’s attempted murder, as if Ganondorf needed some damn mind healer. Even if he did, what was he supposed to do, kidnap someone and keep them down here like some pet to deal with his outbursts? Ganondorf was many things, but the idea of trapping someone in this hellhole… it was too much. The people above deserved to suffer, to anguish, but the Depths were a place like no other. Twinrova, bless them, would mock his lingering softness, but Ganondorf clung to it secretly, even to himself, as if it could somehow help him feel real, human. Someone his mother would still love. His auntie would still love.

“Speak,” Ganondorf said, voice raspy and regal, and the Puppet straightened.

“The Yiga, in a surprising show of usefulness, exposed more of the mural. It mentioned Link explicitly, and has a note written by him, personally.”

Ganondorf found, surprisingly, that rage didn’t build inside him. He stood, brushing past his sisters, and dropped off of the bastardized throne he’d build for himself. Twinrova watched with intrigued eye sockets, heads cocked, as Ganondorf approached his Puppet. The Puppet adverted his eyes, looking over Ganondorf’s shoulder in a sign of respect, and Ganondorf took hold of his chin, just as Kotake had moments before, and tilted his head up, up, up to meet Ganondorf’s gaze. The creature shivered, shaking with its near-constant rage, but this time determination shone in his eyes.

“Tell me everything,” Ganondorf rumbled, and the Puppet’s eyes shone.

“Of course, my Lord. The mural spoke of Link, and dragons, and the process of swallowing a secret stone. Transformation. Immortality."

Ganondorf tilted the Puppet’s head to the side. “Immortality?”

“To swallow a secret stone is to become an Immortal  Dragon,” the Puppet quoted, and as he continued to talk, Ganondorf found his mind wandering.

Dragons. Dragons. He knew of dragons, had seen the divine creatures with his own eyes, had struck one hard enough to draw mystical blood before Rauru—curse the name, curse the name—imprisoned him. Link adored them and spoke of their impossible power. To gain the power of such a creature would make one all-powerful, near invincible. Not ideal, to lose one's tongue and limbs and ability to hold a sword, but it was certainly useful information.

It was a coward’s way out, regardless, Ganondorf decided. A way to win by pushing yourself into a higher weight class. Useful, yes, but cowardly. Of course, Link would utilize it.

The Puppet was still talking. Ganondorf stepped back and moved to climb back to his throne. He beckoned the Puppet, and he scampered after, seating himself at Ganondorf’s feet.

“Master?”

“I want to see the mural for myself.”

The Puppet’s eyes rose. “I can go back—you can see it through my eyes—”

“No. I want to see it.”

“Brother…” Twinrova spoke as one. “Are you sure that is wise?”

“I am not a waifish blushing beauty,” Ganondorf growled, and they nodded.

“Of course, but—”

“If my Master says he can do it, then I have full faith in his abilities,” the Puppet said, nose in the air, and Ganondorf snorted. Suck up.

“I have to leave this damn chair eventually,” Ganondorf said, and Twinrova nodded hesitantly. “Take me.”

The Puppet’s face was nearly blinding as it smiled. “I would be honored.”

Ganondorf stood, stretched and wincing at the crackle and snack of his joints. Link—no, no, the Puppet—climbed down, extending an elbow for his Master. Ganondorf took it. He refused to be ashamed of his weakness. He had dragons to investigate.

Chapter Text

Zelda couldn’t hold Ere as long as she would have liked. She had no true understanding of what the other woman was feeling, not really, but she remembered the agony of thinking her father’s death was on her hands. The blood burning, chest exploding grief, the disgust with herself, the self-loathing—it had been all-consuming, and Zelda still found herself missing sleep over misplaced guilt. Ere had spent her whole life with the Yiga, with Kohga, and while Zelda had been raised in a culture that commanded complete submission to one’s elders, leaving her forever without support when it came to Rhoam, Ere hadn’t even been raised so much as she had been indoctrinated. Now that Zelda really let herself acknowledge that, thinking about the Yiga on the other side of the stone door behind them made Zelda vaguely nauseous.

All of them had been raised the same. Ere was far from the first deserter—after all, Dorian was a turncoat himself, serving as Impa’s protector when she was elder, and now as Paya’s right hand. If he could do it, if Ere could do it, then, hypothetically, so could every person out that door. And yet, Zelda knew Link had raised a blade to countless Yiga. Back before the Calamity, she’d watched it herself when Link saved her in front of Kara Kara, leaving behind spilled blood and intestines. Now, looking at Ere’s heaving shoulders, could Zelda justify killing them? Could the Yiga be, what, rehabilitated? Was a united Sheikah community, free from the Calamity and Ganondorf’s looming influence, a possibility, or would forcing her own demands on the Yiga, regardless of their actions, be too authoritarian to justify? What did it mean for the Continent now that the ‘Big Banana Kohga’ was dead, not just thrown down a hole but truly, undeniably deceased?

Ere’s grip on Zelda’s tunic tightened when Zelda tried to pull away softly, her strong, shaking sobs turning into a gut-twisting keen.  

“I’m sorry,” Zelda whispered in her ear, “but we have to get out of here.”

Ere nodded dimly, still making terrible noises, and Zelda wiped her cheek with the sleeve of the Yiga uniform she wore. Shit, she’d have to get out of this thing as soon as possible. They both would have to.

Mineru, her mechanical body shaking with exhaustion, stood between them and the far wall where a glittering purple teardrop floated.

The secret stone.

Mineru took a weak step forward, the electricity that held her body together flickering, and reached out. Zelda worried for a moment that they were still too late, that Mineru was too weak from the millennia of waiting to make it, but then the construct’s sparking hand touched the stone. A mighty sigh seemed to flood the room, the barbed gates Kohga had raised spluttering as the light in the room went out. And then, there she was, no longer Mineru the Construct but Mineru the Zonai, in all her glory.

Mineru seemed different than when she had appeared in the Silent Dragon’s memories. The long, elegant neck and tall ears were the same, as were the gilded clothes and owl headpiece, but something about her face, the wrinkles and creases across it, seemed different. Gone were the laugher lines, replaced instead with bags under her massive eyes and exhaustion that spoke of pain beyond understanding. The spirit stepped forward, taking the secret stone in hand, and retreated to the construct. Purple light danced across the not-metal-not-stone of the construct’s body, and the whole creation seemed to swell with power and newfound strength. Mineru turned back to the women and seemed to smile softly, even with the lack of muscles in her mechanical owl head.

“We need to go,” she said. Despite the gentleness of her voice, it reverberated through the room with an otherworldly power. Ere rubbed her eyes with a sniffle.

“We’ll never get back out the way we came in. Not, not with…” She swallowed and glanced towards Kohga’s body. It smoldered, the electricity from the fence having set the hairs from his headdress alight. Mineru shook her head.

“Still, we must try.”

“Wait!” Zelda maneuvered around the Sheikah in her lap and pulled free her Purah pad. When she’d first accessed the Shrines of Light on the Great Sky Islands, they had connected to the pad, not unlike Link’s Sheikah slate once had with other Sheikah-made tech. And of course, there were the two Skyview Towers she’d activated… She’d never used the transportation setting before, let alone with three people, but it was better than fighting their way to the surface.

Mineru cocked her head, the closest to a frown she could manage. “I do not understand.”

“It’s a traveler’s aid. Can hold supplies, weapons, shields, bows—and provide transportation. I’ve never really tested it with the Shrines of Light before, but hypothetically, it should carry a user to an activated one.”

“A user?”

“I… I think I can make it work with three?”

Mineru sighed, but nodded. “Then I suppose it is our best bet.”

Zelda flipped the map on the pad open. Hyrule Field and Upper Zonana’s towers were lit up a cheery blue, as were a scattering of symbols that had to be the Shrines of Light. Behind her came a banging on the stone door.

“Boss?” A voice grunted, “Everything okay in there?”

Shit.

Not even bothering to check where she selected, Zelda clicked blindly on a blue marking and grabbed hold of Ere. Mineru took hold of Zelda’s other arm just as the stone door rumbled open, exposing a crowd of Yiga, gasps and shouts filling the room as Kohga’s body continued to stiffen. There was a strange sound in Zelda’s ears and a pulling at her gut, and then the women were gone.

Zelda always hated the feeling of being transported each time Link lent her the Sheikah slate. The slate could only carry one, and it always left a rather nauseating feeling behind, like one’s stomach had been turned inside out and refilled with blue matter and mystical science. The Purah pad had been designed with fixing that feeling in mind, as well as removing some of the Sheikah slate’s other limitations. More effective and efficient storage, greater room for clothing and tools, and made with the hope that up to six at a time would be able to use it with minimal discomfort. As the world came back into view and Ere vomited all over Zelda’s stolen Yiga boots, Zelda made a mental note to tell Purah that while the awful feeling of teleporting was lessened, the discomfort was far from minimal.

Mineru collapsed in a clattering heap, magical electricity flickering, and the ground seemed to wobble under Zelda’s unstable feet as she struggled to catch her breath. Slowly, the spots faded from her vision, and Zelda flipped to the next screen on the pad, pulling out a water canteen that she offered to Ere. The other woman took it thankfully, swishing out the taste of vomit and spitting into the dead grass before taking a long, shaky swallow.

“I am never doing that again,” Ere croaked as Mineru righted herself, and Zelda snorted, taking the canteen and drinking.

“Believe it or not, the Sheikah slate was far worse.”

Ere shook her head in disbelief and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“… Where are we?” she asked, voice hoarse as she took in the room around her. It was cramped and dark, the only plant life being dead grass and vines, and the roots of a massive tree formed a cradling ceiling. It looked so different than when Zelda had woken up here all those weeks ago, after her unfortunate two-week disappearance. The bruises from Rauru’s hand had long faded, but she could remember the color of them clear as day as she glanced at her wrist.

(“Get out,” Link yelled, shaking Zelda off as she tried to drag him back. “Run, go, get out of here! I’ll hold it off!”

“Link… Was that the Sword the Seals the Darkness? After all that effort, all that whining, that is what you planned to wield against me? So, it was I that ravaged that blade… I see. Rauru placed his faith in you, and yet this was all you could do, after all this time.”

“Zelda, go, I’ll be fine— Run!”)

“Zel?” Ere said softly, and Zelda shook off the memory.

“I woke up here, after Ganondorf awakened and attacked me and Link under the castle. I was saved from falling into the Depths by a—a hand.”

“A hand,” Ere said, voice exhausted in its acceptance that this absurdity was simply how her life was now.

“Rauru?” Mineru asked softly, daring to sound hopeful and Zelda nodded, meeting the construct’s owl eyes.

“He spoke to me.”

“His hand spoke?”

“No, he did. I saw him. He was very much dead, but he had waited for me.”

Mineru’s mechanical body shuddered. “He was my brother.”

“I know. The silent dragon’s memories. You were in them.”

Mineru wrapped her arms around herself, a truly strange sight from such a massive robot. “I see.”

“Let’s go,” Zelda said softly, turning from Mineru like the coward she was. Zelda had questions, but right now wasn’t the time to demand they be answered. The story surrounding the silent dragon could wait, at least for a moment. “This place gives me the creeps.”

She ducked under a root and moved into the cog-covered room next door, and if Mineru lingered a little too far behind, Zelda pretended not to notice.

The Great Sky Island was as picturesque and untouched by Ganondorf’s influence as it had been when Zelda first awoke. Aside from a few lingering soldier constructs and stewards, the islands were deserted, silent, and lonesome as the sun hugged the horizon. Ere stayed close to Zelda’s side, taking in the beautiful oranges and yellows with wide eyes, and finally, Zelda stopped them to change, unable to stand the Yiga colors on her skin any longer. Ere watched with painfully tired eyes as Zelda dumped the bloodstained uniform on the ground. The glamour of Ere’s disguise had melted off long ago, but Kohga’s blood still stained her hands, and she kept picking at the flaking red with nervous fingers. Zelda didn’t want to know what was going on behind those eyes.

“My brother…” Mineru said finally as Zelda finished buttoning her overtunic, “When you saw him… was he well?”

Zelda swallowed. Define well, she wanted to ask, but knew better than to. “He was… tired. Very much so. But hopeful. He spoke with complete assurance that Hyrule could be saved. He had the utmost faith in all of us.”

Mineru nodded. “That would be his way.”

Zelda looked at the uniform on the ground. She called out to the power that flickered inside her, hot and holy. It felt silly to use Nayru’s gifts on something so easily accomplished with a match, but at the same time, something about scorching away the last reminder of Kohga’s reign felt right. Zelda let the white-hot, magical sparks dance on her fingertips and looked to Ere.

“Is this okay?”

Ere took a shaky breath. Ere’s eyes were like black holes in her head, and it frightened Zelda more than she liked to admit. Link carried that look sometimes, on the mornings after nightmares left him paralyzed and struggling to breathe. Still, Ere nodded, taking Zelda’s free hand. Zelda squeezed her fingers, and the Sheikah squeezed back, and with a flick of Zelda’s wrist, the sparks flew, engulfing the uniform in flames. Ere’s grip was so tight that it hurt, but somehow the pain was grounding. Ere was here. Ere was safe. Ere was never going back.

“The Temple,” Mineru said once the smolders of the last of the Yiga uniform went out. She looked out over the expanse of the Great Sky Island, gaze lingering on the towering Temple of Time, “can we see it? It’s just… It’s been so… well. Long.”

Zelda forced a smile. Frankly, she could give less than a rat’s ass about the temple, especially when Mineru had all the answers pertaining to Link that Zelda so desperately needed, but Zelda also knew better than to drill into the woman. It didn’t matter how much Zelda needed answers—Mineru was mourning. She deserved a chance to settle.

 “Of course. I’ll warn you, it isn’t in the best shape though,” Zelda said, hoping her tone was light. Mineru said nothing. Fine, okay, that was all right. This was all very triggering. The woman deserved a little quiet. Still, Zelda couldn’t help but feel judged by her owl eyes. Did Mineru like what she saw when she looked at Zelda? Did Zelda hold up to the expectations placed on her by Link? Did Mineru believe she could save the Continent, or did she doubt her? The thoughts tumbled around her head as she led the other two women through the ruins of the Great Sky Islands, occasionally avoiding soldier constructs or the odd animal. When they came across the steward construct that Zelda had first seen charging in front of the broken steps of the Temple of Time, Mineru made rapid-fire conversation with the robot in a strange language that Zelda thought might be Zonai. Mineru gestured wildly, voice high and energized, deeply contrasted by the robotic replies of the steward, and Zelda watched the sunset as the two talked. Ere seemed to be in her own little world, toeing the dirt and cupping the emerging fireflies. Zelda wasn’t sure if the quiet was dissociation or simply deep thought and she wasn’t sure how to ask. Over the years, she’d grown to be able to read Link as if he shared a brain with her, his silent and dissociative episodes included, but this… this was uncomfortably new territory.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over the setting sun. Zelda squinted through the clouds as the object twisted and turned in the sky, like a silkworm on its string. As the thing moved above the glare of the sun, Zelda was able to make out more detail. Small, lean, and forest green, with a wild mane and a spike of green and gold protruding from between the pale blue and silver eyes, more a chipped blade than a horn, the eyes lined with beautiful, golden lashes. The silent dragon twisted in the sky, it—his—missing limb and infected shoulder glinting like rubies against his scarred belly.

