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It hurt every damn time. It seared into my skin, burning in a strange way that somehow also chilled me to the bone. One step too close to the ominous, almost sentient slime made my skin and muscles tear with incredible waves of pain. It was worse than any normal injury of battle. It didn’t feel like the slash of a lynel’s axe or even the impact of thrown boulders of a talus. It was like a volley of hundreds of flame-tipped arrows, all piercing my skin at once. Somehow, worse than the excruciating pain of it all, was the panic I felt gripping my chest every time with the same intensity as the first time I felt it. When it crawled up my arm, swallowing the blade that was forged solely to eliminate it, even the agony of my own bones shattering and skin smelt into ash was secondary to the fear I felt that I was the only thing standing between this malevolent soul and my kingdom— but more importantly, my princess— and that I would fail them.
“LINK!” Purah’s shouting voice rang in my ears from the source of it being a hair’s width from one of them. She backed off and reclaimed her seat across from me. “You weren’t paying attention to any of that, were you?”
Nope. I had just been ripped out of that cave in the depths below Hyrule Castle and plopped into Purah’s study at Lookout Landing. My shoulders were heavy— they were wrapped in a blanket weighing them down— and I was holding an empty bowl on my lap.
“You were telling me about the effects of the gloom.” She reminded me softly, having gotten used to my eyes glazing over mid-conversation and only ever having one foot in reality, as she had put it. The way her tone shifted so instantly made me realize that she had been calling my name for a while before she had to shout to bring me back to the present. “That isn’t one of the effects, is it?” She asked with a mix of humour and genuine concern.
“No.” I spoke before I really thought about the question, then decided to amend my answer. “Well, almost,” I admitted, “every time I touch the gloom, it feels like I’m back there, underneath the castle.” I’d usually report straight to Josha about the gloom and denizens of the depths that I had encountered, but this conversation wasn’t strictly a report. Though I had stumbled into Purah’s study under the guise of my wanting to report on the effects of gloom, I knew that I needed more support than I could expect— or want— Josha to provide, and in Zelda’s absence, Purah made up an embarrassingly large portion of my support system.
“Hmm. Interesting…” She mummered, half to herself. Regrettably, Purah being lost in thought gave my own mind the opportunity to wander. Momentarily, I stopped fighting the urge to collapse in on myself, letting my face fall into my hands in what I would consider too weak of a gesture for the Hero of Hyrule in front of anyone I hadn’t known for well over a century. My head was aching as if I was concussed and my arm burned with the phantom pain of a limb that had ceased to exist. In my agony, I felt curse after curse rise up from my stomach in the form of blasphemy I had not allowed, even in the darkest depths of my mind, for a very long time.
I don’t want to be your hero anymore. Go find another chosen one. Leave me and my princess alone. Hasn’t she suffered enough? Haven’t I done enough of your bidding?
Perhaps I wouldn’t have permitted it, had I any physical connection to Hylia at the time. In the lack of any tangible evidence, though, how could I be certain I was the pawn of the divine? How could I know that my suffering was not simply punishment for believing I could know peace? More disturbingly, how could I know my suffering was divine will at all, and not just suffering for suffering’s sake?
I didn’t notice my shoulders shaking until I felt the pressure of Purah’s hands trying to stop them. Her face was a blur despite its close proximity to mine. “Linky, are you alright?” She looked serious, her genuine concern such a deviation from the norm it nearly shocked me back to my baseline state. I avoided answering dishonestly and instead pressed my face to my hands again. I dug my palms into my watering eyes, squeezed them shut, and sighed. When I regained my composure, I looked up at my friend and nodded. I didn’t trust my voice not to quiver.
“Well… on the bright side, we got to test that sunny porridge in action!” Her face lit up as she thought of the pun. “It seemed to really put the colour back in your face, Linky. Like, you looked super gross when you came in here but you’re looking great after just three bowls of that! I’m glad I got the recipe from you... Oh! I can get you a mirror if you—“
“No, thank you, Purah.” I cut her off, suppressing the urge to laugh at her bluntness. She may have gotten used to my antics, but that was a two-way path. Plus, I had to deal with 100-year-old-in-a-child’s-body Purah, so I was decently confident I could handle 100-year-old-in-an-adult’s-body Purah, even if she was a little mean sometimes— she didn’t intend to be, of course, it was just the way she was.
When I tried to stand and shrug off her blanket, though, she shoved me back down with a force I didn’t think her capable of. “Hey!” I countered, and I was surprised to hear a hint of a smile in my voice. “You’re sleeping here tonight. I know you won’t sleep if I let you go, so don’t even try to trick me. We need you at the top of your game to find the princess!” Unfortunately, given that she had known me for well over a century, she did, in fact, know me.
I agreed, reluctantly, after a long argument on the subject, to stay in the study for one night. I didn’t want to admit aloud that I wasn’t in any state to be out in Hyrule at night, but I couldn’t delude myself into thinking she didn’t already know. We both knew I’d be gone before sunrise, though, because even despite my blasphemous requests, I was still the chosen Hero of Hyrule. And I would save my princess.