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Chapter Text

Impa,

While I am pleased to hear Zelda’s attendance of the festival of Sahasra’s Pass seems to have invigorated her spirit with respect to her training and collaboration with Link, I am sure you can understand my reluctance to immediately abandon all concern regarding the matter we discussed prior to your departure. There are dark clouds on the horizon. The Calamity’s return looms over Hyrule and my daughter’s sealing Power remains to be awakened. Now more than ever she must remain steadfast. Focused.  

It is your responsibility to strengthen this partnership and prevent it from turning into a distraction, as my daughter appears to be prone to them. They are to work together amicably and appropriately to prepare themselves for what has been prophesied to come. 

I have the utmost faith in your fealty to the protection of the Realm. The fate of Hyrule is upon your shoulders just as much as theirs, Impa. 

 I also await your update regarding the Yiga. Their presence in Central Hyrule remains a top concern. I expect a full report once you have connected with the informant. You would do well to remind them of their oath to the crown. 

King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule

—

Impa folds the letter carefully. Her initial reaction is to crumple it into a ball and scream, but she can feel Link, Zelda, and the Gerudo messenger's eyes upon her, burning like the desert sun overhead. She swallows thickly, tucks the letter into her sleeve, and takes to fanning herself with her hand.

“Lady Urbosa anticipates your arrival, Princess. She was worried and sent this to ensure you remain adequately hydrated.” The Gerudo pulls out three thick slices of hydromelon and hands one to each of them. “The desert has been especially cruel as of late. We have not seen rain in a year.” 

“A year?” Zelda gasps. She stands in a very small patch of shade cast by a lonely voltfruit cactus. Impa had hoped it might bear some fruit, being one of Zelda’s favorites from her childhood, but its spiny branches are empty. 

They are on the final stretch of sand between Kara Kara Bazaar and Gerudo Town. Impa had insisted Zelda take the shade after the Gerudo emerged from the heat haze with a letter bearing the King’s seal. 

“We hoped Divine Beast Vah Naboris could bring the rain, but it can only summon lightning to the earth.” The Gerudo turns to Link.” You may wish to purchase some hydromelon at the gate for your journey back to the bazaar. You know the law?”

Link looks up from his fruit. He has already devoured it to the rind with such vigor that juice dribbles off his chin. Impa hears Zelda chuckling faintly beside her. A sharp corner of the King’s letter grazes Impa’s forearm. 

“You should also draw your weapons. As if the sun was not enough, a merchant was attacked not far from the bazaar the other day. We believe the Yiga may be building a stronghold nearby.”

“In the desert? Last I heard they were thought to be organizing near the Aldor Foothills?” Impa blinks.

“The merchant was robbed of all their wares save for a single, unripened banana. Do not stray. Gerudo Town is a short march from here,” the Gerudo says. “Sav'orq.”

“Sarqso,” Zelda replies and takes a bite of her hydromelon slice. The woman turns and begins to trek in the direction of the bazaar. 

Link tilts his head at Zelda until he catches her eye. “Urbosa taught me a little. I spent a few winters here with my mother when I was young.” She takes another bite of hydromelon and glances at Impa.“What did my father say?” 

“Our journey from Kakariko took longer than expected,” Impa replies, trying to keep her tone casual.“He…would like a report on the Divine Beast from Lady Urbosa and any intelligence regarding the Yiga as soon as possible.”

“He was checking up on me, wasn’t he?” Zelda lowers the fruit. Her brow, which has started to shimmer with sweat, creases in irritation. 

“He is your father, Princess,” Impa says, scrunching her nose apologetically.  

“He is the King, first. I doubt the contents of that letter have anything to do with my well-being. Just more inquiry into the quality of my daily devotions.” 

Words fail Impa. Zelda isn’t exactly wrong, and it feels unkind to try and twist the King’s behavior into anything else. Especially when Impa can sense so much hurt behind Zelda’s venom. 

Link reaches forward and gently urges the melon back up toward Zelda’s mouth. 

Impa’s face drops. To anyone else, their dynamics haven’t changed much since the festival. Zelda is still resistant to Link’s role as her appointed knight, Link remains uncomplicated and quiet and committed to his duty, which one could easily argue includes making sure Zelda doesn’t succumb to heat exhaustion. Zelda continues to poke fun at him: the way he summons his horse or how he ruffles his bangs absentmindedly, and he continues to tolerate it. Or ignore it. Impa hasn’t determined the true nature of his response just yet. 

But now Impa’s third eye has been opened; her aunt, the current chief of the Sheikah, saw to it when she revealed the truth behind the festival of Sahasra’s Pass. Under the guise of a holy ceremony celebrating the secret path out of Kakariko Village, the real purpose of the festival is actually to honor the desire path forged between the Goddess-blood Princess and the Hero. A relationship that has endured again and again, despite calculated and repeated efforts orchestrated by the Royal Family over thousands of centuries. 

A path of enduring love. 

Precisely the type of relationship Impa has now been formally charged with preventing, and the very type she suspects has begun to bloom between Zelda and Link since they left Kakariko two weeks ago. 

Or, if she were to believe the story about desire paths, the type that has been there all along. 

Whatever the case, it is a relationship she as Sheikah, according to her aunt, is destined to protect. One she, as the Royal advisor to the King, a position that literally holds the freshly mended bridge between the Sheikah and Hyrule together, is burdened to expose. To snuff out. 

Link grabs Zelda’s hand and leads it up to the hydromelon slice so she’s holding it.

“Eat,” he says.

Maybe he’s more complicated than Impa initially thought.

“We can eat and walk. The sooner we can get to Gerudo Town, the better.” Impa pushes between them and ushers Zelda back out onto the sand. She becomes aware of her aunt’s bracelet again, pulling tight against the skin of her wrist with the motion. Impa drops her arm and wiggles it at her side while they walk, trying to loosen the grip. 

It has fit wrong from the moment she put it on, at her aunt’s urging. While it might have belonged to the first Impa, the original champion for the Goddess-blood Princess and Hero of old, it certainly doesn’t feel like it was made for her at all. 

She just keeps forgetting to take it off.

Link trots out ahead to scout, moving through the heavy sand and heat like it’s nothing. Impa looks at Zelda, skips a few times, and then rolls her eyes. 