Zelda couldn’t help herself. She broke into a run. She wasn’t sure where she was running to, how she was supposed to even reach that height, just that she had to reach him. She ignored the shouts of Ere and Mineru behind her, hauling herself up the broken steps of the Temple of Time. The magical doors loomed, the silent dragon just a bit farther, and Zelda bolted past them, until the statue of Hylia was long since behind her and the Temple’s alter was before her.

“Zelda!” Mineru called behind her, “Please! Wait! Let’s talk—”

Zelda wasn’t listening.

“Link!” She shrieked as her toes hit air, the end of the island finally before her. There was nowhere else to go. “Link!”

The dragon did not acknowledge her. Sayuri’s words echoed in Zelda’s ears— Dragonification. A ‘living death’. Your very being erased but your soul forever forced to live on. A living corpse wandering the sky for eternity.

It was impossible. And yet…

The dragon began to swirl faster in the sky, clearly becoming agitated, twisting his head towards the open wound and scraping desperately at the festering gloomy infection, his horn ripping open barely healed scales. Blood showered down, like some kind of gory spring rain, and Zelda found herself trembling on the edge of the island as blood dripped down her hair and cheeks.

It was easy to open her mouth a crack, even as Ere and Mineru called from meters behind her, and let the blood drip past her lips and on to her tongue.

---

Link looked like shit. His hair was dull, greasy, and covered in dust and blood, the edges singed from gloom. His skin, normally warm and bright, was corpselike, clammy and waxy, slick with sweat. Gloom burns littered every inch of exposed skin, and the smell of it was overwhelming as he stared blankly ahead, seemingly uncaring of the priestess in white wrapping bandages around the stump where his prosthetic arm had been. Zelda had seen the missing limb on Ganondorf’s Puppet, but somehow, seeing it on Link was worse. It hadn’t been a clean cut—instead, it appeared something, or someone, had grabbed hold of his bicep and twisted, ripping the prosthetic off like the wings from a butterfly, leaving behind sinew and broken, exposed bone. Link didn’t move as the priestess slowly and carefully removed the tourniquet that someone had hastily applied.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly, “It will heal in time.”

Link said nothing. His face was blank and bare of all expression, his eyes dull. Zelda knew that look intimately, and she hated it. She’d loathed the expression when she first met him, thinking his facial affect was a sign of disdain and haughtiness. Surely, he was thinking poorly of her with his bland eyes and unfeeling face. Surely, there wasn’t anything in his head but cold intelligence and perfection. Surely, surely, this swordsman hated her and everything she failed to stand for. Now, a hundred years in the future, she knew better.

Link had told her in complete, sworn confidence, a hundred years ago, that he used to snort when he laughed, and that despite the memories he had of days running with Mipha, sneaking away from their fathers to talk of everything and anything, laughing until he was more snorts than giggles, he had no idea if he’d make the noise if he laughed now. It had been so long since he’d laughed, actually laughed, that he wasn’t sure what it sounded like anymore.

The selective mutism had first developed when he entered the military as a preteen and only grew worse with time. By the time he drew the Master Sword, his lack of verbality had become near constant, to the point where he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. He knew, technically, how to sign, but it felt pointless. So, he simply didn’t, his thoughts pounding against his temples but unable to leave his mouth as the Calamity grew closer and closer. Before Zelda finally annihilated the Dark Beast, she’d never actually heard him speak, just exchanged signs and written letters.

This Link before her, this blank canvas, reminded her so much of that Link that it made her blood freeze in her veins. She crept closer, kneeling before him. He sat on the edge of a sickbed, staring over the priestess’ shoulder, and if Zelda just reached out her hand, she could touch his knee. It trembled, the only sign of his disquiet.

Zelda reached forward. Her hand brushed against his skin, but she felt nothing. This event was from a time long past. It was a fleeting memory, nothing more, and it didn’t matter how badly she needed to feel his skin against hers. That time was over, would be forever.

Forever. That was a long time. She’d thought she might have to hold back the Beast forever, when she stood before it at Hyrule Castle, the flames still raging across the castle grounds, the stink of bodies almost as strong as the smell of malice. Forever had seemed impossible to comprehend, so she put no effort into comprehending it, instead focusing on the task at hand. Now, she couldn’t help but pour herself into the word. Forever. All ways and eternity—

 A living corpse wandering the sky for eternity.

How long ago had all of this occurred? How long had Link been above the clouds? Legend had it that the dragon that existed higher than even where the Guardians flew descended just low enough to barely be seen every hundred years, and the date of that descent made sense now in a bitterly painful way. The anniversary of Link’s rebirth and awakening. Somehow, under the spell of the dragon’s form, Link had felt called enough to dip below the clouds at the same time each year, the same day that his eyes would one day open in the Shrine of Resurrection.

Did that mean he could be reached? That he still existed somewhere under those scales?

“Link,” a familiar voice called from the door of the private infirmary. “I hope you are well. Or as well as you can be.”

Link’s eyes flickered from the wall he’d been staring holes into to the woman who stood in the doorway. Sayuri was just as perfectly put together as she had been when Zelda saw her spirit. Her dress, white layers of linen and embroidery, was immaculate and covered everything but her brown hands, while her veil hid all of her face from view, save for the few pale gold curls that hung below the pearly fabric. The lower ranked priestess at Link’s elbow—or lack thereof— straightened, bowing deeply before Sayuri.

“Your Grace, I was just beginning—”

“Allow me. I will provide any aid he needs. Go. The Zonai is in far more critical condition.”

Link turned his head, light sparking back into his eyes. “M-I-N-E-R-U?” He finger-spelled, and Sayuri nodded as the priestess hurried from the room. Sayuri began where the holy woman had left off, carefully stitching the flayed flesh of his arm.

“Her wounds are grave. I am unsure if they are recoverable. Regardless, there are greater things at play than the life of one. I told you that failure would be certain.”

Link clenched his jaw and Sayuri shook her head, seeming almost… amused?

“Please, tell me of my brother-in-law. His sages have given statements, but clearly, you were… more closely involved in his final actions.”

Zelda could practically hear Link grinding his teeth. “S-E-A-L-E-D.”

“Naboris said as much. I want to hear it from you.”

Link said nothing. Instead, he fingered his stone on the top of his scabbard beside him. Now that she had a better look at it, Zelda was sure it was Rauru’s stone, sent from the present to the past.

This was all her fault. She dislodged the stone when she went poking around at Rauru’s hand, and without his stone to amplify his power, Rauru’s seal quickly ebbed away, leaving Ganondorf free to wreak havoc. She’d damned Hyrule all over again, but this time there was no coming back. There was no Shrine of Resurrection to lay her beloved friend in, fully aware he would one day wake. There would be no waking. Not this time.

Link had told her, over and over, that she wasn’t the center of the universe. He meant it kindly, reassuringly—she was unable to damn everyone, simply due to her cosmic unimportance. She desperately wished he was here to tell her again, but the Link before her was but a vision and the Link in her time was… was…

(A living corpse wandering the sky for eternity—)

Link’s fingers moved from his secret stone up to the hilt of the Master Sword. Fi glowed brilliantly, if unsteadily, light leaking out of the scabbard but flickering wildly, like a lighting bug or electric current. She didn’t sing in his grasp, still too weak, but her voice was undeniably stronger. Somehow, between the rooftop vision and now, she’d regained some splendor, though she was far from the brilliantly healed blade on Zelda’s back.

“Master?” the broken sword said, prodding Zelda’s temples and the back of her skull, seeking entrance into her mind. “I do not understand.”

“I am not your Master,” Zelda whispered to her. “Not yet.”

Fi began to hum shrilly, her light growing even more erratic, and holy heat burst forth. Link yelped as she singed his fingertips, looking at her in confusion.

“It has recovered some of its strength,” Sayuri said, sounding surprised. “I hadn’t expected as such.”

“D-R-A-G-O-N-S”

“I… see. I am happy for you.”

Link scoffed.

“They were mine first, you know. Rauru, Sonia, both of them,” Sayuri said, and Zelda’s stomach soured at the High Priestess’ change in tactics. It was a low blow, connecting herself to Link’s losses, even if she did have a stronger connection to the late leaders of Hyrule. “They were mine far before you arrived, and now all I have left is a niece who has no mother to nurse her. The least you can do is speak to me.”

Link gripped Fi’s hilt, either uncaring of the pain or unnoticing of it, and drew her from her scabbard. She’d regained some of her length, and the gloom lingering on her sizzled like acid on blood, cleaning away the infection. She was still very much in pieces, but the body of her blade, translucent and not yet fully formed, was strong, glowing as gold as Farosh's horn. Link rested her on his knees, her light shining in his eyes, and ran a delicate hand across her incomplete blade. Zelda could tell they were speaking, though of what, she did not know. Sayuri gasped.

“D-R-A-G-O-N-S.” Link signed blandly at her shock.

“May I touch it?” Sayrui said with reverence. Link fixed Sayuri with a glare so bitter that the woman, as larger than life as she was, seemed to shrink.

“This would be easier if you used your words.”

“A-M.”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“A-M!”

“You know what I mean. Work with me. Please.”

Link sighed. He didn’t seem to notice when Fi nicked him, or he didn’t care. Blood dripped onto her blade, sizzling away on the holy metal.

“C-A-N-T.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“D-O-N-T  L-I-K-E  Y-O-U.”

“Few do.”

Link didn’t reply, and Sayuri sighed. She placed down the bandages in her hand, having just finished winding them tightly across the mutilated skin, and stepped forward, moving as if to sit on the bed beside him. Link’s look darkened further, and instead, she dropped to the floor in a puddle of skirts.

“I can feel Their power on you, though I am unsure which One it is. I have my suspicions. As the wielder of the Triforce of Courage, I would bet it was Farore, if I was a betting woman. Am I right?”

Link studied Sayuri closely. Zelda tried to imagine what he saw when he looked at the older woman, what she looked like to him under all that pomp and circumstance. Did he see a great priest? A bitter sister? An unfeeling disciple?

“S-C-A-R-E-D.”

“Of Her?”

Link shook his head, pointing at Sayuri.

“Me?”

Link shook his head. “S-C-A-R-E-D.”

Sayuri went still under her veil. “I… I’m not scared of anything. I have my Goddess to guide me. I’m certainly not scared of you.”

Link’s face was just as unreadable as before, yet there was a sort of disappointment in his eyes.

“F-U-T-U-R-E.”

Sayrui’s knuckles were ashy as she gripped her skirts. She was frightened, Zelda realized. Frightened for her people, for her future, for Hyrule’s future. She’d just seen its near destruction, and now here was Link, the failure, before her, her only hope in believing a future doomsday could be avoided.

Sayuri was, at the end of the day, a scared girl in a fancy dress.

Link rolled his eyes at her silence and pointed to the scrolls and stylists on the bookshelf on the far wall. Sayuri scurried over, bringing him a few scrolls and a stylist. Link flipped a scroll over and began to write on the blank back.

“Farore. I saw Her. She spoke to me.”

“I knew it!”

Link let out a soft sound that might have been amused at Sayuri’s excitement. “She told me how to fix my sword and destroy Ganondorf, entirely.”

Sayuri nodded. “Of course, She would. She would not abandon Her people.” It sounded more like she was reassuring herself than stating a fact. She leaned forward, squeezing Link’s knee, her hand inches from Zelda’s own. “Now. Tell me everything.”

---

“Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

Mineru pushed off the priestesses who tried to lower her back into the pile of pillows that she lay on. They’d given up on healing hours ago—now, the sickbed was fitted for comfort instead. Their inaction carried a terrible starkness that Zelda recognized. She’d seen it with her own mother when she became ill. This was not a room for healing. It was a room for saying goodbyes. Still, Mineru fought back against the fingers of death, pawing at Link despite her exhaustion.

“I won’t let you throw yourself away!”

At the foot of the bed, Sayuri watched as Link tried to soothe Mineru back into the comfort of her deathbed. He looked even worse, blood having soaked through his bandages. The gloom lingered around him, even if it had been washed from his skin. Zelda had seen people on the verge of death from gloom sickness before. She’d seen what the stuff could do once it reached the lungs or the bloodstream. She refused to let herself follow that train of thought.

“H-O-W?” Link finger spelled as Mineru finally laid back down, coughing bitterly as blood wet her lips. As soon as the word was finished, he offered her a cup of water and wiped the blood from her chin with a wet cloth. Mineru shook her head, refusing the care.

“How would this be, what, a mistake? Are you mad? Has that woman really so poisoned your thoughts that—”

“He’s dying, Mineru,” Sayuri said softly. Mineru bristled.

“No one asked you for your input, Your Grace.”

Sayuri didn’t rise to the bait, instead smoothing the folds of Mineru’s blankets around her feet. Link frowned. Stillness still lingered on his face, clammy and awful, but worry puckered at his brow, and Zelda felt her chest loosen at some sign of emotion. Mineru yanked her feet out of Sayuri’s reach, and the High Priestess breathed hard through her nose. Link looked at her, a subtle, near-hidden look Zelda recognized from Link’s first few meetings with Revali. Annoyance and aggravation.

“L-E-A-V-E,” He signed, and then, as if it was an afterthought, “P-L-E-A-S-E.”

Sayuri spluttered, and Mineru somehow managed to look down her snout at her despite laying back in a mound of pillows, swamped by quilts and plush blankets.

“Link—”

“He asked you to leave. Far more politely than I would have.”

“Your Grace—” A priestess said, “I think it would be unwise to aggravate Lady Mineru more. She’d injured enough as it is; she needs rest.”

Sayuri was clearly angry, but she pushed forth a voice of calm and authority. “Very well. Link, I shall wait for you outside.”

As soon as the doors shut, Mineru was sitting back up again.

“Leave us,” Mineru said to the lingering priestesses. “I’d like to speak freely, without fear of her hearing.”

The holy women glanced at each other but nodded and left all the same. As soon as they were gone, Mineru was struggling to slide her legs out of bed, grabbing Link’s hand and squeezing it.

“Link, whatever she’s told you—”

Link shook his head, shushing her and lowering her back into the pillows. Blood continued to ooze from his stump, and Zelda swore there was less light in his eyes than there had been minutes before.

