Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
Seeping From the Cracks
Four years ago, Rook had awoken from his death slumber in the Shrine of Resurrection. He traversed Hyrule to release the spirits of their fallen fellow Champions, killed a Calamity, and ended a century of Hyrule’s suffering. And with it, Zelda no longer carried the constant, gnawing fear that Hyrule would not survive to see another dawn.
The months that followed the Calamity’s defeat had been long and arduous, but their devotion saw them through it. Once they had recovered—more so Rook, who had been struck ill with a fever in the wake of losing his arm—she and Rook sought to begin to rebuild Hyrule into something that could flourish in the wake of the devastation the Calamity had wrought upon the people and land.
Truly, to call it a labour of love scarcely conveyed the depth of dedication felt by everyone. Upon hearing Zelda and Rook’s heartfelt call to action, they responded with unwavering enthusiasm. Everyone had contributed to ensure Hyrule began to prosper once more.
The efforts were multifaceted: the Stables were revitalised, while the roadways were meticulously improved to facilitate safer and easier travel. Among the most ambitious undertakings—of which had been entirely Rook’s brainchild—was the establishment of a brand-new settlement, lovingly dubbed Dragon’s Roost, nestled just south of the ruins of Castle Town.
But it was within Dragon’s Roost heart, which Purah designated Lookout Landing, that the planning and coordination truly took shape, a living hub of maps, voices, and hard-won resolve where Hyrule’s future was argued over, rebuilt, and set carefully back into motion.
Zelda had never been prouder of what the people of Hyrule could do when putting their minds together. It was gruelling work some days, but some aches and pains were more than worth it to see Hyrule grow beyond the pain the Calamity had brought.
She did not feel guilty for loving the life that had become the norm post-Calamity. She did not feel guilty for the freedom to study, to explore, to climb mountains and forget the expectations that had once been her life.
She regrets the loss—too many people, men, women and children, had died—but Zelda could not unwind time, she could not go back and try again. This was the path that had taken shape, and Zelda did not like to entertain what-ifs. Not when she had a country to tend to, one that was now thriving.
While she had no desire to take the throne, not in the way expected of her a hundred years prior—ruling with distance and heavy expectation—neither she nor Rook denied the voices of those who asked it of them.
But Queen Zelda Hyrule? No. Soon to be Queen Zelda Hawthorne.
She was Zelda, fiancée to Rook Hawthorne, and just so happened to be the ruler of the country at this point.
Zelda sometimes wondered what her father would think, if he could see them now.
The thought came and went most often in quiet moments—when the wind moved through half-built structures, or when she and Rook were knelt in soil and helping farmers coax stubborn crops from land still scarred by the Calamity. It came when she watched him haul timber alongside labourers who still insisted on calling him Champion, even when he asked them not to.
Her father had hated Rook.
Not with the sharp, righteous anger he so often claimed, but with something older, pettier, and far more deeply rooted. It had never truly been about Rook himself—not entirely. The resentment had begun with Rook’s father, festering through old disagreements, bruised pride, and quiet political fractures that had never been allowed to heal.
His disdain had been superficial at best, built on claims so flimsy they dissolved under the slightest scrutiny from anyone who had truly known Rook.
By the time Rook had begun to grow into himself, her father had already decided what he was meant to be—unsuitable. Unpredictable. Dangerous for a princess destined to inherit a fragile kingdom already straining beneath prophecy and expectation.
Rhoam had spoken often of duty, of legacy, of the necessity of stability. At the time, Zelda had been afraid to call his bluff, even if she refused to accept those words as true because she knew they weren’t.
Now, with the castle in ruins and the old systems of power scattered across Hyrule like broken stone, she could see how fragile those arguments had truly been.
Unfortunately, scrutiny was not something the court excelled in when it came to contradicting their king.
The nobles had echoed her father’s opinions eagerly if it gave favour, their agreement slipping through feasts and ceremonies in honeyed whispers. They spoke of Hyrule’s appointed hero with admiration laced carefully with disdain. The son of the late Captain of the Guard, they would say with approval—before lowering their voices just enough when mentioning his mother, a Gerudo woman whose existence they treated as a scandal rather than heritage.