Zelda laughs and loops her elbow in Impa’s. Impa sighs. It’s still as it should be. As it must be. Maybe she’s just got a fixed eye. It can happen to any Sheikah who forgets to blink when they become too focused on a task. Or when they get too many secret missions from Kings or are gifted silly bracelets that have no business on the wrists of warriors.

Fixed eyes are dangerous. They can only find what they are looking for.

Zelda works on her hyrdomelon until it’s clean. Impa offers her slice but Zelda insists Impa eat it and they use each other for balance on the uneven surface of the sand. At some point, Zelda glances back between them and slows. She’s looking at the trail of their footprints behind them in the sand. Her eyes are curiously distant, something Impa has noticed happens to her from time to time, like she’s peering through a door no one else can see. That she herself does not understand. 

She comes back to herself and shakes her head.

“Princess?” Impa asks.

“All this travel we have done, it’s just…”She turns forward again and Impa catches her eyes glancing up for half a second. The bracelet pulls at Impa’s skin. She suddenly becomes aware of the King’s letter, matted with sweat, sticking against her arm in her sleeve. “It would be so lonely to have to cross the vastness of Hyrule alone, don’t you think?”

“There are people in almost every corner of Hyrule, Princess. We need not worry about loneliness.”

Zelda half smiles. “I’m just glad to be traveling with you, Impa.”

—

Lady Urbosa is a presence. She stands a solid foot-and-a-half over Impa, with broad, muscular shoulders and even broader hips that are strapped with a wickedly sharp scimitar and layers of gold. She is the embodiment of why someone decided long ago gemstones belonged on deadly weapons. And yet, as she greets Zelda, she displays a remarkable kind of softness. Sacred and innate–the kind reserved for a mother and child. 

“Your skin is covered in sand and sunkiss, little bird. A desert’s welcome!” Urbosa strokes Zelda’s cheek and clicks her tongue. “Nothing some aloe cannot soothe. I would offer a cool bath, but our water reserves are low. We’ve been rotating pilgrimages to the canyon to bathe.”

“The messenger you sent said you have not had rain in over a year? How have you managed this long?” Zelda says. “Has my father not sent aid?” 

“The Gerudo are strong. We have faced long droughts before and are well-equipped to wait until the rain comes again. It always does, eventually.” Urbosa turns to Link and clasps his shoulder. She casts a shadow over him. “Vasaaq, Link. I don’t believe we’ve seen each other since the ceremony at the Sacred Grounds. This year has been long and arduous for the Gerudo. How have you fared as my little bird’s appointed knight?”

Link pauses for a half-second. It’s barely noticeable, not even enough time for a full breath. The only reason Impa catches it is because she feels the way Zelda holds her own at the same time. Like she’s waiting. Like what he’s going to say matters. 

Impa grabs her wrist and twists the bracelet under her wrappings. He could be thinking about how to answer from a hundred different angles. Zelda could just be in between breaths. It could be nothing. Or a coincidence! It doesn’t have to mean something. 

Ugh. When you realize you have a fixed eye, how do you cure it? 

He shrugs.  

Thank Hylia. Impa almost loses her balance in relief. Zelda lets out a groan and steps through the gates of Gerudo Village. “He’s not allowed inside right?”

“That is correct,” Urbosa says through a roll of warm laughter. “You are welcome to use the shadow outside the city walls or seek refuge back at Kara Kara.” Link shakes his head. “Shadow it is. I would expect nothing less from a royally appointed knight! Belinda can bring you some hydromelon and salted meat.”

Link nods.The Gerudo soldier, a captain by the gold and emerald headpiece she wears, steps forward and offers Link her arm. It’s remarkably similar to the first part of the Sheikah gesture used to greet kin, except there is no recognition of the third eye. From what Impa understands, it’s more casual. A sign of comradery.

It is what Link assumed the Sheikah gesture meant when he extended his arm to Zelda during the festival. When they—

Link grabs Belinda’s arm at the elbow and grunts. Belinda lets out a laugh and bares down, flexing her muscles against his grip.”It’s good to see you again, pottery archer.” 

Link grins. 

Urbosa raises her eyebrow. “You two know each other?”

They release each other and Belinda nods. “Long story. Shall I bring some ceramics so you can try to beat my record this time?”

Zelda lets out an exasperated sound and grabs Impa’s hand. She leads them into the plaza, grumbling under her breath.

“Is there anywhere he hasn’t been?” she growls.

“He hadn’t been to Kakariko,” Impa reminds her.

“Yes, well neither had I. Renowned swordsman, friend of the Zora, Champion Gerudo pottery archer? He’s probably a Goron lava surfer or- or a Rito choral prodigy as well!”

“I’ve never heard him say more than seven words at a time, much less sing, Princess.”

“If only I had been permitted to travel, not confined to my chambers…”

“How about that aloe yes?” Urbosa interrupts and immediately douses the growing flame behind Zelda’s eye. “Impa, you are looking pink as well. Come, Hotel Oasis should have some on hand. They may even have voltfruit in stock for you, little bird.” Urbosa guides them through the market to the inn. They have plenty of aloe, but no voltfruit. 

Urbosa insists they dine in her chambers while they discuss Divine Beast Vah Naboris. She leads them up the western stairwell by the barracks where a group of soldiers are sparring with remarkable intensity. Their fighting style is markedly different from the Sheikah. It’s powerful and dynamic, likely born from the need to train on the irregular surface of sand. It is their footwork Impa finds most impressive. Aggressive and quick, it reminds Impa of how a snake strikes. 

“They are amazing. It almost looks like they're dancing,” Zelda says. 

“Ayet! Your form is sloppy! A Yiga would have slit your throat twice by now! Run it again!” Belinda shouts and then lowers her voice. “Dancing? Ha! I’ll dance when it rains.”

“We all will. It is tradition.” Urbosa adds, turning the corner at the top of the stairs. “Speaking of Yiga, any word on the icehouse?”

“We can’t access it. The Yiga have control of the northern ruins. Everytime we get close, they drown us in arrows.”

Urbosa mutters something in Gerudo under her breath. 

“Icehouse?” Zelda asks.

“It’s where we store ice from the highlands. We lost it three weeks ago to a Yiga attack. We think the Yiga are trying to establish roots somewhere near the Great Cliffs. Without the icehouse and access to the highlands, our ability to deal with the lack of rain has been significantly crippled.”