“She’s right,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m dying.”

Zelda would have been proud to hear him speak, to know his trust for Mineru was so strong, if not for his words.

“Link—”

“I’m sick, Mineru. This gloom—it’s new to you, but I’ve seen what it can do, back in my time. Once it gets into you, into your blood or your lungs… there is no going back. You waste away, organs shutting down one by one, slowly eaten alive by the power of the gloom. As soon as Ganondorf—”

“The Demon King—”

“Ganondorf took my arm and opened me up to that much gloom, straight from the source…”

Mineru leaned forward, taking her hand from Link’s own and placing it on his cheek. Zelda could guess from her shudder just how cold to the touch he must be.

“We’ll find a way. Don’t give up hope.”

Link smiled. It was small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. “I haven’t. I have hope. So much hope.” He removed her hand from his cheek and sat on the edge of the sickbed, unsheathing Fi as he did so. She glittered in the light, half-formed and beautiful. “This sword—in my time, when I first faced Ganondorf, she shattered. But even a chip from her edge was enough to draw blood when it cut his cheek. Don’t you see? He was vulnerable to even a shattered piece of this sword!”

“So, we go, and we kill him while he’d sealed down there, and we find a way to save you—”

Link shook his head. His finger was still red from being cut on Fi’s edge. “She isn’t strong enough. Not now. But you’ve seen the power she can wield. She is able to grow, to become stronger when exposed to holy power, exponentially over time. I have that holy power.”

“You have a stone. A secret stone does not a holy power make, Link.”

“I know. But—I know my Gods mean little to a Zonai, but in my world, the Goddesses who created this world left us a gift: the Triforce. I bare a piece of it. If we give my sword enough time and access to my piece, then she can grow in strength and—”

“Then doing here, in this temple. It’s a holy place, filled with holy women who can help!”

“I can’t just ‘do it’. The Triforce… it isn’t like the stones. It cannot be turned on and off at will, and I’ve never really used it before. I need guidance. My Goddess can give it to me. I just need time. Time I—we—do not have.”

“Link, this is madness.”

“No,” He said, and this time his smile felt genuine. “It’s survival.”

“You have to understand,” Mineru said, “You won’t be able to change back—” She was cut off by brutal coughs, and Link’s eyes widened as red bloomed across the white sheets where her midsection was under the blankets.

“I’ll get Sayuri—”

“Forget it,” Mineru breathed, voice shaky with pain. “There’s no point. I won’t last much longer than you will.” She swallowed, lips bloody. “If you were to swallow the stone, you won’t die. That wound would be with you to the end of time. That pain, it wouldn’t ever fade. Others have swallowed their own in the past in hopes of healing, and all they found was an eternity of pain in the sky while their consciousness ceased to function.”

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Mineru said, her voice beginning to tighten with held-back tears. “Don’t leave me alone. Please. Who would even find your sword, all charged up and healed in the clouds?” 

 “Zelda.” The certainty in Link’s voice left Zelda’s blood cold and her heart pounding. “She will find it. She will save us all.”

“You cannot put so much faith in one person.”

“It’s not faith. I don’t need to have faith in her. I know she can do it, always.”

Zelda stepped forward. Even though she knew he could not see her, touch her, that all of this had long since happened, she couldn’t help but reach out to touch his face. She could imagine his warmth, even under the clammy chill of the gloom sickness, and the softness of his cheeks as she ran her thumb across his cheekbone. His eyes were fiery, and they burned her soul bitterly.

“I can do it. She can do it,” He whispered. No, Zelda wanted to scream, this is insanity! But instead, Mineru sank into her pillows.

Stop him! Mineru, stop him!

“I don’t…” Link took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not asking your permission. I just wanted you to be the first to know before I tell the other sages. Will you help me?”

Mineru wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hands. “Yes.” She said finally. “As a Zonai, and my brother’s keeper, I bear partial blame for these events. So, I too will devote myself to this goal. I have a laboratory, up in the sky, on a collection of islands known as the Dragon Head. I will wait there and guide your Princess. For her, I shall do all I can. But, know that this is not my blessing. And that I will never forgive you, or that woman, for this.”

Link smoothed back Mineru’s increasingly reddening sheets. “I know.” He said. “I can live with that.”

“Go,” Mineru said softly. “I’m… I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.”

Link squeezed Mineru’s hand, then picked up and sheathed Fi. “I’m going to speak to the others. I hope they will dedicate themselves to Zelda as well. And that they will stand beside me one last time. In my time, the Temple of Time served as a symbol of the Gods of Hyrule’s triumph over countless evil. I used to spend a lot of time there, after I woke up. Relearning and redeveloping a love for Them, even after all They had done to me. Your own Temple of Time is beautiful.  I think it would be a nice place to die.”

Mineru said nothing. Link swallowed.

“Goodbye, Mineru. And thank you. I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

---

The Zonai Temple of Time was still on the ground in Link’s memory. It looked far different than it did above the clouds. The marble walls would be brilliantly white, if not for the blood. Zelda recalled the bones she found at the temple, back all those weeks ago, bones and stains of rust that she realized now hadn’t just been the discoloration of time. Now, she could see where they came from. Bodies littered the field before the temple’s walls, and around them, monsters of all kinds. Ganondorf’s forces had clearly targeted the temple, and the priests and soldiers there had been unprepared, even if they had kept dark forces from breaching the gates. Link watched from the top of the main outer staircase—still intact, unlike in Zelda’s time—as people worked to move the fallen soldiers and priests to the mass funeral pyre in the middle of the grounds. Soldier constructs flickered to life and began their patrols, newly instated to protect the soon-to-be skyward Garden of Time, though how the others planned to get the Great Sky Islands into, well, the sky, Zelda wasn’t sure. She doubted she’d have enough time here, watching Link throw himself to the side once again, to find out.

Five people stood at the base of the stairway. Naboris, Ruta, and Medoh, all looking worse for wear, and a Goron who Zelda assumed must be the Sage of Fire. He held Ruta’s delicate hand in his own massive one, letting her rest her head on his rocky shoulder. They were whispering to each other, and Medoh watched the constructs behind the group with a stern, stormy face. At that moment, he looked so much like Teba that it was almost startling. Naboris held herself with strength, arms crossed and face smooth, but Zelda saw no brightness, no life, in her eyes. She looked old, old and tired. Standing beside the group, looking out of place amongst the bandages and smoke, was Sayuri. In her arms was Mineru’s owl head mask, cradled carefully against her chest.

“I’ll ensure personally that she makes it to the Dragon Head,” Sayuri was saying, but Link didn’t seem to be paying much attention. His eyes lingered on the flames as they licked at stiff bodies, occasionally flicking to the patrolling soldier constructs. “Till then, the soldier constructs shall serve as protectors for the Temple, at least until we are sure you won’t… linger… too close to the Temple. Not that I believe you will need much in the way of protection.”

Link ‘hmm’ed blandly. The bandages on his stump had been replaced, yet he looked even sicker. He turned, stepping robotically up the last few stairs and reaching the large doors that had once barred Zelda’s entrance to the Temple of Time. It had been so much simpler then, up on the Great Sky Island. So simple, so straightforward. Link once told her that waking up from the Shrine of Resurrection, exploring the Great Plateau before Rhoam gave him his quest, had felt straightforward and simple too. So much for that, Zelda supposed.

Footsteps came from behind Link—Sayuri.

“I shall enchant the door behind you,” She said. “No one will be able to follow behind you unless they bore a great holy power of their own.”

Link nodded. He swallowed, turned fully to face her, and traced a finger down Mineru’s feathers.

“P-R-O-T-E-C-T” He signed, and Mineru’s mask chimed.

“I shall see that no harm comes to Zelda once our paths do cross,” Mineru said, the owl’s eyes flickering with intelligent life. “I promise.”

Link seemed to calm at that. He placed a hand on the mask, running his finger over a feather, before signing thank you. He looked over Sayuri’s shoulder at the sages, who straightened. Naboris’ lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something, but then she glanced away, and the moment was lost.

“Best of luck to ya,” the Goron said, and Ruta nodded. Medo gave a solemn Rito salute, and if Naboris noticed Link’s eyes linger on her, she did not show it. Link took a deep breath and turned back, taking his first step past the doors. They shut behind him with a rumble, and the feeling of magic behind Link left Zelda’s chest tight.

Link’s feet echoed on the polished marble floors of the temple. Water that had long dried by the time Zelda woke now ran down channels across the temple floor, reflecting elegant mosaics onto the ceiling, leaving bright colors splashed across every inch of the holy place. Link walked straight through the waters, not bothering to stay on the tile path. Why bother, when soon he wouldn’t have the mind left to even care about taking mud across the floor? He passed red smear marks across the floor, left over from where priests’ bodies had been carried out of the building, as well as stinking bodies of monsters left to rot in pools of gore, the people of the Garden of Time more concerned with honoring their dead than preventing maggots. Link walked the winding hallways of the temple, hallways Zelda would one day walk with Rauru, millennia in the future. Zelda had to walk quickly to keep up with Link’s determined pace.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said to him, voice hanging strangely in the vision’s air. Was that true? Was there another way? If Farore Herself had guided Link on this path, was there really a solution other than dragonification? Would a Golden Goddess Herself lead Link astray so terribly? Nayru had proven to be emotional and prone to seeing the pangs of Her heart as concrete fact. Could Farore be so fallible?

When my Creator reached the end of his Journey, he placed me in an eternal slumber on the pedestal the Goddess chose for me.

Link stopped at Fi’s words. Her voice was crackly and shaky, not fully healed but still far stronger than the screams of danger she had been reduced to before.

I told him that his companionship left me feeling what I can only assume is happiness.

“Were you happy with me?” Link whispered. Fi chimed, glowing green-gold for a moment instead of her typical pale blue.

Yes. I believe so.

“I’m sorry I got you broken.”

I am sorry I broke. I hope that knowing we share dormancy will bring you some comfort.

“It… it does. Thak you.”

Of course, Master.

“I won’t be your Master after this. Once Zelda pulls you, you have to serve her as faithfully as you have me, you understand?

The Princess is not mine. Not like you.

“She will have to be.”

Fi did not answer. Link pulled himself up the cog-covered staircase to the statue of Hylia that stood before beautifully carved doors. Zelda recognized them, just as she did the altar behind them. Link stopped in the doorway, drinking in the altar of the Great Temple of Time.

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll serve her as you serve me.”

Fi didn’t answer verbally, just glowed a brilliant gold. On Zelda’s back, Fi glowed just as bright, reacting to her own answer. Link seemed content, moving to the altar and sitting on it. It seemed in his last moments, he didn’t have the same concern about treating holy places as holy places like he did when he was with Zelda, both before the Calamity and after.

Oh God, she was going to have to tell Teba and Saki. Tulin. Impa. Riju. Sidon.

How on earth was she supposed to do that?

A horrible idea suddenly crept into her head. Zora lived a long time, especially royalty. Sidon would live long after Zelda died and would have Zora spawn of his own, who would carry the bloodline even further. If she told Sidon, Sidon might agree to take care of the silent dragon—of Link— after Zelda died. The Zora royal family could be the stewards of Link, and he would never be alone—

She couldn’t. She couldn’t take advantage of Sidon’s friendship with Link like that. It was wrong, and Link… Link would never forgive her for treating Sidon and his future family like servants to fix her own aching heart.

On the altar, Link had drawn the Master Sword and placed her on his lap. Blood oozed through his bandages, dark and putrid smelling, reeking of gloom.

“Zelda…” He said softly, looking up at the clouds, “I will restore Fi for you, and she will serve you well. I will care for her until that time comes. I will learn how to harness my Triforce, and I swear I will pour my Courage into it every day until you come. Fi will be the weapon that will destroy Ganondorf.”

Link’s hand went from Fi’s hilt to the secret stone on his scabbard.

“I have a message for her if you wouldn’t mind being something so mundane,” He whispered to Fi. The Master Sword chimed, glowing dimly, clearly exhausted from using so much power to communicate.

“Thank you,” Link whispered. He trailed his hand across the shattered blade, his head still turned skyward, his eyes lost in the clouds. “Zelda. The Master Sword… my sword—our sword… she is the key to destroying the Demon King. He defeated her before, but a long slumber will heal these grievous wounds. And when you take her in hand, and next face the Demon King, please know that you have my Courage to guide you, through her.”

“Zelda… you once called me the Light that must shine upon Hyrule once again, but I have always known you are that Light. You are our Final Light, our final hope. I pray—no, I know, that this sword will find you in the future.”

Link’s breath hitched as he took hold of Fi, resting his forehead on her hilt.

“I don’t know if I will be able to love you after this but… but I want you to know, that I always have.”

Fi chimed again, and Link placed her back on his lap. Link took a long, deep breath, straightening his shoulders and closing his eyes. The secret stone glittered in his first, his knuckles white from how tightly he held it. Tears prickled along his lash line, and he wiped them away with a jerk of his fist.

“Fuck it!” He hissed, before shoving the stone in his mouth. It clicked against his teeth once, and then he was swallowing, and Zelda was watching his throat bob as the massive stone was forced down.

The wind picked up, as if the air had just realized it had been holding its breath too long, and Link’s brow furrowed in confusion. He touched his throat softly, coughed once, and had just begun to move off of the altar when his muscles seized with a gasp. Link fell, dropping hard onto the ground, wheezing as he pulled himself onto his hand and knees. He gagged, retching and clawing at his throat as if he were trying to rip the stone back out of him. Tears streamed down his face, just as thick as the blood that gushed from his reopened wound, gloom creeping up out of the bandages, stark across his ghostly skin. Link panted, choking on air, and began to rip the bandages off. His stump began to glow, the power of the stone fighting the gloom, glowing bright as the sun one moment and dimming against the sickly power of the gloom in another. Zelda recognized the botched healing and constant destruction from the silent dragon’s wound.

Link rolled onto his back, neck bloodied from his scratching, and howled in pain, now clawing at his eyes. Something bulged under his closed eyelids.

“You must…” He choked out, voice not even close to human anymore, “You must—”

Link’s eyelids ripped open, shredded to pieces, blood pouring down his face, exposing bulbous, bulging eyes. They were terrifying and beautiful, shining pale blue and violent silver, golden lashes forming from the blood and tears across his mutilated face.

“Protect them all!” Link tried to scream, but it was lost in an almighty roar that was over as soon as it started. The world glowed a brilliant gold, brighter than anything Zelda had ever seen, her own Triforce piece included, and she squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if she could be blinded from a vision but unwilling to find out. The ground under her shook, and when the light faded and Zelda dared to open her eyes, the ground was gone, replaced with clouds and an endless sky.