They rarely said it outright. Nobility seldom needed to. It was in the careful pauses. The lifted brows. The polite smiles that never reached their eyes when they believed Rook was not looking.
Zelda had seen it all. Heard it all. And she had watched Rook endure it with the same quiet endurance that had defined so much of his life long before the Calamity
Link had learned silence young.
Peer pressure within the knight ranks, the suffocating weight of expectation from the court, and training that often blurred the line between discipline and cruelty had carved it into him. From the moment he had drawn the Master Sword at eight years old—eight, Gods—he had ceased to be treated as a child. He had been moulded into a weapon, honed with relentless precision, his worth measured in endurance and obedience rather than laughter or rest.
Zelda remembered the stories whispered among servants and squires: the hours before dawn, the drills that pushed him until his hands bled through practice wraps, the corrections delivered not with patience but with the sharp insistence that the kingdom’s fate rested upon his shoulders and therefore allowed no room for failure.
He had grown quieter with every passing year, shrinking into the role forced upon him, praised endlessly as Hyrule’s chosen hero while simultaneously being stripped of nearly everything that made him a boy.
The kingdom had praised him endlessly as its destined hero.
It had given him remarkably little space to simply be a boy.
Her father had praised that version of Link. Had celebrated the obedient prodigy, the flawless blade forged in service to crown and prophecy. He had trusted Link-the-weapon.
He had mistrusted the man Link eventually became—the one who learned to question, to choose, to live beyond the narrow role prophecy and kingdom had carved for him.
Zelda exhaled slowly, pressing her palms into the rough wood of a fence as she watched Rook in the community garden, laughing quietly as a cluster of school children attempted to show him how to properly plant seedlings. He was doing it incorrectly on purpose. He glanced toward her briefly, catching her gaze with the easy awareness that had never faded, before returning his attention to the children with exaggerated seriousness.
She smiled to herself.
It absolutely tickled her, in a way she suspected would scandalise every proper etiquette tutor she had ever endured, that Rook possessed a stronger instinct for nurturing the flourishing kingdom through direct, grounded leadership than she herself did.
Not that she lacked capability—far from it. She thrived in diplomacy, in policy, in the intricate weaving of alliances and governance that held a kingdom together behind the scenes. She did not shy from labour either—her hands bore callouses she wore with quiet pride—but Rook possessed a rare instinct for grounding people, for reminding them that rebuilding was not simply about restoring what had been lost, but creating something kinder in its place.
And Rook…
Rook thrived among the people.
He memorised names. He remembered harvest cycles. He knelt beside builders and farmers and soldiers with equal sincerity. Leadership did not sit upon him like a crown forced into place—it grew from him, natural and stubborn as wildflowers forcing their way through stone. It was not domination. It was not an expectation. It was stewardship.
And by Goddesses, it suited him.
Rook had never chased the crown. That, perhaps, would have angered her father most of all. He wore authority the way he wore his scars: without pride, without shame, simply as something earned through survival.
Zelda had watched him grow into it, piece by painstaking piece. Watched the remnants of the silent boy trained into obedience slowly give way to a man who spoke carefully, thoughtfully, but without fear. Watched him redefine strength as patience, mercy, and unwavering presence rather than blind sacrifice.
Her father would have been furious to see it—not because Rook was failing, but because he was succeeding in ways that defied everything Rhoam had believed and claimed necessary for a ruler to be.
And yet… Zelda wondered, not for the first time, whether her father might have thought differently, had he lived long enough to see what the Calamity truly took from them. Whether witnessing the fall of the kingdom he had tried so desperately to preserve might have loosened the rigid expectations he had clung to so tightly.
Grief complicated memory. So did love.
Zelda suspected, not for the first time, that her father had feared Rook precisely because of how easily people gravitated toward him. They trusted the blunt honesty in his voice, the steadiness of his presence, the quiet ferocity with which he protected not only those he loved but those he barely knew. They trusted the way he never spoke of sacrifice as something noble or grand, only as something necessary when the moment demanded it.
