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Chapter Text

A Faronan tale as told by Vasha Sevcenko

          First, we’ll need to go back to a long time ago. When your greatest-greatest-greatest grandbaba was still alive at least. Well, most of you. They say the first time anyone saw her, she was a beautiful woman, living in her hut at the edge of the Kapovy Mountains. And many foolish people went to visit her for her beauty and her potions, but no one ever came back.

          One day, a girl from the village that would grow to be Stuva dared to visit as well. Her father was ill and there was no other hope than a potion from the forest witch. So, she said a prayer to Farore and despite every warning, went into the woods.

          It was dark when she found the hut. The trees grew close, close like the Mazewood, but not as fair and not as kind. Yet even in the dark she could see the decoration the witch kept, though she could not tell is they were monsters or not that they had come from. Undeterred, she continued.

          The hut was old. Old as mountains, old as Maru. As she climbed the steps to the porch, she did not know how it stayed together. And the wood was angry at her for being there, a warning she should have listened to. And yet she opened the door.

          Inside was a mess. Dust and bones and dirt. And every wall, from floor to ceiling, covered in masks. They watched as she tried to sneak in, but knew there was no way to warn her now. She crept in, trying to keep the wood quiet. But the witch knows everything in her home.

          When the door closed, the girl thought that was it. She began looking for a way out, but before she could find one, she heard a voice. Old like bones, old like Maru.

         “Who is sneaking in my house?" the voice asked.

         “I am from the village, Baba. I came to ask for help," the girl answered.

          “Help? From me? You should be wiser than you are brave, sprout. I do not help anyone but myself."

          “Oh, please, Baba, I will do anything."

          “Anything? That is a lot to offer from one so small." And then from the shadows of her house, the witch stepped out to see the little girl. She was as beautiful as ice, and as serious as the grave. "Would you truly do anything for me?"

          The girl was scared, but now there was no way out. And she needed to help her papa. So, she closed her eyes and found a little bit more courage. "Yes, Baba, anything."

          The witch thought on this for a moment before she grew a wicked thought. "Very well, sprout. But you must listen to what I say and do exactly as I ask or I will eat you in the morning." When the girl nodded, the witch went on, "It has grown dusty in my house and I am busy all day and all night with my work. Make it spotless by morning when I return." And then the witch left, the door sealed behind her.

          The girl grew frightful. The witch had left no tools to clean or place to take the dust when she worked. And she worked hard for as long as she could. But she was small, and there were many nooks she could not reach.

          “Oh, no, no, no," the girl cried alone in the horrid hut. "I will surely be eaten in the morning now. If only I had the wings of a Rito, I might flap them and send the dust away."

          And then, in their great sorrow for her, there was something the hut could do. The walls shook and a mask fell from it, with the carved beak of a Rito. Scared and alone, the girl picked it up to clean the mess, when she thought she heard it whisper. "Finish your task and escape, sprout. She will not let you leave again if you stay."

          “How can I finish such an impossible task though?"

          “Wear my face and let me help you."

          No other options, she set the mask to her face. And when she looked down, she had grown wings, like a Rito. Hopeful, she began to clean, until the dawn came and the house was spotless. She snuck the mask back to the wall just as the door opened again.

          In came an old woman, horrid and bony and vile. The girl shrunk back in terror at who this might be. She watched as the old woman crossed the room and took down the same mask she had worn the night before. The woman’s jaw opened wide and she ate it whole. And then, with popping and cracking, the old woman’s bones began to grow newer, younger, beautiful again, until it was the witch from the night before. She licked her fingers and then ran one down the side of the wall. There was no dust left.

          “You have done as I asked. You may leave," the witch said, shooing the girl towards the door.

          But the girl had come there for a purpose. And even with the warning from the mask, she would not leave without completing it. Emboldened by her success, she asked, "Please, Baba, I need a potion that will save my papa. I will do anything."

          Again, to her surprise, the witch thought on this. The woman turned about the house, thinking slowly and long. "I might do this. But first you need prove yourself to me that you can. Rest, I will give you another task in the evening before I go." And a bed appeared and the girl slept until dusk.