Link was gone. Quickly rising into the clouds, leaving a bloody rain shower in his wake, was the silent dragon, writhing in lingering agony and clawing at the arm wound. Tears dripped from his eyes, mingling with the blood still on his face, as he breached the clouds. Zelda could still feel Link, even in the vision, feel his essence, his soul, as if he had been right in front of her, but it was wrong. Hollow. Empty.

Dead, but still living.

Zelda dropped to the floor, eyes unable to leave the sky, and wept. She did not notice when the vison faded, when Mineru called her name, when lean, strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her to their chest. Zelda didn’t notice anything at all.

Above her, the silent dragon flew, and on her back, Fi sang.

Chapter Text

Zelda was barely aware of the voices behind her and the arms that held her loosely to a warm chest. Dimly, she knew that this haze should be alarming, but instead, she watched the sky as tears dried on her face. She hadn’t cried long, just enough to turn the blood under her lashes pink while the rest of the silent dragon—Link’s—gore dried on her cheeks. She almost looked like him in his last moments, she realized, with the tears and snot and blood streaked across her face. Only, his eyelids had been shredded, his jaw unhinged to make way for massive fangs, eyes bulging and growing too fast for his skull, bones shattering under the strain of holy transformation, while she simply knelt on the ground and cried.

“Zel—”

“Don’t. Give her some time.”

“Time?! That’s complete bullshit. Zelda—”

“Er, pleasee—”

“I’m all right,” Zelda whispered. It was true. How could she be anything other than all right when Link was trapped above the clouds, stuck in a cycle of near-constant agony, kept from death by that damn stone while his soul rotted in that divine cage? How dare she ever say she was suffering when he was... was…

Zelda’s thoughts trailed away. She hadn’t the words, too fuzzy and dim to make her thoughts flow the way she wanted them to. Ere squeezed her softly, a simple movement that spoke of undeniable helplessness as she pressed Zelda’s back against her chest. Hadn’t their positions been switched, only hours earlier? A laugh slipped out of Zelda’s stained lips, and Ere glanced to the construct behind her with concern.

“I’m fine,” Zelda said, an air of hysterics clinging to the edge of her vowels.

“… Sure you are. Come on, let's getcha washed up.”

Zelda shook her head and ran her fingers down her cheeks. The blood was tacky, already beginning to dry, and reeked of gloom, even if Zelda felt no corruption inside it. No, Link’s blood was divine, immortal, unable to be tainted in such a way, even as the gloom tried desperately to cling to it.

Zelda wanted to taste it again.

 Maybe it would take her to the clouds, to Link, to see the life in his strange dragon eyes. Because there was life there—she had seen it when he first saved her from her fall all those weeks ago, and again and again each time she approached him, when she pulled Fi from his head.

Oh Gods, had that hurt? Had she hurt him when she stole his sword?? Zelda felt her breath quicken, her gasps overwhelming Ere’s concerned words. She hurt him. He’d been hurt so much already and she helped, she helped him hurt, she touched the stone and broke Rauru’s seal, she freed Ganondorf, she wasn’t fast enough to catch him. This was all her fault. Mipha. Revali. Daruk. Urbosa. Father. And now Link. All she did was kill, kill, kill, everything she loved, everything she touched. She had to get away from Ere, from Mineru, before she killed them too.

Zelda lurched forward but Ere tightened her grip, only to let go when Zelda slammed her head back into the woman’s nose.

“Fucking hells, Zel!” Ere screeched, clutching her nose, and Zelda yanked herself to her feet, caught up in a sudden whirlwind she did not understand—all she knew was Ere and Mineru were in danger as long as they were up here with her. Zelda stepped back, watching Ere on the ground with wide eyes, Mineru standing behind her, calling Zelda’s name. Zelda took another step back. She could feel the air kissing her heels as the ground came to an end, opening to the sky.

It would be easy. She doubted she would even feel it. Dead on impact. Sidon, Riju, Tulin, and now Mineru—they could save Hyrule better than she could ever possibly save it.

She took another step back and felt nothing beneath her toes. Someone screamed, lurching forward and wrapping their fists in Zelda’s bloody tunic to try and yank her back, but Zelda’s weight and inertia were too great. One moment just Zelda was falling, and the next she and Ere were falling together.

She couldn’t even die without hurting anyone.

Zelda’s gut jerked as something wrapped around the both of them. A cable—Mineru’s cable, shot from her sparkplug arm. It yanked the two women back onto the Great Sky Island, and s soon as they touched the ground, Ere slung Zelda over her shoulder, forcing her away from the edge lest she jump again. Zelda no longer had the energy. She simply sagged against the Sheikah’s body, unable to feel her face.

“How dare you,” Mineru hissed, towering over Zelda. “He threw everything away for you, and you what? Jump off a bloody cliff as soon as you learn what he did for you? How dare you put your own bleeding heart before the good of the land he swore you would protect, the people he swore you would save, the sacrifice he swore you would make sure was not in vain! He promised me you would make it worth it, Princess. And here you are, forcing him to break that promise.”

Zelda winced. Now that the cloudiness in her head was thinning she felt very, very stupid. What was she thinking? Nothing rational, that much was certain.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. It was all she could say.

“If I put you down, will you try to fucking kill yourself again?” Ere said, and Zelda shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

Like hell she was.

Ere and Mineru shared a look, and slowly, Ere righted Zelda and placed her on the ground.

“I’m sorry—” Zelda said again. “I… I don’t know what got into me.”

Mineru sighed. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you in such a way,” she said softly, and Zelda shook her head.

“No. No, you should have. It’s true. This is bigger than me, than Link—there is more at stake than the two of us. Link could see it. I… I need to make myself see it.”

“… Perhaps,” Mineru’s own voice seemed suddenly unsure.

“He said he would be mindless, but…” Zelda said, looking up at the gaps in the clouds Link had left, “I think he was following me? I fell a few times, right out of the sky, and each time he was there, ready to catch me. When I was ready to draw the sword, he almost seemed to be… waiting for me.”

“That’s impossible. None of the Zonai to ever partake in the forbidden magic held onto any kind of self-awareness, even the most powerful of our magic users.”

“Zonai? Did nobody else use your fancy rocks?” Ere asked, and Mineru shook her head.

“Dragonification of Zonai is why the stones were hidden in the first place. Link is the first of his kind.”

Zelda perked at that. “So, he really could be aware? Under all those scales? There could be some of him left, reacting differently to the stone than Zonai did?”

“Would you really want that?” Mineru said. The bleakness in her voice gave Zelda pause. “I have always been terrified that Rauru was aware, awake during his sealing. Spending all that time alone in the Depths with the Demon King’s body. Would you rather Link spend an eternity in the sky, alone, isolated, with only pain for company? Is it not kinder than he be unaware?”

“I…” Zelda swallowed. Was it? Was she being selfish for wanting him to recognize her in those wide, silver eyes? Ere clapped her hands together. Zelda and Mineru jumped.

“I think we can dwell on all this shit when we are on solid ground, okay?” She said. Despite the casualness of her words, she seemed just as on edge as Mineru, her eyes lingering on the sword on Zelda’s back, as if she were terrified Zelda might do something even more rash than jumping off a cliff. “Where are we headin’ to next?”

Zelda looked at Mineru for a long minute, before clearing her throat. Slowly, making it clear she had no ulterior intentions, she looked over the edge of the island. The ground was so far below that it was almost invisible through the clouds. Had she really been unbothered at the thought of such a drop? Shit.

“Kakariko,” Zelda said finally. Ere blanched.

“Are you sure?” She said, voice tight. “Because, uh, I don’t know if you remember, but I’m sort of part of a murderous organization that has made multiple attempts on the lives of the Sheikah residents of Kakariko, including their elder, and—”

“Was,” Zelda interrupted. “Was part of a murder cult.”

“I— oh. Right.” Ere seemed surprised by her own agreement. “I was part of a murder cult. Was. Past tense. Holy shit. Holy shit.”

Zelda couldn’t help it. She laughed. The whiplash from the emotions, , was so strong that her stomach ached, yet here she was, laughing. A bit more than a tad hysterical, maybe, but better than the nothingness in her head from before. Ere looked alarmed by it, her white brows furrowed and her red eyes wide, but then Zelda was grabbing Ere’s face and smashing her lips onto her forehead, smearing divine blood across the younger woman’s face.

“Yes,” Zelda said breathlessly, “past tense.”

Ere pulled away, blushing furiously. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” She mumbled. “We’ll just have to see how willing the Sheikah are to buy that story.”

“With me to vouch for you, the Sheikah will welcome you with slightly open arms.”

Mineru cleared her non-existent throat. Again, discomfort settled among the three women, and Zelda felt guilt prickle at her insides. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, that might reassure them, but then Mineru was speaking. “I’m afraid I know little of this world—would you be so kind as to explain?”

“It’s more than a little complicated,” Zelda said, and Ere nodded. “A story that dates back to the very creation of the Hylian and Sheikah race. We—the royal family and the Sheikah—have been tied together for longer than memory could ever document.”

“Sonia and her people who followed the Goddess Hylia spoke occasionally of the protectors of that Goddess.” Mineru said, “Though, I will confess to know little of your people’s beliefs. If not for Sonia’s background in the priesthood, I fear I might not have recognized your sword when Link first brought it to me.”

Zelda looked to Ere, whose cheeks were still warm. “I know the history the royal family teaches as well as my own name—maybe even better than it—but not from the perspective of the outsiders so hurt by that history. I would be honored to have help in filling in the blanks for Mineru.”

Ere’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline. “I wouldn’t—”

“There is more out there than one narrative. Let’s start a new one together,” Zelda said, “besides—the fastest way to Kakariko is a big drop into Bottomless Pond and a long hike. We’ll need something to keep us going. Walking is awfully boring.”

Ere looked hard at Zelda, mapping the woman’s face with her eyes, clearly looking for something. Zelda hoped she found it. “Very well then,” Ere said. She took a deep breath. “When the world was first Created, the Goddess Nayru knew She would need someone to watch over Her Beloved Sister, Hylia, so She created a mighty soldier from Din’s earth and Farore’s love of justice, and named her Impa. The first of the Sheikah.”

---

It wasn’t just a long hike—it was a very long hike, especially with Zelda so reluctant to stick to the roads. Ere was, unfortunately, currently a magnate for danger. She had a Yiga death warrant pinned on the back of her head, and while Zelda was sure she and Mineru could keep Ere safe, Zelda didn’t want to take any risks with civilians walking or riding through the roads of Hyrule. Which meant crossing Hylia River by wading through frigid water, cutting across Floret Sandbar, hitching a ride on an abandoned raft across Nabi Lake instead of taking a bridge, and walking up the steep hills of West Necluda without a paved road or horse to help them. Not that a horse would have done Mineru much good—the mech would have crushed the poor thing.

Ere had complained constantly in between her stories of the rich mythology of the Sheikah, and Mineru seemed content enough to listen to both, unbothered by the trek. Ere insisted that, dead or not, Mineru was lucky; no muscles meant no soreness and no lungs meant no breathlessness from climbing. Mineru had laughed at that, the first time Zelda had ever heard the woman make such a sound. They made two stops, one to scrub the blood from Zelda’s skin and allow her the chance to change, and another to pet the horses that grazed behind Kakariko Village, simply because Ere’s excitement had been impossible to ignore. It made Zelda happy to see her happy, and even more so to see the tension leave Ere and Mineru’s bodies as they became more and more sure Zelda wasn’t going to throw herself onto a sharp stick or something in Link’s name. Now, Zelda found herself gob-smacked as she stared at the truly massive ruins in front of Lantern Lake. They arched over half of Kakariko Village, rings of stone and zonaite that still managed to be elegant despite crumbling across the East Hill.

“What,” Ere breathed, taking in the structures, “is that?”

“The Great Ring Archive,” Mineru said. Her voice was tight with disbelief and distress. “We kept centuries of Zonai history there and planned to include writings from the sages. All that information lost…”

“You kept an archive in the sky?” Ere said, tilting her head back even further to try and see the tops of the ring against the morning sun. “Like, the actual sky—?”

“HALT!”

Ere froze at the masculine voice, and  Zelda grabbed her wrist, worried the woman might bolt like a frightened doe. There, under the West Entrance Gate of Kakariko Village, was a wonderfully familiar face. Massive, scruffy sideburns, thick, gruff brows, and a well-loved eightfold blade—Dorian of the Sheikah.

“Dorian!” Zelda shouted, waving, but the old man did not smile, instead twisting into a fighting stance, his mouth quirked into a snarl.

“You—” he hissed, “you thought you could sneak in here? After all you’ve done? Yiga scum!”

Ere took a step back, raising her free hand in clear surrender.

“Hi, Dori,” She squeaked, and for a moment Zelda was confused—but. Oh. Dorian was ex-Yiga. Of course, he would recognize Ere. Because Goddesses forbid anything ever be easy.

“Deactivate your creature and step away from Her Majesty and your death will be swift. If you so much as raise a finger else wise, I will take it off and feed it to you—”

“Dorian!” Zelda cried, taken aback by the viciousness in her friend’s words. “Please, I promise she’s a friend, just let me explain—”

“Whatever this beast told you, Princess Zelda, it is not to be believed. Step away, I’ll get you somewhere safe—”

At the sounds of the arguing, a small crowd had begun to creep forward, which meant more guards, more blades, more shouting, and before Zelda could try to diffuse the situation further, Dorian had pounced, throwing her to the ground and pinning Ere, who forced herself to let it happen. Raising a hand, even in self-defense, would do nothing to defuse the situation. Ere went ashy as a blade found her throat.

“I heard you foul things had made the Gerudo Depths your home—I should have expected this to happen sooner. Quickly,” He turned to two guards and Cado, another familiar, usually friendly face. “You two, search the area. The Yiga never work alone. Cado, secure the Princess. We’ll take her and this filth to Paya.” He pressed Ere harder into the dirt, face inches from her own. “The Elder and the Council of Shadows can decide your execution date, once you tell us just where you all have relocated and where you’ve been keeping the Princess.”

“That is ENOUGH!” Zelda yelled. Cado, who had scooped her up to his chest while Zelda watched Dorian in horror, flinched at the noise in his ear, and the other guards looked to their Princess with confusion and concern.

“Princess,” Dorian said breathlessly, “We’ve been worried sick—”

“I said enough. Get off of her. Now.”

Dorian’s eyebrows furrowed even more, and then his eyes narrowed.

“I’m surprised,” he spat. “For a new recruit, your control over glamour is exceptional. I almost fell for your disguise—do not make the mistake of believing it will happen again. Cado, we need only one prisoner. The insult of taking on the Princess’ face after invading our home? Unforgivable. Take her head.”

Zelda watched as Ere began to panic, struggling against Dorian’s greater weight.