And perhaps most dangerously of all, he made them believe the kingdom belonged to them just as much as it belonged to its rulers. The old monarchy had thrived on distance. Rook erased it simply by existing, and Zelda loved him all the more for it.
Zelda’s chest warmed with a familiar swell of pride she could never truly voice the extent of. He had earned that respect through sweat, through blood, through nights she knew he still spent staring at ceilings haunted by memories he rarely spoke of. He carried the kingdom the way he carried everything else—quietly, stubbornly, refusing to let it be seen how heavy it truly was.
Her father would have called it weakness. Emotional attachment. Improper entanglement between ruler and ruled.
Zelda knew better.
Rook rose from the garden then, brushing dirt from his hands as the children scattered back toward class as lunchtime ended. He crossed the distance toward her, sun catching in his wheat-blonde hair, expression relaxed in a way she rarely remembered seeing in public before the Calamity. The weight he carried had not vanished—she doubted it ever would—but it had settled into him differently now, shared rather than borne alone.
“You’ve been staring again,” he said when he reached her, voice warm with amusement.
“Reflecting,” she corrected gently.
“Dangerous pastime, my love,” he murmured, echoing a phrase he used often enough that she suspected he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.
“Perhaps,” she said. “I was thinking about my father.”
Rook’s expression softened immediately, the humour fading into quiet understanding. He rarely spoke ill of Rhoam since he woke up, even when he would have been justified.
Zelda reached for his hands, threading her fingers through his dirt-smudged ones.
“He had always been wrong about you,” she said softly.
Rook studied their joined hands for a moment before squeezing lightly. “Maybe,” he replied. “Or maybe he thought he was trying to protect you the only way he knew how, as flawed as it turned out to be.”
Zelda considered that, watching the wind ripple through Dragon’s Roost’s flags and banners. The answer, she suspected, lived somewhere between both.
“I’m glad he had been wrong,” she said at last. “He took his anger and petty grudges at your father out on you.”
Rook’s thumb brushed across her knuckles, grounding and steady, just as it had been through war, loss, and rebirth alike.
“So am I,” he said.
And somewhere, deep down, Zelda suspected that if her father truly could see them now—not as future King and Queen, not as heirs and expectations, but simply as two people who had chosen each other again and again despite the cost—he might still be angry.
But perhaps, just perhaps, he would finally understand.
︵‿༻☆༺‿︵
They had four years. Four whole glorious years of peace.
Then everything began to fall apart, piece by piece. Far more than they could have ever anticipated.
︵‿༻☆༺‿︵
It began small, not even perceived until it was already at their doorstep. Perhaps it would have remained unseen for a while longer had it not been for an entirely accidental discovery.
It had been, by all standards, an ordinary night in Dragon’s Roost. People were turning in for the night, and the streets were sparse with a few nightgoers or guards on patrol. Rook and Zelda themselves had been in their little library nook on the first floor of their home, winding down for the night with some tea and discussing Rook’s plan to drop by and see his Rito family in the coming week.
Oblivious until their beds had been discovered empty, some children had sneaked off on a silly dare. The caves to the southwest of Dragon’s Roost, often something overlooked and off the minds of adults, were a fascination to children.
Under the cover of night, a trio of them had left the safe of Dragon’s Roost and scampered across Hyrule Field toward the small cave system. It wasn’t anything grand, just more of a hollow with three different entrances. It was occasionally checked for Monsters but it was far too close to civilisation for any to get a chance to make it a den.
Still, a dare is a dare is an adventure.
But the children underestimated their parents, and soon a small gathering set out to search for the wayward younglings. Rook, with his wings, could cover ground much more easily than even horseback, so he took to the skies.
Zelda doesn’t know entirely what happened. The children had been told to leave the cave and wait there at Rook’s demand—for worrying their parents, for sneaking off at night—and sullen, they had done as they were told, standing outside the cave’s mouth.
But Rook had not followed them.
Instead of going back inside, because they hadn’t wanted to get scolded again, they had waited there, worried. Ten minutes turned to twenty to thirty before others arrived. Before Zelda, Sheik and Scorpis came galloping up on their horses. The children had been on the verge of tears by then.