Zelda gasps. “Will you need to leave Gerudo Town?” 

“No, no. This is our home. Our desert. I will set Vah Naboris upon them. Just you wait, Princess. When I am done, they will be nothing but scorch marks.” Urbosa presses her fingers together like she’s going to snap them and the air gets a slight charge. Impa can feel it on her tongue. Some of the baby hairs on top of Zelda’s head stand up. 

Urbosa cocks her head back and laughs. 

—

Urbosa relieves Impa of her duties after dinner. She can’t recall the last time she’s had a night off. Other than Link, there is no one Impa trusts the Princess’ safety with more than Urbosa. She leaves Zelda beside a walking lightning bolt, surrounded by some of the deadliest soldiers in all of Hyrule, and Link guarding the village walls like a wolf in twilight. Zelda could not be more safe. 

Impa volunteers to bring more food out to Link. He invites her to join him by the small fire he’s built—the air is surprisingly cool now that the sun has set—but she declines and tells him she plans to head north.

Link tilts his head up at her so he’s looking at her through his bangs. 

“Just a survey. Urbosa’s going to destroy the icehouse if she marches Vah Naboris over it. Maybe I can identify an advantage they can use to flush the Yiga out.”

Link nods a few times and glances longingly over Impa’s shoulder. He wants to come. While she normally wouldn’t mind his company, especially his sword for a mission such as this, tonight she must venture alone. 

Before she can turn him down, he glances back at the stone wall and starts wringing his hands. Slow, like he’s turning over something weighted. As comfortable as he’s made himself look in the shade, she can see the energy he’s worked hard to defuse since they left him. There is a deep line of footprints back and forth in the sand along the wall. The paper used to wrap the salted meat sits in a pile of tiny pieces at his feet. And it appears he has passed the time harvesting a ridiculous amount of pink safflina, two whole hydromelons, a handful of hightail lizards, and a voltfruit. 

After weeks on the road, she imagines it might be difficult for him to just relax. 

Her aunt’s bracelet catches her wrist and she knocks it a few times against her hip as she turns to leave. Link stirs behind her. She snaps her head over her shoulder to find him standing, arm back with his hand on the hilt of the Sword. He’s leaning forward but his feet won’t seem to budge. She can see the conflict flash across his face before he lets his arm fall. 

“Don’t worry, Link. I am not the one in need of a protector. I am Shadow Folk, remember?” Impa assures him. He doesn’t say anything out loud, but he’s never needed to speak in order to make his thoughts known when he wants them to be. His expression urges caution and something else devastatingly familiar. It’s the same kind of look Zelda gave her back in Kakariko. A look that says: You're the only friend I have.

—

Impa has always hated lying. She’s been this way for as long as she can remember. All her mother needed to do was look at her a certain way in the aftermath of some mischief she and her siblings almost got away with and Impa would dissolve into tears and confess to it all.

Thankfully, her ability to wear a mask when necessary has developed with time, but this does nothing for how it feels to carry a lie inside of her. She’s always wondered if other people feel this way, like they are beholden to some invisible lens of truth, like something in their very core repels falsehood. It's why the idea of lying to the King about feelings Zelda may or may not be experiencing, like her aunt suggested, has been haunting her for weeks. The mere anticipation of it is enough to rob her of sleep and set her unnecessarily on edge.

But what her aunt doesn’t know, what no one knows, is that Impa has been lying to them all about something else for a very long time.

It’s quiet. There are no sickles catching the moonlight or arrows cascading down upon her from the stars. It’s a little after midnight when she spots the massive pillar of stone that cradles the entrance to the underground depository in the distance and trots toward it. There are three guardian deity statues with their faces covered in cloth bearing the inverted eye strategically placed at the entrance. She rips the fabric off each statue, bundles it into a ball in her fist, and descends inside.

The air is cool and dry. There is a small pool of clear water in the center of the room. The space is small and uncluttered so it doesn’t take long for her to find what she is searching for. Or rather, who . Sitting on blocks of ice arranged like a throne against the back wall, is a lone Yiga soldier. 

Her brother. 

She can tell he’s staring at her even though his face is covered in the mask. His hair, which they dye with Octorok ink as a dark mirror to the silver hair of the Sheikah, is longer than the last time she saw him. A measure of rank. He’s been promoted. 

“You’re getting fat,” Impa crosses her arms over her chest. His mask tilts slightly. She hasn’t seen his face in years. She tries to imagine what it might look like now; beneath the unblinking inverted eye, are his cheekbones a little higher? Is his jawline edged? Does he still have the gap in his front teeth? Would he even smile at her now?

“Careful, sister,” he replies. His voice is deeper, but the same. Revealing, too. She’s struck a nerve. Just like old times. “You are far from the protection of the valley guardian spirits.” 

“Speaking of, I see you’ve defaced the statues you stole as well?” She tosses the rags into the sand. “And here I was thinking you just were homesick when you stole them.”

“For that stuffy little village?” He rises and makes his way around the edge of the pool toward her. Impa flexes her wrists, testing the release on her kunai. She only has one loaded because of her aunt’s bracelet.

She really needs to remember to take it off. 

He continues,“Those statues guide us throughout our lives. They do not see which way the eye is turned. Only the journey ahead. Why should we be without guidance?” He stops directly in front of her. 

“We?” Impa cocks her eyebrow. 

He rolls his head about his shoulders. “The Yiga.”

“The Yiga have no path, for they have strayed from it.” 

“Or perhaps,” he taps the chin of his mask a few times, “they’ve found it, once again. The Goddess-blood Princess herself abandoned her people once, long ago. They say she—” 

“Watch your tongue or I’ll cut it out,” Impa hisses.

“—took to her Shadow form when the Hero was gone and never looked back. Won’t hear about that in the Royal Archives. Just like how they have erased the injustices they imposed upon our people after we stopped the first Calamity!” 

It’s the second accusation of manipulating history she’s heard in a month against the  Royal Family. Impa narrows her eyes. “You go dark for seven months so you could, what, give me a delusional history lesson?” 

“Has it really been seven months?

Impa lunges forward and shoves him with both hands. “I thought you were dead, Kohga!”