          That night, the witch woke her again with another impossible task. "There has been no air in chimney and the fireplace gathers dirt. Shift the silt that gathers so that the wind might enter my home again. Do this to prove yourself. If you fail, I will eat you in the morning." And then the witch pointed to the fireplace, filled up the stack with dirt and debris, before she left the girl alone again, the door sealed behind her.

          Once more, the girl set to her task. After the night prior, she thought she would succeed. But too soon the night crept on and the pile was still high. She shifted through the ash, surprised to find flecks of gold. She took one and put in her pocket before continuing with her endless work.

          At last, she cried, "Oh, no, no, no, I will surely be eaten in the morning. If only I were as nimble and small as a Folmir, I might shift through this mess with ease."

          And again, there was something that the hut might do. It cried and creaked until a mask fell, a Folmir’s snout carved onto the front. Again, she took it and heard it whisper, "Finish your task and escape, sprout. She will not let you escape now."

          And yet again she asked, "How can I complete such an impossible task?"

          “Wear my face and let me help you."

          So, she once more wore the mask, this time the form of a Folmir, fast and nimble. With little hands and clever eyes, she pulled the gold from the fireplace and climbed it to the top, clearing the dirt out as the dawn crept back in.

          The girl hid the mask as the old woman entered the hut as she had the day before. And like the day before, she took the mask of the Folmir and ate it, beautiful in moments where once she had been haggard. The witch turned to the fireplace and that pile of gold beside it and nodded. "You have done what I have asked. You may leave."

          “Please, Baba, you said if I proved myself, you would help me."

          The witch looked at her, with wicked thoughts. "Would you still do anything, sprout?"

          “Anything, Baba, anything at all! I must save my papa."

          “Then sleep. And I will give you your final task tonight." And so, she did.

          When the girl woke again that night, the witch was waiting. She was already standing by the door. "If you succeed tonight, sprout, I will give you a potion to heal your papa. If you do not, I will eat you when I return. The floorboards of my home have grown old and weak. Repair them so that they do not squeak, and do not disturb what I keep below." With that, the witch left and the door sealed behind her.

          Sure of herself now and determine to save her papa, the girl got to work. But the first board was pulled back and she soon lost her courage. Below the boards were vines like snakes, the sleepy maws of Deku Babas looking up to see her. The girl returned the board as she tried to think of how she could work.

          The night crept on and she could not pull the boards back without disturbing what was below. Again, she fell to her knees and cried, "Oh, no, no, no, surely I will be eaten in the morning. If only I were as quiet and clever as a Keaton, I might sneak by unheard to fix the floors."

          Still sorry for the girl despite her foolishness, the house listened and began to shake. A mask with the face of a Keaton fell from the wall and desperate she picked it up as it whispered, "Finish your task and escape, sprout. There will not be another chance."

          Once more she asked her question and once more the mask bid her wear them and they would help. And so, she did, now as quiet and as clever as a Keaton. The boards were silent when she raised them, and no more did the vines beneath start to wake. One by one, the floor was replaced until the dawn rose and she returned the mask to the wall.

          A third time, the old woman came back, and a third time she ate the mask the girl had worn to grow young again. Then the witch paced her home and found no creak in the boards, and nothing awake beneath them.

          “Three days you have done as I asked, sprout, three successes where it was not possible. I will grant you what you seek as I keep my promises. But if you ever come to my home again, I will eat you. You will never take from me after this and if you do, it will be your last."

          “Oh, thank you, Baba, and I promise. I will never return and I will never take from you again."

          This the witch approved of and pulled a potion from her robes. She handed the vial to the girl and sent her on her way. And the girl happily left, having succeeded in her task. The potion worked and her papa grew healthy and strong again.

          But the girl did not keep her promise. For in her pocket was still the fleck of gold she had taken, and when the night came, and the witch counted her things again, she found it missing. Enraged, she screamed loud enough to be heard through Stuva, to be heard to Pabatta. And at once, the girl knew her crime.

          The house tore itself from the ground, raised by Cucco legs as the witch screamed into the night "You are a liar and thief! I will find you, child of the village, and I will eat you as I promise! Run all you wish, there is no place in Farona where you can hide."