“Rook is still in there!” the youngest, a Rito called Tilly, had babbled through her tears in worry.
“He said he was gonna be just behind us, but he’s—he’s not here!” the oldest, a Hylian called Drake, explained nervously.
“He said to stay here, and we didn’t want to get scolded again,” the middle, a Zora called Tonka, panicked.
“Sheik,” Zelda heard herself say, worry in her voice, as she dismounted Epona.
“With you,” he assured, following suit by swinging himself off Cresent’s back.
“Scorpis, stay here with the children,” Zelda ordered as she and Sheik hurried inside.
Holding the lantern up high, Zelda’s eyes strained through the darkness that seemed to cling stubbornly to the walls.
The tunnel opened up, and to their horror, Rook lay unconscious on the cave’s floor, wings sprawled out, as a sickly red miasma wafted from the earth. With each breath, Rook inhaled that strange, unknown mist.
Zelda’s heart stuttered in her chest. The sight rooted her there for a beat too long—the red haze curling like smoke from unseen origins, Rook’s prone form half-hidden beneath his wings. His face was ashen, strained even in unconsciousness, each inhale pulling that corrupted vapour deeper into him.
“Goddesses,” Sheik murmured, already moving, arriving at Rook’s side with a grace borne of instinct.
He crouched low, mask tucked over his mouth, and reached for Rook’s shoulder.
The miasma recoiled faintly, curling and pulsing like it was being challenged by Shiek’s proximity. Zelda felt the prickle of its malign presence against her skin. Wrong. This place was wrongwrongwrong. What was once a harmless cave now breathed with something utterly foul.
“Don’t touch it directly,” Zelda warned, forcing her voice steady though fear burned hot in her throat. “The mist—look at it.”
Sheik hesitated but did not withdraw, his sharp eyes narrowing as he assessed. “It’s clinging to him. Like it wants him.”
Zelda’s hands tightened around the lantern, then she set it down with a sharp clank of metal. She had no time for indecision. She drew closer, knelt, and extended her hand toward Rook’s back. His skin was fever-hot through his nightshirt, but underneath… with that magic she had running within her veins, Zelda could feel the fight he was putting up.
“He’s fighting it,” she noted aloud.
“We have to get him out of here,” Sheik replied, voice low and urgent. “It’s thickening. Whatever it is, if it gets deeper—”
The miasma pulsed again, as if in answer, swelling briefly before it sank back. Zelda drew in a careful breath through her sleeve, trying and failing to steady her pounding heart. She dared not let the children’s previous terror echo in her thoughts now.
“Help me,” she ordered.
Together, Sheik slid his arms beneath Rook’s shoulders while Zelda gathered his wings, careful not to wrench or fold them harshly. Even so, Rook groaned faintly, the sound a raw rasp that cut through the haze. Zelda flinched but did not stop because every second mattered.
Step by dragging step, they carried him toward the cave’s mouth. The air grew clearer the nearer they came, the red mist reluctant to follow. It curled back toward the depths, almost alive in its retreat.
Only when the first breath of night air touched her cheek did Zelda realise how shallow her own breaths had become and how the misama had been burning her throat. She stumbled into the open, head spinning as she blinked up at the starlight sky.
Rook’s body went truly limp in their arms, and she felt the weight of him fully then—too heavy, too still.
“Lay him down,” Zelda commanded, and Sheik obeyed, easing Rook to the grass. His wings were loose around him as he lay limp on his back.
The children cried out at the sight, Scorpis held them back, though his own face had gone pale at Rook limp between them.
Zelda pressed her ear close to Rook’s lips. His breaths came ragged, too shallow, each inhale still carrying a trace of red mist, even a faint wretched smell of rot. Zelda reeled back in shock.
“He’s not free of it,” she whispered, horror dawning.
︵‿༻☆༺‿︵
There was a cough, clearly one attempted to be stifled, that retched from upstairs.
Zelda paced the length of the office, worrying her bottom lip and wringing her hands together. The sun was steadily rising, bringing with it hues of orange and red that illuminated the room in gentle rays oblivious to the tension that filled her.