He stumbles back against a tower of ice. “Ow- ch. I’m supposed to be undercover, aren’t I? It’s not like I get dedicated time to write private letters to the family I’m supposed to have forsaken–the family who has written me off as a traitor.” Kohga stands and dusts some frost off his shoulder. 

“You knew it had to be this way when you accepted the mission. And if I remember correctly, no one had to twist your arm.” 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one the King wanted to be the Princess’ bodyguard. Too good looking. She’d never be able to unlock her Sacred Power with me around. I’d be far too distracting.”

…Make sure this arrangement is not producing unnecessary distractions…

… You are also to ensure it does not become a distraction, as my daughter appears to be prone to them…

Impa inhales cold air through her nose to stop herself from throttling him. Slow and through her teeth, “The King promised a Royal pardon once this is over.” He sighs heavily. Impa raises her voice. “Your name will be clear again, but you have to actually provide reports on the intel you are gathering. What are you even doing out here in Gerudo Desert? You said the Yiga were trying to settle closer to the castle.”

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of hard to do when Purah has those guardian things programmed to hunt us down now. Don’t suppose the King will let her in on this little arrangement so she can tell them not to fire at me ?” He makes a spider with his hands and wiggles his fingers. “So, yeah, we’ve decided to pull back.”

“Pull back?”

“What’s brought you to the sand, sister? The Princess still tinkering around with Purah’s tech? Come to scale the walking thunderhead?” He stomps his feet in mockery of Vah Naboris. 

“Lady Urbosa is planning to level this icehouse with that thunderhead if you don’t clear out soon.” He immediately stops. Impa crosses her arms. “What issue does the Yiga have with the Gerudo, anyway? Cutting off their water supply, attacking innocent merchants? Was that really all you're doing?”

“We needed the supplies. We need the rain as everyone else, you know. Even more so since we’ve been hunted out of every habitable place in Hyrule. And I didn’t murder anyone. I left them a banana.”

Impa scoffs, “That’s how I knew it was you out here.”

Kogha waves her off, “We are leaving soon, anyway. Found a hole in the mountains.”

“A…hole?”

“Our sorcerer thinks it's a passage the ancient gods used to ascend between the realms of life and death. It whispers old magic. Promises of glory and long life.”

Impa rolls her eyes, “Demons make promises like that, don’t they?”

“Purah’s tech does too, right?”

Chapter Text

“Hey Kohga…do you know how to cure a fixed eye?”

“Why? You got one?” Kogha leans forward with his hands fanned together under his chin. He’s close enough that Impa can see the details of his Yiga mask in the early morning light that’s started to bleed into the room. Whoever painted the inverted eye had a shaky hand. His gold earpieces, tethered to the side of his face with the leather straps that secures the mask to his head, are warped slightly, bending forward along his jaw like tusks.

Impa taps her spoon against the small bowl in her hands, “Maybe.”

“What’s it about?”

She thinks about telling him everything. About the King and the festival and the bracelet. It feels like talking about it could be the cure, but she knows people can often mistake comfort for a solution.

Impa doesn’t answer immediately and Kohga doesn’t wait. He’s always been impatient in moments of silence. 

“Good food might. So ? What do you think?” He’s asking about the banana dish he made for her. He credits himself with its invention and insists it’s better than anything back in Kakariko. It requires putting two bananas on ice until they are frozen; then you mash them up until they’re smooth and drizzle courser bee honey over the top. The chill makes the honey harden slightly, giving each bite a surprisingly pleasant crunch.

“It’s refreshing,” Impa says. 

“Refreshing ? It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, admit it!”

Impa shrugs and Kohga lets out a dramatic groan, turning his back to her in disgust. She quickly scoops another spoonful into her mouth and swallows before he turns back. 

She’ll never admit it to him, but it is good—better than pumpkin stew. It’s no cure, but it’s better than anything she’s tasted in a really long time. She’s just not sure if it’s the recipe or the fact he was the one making it. 

He used to cook for them a lot—she and Purah—after their mother died. 

“The food in the castle must be good, right? What do the Royal Guard eat? Truffle butter venison? Goron spice curry? Golden carrots from Satori Mountain?” He begins pacing back and forth in front of her.

Impa laughs, “You sound like Link.”

“The Hylian Champion?” 

“Hm. He’s a glutton, just like you.” She wonders what Link is up to right now. He is always up before the sun. Did he enjoy the night off as well with Zelda safe inside the guarded walls of Gerudo Town? Or did he keep watch all night waiting for Impa’s return? Guilt tugs at her and glances back toward the door. She’ll need to be leaving soon. 

“Are you close with him?” Kohga asks. 

“I suppose so.”

“Does he really possess the legendary Sword?” 

Impa looks back at Kogha. He’s stopped mid-step, the outline of his body rigid. Tense. Like when something catches an animal's attention in the night. An animal that’s out hunting. Hungry. 

She’s not sure why, but she doesn’t want to answer him. She suddenly wishes she hadn’t mentioned Link at all.

If only she could see Kohga’s face. 

Before she can decide how to respond, someone comes crashing into the icehouse. 

There is a flurry of smoke and paper talismans. Impa drops her bowl and jumps up her feet, releasing her kunai into her hand. She’s going to toss her aunt’s bracelet into the desert when this is all over, so help her. All it’s done is take up space on her wrist where another weapon could be. 

Kohga appears in front of her, using his body as a shield. He wields a nasty, circular weapon with spikes along the blade Impa’s never seen before. 

“Move! I can defend—”

“Shh!” he hisses over his shoulder.

“They’re dead! All dead!” A desperate voice cries out from the smoke. It’s another Yiga. He staggers through the smoke towards Kohga. Blood splatters across the sand. 

“What? How?” Kohga sputters.

The Yiga drops to one knee. “It was the Champion!”

“Urbosa?”

“No, the Hylian.” Impa’s heart leaps into her throat.

“He came out of nowhere. We had her surrounded and then he just a-appeared!”

“You had who surrounded?” 

“The Princess.” 

Impa’s stomach drops. She lunges forward, but Kohga pushes her back against the stone wall with his shoulder. 

“You were just supposed to be on a survey in disguise! You had orders not to engage anyone.”