          And the girl did run. Run and run and run every night. There was no mask to help her, but she had escaped the witch once, she believed she could do it again. And she ran every night when the house would chase her, and sleep every day when the house would rest. On and on their hunt went, and the witch grew angry. As the girl began to grow older, the witch forgot the face she was hunting. Soon she began to eat any child who wandered too close to her hut at night.

         They say if you see the witch’s house, it is already too late. That your only hope is to pray and hope the Goddesses grant you until the morning when she sleeps. Perhaps if you could confuse her, you might escape. So long in her hunt she does not know her name.

        Morena.

Chapter Text

A Faronan-Hyrulean tale as told by Prince Sydney Rophonsen Hyrule

          Once upon a time, back when spirits still walked the lands, there was a mountain spirit. He made his home in northern Hyrule, at the peak of Hebra, where he tended the snow and frost that came down from the mountain, and watched over the kingdom. Yet in his years high atop Hebra Peak, he grew lonely.

          That’s when he first saw her. Another spirit, young like spring, across the border. She was a spirit of Kapovy as he was to Hebra, the same duties to Farona, yet she was fair and bright and alive, where he was cold and bitter and quiet.

          Still, he could not stand to be alone another winter. So, he snuck down his mountain to meet her. Where he walked, the ground turned to ice and snow followed. He turned to greet her, only to watch her mountain vales be lost to snow in his wake. And yet, she didn’t run away. She stayed and they spoke and her warm laughter brought the spring thaw with it.

          When they parted, the loneliness grew for the spirit of Hebra. A year went by and he could not think of anything else but her. At least, he could not wait. He snuck back down his mountain to where they had met before, and found her again.

          As he approached, again came the winter and froze the meadows over. And again, she didn’t leave and they spoke until the mountain thawed with her laughter. It was sadder again this time when they left, and Hebra was cold without her conversation.

          The spirit did not believe she would come the third time. And yet, after a year, after he stole back down the mountain, he found her waiting. Even as the winter followed him, even before the spring could come.

          “Why are you here?" Hebra asked.

          “Because I wished to see you," Kapovy answered, as though it were natural.

          “But when I come your meadows freeze over and the beauty of your mountains are buried beneath snow."

          She laughed, flowers blooming around her. "Is that all you see, my friend?" When he confirmed it, she stepped across the border and took his hand. "Then let me show you what I see."

          And hand in hand, she walked her mountains with him. She showed him the way the earth rested, the memories the snow trapped, the time life needed to renew. And when their conversation returned and her laughter brought the thaw, she showed him how the flowers were that much brighter for their sleep, the meadows renewed after their long rest.

          “You see. There is so much beauty from the frost. In its quiet, we recover. I will always welcome that peace, my friend." And as she laughed, it was not only the spring that thawed.

          “Would you welcome my company again then?" Hebra asked.

          “Ever and always, that we should go together, to bring rest and renewal," Kapovy answered. And so they did. And the west wind would bring the winter from Hyrule over Hebra, and then the east wind would bring spring back from Farona. And between their duties, Hebra and Kapovy’s arms would meet. There they would spend the rest of their days.

          No one knows what happened to the spirits after that. As the spring still follows winter, they say the two are still intertwined. But no one knows the truth of what became of them after.

Chapter Text

A Faronan tale as told by Vasha Sevcenko

We’ll need to go back a long time ago. Before your greatest-greatest-greatest grandbaba. Back when stories happened. There were two sisters, of which one we don’t know the name and one of which we don’t say. They were like day and night, the sisters. One was bright and warm and friendly. The other, well, you know that story already.

          The two of them were sworn to protect their city, Stuva, at the seat of the Kapovy Mountains. The daytime sister was beloved in the village, for all the beauty that she brought. She was welcomed into homes, into lives, as a guardian of her people. And who would not welcome a warm spring day? Meanwhile the nighttime sister was feared for all the darker things that needed to be done. For once, her work was not cruel of her own making, only the turning of a greater wheel. She was not welcomed, left to her work along in the dark. But the two sisters loved and cared for each other, and that was what mattered.