“Rook,” she whimpered.
It had been three days. Three long days and there was no sign of improvement. There were moments, but before long, Rook would be reduced to a feverish mess again.
He was in no state to travel despite how desperately Zelda wished to lug him to each Spring and seek help from the Golden Goddesses. It was her first instinct to find guidance from them despite how they had never answered her pleas before, but maybe they would for Rook, who was able to commune with them.
But… the Golden Goddesses do not interfere in the Mortal Realm. Their next chance had been Hylia—but she hadn’t even answered Rook, and that had confirmed Zelda’s fear that something big had arrived at their door step.
Because Hylia adored Rook—they spoke often—and if she was refusing to answer even him…
Zelda could barely summon a spark. Her powers, after a hundred years of holding back the Calamity, had waned. She could only just about summon her Bow of Light, but that would do nothing here to help Rook.
The night that Zelda and Sheik had ferried Rook back to Dragon’s Roost, there had been an immediate reaction. People hurried to try and understand what exactly was happening.
The miasma was still there in the morning. But they quickly came to learn that it was more than just in that cave. Letters from all over had begun arriving in Lookout Landing seeking guidance—this miasma was appearing all over Hyrule, leaking from caves and large cracks in the earth.
It was a miracle that only Rook had fallen into such a state. But it scared Zelda. She could recall the way it had seemed to hunger around Rook, as if trying to sink its claws into him. Had it been trying to purposefully affect him? That was her biggest worry.
It should be over. Everything was supposed to be okay now. The Calamity was gone! It was supposed to be over! Had they not suffered enough? Had Rook not suffered enough? Had she not suffered enough? Why is Hyrule always doomed to hurt?
Purah sighed from where she stood before the blackboard covered in failed after failed leads. She set down the chalk. “We know absolutely nothing.”
And that was it. They knew nothing. Not what this miasma is, not where it is originating from, not why.
And Rook was suffering for it. The longer they failed to find any lead, the longer they remained stagnant, the longer Rook would be in pain. It wasn’t fair.
“At this point, the only place we haven’t searched is the castle,” Purah grumbled to herself, reaching for her now cold cup of coffee. Still, she downed it without complaint, and Zelda bit back a grimace.
“It’s coming from the earth. Somewhere deep,” Zelda remarked aloud, eyes locked onto the blackboard. They had to be missing something. Something obvious. “Perhaps something buried and forgotten. That has to be it.”
It sparked something in her. A memory, really. Of a curiosity she had over a hundred years ago. The tunnels beneath the castle.
There was a creak from above. “What about those old tunnels your old man forbade you from exploring?” Rook croaked.
Zelda’s eyes snapped up to see Rook leaning on the banister of the top floor, peering down at them. He looked terrible, truly he did, and yet he was up.
“My thoughts exactly,” she said, then frowned and hurried toward the ladder to climb. “You should not be up!”
“I’m restless,” he complained, almost whining.
“Good to see you on your feet,” Purah remarked softly.
“He should not be!” Zelda protested, finally on the top floor where their bedroom was. Rook had backed away to let her up. “Bed, now!” she ordered.
Rook just cracked a dopey smile at her. Yet Zelda glared, hands on her hips; she was not wavering on her stance just because Rook was being cute. “Bed. Now.”
He lumbered back over and collapsed on it. He wiggled about before turning over to meet her gaze. “Happy?”
“Very,” she huffed before instantly softening, unable to stay frustrated. That Rook had even been able to get up was a good sign.
Zelda drew closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. She fretted, tucking Rook back half under the covers before stopping when he glowered at her. It lacked real heat, but she knew he was serious.
“I’ll lead an exploration into the tunnels,” Zelda explained.
Rook frowned. “Ellie.”
“It will not just be me,” she assured. “Meanwhile, you just rest, okay?”
He sighed, a raspy sound. He was tired, and the bruises beneath his eyes had never been darker. Zelda had never seen them like that. Rarely ever seen him sick. The only time had been just after he defeated Calamity Ganon and lost his left arm. It had been a terrible bout of fever and sickness, one she never wanted to see again.