“We were. Then she just comes waltzing across the sand, snapping pictures with that device. Completely alone. Or so we thought.” Impa can picture it in her mind’s eye. Zelda, nose buried in the Sheikah Slate, chasing after a lizard or a stupid yellow darner. The terror in her eyes when she realizes she made a terrible mistake. The speed of Link’s attack–otherworldly– Impa’s never seen anything like it. 

“He has the Sword, Master Kohga. I saw it with my own eyes. It b-burns when it cuts you. A weapon of molten moonlight—”

The Yiga footsoldier finally spots Impa. She can see the surprise register in his shoulders.

It happens fast. 

He summons a bow out of nothing to his fingers, already loaded with two arrows. Kohga starts to speak, but the Yiga jumps up, sloppy and desperate, crimson eye fixed on Impa. Kohga twirls the circular sword once, so fast it whistles, and then the Yiga drops to the ground-–dead. 

Kohga wails and drops to his knees. The sounds would break Impa’s heart if she wasn’t so fixated on what the Yiga footsoldier had said just before he noticed her.

“He-he would have tried to kill you. And if you got-got away, he would have questioned why I was with a Sheikah.” He groans and lifts his mask enough so he can cover his mouth with his hand. Tears pool at his chin and drop to the sand. “It would have sowed doubt—destroyed everything I’ve done…I’m sorry…had to…I had to…”

“Why did he call you ‘Master’?”

Kohga lowers his hand and turns to look at Impa. “What?” 

“He called you ‘Master’ Kohga.” She’s still holding the kunai in her hand and it’s out in front of her. “Why?”

Kohga sniffles and slowly rises to his feet. He pushes his mask up all the way so she can see his face and her heart shatters into a hundred pieces in her chest. His cheekbones are higher, his jawline edged, just like she thought, but his third eye, inked when he was fifteen, has been peeled away, leaving his forehead horribly scarred. 

“You know why.” 

The entire room sways violently. Impa steadies herself against a wall of ice, impervious to the cold biting her fingers. 

“Kohga…”

He smiles. He still has the gap between his teeth. Impa doesn’t know why but it brings tears to her eyes. “You always said we were both meant for greatness. We thought I would be your guard and you the chief, but it turns out we are both meant to lead.”

Impa does the only thing she can think to do. She extends her hand. The one without the kunai in it. “Come-come back with me.”

Kohga's smile drops. He inspects her hand for a long moment, transfixed by the choice she’s caught him off guard with. Was he expecting her fist? Her blade? 

“What, and be branded a traitor by the Sheikah and the crown?”

Desperately, she shakes her outstretched hand at him, fingers wide, reaching. “I’ll make the King understand, he–he trusts me.”

“Why? Because you are the Princess’s little shadow?”

“She’s my friend.”

“Yes, well I have friends, too! One I just—for you .” His voice breaks. “Think what you want about the Yiga, but I have felt more love and togetherness and trust these past five years than I ever felt in Kakariko!”

Impa staggers sideways like he’s slapped her across the face.“You don’t mean that…you can’t…”

He steps closer to her, offering his hand, a direct mirror to hers. “Hasn’t this felt good? Being together again? You are a warrior, like me. Your talents are wasted by the Royal Family. Come with me.”

Impa stares at his hand and it’s like he’s summoning the ache that’s been growing inside her since she entered the icehouse to the surface. It’s painful and deep.

Because it’s in her blood. 

“You’re already more Yiga than you think,” he adds.

It has felt good to be with Kohga. Easy. Her third eye has rested. She imagines for a moment she’s free of the burdens of her Royal duties and feels light. Powerful. Once upon a time, she was the youngest Sheikah in history to be selected for Naginata training before the King decided she would be the Sheikah advisor. Before she started getting secret missions and orders and letters heavy with the royal seal…

Her hand starts to tremble next to his. She looks at it and spots a sliver of amethyst under her wrappings. 

The bracelet.

Kohga claims he’s felt more togetherness and trust with the Yiga than he ever felt in Kakariko and yet—  

Impa sees rapid flashes of memory: Zelda hooking Impa’s elbow with her own, their photo together in the Sheikah Slate, footprints in the sand, the last curve of ink on the letter back to the King after Kakariko. Link smiling over his shoulder from horseback, the grin he flashed at Impa when he felt the challenge of her blade during a recent sparring match, the look he gave her just before she left.

—she drops her hand. “I am Sheikah.”

Kohga’s expression hardens. He pulls his hand back to adjust his mask. She watches his face disappear behind the unblinking, crimson eye.

“So am I.”

—

It can’t be later than midmorning, but the sun is already unbearably bright and hot in the Gerudo Desert. There are no clouds in the sky, no mercy to be shed on the waves of heat so thick they shiver over the tops of the sand. The haze upon rolling hills of copper drowns out any landmarks on the horizon. It would be easy to get lost in a place like this. Travelers need to keep their wits about them, their eyes shaded, their pace steady and slow, if they want to survive past noon. 

And still, Impa runs. 

She weaves through the stone ruins south of the icehouse. Kohga won’t follow her, but there are plenty of lizalfos that will. Once she breaks free of the ruins, she knows if she keeps them over her left shoulder, it’s a straight shot to Gerudo Town. It's how she rationalizes how fast she’s sprinting in this heat without any supplies. 

Link’s waiting for her at the west gate where the shade is. He’ll have to dance around the wall all day to stay out of direct sunlight. She would feel sorry for him, offer to travel back to Kara Kara with him for the day, if she weren’t preparing to kill him.

There is blood on his tunic. Kohga’s mourning cries echo in the back of her head. How many of his friends have they unknowingly struck down? When did he start crying over Yiga blood? When did he forsake his own? 

Does it even make sense for her to care about it anymore?

Link waves her down with both hands. “She’s fine, she’s—”

Impa hauls off and punches him. She knows he lets it happen. She’s moving too slow to land anything against him otherwise. 

Which means he knows he deserves it. 

He stumbles back against the wall and Impa folds over herself, hands on her knees, gasping hot, dry air into her lungs. It takes her a full minute and a half to steady her heart rate enough so she can stand up and look at him. He stands there, frustratingly silent and stoic. 

“ Well?” she snaps.

“They didn’t lay a finger on her.”

“What was she doing outside of Gerudo Town?”

He just stares at her. 

“Why was she alone ?”