“No, no no no, you misunderstand,” Ere pleaded, “Dorian, please—”

Zelda blanched as Cado, sweet, cuccoo-loving Cado, brought a blade of his own to her throat. Pinpricks of blood and a slight sting followed, and Zelda quickly reached behind her heart for Nayru’s love.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Cado,” she said, feeling her fingers warm, “but I can’t let you hurt anyone else—”

Cado's hand froze as he glanced to the gate, under which stood a woman, tall and dark-skinned, with silver hair pinned elegantly under her straw and metal headdress, her soft, fat face flushed from running. Beside Paya, Tauru stood, his arm outstretched before her,  shielding her from a nonexistent threat.

“My lady!” Cado cried, “it’s not safe! Go back to—”

It was as good a distraction as any. Cado never finished his sentence, blown back into the gate post by a blast of gold. Zelda winced as his head collided with wood with a dull ‘thunk’. Dorian’s jaw dropped.

“No… but… Princess?” He breathed, and Zelda straightened, squaring her shoulders.

“Dorian. Please get off of my friend.”

Dorian glanced down at Ere, who gave him a weak smile. Slowly, the man moved off of her, though he did not sheath his sword. He glanced between Paya and Zelda, likely deciding who he was supposed to bow to first, before finally dropping down on one knee to equal points between the two.

“I—I just—forgive me. Things have been strange, with the Upheval, and when you vanished after meeting with the Rito… I’ve… we’ve been frightened.” He said, voice drooping with each word until it was almost a mumble. Zelda glanced to Ere, who had climbed to the feet with Mineru’s help.

“Zelda,” Paya’s voice was soft and breathy, her Hylian vowels curled beautifully by her accent. Sheikah was a language that Zelda rarely heard when she was growing up, with most of it hidden from Hylian view. Impa’s determination to make it her granddaughter’s first language had always seemed to Zelda to be a sign of a new era for the Sheikah. Now, as Ere and Paya eyed each other, Zelda felt even more certain.

“Mineru,” Zelda said, “This is Dorian, an old friend, and the elder of Kakariko, Paya.”

Mineru bowed. “I have heard much of the Sheikah during our travel here. It is truly an honor, Elder Paya.”

Paya’s eyes widened at the sight of Mineru, and beside her, Tauru had begun to vibrate. He rushed forward, poking and prodding at Mineru, whose head swiveled to Zelda with what Zelda assumed would have been a look of concern had she actually had a flesh face.

“Princess, where in the Continent did you find a specimen like this? Stunning, truly stunning—”

Zelda eyed Dorian, still as a statue and looking rather like he might explode from confusion and, content he wouldn’t try to murder anyone if she turned her back, rushed to Cado’s side. The man groaned, sitting up, and Zelda reached around his wispy hair for a bump on his head.

“That really you, ma’am?” He said woozily, and Zelda shushed him.

“What’s your name?”

“Cadius the Second. Princess—”

“What’s the date?”

“I am not concussed!  I’m fine, please, just help me stand.”

Zelda pulled down on the bottom lid of his left eye and the man swatted her away. Behind them, past the gates of Kakariko, the crowd murmured, glancing between faces and soaking in the newcomers.

“Forgive my attendant,” Paya said finally, offering a hand to Ere who still lay prone. “We are unused to newcomers and with the ruins raining down around us, Dorian has been twitchy of late.” Ere looked up at her, clearly puzzled.

“You know that’s not what happened.” She stated, confusion creeping into the end of her sentence, and Paya held a finger to her lips.

“I think it’s best we discuss this indoors,” She said, before turning to Tauru. “Come, friend, leave the poor robot alone. I’ll make us a pot of tea.”

Ere swallowed, but finally, finally took Paya’s hand and let herself be hauled to her feet. Paya gave her a small smile, which Ere hesitantly returned.

“Dorian, please, join us. Cado, go see Madam Flur. She’ll have something made for your head.”

Cado bowed curtly, following after Paya as she moved through the crowd. The group of Sheikah split around her, and Zelda was surprised by the number of Hylian faces mixed into the crowd. The Sheikah rarely opened their village to others, determined to protect their dwindled numbers; their culture was closed to most, almost all, their language hidden and religion secret, so the mix of races was surprising. Zelda hoped it was a welcome change, not one developed from the pressure of outside influences while she had been gone.

“Grandmother just arrived, late last night. I’m sure she’d be happy to join us,” Paya said, shoulder to shoulder with Ere, who blanched.

“Impa?” She squeaked.

“That’s Lady Impa to you,” Dorian muttered as he took up the rear.

Paya bowed deeply to the two guards manning the front of the Elder’s home, who glanced to Ere, Dorian, and Zelda with clear concern.

“Princess?” One of them spluttered. “Princess Zelda? Is that really you? We’ve been looking all over for you—!”

The guard’s, Luci, mouth dropped as her gaze rose up over Zelda’s shoulder to Mineru’s massive construct body taking up the rear. The Sheikah were not short people, yet Luci seemed to be a child compared to Mineru’s mass. Mineru waved, subtilling taking a step away from Tauru, who had once again begun prodding a line of soldering on her shoulder. Zelda would have to talk to him and make it clear that Mineru was not a science project.

“Forgive me,” Zelda said, forcing a smile. “It has been a stressful number of weeks. I would be happy to discuss them with you after meeting with Elder Paya.”

“Oh. Uh, of course! Your Majesty, ma’am.”

Paya squeezed Luci’s hand and led them up the stairs. The front doors creaked shut behind them, and in an instant, the put-together leader of Sheikah was gone, replaced with the awkwardly loving girl Zelda knew so well. Paya wrestled with her headdress and dumped it on the floor before pulling Zelda into a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh Zel,” she whispered in her ear, “I’ve been worried sick.”

“Sorry!” Zelda squeaked, ribs creaking, and Paya jumped back with an apology, smoothing down Zelda’s tunic.

“You look exhausted—Dorian, Tauru, you know where the Hylian herb tea is, don’t you? Would you both be so kind as to put some on?”

“Elder Paya, are you sure that’s wise?” Dorian said, glancing to Ere.

“What, to make tea?”

“To leave you alone with—”

But Paya wasn’t listening anymore. “Is that blood in your hair?” She whispered to Zelda, and Zelda let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“It’s been a crazy few days.”

“Dorian, we’ll be in my room. Grandmother is in the guest room—Tauru, please do not wake her up!”

Dorian started to splutter some disagreement, but Paya was already pushing Zelda up the stairs, followed by Ere with Mineru taking up the rear. The Zonai’s head swivled around, soaking in each decoration and pictograph handing on the walls. Zelda wanted to pick her brain in that moment, to know it is was a look of appreciation or if the woman was simply overwhelmed, only for Paya to push her down onto the sleeping pad on the ground.

“Here, I’ll get a brush—”

“Paya.” Zelda said, voice firm, “please. We need to talk.”

Paya swallowed, hands beginning to flap. “But your hair—”

“Can wait.”

Paya nodded. She stuck her hands in her armpits to hide the movement, only to start rocking on her heels. Zelda hated how self-conscious Paya was of her self-soothing and anxious energy—she wasn’t sure where the girl learned it, with her parents dead so early in her life and Impa so kind a guardian, but she had definitely internalized it from somewhere. It had been worse when Zelda first met her, right after the destruction of the Calamity, with Paya now holding herself with more confidence and acceptance her of small oddities, but it hurt Zelda’s heart all the same.

“Paya, this is Ere.”

Ere gave a small, stilted wave.

“She is my friend, and a defector from the Yiga Clan.”

“Hello,” Paya said with a simple smile, bowing at the waist, and Ere curled in on herself.

“You heard her, right?” Ere said, and Paya straightened.

“Of course. I’ve been told I’m an awfully good listener.”

“Then you know that it isn’t safe for me to be with you, here, right now.”

“It isn’t?”

“No!” Ere snapped, her fingers twisting as she knotted her hands together. Paya reached forward and took a hand, leading Ere to the ground.

“May I touch your hair?”

“… What?”

“It’s filthy. Let me brush it. And redo your sigils. They’ve almost all washed off—that’s bad luck, you know.”

Ere glanced over to Zelda, who gave her a thumbs up. Mineru settled down beside the three women, and Paya watched the movements with fascinated eyes.

“I’ll apply a sigil for you as well, Miss Mineru. We can all benefit from a little protection.”

“Elder Paya—” Ere started.

“Just Paya, please,” Paya said, cutting off Ere as she moved to her desk, pulling out hair pins, paints, and a beautiful boar hair brush, a prized possession Paya seldom shared. Link had gifted it to her when she became Elder, and Paya had never used it on anyone other than him and herself.

Zelda’s heart twisted. She forced the thought of the silent dragon’s tattered mane down to the base of her skull. Nope, now was not the time.

“Come here, please,” Paya said, waving Ere over, and, hesitantly with clear confusion, Ere scooted closer till she was near in Paya’s lap. Paya carefully pulled Ere’s hair tie free, letting her tangled, blood-speckled hair fall to her shoulders in unwashed clumps.

“You know,” Paya said softly, her voice hovering in the perfumed air of her bedroom, “my parents were killed by Yiga.”

Ere froze.

“Many of us here have lost loved ones, children, spouses, parents. But you know what else?”

Paya slowly began teasing the knots in Ere’s hair.

“After my mothers died and Grandmother took me in, Grandmother hired a person to help raise me. She was getting on in years, and no matter how young Grandmother’s spirit is, she is well over a hundred. Far too old to run after a toddler. My nanny was kind, if a little stern, and I loved them as much as I loved Grandmother. They died a decade ago of a summer fever.”

“… I’m sorry,” Ere said softly, and Paya smiled sadly.

“It is what it is. What’s past is prologue, and the Sacred Realm waits for us all. But you want to know what they taught me more than anyone ever did? Our prayers. Our language, idioms and sayings lost from the Kakariko dialect. The way the Sheikah used to offer sacrifices to Hylia and Nayru. They taught me to love where I came from. I used to worry that this would make me Yiga like them, but I know now it only made me a better Sheikah.”

Ere blinked. “They—?”

“They defected long before I was born. They had no love for violence, let alone against children. They had little hatred as well, surprisingly. It wasn’t anger at Hylians that pushed them to join when they were a teenager, but a desperation to know where they had come from. There are more of you here than you think. Dorian still struggles with how to view her Majesty, though he would kill me if he knew I told you. His love for his wife, for me, for Impa, has aligned him with Kakariko more than Zelda ever could. Do you understand?”  

 “I… I don’t know.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen. Twenty, soon.”

“You never knew a life outside that hideout, did you?”

Ere shrugged. “I knew enough.”

“Then make me understand. Why leave?”

Ere’s eyes flickered to Zelda, clearly asking for permission to delve into the story of the Demon King that stood before them. Zelda nodded.

“The Upheaval. My Master thought he could use it to better ourselves, our standing, but he had… bit off more than he could chew. He was going to get us all killed.”

“So, you left for the good of Hyrule?”

“I—no. I left for the good of the Yiga. If Master Kohga continued, they’d all die.”

“Hm. Admirable.”

“No, no, it’s not! The only reason I’m here is because I wanted the Yiga to survive—”

“You want what’s best for your family. What isn’t admirable about that?”

Ere’s mouth shut with a click of her teeth. Her eyes shone, wet with coming tears.

“You don’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Paya said, placing down the brush. Ere sat silently, waiting for Paya to continue, but the girl didn’t, instead reaching for her paints. “Turn.”

Ere turned. Paya dipped a thin brush into the red paint and brushed aside Ere’s bangs, beginning the first stroke of the Sheikah’s crest on her forehead.

“Is that all you’re gonna say?” Ere whispered, and Paya shrugged.

“Do you need to hear more?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“That’s alright. I don’t know a lot of things a lot of the time.”

A tear began to drip down Ere’s face, and Paya pretended not to see.

“What do you want to do now, Ere of the Yiga?”

“I want a horse,” Ere choked out, and Paya barked out a surprised laugh.

“Alright. I will admit, not what I expected, but doable. Will you just do me one favor? Stay.”

“What, here?”

“Yes. Help me watch my Grandmother. She’s getting old, too old, and her travel over the Continent helping lead the search for Zelda and Link has taken much of her energy.”

“You would want me around your grandmother??”

Paya finished the bleeding eye sigil with a flourishing sweep of her brush. “Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you stay anyways?”

“I will just attract danger—”

“And we have plenty of wards and guards.”

“I’ll put her, and you, in harm’s way—”

“I am not as helpless as I look.”

“I’ll stay,” Mineru blurted, and all three women looked to her. “If you need protection. Zelda— I know I swore myself to you, but I am weak. The stone has invigorated me, but this body is new and strange. I would be a hindrance—and to be frank, I am unsure how this body would fair in a volcano. I can—will—grant you my allegiance and my vow, but…”

“You do know that you are your own person, right, Mineru?” Zelda said softly. Mineru cocked her head. “Regardless of what has passed—if you need time to heal, take it. You needn’t explain yourself. I can make it to the Gorons on my own.”

“But—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Link did.”

“Then I hope that will be enough for you to know I can do this.”

“Then shall I make arrangements for two more sleeping pads?” Paya said, and Zelda took a deep breath.

“Yes.”

---

Mineru found Zelda that evening, just before she left. Paya had tried to make Zleda stay the night, to stay until Impa awoke, but guilt clawed too deeply in Zelda’s gut for that. Link was waiting—the Goron sage and the Gorons were waiting, had been for weeks. She couldn’t waste any more time.

“Princess,” Mineru said as Zelda stood under the back most entrance to Kakariko, Death Mountian belching gloom in the distance. Zelda looked over her shoulder at the construct and gave her a tired smile.

“Mineru.”

“I will watch over her well.”

Zelda nodded. “Thank you.”

“And when the time comes to meet Ganondorf head-on, I swear I will fight beside you. I have something for you.”

The construct knelt down, like a knight before a noble, and extended an arm, Mineru’s sparkplug hand settling in Zelda’s own.

“Communication through Vows is complicated, complex, but if you call for me directly, I will hear. I will know that the time has come. Princess—promise me that you will not lose hope. Link watches you still. Take solace in that, please.”

Zelda nodded. “I shall do my best.”

“Not your best. Swear.”

Zelda swallowed. “Alright. I swear that I will honor his sacrifice and bring peace to Hyrule. I will not lose hope. You have my word.”

The Zonai’s blank head seemed to smile up at her. “Princess Zelda of Hyrule, Link’s chosen Champion and Protector, in the name of my brother, sister-in-law, and niece, I grant you my power.”

Zelda watched in awe at the pulse of purple power that moved from Mineru’s stone, down her chest, and through her arm, into Zelda’s own hand. It was warm, thrumming with life, and as the light sunk into her very bones, the semi-solid Vow flickered into life behind Mineru’s kneeling form.

“I believe—know—it will serve you well. Do not ever hesitate to call upon it, or me.”