          That was, until they fought. The nighttime sister was tired of how the village thought of her and her sister could not change what they were. Anger made the denial sound like spite. In a moment of hate and jealousy, she wished the daytime sister would sleep and not wake up. And then she wished she never said it the next second.

          But the nighttime sister should have known better. Witches’ words can do nasty things. It did not happen, her wish, not at first. And so, the nighttime sister stopped worrying and they returned as they had been. She tried to hide the anger, but it didn't go away. It was only her love that kept her from from fighting with her sister more.

          But curses are funny. They come back when you least think about it. And so that was true with the nighttime sister’s. And one day, something came, something terrible we don't remember, and made it so the daytime sister went to sleep and did not wake up.

          Distraught, the nighttime sister when to the Maru Tree and pleaded for a cure. But the Maru Tree could not undo curses, she could only lessen them for a while. A curse like this only the nighttime sister herself could undo. And she didn’t know how. But she would look. She would look for as long as she had to. Some say she looks now. That her hate festered for the village and her people when they could not tell her how. And without her sister there to temper that rage, she had only hate and spite and madness to feed on.

         Maybe she'll find it one day and they will be reunited. For what magic could truly escape a mistress of death?

Chapter Text

A Dirjaani belief as told by Jeif Il Hamuus

A hundred and one nights many times we must travel for our story, for we must return to the Creation. Back when the world was new and magic ran wild.

          The peoples of the world were made and then set free, to go and become who they would. Some pleaded to the Goddesses for gifts that they might see the world anew. Beneath the waves, through the clouds, from the core of the earth, so on. And some wandered too close to magic, the way to the Sacred Realm still open, and became something new that way.

          And still there were those that would not beg for blessing. They wished to prove their strength, to earn their place. So those people wandered to the west, and found the Rahi. At its source, they built a city that could survive the desert that spanned endlessly around them. Dirjaan was built beneath the stars and by the waters to endure all things. And so they did.

          This determination impressed the Goddess Din. While She still roamed our world, She visited Dirjaan and offered Her blessing. ‘To the children of the desert, the survivors of the untamed wilds, I give you My Power. Prove you remain worthy of it.’ And so those people of Dirjaan were born the first Gerudo.

          To Din’s challenge, they did. Some strove to expand Dirjaan, to learn, to grow, so that the city would not fall. The first of the universities were built. And then another, and another, and so on as Rahaal became a nation of study. Some left the city behind, to prove they could still survive the desert, to live in the image of Power every day. Their caravans traveled wide, settled new nations. Even some to the waters, to what would become Kohno. And some to a young nation you know.

          Hyrule.

          Settled around the opening to the Sacred Realm, it was a land that knew bounty. And so a caravan crossed this kingdom, and saw its beauty, and loved it as well. They planned their routes across it, to spend their time in peace with the peoples who had come to live there. And became something new.

          For the magic from the Sacred Realm seeped into all things in that land. And the Gerudo who traveled there were no exception. The caravan became stronger, taller, powerful. And this drew the eye of Din once more.

          See the Goddesses feared what this might do for the land bathed in light, what war it might invoke. It was no crime to wander, but it was dangerous to leave unburdened the gathering of magic in this way. So Din appeared again to Her people, to the Gerudo in Hyrule and said this, "To accumulate power is to gain the responsibility of it. To remain here, to remain what you have become, you must take on a burden to carry it or turn back. I will guide you either way."

          Again, some decided to take Din’s warning and they returned to being Gerudo as they were known. But some, led by the family Dragmire, accepted this mantle of Power. And for all the boons the magic had given them, their lineage was also burdened with the Hundred Year Son, that they may not grow too wide, that they would remember Power is to be shared, not horded. And then eventually, the doorway was closed, and there were no more who could take on this mantle.

          And that brings us back to what we know now. That story has lived in Rahaal and Kohno and the caravans and wayfinders and the Gerudo as a whole for eons. We knew there were lineages, we’ve had names for them. The Gerudo who went to Hyrule, who took on the mantle of Power, we call them Ivarkaq’Siyu. Twice blessed.

        And for those who carry only Din’s blessing, much the same. Ivarkaq’Saya. Once blessed. Of which I am. A great fortune for the world, of course. After all, could you imagine a world without this beautiful face?