Link squints his eyes and tilts his head. Impa recoils a little. He’s right to be confused; how would Impa know this? She gets a taste of the panic her brother must have felt when the Yiga footsoldier spotted her. It flashes hot across her neck. 

“You must have seen her leave?” She flails her arms.

Nothing. 

“How could you even let something like this…” She eyes the spread of supplies at his feet: his heavier gear, some fresh hydromelon and meat, bundles of safflina and a lone voltfruit, untouched.

Voltfruit. 

They didn’t spot a single cactus on the way to Gerudo Town bearing fruit. The one Zelda sheltered under yesterday didn’t even have buds. The Gerudo shops didn’t have any in stock. 

He didn’t just happen upon this by chance. He had to go looking for it.

Fixed eye or not, this doesn’t look good. 

He is supposed to know his place. Know his duty. He said it himself, although admitting it was hard to do at times, he was capable of turning it off. There was the awareness there that he needed to do that.  

At least, before Kakariko there was. 

For a second she’s back in the castle Sanctum where this whole mess started. The King’s voice in her head:

They have been entrusted with the fate of the world, but they are still two young people.

She can feel the bracelet, cutting into her skin, oddly cool and heavy.

Impa plants her feet this time, shifts her weight into her heels, and swings. It connects again, because he lets it, and when he straightens back up to face her, his cheek is swollen. It will bruise.

Good.

“She took off,” Link says.

He thinks the second punch is still about the incident with the Yiga. Which it is, but it’s also about the voltfruit and the King’s letter and Kohga’s betrayal and fixed eyes and the stupid bracelet she keeps forgetting to take off.

“I’ve seen you keep pace with your horse. You’re telling me you couldn’t catch Zelda?”

He looks away from her and says nothing.

Impa snatches up the voltfruit and waves it in his face. “Too busy gathering fruit for the Princess?”

Link snaps his eyes up. His mouth is open like he wants to say something, but she can see his voice keeps getting caught in his throat. It happens sometimes when he’s surprised or stressed. She assumes it’s why he speaks so little to begin with. For someone who needs to be stone-faced, it’s a tell. 

“You think I am blind, but I see it! I’ve seen it since Kakariko.” She jabs him in the middle of his forehead where she painted the third eye on him during the festival. “ Don’t you deny it to me!”

He steps back and eyes her for a long moment before wiping his mouth with his hand. “I gave her space because she asked it of me.”

“Zelda has ordered you away from the moment you were appointed her knight.” Impa tries to toss the voltfruit at his feet, but he catches it and sets it down gently in his shield. It only makes her angrier. “The countless times she’s told you to leave and still you’ve remained her shadow. Outside her door, hovering on the shores of a Spring, guarding the walls of an impenetrable city.”

He groans and threads his hands into his hair. 

“Why now? Why this time?” She should stop asking questions, should just let it go, but the fixed eye won't let her stop. 

How do you cure a fixed eye?

All the color drains from his face. He doesn’t back down, doesn’t look away. She can see the rise and fall of his chest, heavy with breath, almost like he’s been running all this time; for weeks, months, and she’s finally given him permission to stop. 

“You know why.” 

For a moment Kohga is right there next to Link, mask pushed back, the horrible truth carved into his face. The mask Link wears is pushed back, too. He is remarkably expressive underneath it all. She can see emotions fighting to be realized on his face. His eyes are full of sadness and desperation. Fear. 

“You shouldn’t be telling me this, Link.” Impa groans.

“I don’t have anyone else.”

How many people is she a secret-keeper for now? How many lies does she guard? 

“You know what her father says. What they all say about her. That she’s undisciplined. Distracted.”

His eyes darken. “Why can’t they see what we see?”

Impa thinks about these years with Zelda. She thinks about all the times Zelda has fainted from exhaustion in a Spring, or on the stone floor of her holy study. How her tower, meant to be a place of sanctuary within that dreadful castle, is filled to the ceiling with notes upon notes surrounding alternative means of safeguarding the Realm, a refusal to give up on her task when her hands won’t glow. Through ingenuity and knowledge and connection. Distracted? Undisciplined? Impa has seen no evidence of such slander.

“What do you see?” Impa asks. 

Link glances down at the voltfruit. It’s cradled by the curve of his shield, protected from the blazing sun and coarse sand. 

“I just see her.”

She grabs her wrist, shifting the bracelet lower, and swallows.“Link, before we left for Kakariko, the King—”

There is a sudden crescendo of footsteps. Belinda appears through the gate with a small group of soldiers. She wordlessly splits them into pairs. Some take off in a sprint around the perimeter of the town, two take off into the desert. 

Belinda turns to them and speaks with urgency. “You need to come inside right away, Impa. ”

“What is going on?” Impa asks.

“Dark clouds in the West. Moving fast. We think it’s a sandstorm. Everyone has been ordered to take shelter immediately. The last one we had nearly buried the marketplace.”

“Where is the Princess?”

“She’s with Lady Urbosa. Link, you need to head for Kara Kara, right now.”

Link shakes his head.

Belinda steps forward and grips her spear. “You will not enter Gerudo Town.”

Link doesn’t move. 

“You need to—”

“He won’t leave,” Impa sighs. “How much time do we have?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe. We will lose the daylight soon.” 

“I need to talk to Urbosa. In the meantime,” Impa picks up the voltfruit and the shield and pushes them both into Link’s chest. “steel yourself.”

—

“Impa!” Zelda crosses the floor of Urbosa’s chambers and throws her arms around Impa. The intensity surprises Impa until she remembers what Zelda said in Kakariko. About her being Zelda’s only friend. Link’s look before she left last night echoed the same. 

How is she supposed to betray these lonely souls? 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she insists. 

Zelda leans back and grabs Impa by the shoulders. “I was so worried!”

“You think a few Yiga could get the best of me?” Impa scoffs. “I am Shadow Folk, Princess.”

“But aren’t the Yiga also?” Zelda says, academically, innocently, with zero recognition of the devastating truth she’s just spoken. Impa presses her lips into a thin line and thinks about her brother and his dark hair and the gap in his teeth and the scar on his face. 

“She’s lucky Link showed up when he did.” Urbosa interrupts mercifully. Her voice is thick with tender fury. It’s an odd combination rarely found outside of the affection of family. 