Zelda squeezed Mineru’s sparkplug. “I swear, I will use it well.”

And then she was off, Kakariko behind her, Death Mountian ahead, and the silent dragon above, miles high, watching with silver eyes.

Chapter Text

Zelda did not stop for nearly enough breaks as she should have. Once she established a steady pace, it was hard to stop herself, first down the hills of Rikoka behind Kakariko, then cutting across Lanayru’s wetlands, until finally Eldin dirt, coppery and dry, crunched under her feet. Death Mountain hugged the horizon, vomiting gloom and gore into the sky, a sinful stain on Hyrule’s skyline, and it consumed her vision with each step. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from it, and so stopping simply ceased to be an option. She ate on the road, drank on the road, worked holes into her wool socks, and ground down the soles of her leather boots. In front of her, Death Mountain continued to spit up gloom, as if the very heart of the volcano was no longer magma, but instead Ganondorf’s raw power.

It made Zelda sick to her stomach. Zelda had long since left behind a belief in the divine right of kings drilled into her since birth, the entitlement her father had tried to press onto her that insisted she deserved the land more than anyone. Even then, while she knew that she didn’t, and never would, own Hyrule, Hyrule was still hers in a way it wasn’t for others. The Triforce, the longest-lasting gift from the Goddesses, sat under her heart, and Hylia, for whom the land was named, rested in her soul. Hyrule didn’t belong to Zelda, not like an object to possess or a person to control, but it was still hers, hers to love, protect, and nourish. Seeing that land ripped apart, darkness leeching out from its very core, burned inside her, alien and appalling. She couldn’t stop. She had to move faster.

The silent dragon trailed above her, far enough behind that she could only ever see him from the corner of her eye. Zelda swore she could smell Link’s gloom infection from here, though she knew it was impossible. Was he following her? Did he have a set path he flew, circling across the sky that just happened to coincide with hers, or was he keeping just out of sight on purpose?

Zelda did not stop at Woodland Stable. She didn’t stop for the night, not even to rest her aching feet, just refilled her canteen at the well, eavesdropping on a pair of stable hands gossiping about the Gorons as she screwed on the cap of the bottle and stashed it back in the Purah pad.

“Didja see Ramella return last night? Poor girl looked like she’d been trampled.”

“I told her not to take the old path to Goron City. Even with the lava dried up, monsters are still crawling about.”

“No, no, she took the new path! She said—you won’t believe it—she said a Goron did it to her!”

“What?!”

“Yeah, said two raving, rabid Gorons came up to her and demanded she leave when she tried to sell some rubies.”

“The Gorons aren’t violent—”

“Oh, no, these were. When she wouldn’t turn back, they, well… she just said that they made sure she knew never to come back.”

“That makes no sense—”

“It’s what she said. Said their eyes were funny, glowing. That they didn’t seem to even recognize she was a person.”

The conversation made Zelda shiver, and she quickly passed the stable, debating her next move. The new path to Goron was indeed a much easier climb than the old, fiery one had been, but even with it supposedly free of monsters, the Upheaval meant safety was never certain. Yunobo had put much love and care into the development of the path, and it had been his first successful project as President of YunoboCo.  The once awkward, shy, anxious little Goron had truly grown over the past five years since the Calamity’s destruction. Zelda saw more and more of Daruk in him with each passing day, and she couldn’t wait to see him again. Whatever was wrong with the Gorons, Yunobo would be there to help her make it right.

And, if her hunch was correct, he would be standing beside her as a sage sooner than later. Would Yunobo take up the mantle of sage if he was chosen? Yes. Yes, Zelda was sure without an ounce of doubt that the Goron youth would happily do so if it meant securing peace and prosperity for the Gorons of Death Mountain. The Gorons had tried to elect him Boss for three years in a row for a reason, after all. Yunobo was dedicated to his people, just as much as Daruk had been. Unlike the Zora’s bloodline-based monarchy or the chiefdom of the Gerudo, the Gorons elected their Boss. The strict term limits and power checks on the Boss made it unique amongst the communities in Hyrule—something that Rhoam had distrusted back in the day but Zelda fiercely admired. It struck her as a much better way to live than a Goddess-ordained Hyrulian ruler overlooking the Continent, their bloodline serving as ‘proof’ that they deserved to govern over all the distinct tribes of Hyrule, ‘gifting’ those tribes with limited independence. Zelda was ashamed of how readily she had accepted that model back before the time of the Champions, but Rhoam had believed in the right of kings with more passion than most felt towards anything at all and had assured her since birth that once her Goddess given powers emerged, she would have the right to rule over all the Continent. As embarrassing as it was to say it had taken that long, meeting the other Champions finally shook away that foul foundation, especially meeting Daruk. Loud, proud, and fierce Daruk never held power for a day in his life; he put his people first and his ego second and had been the first to show her just how wrong she and her father had been.

Zelda swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat. Would Daruk be proud of the person she had become? He always had so much faith in all of them, a surefire determination that they would grind Ganon into dust, even when it became clear that that was impossible. The two of them never spent much time together one-on-one—that was more Link’s area, he and Daruk sharing rock roast and stories of monster hunting while drinking impossibly strong Goron spirits. Link couldn’t swallow down a noble pursuit without losing his footing, but he could somehow drink Daruk under the table at only seventeen. Zelda wondered, especially in the beginning after Link freed her, if he remembered any of those gossip sessions and friendly wrestling matches. She hoped he did. He deserved to remember a friend.

Then she remembered that it didn’t much matter if Link had remembered any of Daruk, because now he couldn’t remember anything. He was nothing but a divine corpse in the sky.

Zelda turned her thoughts back to Yunobo. He may have turned down the title of Boss three times over, but he’d taken the role of President of YunoboCo with great pride and extreme seriousness. It was more than a title to him: it was a promise, a promise that he would do good and good only, rebuilding Goron City and all of Eldin into something beautiful.

Zelda finally let herself stop when Bedrock Bistro came into view. Snuggled into the cliffs that began at the base of Death Mountain, the restaurant was a favorite of both the Gorons and other traveling races, providing rich, crispy rock roast and spicy roasted hotfeather pigeon. Zelda expected to see crowded outdoor seating filled with the grumbling of Goron stomachs and the chatter of tourists, but instead, as she rounded the bend in the path she was met with silence. The restaurant was in shambles, the decorative rock roast wood cutouts smashed, the open grill cracked and filthy. There were no tourists in sight, but there was shouting as three Gorons grappled with each other in the center of the restaurant.

It wasn’t the good-natured wrestling Zelda expected from Goron tussles, nor did it seem to be a particularly fair one. Zelda watched, frozen between confusion and horror, as the smaller of the three was knocked to the ground and pounced upon, massive fists raining down on his head. The Goron made no attempt to protect himself, instead clawing at the two others’ eyes, teeth-gnashing and spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth. One managed to pin him, wrapping bulging muscles around his neck, and the pinned Goron bit down on the closest flesh he could reach. He clamped down hard enough to break the skin, wriggling his head back and forth like a rabid dog ahold of a rabbit, and rock-hard flesh gave under his jaws.

The other Goron didn’t even seem to notice.

The third Goron, the largest of the two, grabbed the back of both the other Gorons’ heads, smashing them together with a mighty ‘crunch’ and the two Gorons dropped. Content they wouldn’t rise, he bolted to the rock roast the three had been fighting over. It glowed a sickly pink color under the crags in the rock, and in their tussle, the three had smashed it to bits. The Goron didn’t seem fazed, dropping on his hands and knees and shoveling the rock in his mouth.

“MINE!” The smallest roared, mouth bloody, and shoved passed the one still pinning him, tackling the eating Goron. He stuck his fingers into the Goron’s mouth, forcing the jaw open and scrapping rock roast off his tongue. The forgotten Goron snarled, pouncing on the two in a mess of flailing arms and legs.

“Give it! Give it—”

“Enough!” Zelda shouted, finally moving past her shock. She rushed to the side of the three Gorons, who looked up all at once, pink foam dripping down their chins. Their skin was a sickly yellow, not the warm gold of a healthy Goron, and they shook violently, tremors wracking their whole bodies, though they didn’t seem to notice. Their eyes…  they glowed a familiar gloom red, empty of thought but filled with fury.

“Leave, Hylian,” one Goron spat, “before I make you.”

“You’re hurt. Let’s just let go of one another and—”

One Goron took advantage of Zelda’s distraction, shoving the other two out of the way to shovel rock roast shards in his mouth. The other two howled in fury, and Zelda watched in horror as they grabbed his limbs and began to pull. The Goron didn’t even react as he was quartered, more concerned with chewing and swallowing than the horrible sound of crunching bone and ripping muscle. One moment, he was licking the dirt desperately, and the next he was in pieces.

Zelda took a trembling step back as the Gorons’ glowing eyes turned back to her, their bodies splattered with blood. She couldn’t help herself. She knew she should do, do, something, anything, but as the Gorons stepped closer, she turned on her heels and ran.

Zelda was unsure if the Gorons were following, but she didn’t stop long enough to check. She ran until she couldn’t breathe, then slipped into a crevasse in a stone formation, chest heaving, and sank onto the floor. She wasn’t sure if she was throwing up from over-exertion or horror, but regardless she found herself next to a puddle of vomit, tears prickling in her eyes.

Those Gorons had just murdered a brother over rock roast. Gloom-infected rocks, sure, but still just tasty rocks, right? She rested her head on her knees, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Her tongue tasted like vomit. Disgusting.

She needed to find Yunobo and find him fast. He had to know that this was happening—oh Gods, what if he was hurt? What if some rabid rival Goron ripped him to pieces? Zelda suddenly felt like throwing up again. Instead, Zelda pulled herself up on shaky legs and slipped back onto the path. It felt far more dangerous now than it had twenty minutes ago.

Zelda hugged the cooled lava rock cliffs on the right of the path, keeping a careful eye out for a place to hide if need be—if the gossips at the stable were right, then those three Gorons weren’t an isolated incident. Avoiding Gorons for now would probably be the safest idea.

It was laughable to picture. Avoiding Gorons? Creatures known for their hospitality and kindness, their rough and tumble love and caring nature? But the image of that Goron at the bistro in pieces was enough to solidify Zelda’s certainty that sharing the road wasn’t the wisest right now. Maybe she should stay off the road altogether…

Zelda pressed her back against the cliffside as she heard crying coming from up the road. It grew closer, closer, until the person rounded the corner—a Goron pebble, likely relative in age to a Hylian eight year old, covered in sickly red. Blood. Fuck.

“H-hello?” The pebble called out, “Is anybody there?”

Zelda held her breath and pressed closer to the cliff. Would the pebble attack her? His eyes weren’t glowing, and he was shaking, but it seemed to be more from fear than the vicious tremors of the Gorons before.

Slowly, she stepped out of the shadows and the pebble let out a relieved sob.

“Princess? Is that you?” He stumbled closer, and Zelda finally got a closer look at his arm, which hung awkwardly at his side, leaking blood from his missing three fingers.

“Oh Gods…” Zelda breathed, rushing to his side. Nayru’s gift and Hylia’s power were at her fingertips in an instant as she took his hand in hers, running the golden light over the open gash. It wouldn’t regrow fingers, but at least it would stop the bleeding and close the wound. The pebble looked at her with wide, tearful eyes, and Zelda felt horrible for not remembering his name.

“What happened, little one?”

“M-my big bro—” The pebble choked out between newly invigorated sobs, “He—”

“Is he alright? Does he need healing?”

The pebble shook his head, shaking violently. Zelda’s stomach chilled. She may not know the full story, but the pebble’s meaning was still clear. “Oh, sweetheart—”

“He was shaking, and so, so hungry, said he needed, needed it, and I was scared, so I got some from YunoboCo but then he, he, he—”

Zelda knelt closer, unsure if the pebble would welcome a consoling touch or not.

 “He bit my, my fingers off when I tried to give it to him! And, he started— there was blood in his nose and his eyes and h-his ears and it’s all my fault! I gave it to him! I knew it was making him sick and I gave it to him anyway!” The pebble wailed, and Zelda finally wrapped an arm around him, giving him the chance to pull away if he needed to. It wasn’t enough to calm him, and as the sobs picked up speed, she worried that the pebble might be sick from the force. Finally, they tapered off into hiccups.

“What did you give him?” She asked once his sobs started to slow. The pebble looked at her like the answer should have been obvious.

“The marbled rock roast.”

---

It took some time, but eventually, Axyl, the pebble, calmed down enough to give the full story. Jengo, his older brother and the head of the Mine-Cart Land operations, had become infatuated with the taste of marble rock roast, which he had told Axyl gave him strength like no other after eating it. But as time passed, Jengo became sicker and sicker, and with the strange combination of super strength from eating the roast and extreme weakness when he went too long without it, he was soon demanding more and more, starting from once a day to multiple times an hour, becoming near violent with hunger when without. But, when Axyl tried to help by providing more from the mining operation at YunoboCo, Jengo’s ravenous hunger turned deadly. The marbled rock roast was poisoning him, had been for weeks, but today had been the final straw on the Goron’s body. Seizures, bleeding from mucus membranes, foaming at the mouth—all happening moments before the Goron became blind with rage, attacking Axyl. The attack hadn’t lasted long; in minutes, Jengo was dead, body twitching and swollen with rock roast. It took ages to get the story out, but with each word, Zelda’s stomach sank more and more, horror growing in her heart. Yunobo—did he know? What was he doing to stop this?

Was he safe?

“We’re going to tell this to President Yunobo immediately,” Zelda told Axyl with what she hoped was reassuring determination. She scooped the pebble up, still small enough to weigh just enough to feasibly carry.

“President Yunbobo has been acting weird…” Axyl mumbled in her ear. “I donno if he’ll help.”

“Of course he will. He loves Goron City and its people. He would never stand idly by as Gorons suffer.”

Axyl nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, and Zelda swallowed her anxiety. Yunobo was fine on his own. He was a grown Goron now—he would be fine.

Axyl slept on and off as they walked, and seemed infatuated with the Vows, watching them with wide eyes as Zelda hiked. The Vows—Sidon, Riju, Tulin, and now Mineru—trailed behind, making faces at the little one, Sidon’s striking poses with wide smiles, Riju’s sticking out its tongue and wiggling its ears, and Tulin’s tickling his nose with light gusts of wind. Even Mineru’s, who struggled to show emotion within the constraints of its construct body, found ways to try and cheer the pebble up, flashing soothing lightshows across its chest that Axyl followed with weepy eyes.

She would drop him off at Goron City, then head for YunoboCo headquarters and find out what the fuck was going on. Spurred on by the semblance of a plan, Zelda moved faster, refusing to let Axyl’s weight slow her down.