“All the more reason you should be taught to fight,” Impa mumbles quietly. 

“She would have known the blade by the time she was ten, if it were up to me.” Urbosa looks at Impa over the top of Zelda’s head. The wind is picking up. It whistles at them through the opening in the back wall that faces the desert. Impa looks away and stares at the sky. It’s black. 

“Something is up to you now, though.” Impa crosses her arms. 

Urbosa tilts her head, glancing between Impa and Zelda and the sky. Her expression hardens. “I can’t let him in.” 

“He’s still outside?” Zelda gasps, grabbing Impa by the wrist. She feels the bracelet against her skin and for a moment, under the Princess’ hand, it’s unbearably hot. A star pressed to her skin. “He’ll die out there in the storm!”

“He can leave,” Urbosa says. 

“You know he can’t,” Impa snaps. Zelda gets a puzzled look. Urbosa stares at Impa and she wills her thoughts to cross the space between them. Secrets are safe in Gerudo Town, right? They can’t stay here forever. Not without rain. Not when the Calamity looms. But for an hour or two, during a sandstorm, with the rest of the world cut off, maybe Urbosa can carry some of this so it’s not all up to her? 

How do you cure a fixed eye? Do you share it? Can you? Would that cure it or just make it multiply? 

“Lady Urbosa!” Belinda marches into the room. “I bring word from the north.”

“And?”

“The Yiga have retreated into the mountains. The icehouse is back under Gerudo control.”

Urbosa lets out a mix of a sigh and a laugh and braces her hand against the stone wall beside her. She takes a moment to press her fingers smooth against it, palm completely flat, like she’s rerooting herself.  Had her response about not leaving Gerudo Town been a lie? It makes sense how Zelda had managed to slip away under the Queen’s protective watch. Did she lose herself in planning the evacuation of her people after they dined together last night? Or perhaps, had she stirred in the early hours of the morning, restless to walk the streets of the home she was preparing to abandon? 

All while Impa dined on frozen honeyed banana and indulged herself in her brother’s company. Guilt sours in her belly. If she’s really honest with herself, she knew something was different with him the moment she stepped into the icehouse. She should have confronted him sooner, she just refused to see it. Another fixed eye, so decided he was still good, she actually considered how a symbol can seem right depending on what angle a person is looking at it. 

“Make sure everyone is in the bunker. As soon as the sky is clear, we’ll send a seal and sled. We need that ice.” Belinda nods and exits the room. 

Kohga still listened to her, though. Through his grief and his anger, he abandoned the icehouse. Maybe in favor of the highlands? He peeled away his third eye, but he didn’t completely carve out his Sheikah heart!

Not yet!

“He saved me.” Zelda is speaking, but Impa feels the same words in her throat. Earnest and desperate; a plea for this to be her truth as well. “Without a thought for his own life, he protected me…” 

Kohga’s actions hadn’t been for Impa, though.

It would have sowed doubt—destroyed everything I’ve done…

He was protecting himself. 

Protecting the new life he’s built. 

“Please Urbosa,” Zelda has her hands clasped in front of her, like she’s sending up a prayer. 

There is almost no light left in the room. Urbosa is only visible by the glowing outline of her massive shadow. Impa wishes she could see her face. To see what it looks like when you know how things should be, how they need to be, but decide to listen, or ignore, or deceive, or lie. 

The power of a choice . 

Urbosa whispers, “Everyone should be in the bunker. I will lead him through the sand seal pit to this chamber.”

“Thank you, Urbosa!” Zelda cries. 

Urbosa steps forward and Impa can see her face again. She’s conflicted, even now, as she gives permission. She glances at Zelda and then back at Impa. The message is clear. 

Only for her. For them. 

And then Urbosa disappears into the dark.

“I need to… I need to apologize to him. For all that has transpired between us.” Zelda’s shadow says from beside her

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do. I…I have been unkind.”

Impa shakes her head. “Everytime you see that blade, it is a reminder of what is yet to come to you. But if you believe he is a mirror to judge yourself with, you must accept all of what his reflection shows, not just what tears you down. It means it will come, Princess.” 

“Urbosa said something similar. She thought I was asleep but…”

“You could only show him what has been shown to you.” 

“Not everyone has been cruel.” Zelda takes Impa’s hand and then her elbow. She moves forward in the dark and presses her thumb against Impa’s third eye. 

“I wish I had been born Sheikah,” Zelda whispers. Impa tries to picture it. Zelda’s long hair in a tight braid; maybe tipped with silver and poison. No ceremonial gown or heavy gold, just armor the color of midnight and a set of double kunai on each hip. The only prayer her hands would need to know is the one she offers after an enemy who has been sent to the grave. 

Is this how it starts? How it has always started? A friendship between the Goddess-blood Princess and a Sheikah? With roots that grow so deep, like the Deku Tree itself, that it becomes the kind of relationship that makes you lie to Kings. Makes you hide things. 

The kind of relationship that makes terrible things worth it? 

Are they really that terrible?

Impa doesn’t know exactly when she lost her brother but along the way she’s gained…

Impa grips Zelda tightly and returns the gesture. 

In the light of the doorway, the outlines of Urbosa and Link appear. Urbosa reaches and pulls something off the wall. There is a spark of yellow light; lighting bounces around a glass cylinder like a firefly. She sets it back in the wall and turns to them. “It should give you some light. I need to go to my people. Last chance little bird. Come with me to the bunker?” 

Zelda shakes her head. 

Urbosa's face grows stoney and absolute, like a statue of the Seven. “As soon as the storm clears, you are gone,” she says to Link. He nods and points to the back window like it’s a stairwell and not a thirty-foot drop.

“Not a word, ever.” It’s not entirely clear what she’s referring to. The easy answer is Link’s presence in Gerudo Town, but the way she looks between Link and Zelda one final time makes Impa feel less alone. 

But then she’s gone. 

Link and Zelda rush to meet in the center of the room. They nearly collide, having to brace at the arms to keep from crashing fully into each other. 

“Link, I–”

Link lets go of one of Zelda’s arms and reaches into his pouch. He brings the voltfruit up between them and smiles. Zelda’s mouth falls open, but the wind outside begins to howl again, deafening the rest of the apology Zelda is trying to offer him. The only means she has left to communicate is action. 