The sun was high in the sky by the time Goron City came into view. There was no chatter, no joyful shouts or rumbling of Goron voices, no banging of blacksmith hammers, or the smell of roasting foods. Nothing. At that moment, Zelda couldn’t help but think of the ruined ghost towns that littered Hyrule’s countryside, destroyed by Calamity Ganon past the point of ever being rebuilt.

Except, those ghost towns didn’t have massive bonfires filled with cooking rock roasts in the center of the town square.

Zelda placed down Axyl, who clung to her pant leg. There, before the massive bonfire, was Boss Bludo, thankfully looking as healthy as the old Goron could. No yellowing skin, no red eyes—though he did look exhausted, curled in on himself like his very bones were too heavy for his muscles. He knelt by a twitching body, shushing the Goron babbling softly as foam dripped from his mouth and red ran down his cheeks from bloodshot eyes. There was a forced kindness, a forced peace, on Bludo’s face, and it slipped away as soon as the Goron lost consciousness, replaced with a full-bodied weariness.

Bludo struggled to straighten when the Goron finally went still. “Oh Krane, I’m so… all this warnin’ about the marbled rock roast—you couldn’t have just… just…”

 “BOSS!” Axyl screeched, running to the old Goron. Bludo startled, stepping between Axyl and the Goron—Krane’s—body, hiding it from view.

“Axyl? I’ve been worried sick!”

“Boss! Boss! The Princess is here!”

Bludo blanched as a hundred pounds of pebble tackled him, groaning as he carefully pushed him off his chest. “Careful, kiddo,” he wheezed, before glancing up and freezing.

“Princess…?”

Zelda straightened, pushing as much royalty into her stance as she could, and Bludo slowly stood, back creaking.

 “You! Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” He cried, poking her in the sternum. Zelda was tall for a woman of her age, and Bludo old and haggard for a Goron, but still he managed to tower over her.

“It’s complicated,” Zelda said, any words she had prepared slipping away at the sight of Krane’s stiffening body. “We need to talk. Things are worse than they seem—”

“Bah! Worse than this? I doubt it. I warned all of ‘em, that the marbled rock roast that Yunobo found in Death Mountain was bad news. I warned ‘em. I… I did.” The false vibrato in the Boss’ voice wobbled back and forth, sometimes steady, sometimes close to tears. Zelda felt the sudden urge to hug him. So, she did. Bludo spluttered but did not pull away.

“Is it safe to come out?” Two small voices called from behind the bonfire.

“I—yes. Krane can’t hurt anyone anymore,” Bludo said, and two faces poked out from behind the fire, wide-eyed and shaky. Zelda recognized the two little pebbles—Slergo and Offrak, Yunobo’s biggest fans who had recently been taken in as apprentices by him.

“Is he…?” Slergo whispered, and Bludo simply looked to the ground, unable to summon the right words. Offrak gasped, grabbing his brother’s hand.

“It’ll be okay, little pebbles. We’ll fix this,” Bludo said. He tried to bend to their height, but quickly stopped himself, his back groaning in protest. He signed. “Princess— the Sheikah from Lookout Landing said you and Link were missing in their letters. I’m… glad… to see you’re safe. Though, I reckon you didn’t just come to say hello, didja? And we’d been tryin’ so hard to handle this by ourselves…”

Bludo gave up on leaning down, and instead, the three pebbles quickly latched themselves onto him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“You’re not the only ones,” Zelda said. “The whole Continent has been facing horrible things—a deadly blizzard to the west, sludge raining from the sky to the east, a sandstorm full of gibdos to the southwest—”

“Are they alright?” Bludo asked, and Zelda nodded.

“I helped. That’s why I’m here. To help.”

Bludo laughed. It was a bitter, raspy sound that settled uncomfortably in Zelda’s gut. “Not sure what you can do here, Princess. This is bigger than one person.”

“I need you to trust me. I was able to save the Rito, Zora, and Gerudo—I know I can help here, too.”

She expected more pushback from Bludo, but instead, he simply hung his head, scratching behind Axyl’s ears.  

“It started when that damn Sheikah Purah sent letters from Lookout Landing. ‘Princess Zelda and Swordsman Link are missing’, somethin’ like that. But there was one just for Yunobo’s eyes that showed up a few weeks ago. Something secretive that Yunobo wouldn’t discuss with me, about you—it got him all in a tizzy, and next thing I know we’re excavating large swatches of land looking for, I donno, something. Something important. At least that’s what Yunobo said. Started hiring Hylians to help dig and do research into ‘ancient Gorons’ and ‘previous civilizations’, as if that might help. Then, he finds the marbled rock roasts. He… he changed, practically overnight. No one’s allowed to dig but him anymore, and he got rid of the Hylians who came to help research. Now everyone’s lost their Din-damned minds!”

Zelda frowned. She wasn’t surprised that Purah had reached out about the search for Link, but after Zelda contacted her in Kara Kara to alert her of the dangers of the Puppet, she hadn’t thought much about Purah’s next steps. Why would she reach out to Yunobo again when the Gorons already knew to look for her and Link? No offense meant to Yunobo, but the Goron was far from a scholar, so a new interest in ancient Gorons was beyond strange. The letter triggered a massive search for something—whatever Purah had said, it had been important. But what could she have possibly…

The stones. Purah must have tried to jumpstart the search for the stones without her! Yunobo had been searching for the secret stone, looking into the history of the Gorons for some kind of clue as to where it had been hidden. That had to be it!

“Bludo—"

“What’re you all mumbling about?” A familiar voice called, and the three pebbles paled, Slergo clinging to Zelda, Offrak to Bludo, and Axyl hiding behind the both of them.

Zelda almost didn’t recognize Yunobo when the Goron came sauntering down the cooled lava steps into the main square. He held himself so differently, with such haughty cruelty, that it didn’t matter how well Zelda knew him. As she looked at her friend, his voice rough as rocks and sharp enough to cut, she did not see the Yunobo she knew. Yunobo crossed his massive, bulging arms, glaring down at the Gorons before him, sweeping his eyes over the scene. His face was hidden by a gold metal mask, rimmed with black, almost Gerudo in its intricacy and design. He sneered at the stiffening body of Krane, kicking it to the side with such casual disdain that it shook Zelda down to her wool socks.

“Oh. It’s you,” Yunobo had turned from Krane to Zelda. It took everything in her not to shrink from that gaze. Then Yunobo smiled, a truly foul thing. “He’s been looking for you. I’m sure he’s gonna be so happy to see you again.”

Whoever this person was, it was not Yunobo. Ganondorf had taken Link’s form as some strange puppet before—could he do the same with Yunobo? The thought filled Zelda with a sickly fury. How dare he twist the reality of her friend, take his shape—but, no, as she reached out, Yunobo’s soul felt the same, just… muffled. Tied up and locked away. Zelda narrowed her eyes.

“President Yunobo. We need to talk.”

Yunobo scoffed. “Sure, we do,” He drawled, and Bludo bristled.

“Yunobo! What’s the big idea, talkin’ like that to a princess!”

“Bludo,” Yunobo said cooly, looking down his nose at the old Goron. “Is it still ‘Boss’? It’s hard to tell. You really haven’t learned your place, have ya? Slergo!”

The pebble flinched, burying his face in Zelda’s thigh. “Yes, President Yunobo?”

“Tell me, who runs Goron City these days?”

“… YunoboCo…”

“Yep. And Offrak! Who’s in charge of YunoboCo?”

“… You are, President Yunobo,” Offrak mumbled.

“You hear that, Bludo? You ain’t needed round here anymore. You should do us all a favor and git. Do something useful for once.”

“You think I’m just gonna sit here and—!” Bludo started, but Yunobo cut him off with a laugh.

“Careful. You might hurt yourself, old man.” He said, turning to Zelda. “What are you even doing here, Princess? This is Goron territory. Hylians ain’t wanted here.”

Zelda drew in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I’m looking for Link, and investigating the Upheaval. I was hoping you could help me.”

Yunobo blinked. Something soft flashed through his eyes, but then it was gone, and the Goron’s grin grew. “Oh, you’re lookin’ for Link, are ya? Well, I can help with that.”

Zelda stepped back as Yunobo lurched forward, but he moved far faster than she expected, grabbing her hard on the curve between her neck and shoulder, certainly hard enough to bruise, her collarbone creaking under his grasp.

“Yunobo!” Bludo cried, but the Goron silenced him with a wicked glare and a flash of teeth.

“He’s been talking about you,” Yunobo hissed, yanking Zelda closer. “Wants to know everything there is to know. What’s she like, Yunobo, and what’s up with that magic of hers, Yunobo—well, now you can see him personally. Slergo, Offrak, come on. I’ve got shit to do.”

Zelda swallowed down her fear as Yunobo dragged her close to his side. His breath reeked of gloom. He spun them around and began marching her out of the plaza and down the streets of Goron City, his meaty fingers leaving darkening bruises on her tanned skin. Slergo and Offrak waddled not far behind him, wringing their hands and chewing on their lips. Every so often they would stop, clearly wanting to move out of Yunobo’s line of sight, and the older Goron would shout at them to keep moving. It made Zelda’s blood boil to see such cruel words come from Yunobo’s mouth—when she got her hands on the Puppet, she was going to relish skewering him—it?— with  Link’s sword.

Instead of taking the railway and minecart to YunoboCo, Yunobo, or what was pretending to be him, made a beeline for a small cave opening. It smelled strongly of sulfur and ash, and the heat was more than uncomfortable as they moved through the cave system. There had clearly been excavation recently, carved-out pits and metal beams supporting thinned walls, but most of it had been sealed off, locking whatever had been underground. All that was left behind was the remanence of rockslides and broken support beams. Gloom leaked out from some of the rock, and Zelda wondered just how far down the pits had gone. Hylians had clearly been here recently—their little footprints were everywhere, as well as smashed chairs and sleeping pads, books ground into the dirt and mangled almost beyond recognition.

Almost.

Zelda recognized the words on some of the lingering pages, even if she couldn’t read them. Zonai hieroglyphs: the Zonai research team had been here, and they had been here recently. And not only that, there were new words in a new language that she didn’t recognize, the letters so close to the crude lettering of classical Goron script that it had to be Goron in nature.

“Keep walkin’.” Yunobo growled into her ear when she stumbled from glancing over her shoulder at a labeled sketch ripped into still-legible pieces. Zelda nodded, but the words translated from the strange version of Gorona were clear even though she only managed to get a passing glance.

Gorondia, the City of—

Gorondia. What the hell was Gorondia? She’d never heard the word before.

Yunobo gained speed as they moved further and further down a slope of black stone, the cooled magma river taking them down deeper into what had to be the base of Death Mountain. The smell of gloom grew, thicker and thicker until Slergo and Offrak began to cough. Zelda’s head pounded more with each step. The pressure in the cave system, and the heat, seemed to grow. Finally, they came to the entrance of a crumbling cave, with gloomy smoke pouring out of it. Strangely, Yunobo seemed wholly unaffected, and stepped forward into the cave opening with little regard for how thick the gloom had become. It was clear to see why the air was so rotten with the stuff—gloom was leaking out from veins of rock in the walls and floors, clearly pulsing up from somewhere deeper underground, soaking into the very stone, as well as the unharvested rock roast still waiting to be freed from the walls.

No wonder the Gorons were going mad—they were ingesting calcified gloom!

“Yunobo…” Zelda started to say, forcing strength into her voice. A mighty headache had begun to pulse behind her eyes, spurred on by the gloom. Yunobo didn’t seem to hear her, shoving her to the ground and glaring down at her.

“Stay,” He said, as if she was some kind of dog, before marching deeper into the cave.

“That’s where President Yunobo gets the rock roast…” Slergo said, and Offrak nodded. “He meets with the weird blond guy in there.”

Zelda heart picked up speed. The Puppet. It had to be. “Weird blonde guy?” she asked, and the two pebbles nodded.

“Yeah… he kinda looks like Mr. Link, but I’ve never seen his face… he doesn’t come out of the cave very much,” Slergo murmured. “Especially after he gave President Yunobo that mask…” Offrak made a sound of agreement, squinting into the red, pulsing darkness of the cave. Yunobo still hadn’t returned.

“He gave Yunobo that mask?”

“Yup! Yunobo was so happy, said that Mr. Link gave it to him as a special present. That’s when he started acting all weird....”

The mask. Zelda thought back to the Gerudo-esc design, the use of gold that so heavily resembled the masks of the Gerudo women beside Ganondorf in the silent dragon—in Link’s—memories. Could Ganondorf be controlling Yunobo with it in some way? Twisting his mind with direct contact to gloom? Zelda’s stomach twisted. Oh, poor Yunobo…

Zelda stood, brushing off her trousers. “Mr. Link… that man—that is not Link. I promise he isn’t— and I need you to stay very, very far away from him.”

“But—”

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t go anywhere near—"

“Can you hear that?” Offrak interrupted. Sure enough, if Zelda strained her ears, she could make out the tail end of voices—Yunobo’s deep tenor, muffled by the stone, and a raspy, pained one, so familiar but so wrong.

“…You brought her…"

“…You’ve been lookin’…”

“…Not ready yet…”

“…But…”

Both pebbles glanced at each other.

“That’s the guy!” Offrak said, voice tight with fear but voice set with determination. “That’s the guy that looks like Mr. Link! I bet if we tell him how sad marbled rock roast is making everyone, he’ll stop telling President Yunobo to mine it!”

“…But usually nobody is allowed in when the blond guy is here…” Slergo said, and Offrak crossed his arms.

“That’s stupid. Princess Zelda is here! She’s President Yunobo’s friend! She can make him and the blond guy listen. I bet if we ask him really nicely, he’ll even take the mask off! Here, follow me, I’ll get their attention!”

“Wait—!” Zelda said, “Offrak, don’t!”

But the little pebble had already rolled in, closely followed by Slergo. Zelda swore and took off after them, pulling her tunic hem over her nose and mouth. Gloom stung her eyes, as did the sweat dripping in them as the heat grew. She swore she could smell her hair beginning to burn.

Zelda rounded a corner and stumbled as she almost ran into Offrak and Slergo. Slergo stood just a tad bit behind his friend, whose hands were on his hips and chin stuck out.

“Cut it out already, Mr. Blond Guy, President Yunobo! Don’t you see how sad you’re making everyone? Come on, what happened to the President we know and love?!”

At the far wall, hunched over with clear fear, was Yunobo. Despite their height difference, the Puppet towered over him, face somehow both blank and dark with anger, pale and clammy with sickness but stronger than Zelda had seen him last, drawing power from the very vapors of gloom around him. Yunobob looked over his shoulder in surprise at being interrupted, and at the sight of Offrak’s defiance, he somehow seemed to soften.

“Offrak… Slergo… you shouldn’t… be… here…” He said, voice wobbly, and the Puppet, face half hidden in the thickening gloom, placed an arm on Yunobo’s shoulder.

“This is ridiculous,” he said under his breath, his voice tight with annoyance, before turning into something sickly sweet. “Come on, big guy, you know you’re doing the right thing. The Gorons are sick—you’re helping them. You’ve seen it firsthand, haven’t you? Marbled rock roast makes everyone happy.”

Yunobo groaned, bringing a massive hand to his head. The gloom seemed to swirl thinker and thicker around him, until he was swallowing it by the lung full. He shuddered violently, digging his fingers into his hair. He shook his head, mumbling, and tried to look up to Offrak and Slergo, but the Puppet reached out with his one hand and tilted Yunobo’s head towards him, leaning forward and whispering something in Yunobo's ear.

“Link… Link is right,” Yunobo said through clenched teeth, eyes taking on a sickly glow. “Marbled… rock roast… is good. It makes… everyone… happy!”

With a mighty roar, Yunobo flung himself at Zelda. Zelda threw herself to the side, barely missing his fists, and Offrak and Slergo screamed.

“Get out of here!” Zelda yelled, but they held firm.

“We won’t abandon President Yunobo!”

Zelda grit her teeth against their stupid, childlike bravery and hauled herself to her feet just in time for Yunobo to ram her into the ground. Blood flooded her mouth as she bit through her tongue, tasting of copper and gloom. Behind Yunobo, the Puppet met her eye. His were blank, empty. Without a word, he melted away into the gloom.

Zelda rolled out of the way of Yunobo’s grasp, forcing herself to look away from where the Puppet had once stood.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Zelda shouted at her friend, “but I will if I have to!”

Yunobo snarled at her, terrifying animalistic. He curled into a tight ball, building up speed before shooting forward with a massive burst of fire magic. Zelda threw up her arms, pulling Nayru’s power around her like a blanket, and when Yunobo slammed her into the wall it wrapped around her like an old friend. The holy power reacted violently with the gloom dripping off Yunobo, who howled, clawing at his skin. The light from Zelda grew, wrapping around him, and Yunobo stumbled back.

“I’m sorry!” Zelda shouted over Yunobo’s yelling and grabbed hold of him. The light poured over him, and Yunobo thrashed under her. With her touch, the gloom sizzled away, and the gold of the mask began to tarnish and flake. Zelda directed her magic at the illusion holding the metal together, and with a final push, the metal shattered, leaving behind a panting, gloomless Yunobo. He collapsed, and Zelda stepped back, narrowly missing being flattened by his dead weight.

“Yunobo…?” She breathed, taking a hesitant step forward. The Goron groaned, slowly sitting up and clutching his head.

“What… happened…” He moaned, and Zelda let out a relieved sob.

“Oh thank the Gods, Yunobo!”

Slergo and Offrak, who had been huddling against the wall in terror, stepped forward, watching Yunobo with hope filled eyes.

“President Yunobo?” Offrak called, and Yunobo looked up.

“Offrak? Slergo? Where... where are we?”

“Under YunoboCo HQ,” Zelda said. “There was a… situation.”

“Situation? Is Everyone okay? Link!” Yunobo shot up. “Is he okay? Purah said the two of you were missing, but I saw him! Up on the mountain! He said… I… I don’t remember. But it was important! We need to find him before he gets hurt up there alone!”

Zelda swallowed. "Yunobo, I-- that wasn't Link."

Yunobo tilted his head. "Zelda? I don't understand."

Zelda opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. How... how does one even start to explain things like puppets and dragons? How do you describe something impossible to grasp in any way that could make it all make sense? Zelda wanted to run. She wanted to scream, to flee, to never have to say the name Link outloud again. Instead, she helped Yunobo to his feet.

“Yunobo,” she said finally. “I think it’s time we talked.”

Chapter Text

Yunobo took one look at Zelda, at the gloom and grime across her skin and exhaustion under her eyes, and knew. That was the thing with Yunobo— he’d been but a teenager when the Calamity ended, young and frightened despite his unique powers. He’d never dealt with leadership or responsibility, constantly hiding behind Bludo’s aching back and his great-grandfather’s ability. He startled easily, found it hard to make friends, and struggled with social cues, but he was smart. Not particularly clever, no, but so smart it was scary. Nobody had noticed back during the Calamity. Awkward Yunobo, resident scaredy cat, gifted with strength but too much of a wimp to use it—that was who he was to most, back when the Beast still ruled over them all. Except, of course, for Link. He saw the brightness in Yunobo’s brain, the courage hidden under Daruk’s Protection, and the yearning to better the world. Link was the one to introduce Yunobo to Sidon, Riju, and Teba, to encourage growth and comradery. Yunobo might not have been Link’s best friend, not like Zelda or Sidon, but they were an undeniable part of each other. And now, as Yunobo took in Zelda’s frightful state, Link nowhere in sight, he knew.

“That wasn’t Link, was it?” He said softly. It was phrased as a question, but Zelda could tell he knew the answer. Zelda helped pull him to his feet, and the Goron wobbled for a moment before straightening.

“I’m not sure what he is, exactly,” Zelda said, “but he definitely isn’t Link.”

Yunobo took in the gloom-filled cavern they’d found themselves in. The walls glowed with marbled rock roast, and Yunobo took a curious step towards a shattered roast, sniffing a broken piece.

“What in the world are you, goro?” He murmured, and Zelda turned to grab it, terrified Yunobo might give it a lick, but the Goron had already tucked away the glowing pebble.

“That’s a marbled rock roast, duh,” Slergo said, and Yunobo frowned.

“Marbled rock roast? Marbled with a vein of ruby or—”

“With gloom. Marbled with veins of gloom,” Zelda said, and Yunobo’s frown grew.

“Well, that’s no good.”

“You were the one who gave us all the marbled rock roast to begin with—don’t you remember?” Offrak said, looking up at Yunobo. His eyes, still the sandy brown of Goron childhood, not quite hardened into the solid, black obsidian of an adult Goron’s eyes, were wide, and Yunobo knelt down, giving the pebble a crooked, soothing smile.

“Of course, I do. Thought just slipped outta my brain for a bit. But I put it back! See, goro?” Yunobo knocked on the side of his head with a fist. “Nice and snug back in there. I remember perfectly. Now, kiddo, should we take ya to Mr. Bludo? I’m sure he’s been worried.”

Offrak nodded, content with Yunobo’s answer, and took Slergo’s hand.  “You’re gonna need to apologize to him though, President Yunobo. You were really mean.”

Yunobo glanced at Zelda, who gave the tiniest of nods. Yunobo's brow furrowed, and Zelda could practically see the cogs turning behind them.

“I—okay. I’ll be sure to apologize. And I’m sorry, boys. For being mean to you.”

Offrak looked to Slergo, who shrugged, and Offrak took Yunobo’s hand.

“It’s ‘okie, President Yunobo. You weren’t feeling well.”

“No,” Yunobo said softly, looking down at the two pebbles, his face unreadable. “I wasn’t.”

After that, Yunobo was quiet as they walked back to the surface. He seemed content to let the pebbles ramble on and fill the silence, soaking in any tidbits of what had happened from their conversation. He hugged close to Zelda’s side, guilt clear in how he held his shoulders and stopped moving only once to pick up a trampled notebook, one of the remnants of the destroyed campsites scattered down below, the pages slick with a fire retardant. Zelda caught sight of a few words over Yunobo’s shoulder: Lost Gorondia.

Gorondia. There was that word again! She tapped Yunobo’s wrist, and the Goron met her eye. She tilted her head, glancing down at the notebook, and Yunobo gave a tiny shake of his head.

Not yet.

They came up for air at the base of Death Mountain, and the air was dark and still. Above them, so large that it seemed ready to fall, sat the moon, bright red and terrifying. It bathed Death Mountian’s red birth in scarlet shadow, rich and bloody. Yunobo sucked in a pained breath.

Just how long had he been trapped away inside that mask? Suddenly, Zelda was aware of the flickering lights coming to life around her. Cyane and blue, purple and green, the sages’ Vows took form as a barrier between her, Yunobo, and the pebbles against the sprawling shuddering stalmonsters that had swarmed the entrance. Between them wove gloomy footprints, far enough apart for the person to have been sprinting at full speed, right for the path up Death Mountain.

Zelda grit her teeth. The Puppet. It had to be.

“Stay back!” Yunobo shouted to the pebbles, pulling the cobble crusher from his back. The pebbles scattered, thankfully following orders and rolling up tight like pill bugs, and then Yunobo was in the thick of it, swinging in time with Riju’s lightening and Mineru’s cannon blasts without taking even a second to stop and marvel at the light show of Vows around him. Zelda drew Fi, and the gloomy skeletons hissed at her holy glow. Even the gloom in the Puppet’s footsteps seemed to sizzle.

Yunobo shouted for her attention and knocked a stalblin in her direction, and Zelda lept up to meet it, the Master Sword sliding through its massive, pointed head like jelly. While the other stals monsters that had been taken apart by the Vows had not stayed down, this one did, melting away into gloomy nothing. Yunobo gave a sharp nod at the sight.

“I’ll rough ‘em up and send ‘em your way, Princess, then you get in there with the sword. Got it?”

“Heard!”

The Vows took note of Yunobo’s words as well, using their weapons to whittle off body parts and snap off limbs, leaving the rest for Yunobo to send flying to Zelda with massive swings of his crusher. It was then that Zelda saw him, soaked red in the moonlight, stopping for a moment to look over his shoulder after rounding the curve of the path up Death Mountain. His sickly face seemed stronger in the light of the gloom, his waxy skin more full and his eyes wicked sharp. The Puppet snarled as he took in the quickly disintegrating mob of monsters, and anger pooled wickedly in Zelda’s gut. He wanted to watch, did he? Very well. Zelda would give him a show.

Zelda sunk down into a stance that, even though it was unfamiliar to her body, was clearly familiar to her sword. Legs planted, knees bent, she extended her arm behind her, Fi singing in her grip as she realized Zelda’s plan. Light flickered on the edge of Fi’s point, golden and beautiful as Zelda pushed Nayru and Hylia together into one beam that she sent out with a vicious swing, the spin attack crackling with divine power and sending out a shockwave of light that ripped through each skeleton, leaving nothing but ash behind. She looked up, triumphant. The Puppet looked down at her from his perch on the path. For a moment, their eyes met, and then he was gone.

“That was amazing, goro!” Yunobo kicked up a cloud of ash. “Take that, you big lugs! Boys, are you both okay?”

Offrak and Slergo waddled out from their hiding place and nodded.

“Did you see Mr. Link? Up on the mountainside?” Offrak asked, “You gotta go grab him, with all these monsters out he could get hurt!”

“Mr. Link could never get hurt! He’s Mr. Link!” Slergo scoffed, and Zelda couldn’t help her wince. Yunobo’s eyes lingered on the tenseness of her shoulder, and he frowned.

“Slergo, Offrak, can you boys get to Goron City from here?” Yunobo said softly, kneeling to their level. “Me and the Princess need to go find Link, but that’s not safe for little pebbles.”

Slergo seemed offended by the insinuation that he was too ‘little’ for anything, but Offrak nodded, stepping in front of his friend.

“Okie, President Yunobo. We gotta be there for our friends!”

Yunobo smiled. Zelda couldn’t help the sharp sadness that ripped through her as he patted their heads. “Always. We’re always there for our friends.”

---

Yunobo waited till the boys passed the crest of the southernmost hill towards Goron City to speak.

“What’s happened here?” He asked softly, turning to look at the gloom rising from Death Mountain’s peak life smoke from a fire. “I… I remember getting the letters from Purah. Setttin’ up shop. Diggin’ around Death Mountain, and being so happy to see Link, even if he looked like…”

“Shit?” Zelda offered, and Yunobo’s laugh was sad.

“Yeah. That. We talked, and… he gave me this mask. I don’t even remember what he said, just that it was so convincing at the time. Oh Din, I’m a fool!”

Zelda took Yunobo’s hand. “You trusted someone you thought was a friend. That’s not foolish.”

Yunobo swallowed. “If that wasn’t Link, then where is he, goro?”

It was Zelda’s turn to swallow down the bubble of pain that threatened to slip out of her throat. She turned her head to the sky as a shadow passed over the bloody moon. Link’s silhouette was backlit with red as he twisted in the sky, and Zelda was hit by the sudden need to cry. She forced it back. She’d cried enough for a lifetime these past weeks.

“The letters,” She started, trying to buy herself time to formulate an answer to Yunobo’s question. “The ones from Purah, what did they say?”

“The first just said you and Link and gone missing under Hyrule Castle and to keep an eye out, but the second one—it was strange. Mentioned ‘sages’ and a ‘Demon King’ and ‘secret stones’. I decided that we could get the drop on this ‘Demon’, find the stone before he even thought to look for it. Went diggin’ in and around Death Mountian; the things we found, Zel. I know you and that taskforce-thingy had been studying the Zonai or whatever, but this. Gorondia. A civilization below the earth! That’s when I found Link. Was diggin’ up by the crater and he told me he found something that would help me look…”

“He wanted to stop you,” Zelda realized. “He knew you were too close to finding something important, so he had to make sure the digging stopped. With you and the Gorons out of commission, he could find the stone for himself without you in the way…”

“Ya’ think?”

“He—the Demon King— has been destroying the Continent in search of stones. You just managed to get too close compared to the rest.”

Yunobo kicked a rock, sending it skittering across the dirt. Zelda sighed.

“Link… when he went with me below the castle…” She swallowed. Where was she even supposed to start? Hi, Yunobo, your bestie is a giant worm in the sky because he ate a glowing rock! Rock. Stones. That was what it all came back to: those damn fucking stones.

“When we went under the castle, we found the Demon King. He was weak then, just a mummy, but still carried a power unlike anything I’d seen before. He was barely alive yet managed to shatter the Master Sword.”

Yunobo furrowed his brows. “But it’s right there?” he said, pointing to Zelda’s sheathed sword.

Zelda swallowed.

“Link… he ‘fixed’ it.”

“That’s fantastic! So, you know where he is then?”

Zelda took a deep, shaky breath. There was no more stalling, no more buying time.

“He’s above us.”

Yunobo’s head whipped us, eyes searching among the moon and the stars before landing on the silent dragon.

“He’s on the dragon?”

“He… he is the dragon.”

It all spilled out after that. The stones, their power, the time travel, the Demon King, his deceit and betrayal. Rauru and Sonia and the sages—their failure. Link’s choice, split eyelids, and bloody transformation into the suffering creature in the sky.

By the time she finished, Yunobo sat on a rock, his head in his hands.

“So what’s your plan?” He said finally, looking up as Zelda sat next to him.

“Plan?”

“To save him. What’s your plan?”

“I don’t…”