Zelda reaches forward and clasps a hand over his. Not the voltfruit. Impa can’t even use the darkness to blind herself to it because of Urbosa’s lightning. Link’s outline is rigid, electrical. In between flashes of light, Impa can see his mask is completely down. 

How do you cure a fixed eye? How do you close it? Impa sees Kohga’s face and the solution he’s offered without meaning to. Is the only answer to carve it completely off your face? He still claims to be Sheikah, but to be Sheikah…to really be Sheikah means…

Something shakes the chamber walls violently. Zelda stumbles into Link and he takes a knee, bracing them both. He covers Zelda with his shield and stretches his sword hand out toward Impa, urging her to join them. Impa moves to step but the lightning in the glass suddenly disappears. Swallowed by darkness again, Impa lifts her hands to cover her face, expecting to be pelted with sand, but the air remains clear and oddly crisp. It’s not what Impa expected from a sandstorm…

Because it’s not a sandstorm. 

The three of them sprint out onto the balcony and into the open arms of a gathering stormcloud. A thunderhead.

Divine Beast Vah Naboris looms over the front gate of Gerudo Town. 

The sky rumbles, dangerously loud, mixing with the whirl of metal gears and ancient power surging, and it's like a call to the Gerudo. They quickly begin to emerge from the bunker into the marketplace. Mothers and sisters, warriors and merchants, the tall and small—they all spill out into the square and raise their faces to the sky. Urbosa appears and spreads her arms up towards Vah Naboris. Lightning crawls over the clouds above their heads, thousands of branches stretching like eager fingers across the storm. Urbosa points at her Divine Beast, rotates her wrist slowly, and snaps. The lightning implodes into a speck directly over Vah Naboris. The Divine Beast releases a trumpet of sound and the electricity is drawn to earth in a magnificent bolt of light. Urbosa, perhaps in some final trial of her synchronization with Vah Naboris, pulled all of the danger out of the storm and used Vah Naboris to bury it in the sand. 

And then it calls the rain.

Sheets of it begin to pour over the desert. The sandstone immediately drinks it in, steaming slightly as it darkens into gray. The waterways, lined with vibrant cyan and violet tiles, start to glisten once again. Impa is unable to contain her laughter. She holds her hands out in front of her, quickly catching what she can, and wipes it over her face. 

Movement ripples across the Gerudo. Jumping and twirling and swaying. Every single Gerudo is dancing in the rain. Impa feels like she’s watching something akin to the Sheikah walking hand-in-hand through Sahasra's Pass. 

Urbosa had called it a tradition. 

Impa looks over her shoulder at Link and Zelda expecting them to be reacting to the rain, but they are frozen in place. Link’s bangs are slick against his face but Impa can see his eyes, wide and searching. Zelda is pressed into his side, her hands clasped together in front of her chest just as they had been when she pleaded with Urbosa to let Link in. 

Like she’s releasing a prayer.

A prayer to Impa?

Dancing ? Here? Impa glances around desperately but there is no one around. They are tucked out of view of the marketplace where everyone is Gerudo Town is busy celebrating. No one can see them.

No one but Impa.

Her wrist aches. Impa snaps her eyes down and grits her teeth. The bracelet! She tears at her soggy wrappings and rapidly unfurls them from her arm. Solid crystal the color of lilac is weaved against her skin. She moves to quickly slip it off but pauses when it's almost past her fingers, surprised by how easily she is able to remove it. When it’s not hidden beneath the wrappings, in the rain, the bracelet doesn’t feel so tight. In fact, she slides it back on and flares her fingers out wide, if she lets it breathe like this, it actually fits perfectly.

Impa looks up again. Link and Zelda are still there waiting, soaked with rain, huddled against each other. Zelda has lowered her hands into Links and they hold each like they’ve been running. 

Impa gets a weird feeling—like she’s seeing a glimpse of something yet to come. Like she’s peering through a door no one else can see. One that she herself does not understand—the pouring rain, the two of them, their hands—

She blinks and it's gone. 

They are too young for all of this weight. She sees nothing that could end the world between the two people standing before her. If anything, it could be the thing that saves it. 

Impa nods and then twirls before she can change her mind. She stomps her right foot, alternating between her toe and her heel and claps her hands along with the sound of the rain and the Gerudo cheers. She’s never been one for dancing, but she learned to do it. Kohga taught her. In the distance, she swears she can hear whooping from the mountains. Kohga said the Yiga were waiting for the rain as well. Do the Yiga dance like the Sheikah, but in reverse? Is her brother twirling with her now?

Out of the corner of her eye, Impa can see Link and Zelda spinning arm in arm. Zelda is laughing, Link is grinning, and when they finally slow down, they sway back and forth, easing into something slow and sacred, albeit a little clumsily, with their eyes fixed on each other through the rain. 

How do you cure a fixed eye?

Maybe you can’t.

Not when it sees the truth. 

—

Your Majesty, 

I apologize for the delay in my response. The road has been more complicated than we anticipated, but we made it to Gerudo Town safely. Divine Beast Vah Naboris marches strong across the sands. It rained for the first time in over a year shortly after we arrived. Lady Urbosa reports her people are revitalized and committed to Hyrule’s defense. Divine Beast Vah Naboris has achieved total synchronization. 

The informant is dead. Their last report provided intel into Yiga movements out of Central Hyrule. We believe it may be motivated by the lack of exotic fruit, namely bananas. It may be best to concentrate our search efforts to Faron where I believe bananas are native, but then again, I can no longer be sure.  

You have asked me to report on the Princess’ level of focus and the nature of her relationship with the Hylian Champion. The Princess’ resolve remains unwavering and our Champion is consistent and incomparable in his duties as her appointed knight. I have seen nothing that brings me concern or suggests a connection other than what has always been essential to the success of the Goddess-blood Princess and Hero. If I might offer some wisdom from the Sheikah; be wary of the fixed eye. If you have decided she is distracted or that this relationship will be inappropriate, I am afraid that is all you will see. I hope you will trust in my assessment and let that guide your judgment.

We head north for Rito Village next. Master Revali has personally requested the Hylian Champion’s presence for a concert celebrating Divine Beast Medoh’s inaugural flight around the Hebra Summits. I will send word before we cross the Tabantha Great Bridge.

Devotedly,  

Impa