Unfortunately, this was shaping up to be worse if nothing was done soon.
︵‿༻☆༺‿︵
“Explore the tunnels, I said. It would be easy, I thought,” Zelda grumbled to herself as she took Sheik’s offered hand to help her up. She staggered a little once free from the ledge, tugging down the mask to finally breathe fresh air for the first time in hours.
“Well, think about it like this, we certainly found something,” Sheik commented, white brows pinched with concern.
She groaned, shoulders slumping. “It just goes deeper!” she complained irritably, resisting the urge to stomp a foot in frustration. “I thought that the Astral Observatory room where Rook battled the Calamity was deep! These tunnels could go even deeper!”
“But why, is the question!” Josha chimed in.
Zelda and Sheik turned to the young researcher who was there to greet them and was presently embodying Purah a little too much with the waving fan motion and tapping her foot.
That was a good question. Why indeed.
Rubbing at her brow, Zelda sighed. “I know next to nothing about them. Maybe there’s a book hidden in the private library? Father evidently knew about them, and he wasn’t royal by blood. Maybe my mother told him? No, that doesn’t make sense. The priests?”
“Maybe we should see Grandmother,” Sheik suggested. “As Sheikah Elder, Impa is bound to know something. If not, the Sheikah archives may have our answer.”
Zelda found herself nodding along. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”
But why indeed. What could possibly be down there?
“I am… going to head into the castle library. I shall see you both later,” Zelda informed.
“You don’t want any company?” Josha perked up.
With a sympathetic smile, Zelda shook her head. “No, not at the moment. But thank you for asking.”
Josha wilted with disappointment but didn’t protest as she and Sheik began heading back to Lookout Landing. She watched them go for a moment before turning on her heels and wandering deeper into Hyrule Castle.
It had been some time since she was last here, barring today, but that hadn’t been for the castle itself. Stepping into the large and empty hallways always felt a little daunting for her. It was defaced, affected by the Calamity and Monster inhabitants for a hundred years.
She saw no reason to begin restoration works on it, something that was far too large a project and pointless at the end of the day. There was no one who would live within its walls anymore, certainly not Zelda, who had homes in Dragon’s Roost and Hateno.
Her footsteps echoed in the silence, muffled only when she walked on ruined floor runners.
There was a particular stench that seemed to cling to the walls. It told a story of what had happened here without the need for words. Death. Abandonment. Monsters.
Zelda would allow herself to admit that the state of the castle saddened her a bit. It had once been something grand and beautiful. An icon of envy for other countries. A man-made landmark of Hyrule. It had seen many, many foreign advisors and royalty within its walls over the course of its long history.
But Zelda did not miss it. Couldn’t miss it, not after all she had suffered within its walls.
The library was in a state of disrepair, the roof having caved in, books ruined from exposure, and even the skeletal remains of some monsters Rook had slain some years ago remained in their place of death.
Zelda walked past it all toward the very back. She had been sparsely allowed within the private, off-limits library. But ‘allowed’ was something Zelda had gotten remarkably good at sneaking around over the years.
It brought back the fond memory of Rook’s fourteenth birthday, where they had snuck into her Father’s office to get back her research journal. It had been entirely Rook’s idea, and she had never seen him so devious before. It brought a giddy grin to her face as she fingered along the tenth shelf, having to reach up on her tippy toes to gently pull the inconspicuous book to open the hidden passage.
It groaned, almost protesting, but it moved, slowly swinging itself open. It had been a few years since anyone had been in here. She believed Rook and Purah had visited at some point but that was all.
There was a small shower of dust and Zelda coughed, waving it away as she stepped inside.
The lantern was a relatively small light, casting dim rays across the small room. All four walls were lined with bookcases, with a single desk and two chairs in the centre. The small collection of books that had left on the desk were covered in dust, but everything in the room was covered in a thick layer of it.
“Good thing I have my mask,” she murmured to herself, tucking said piece of fabric into place.
Zelda started from the bookshelf closest to the door, eyes scanning the spines for something, perhaps a keyword, because, in all honesty, she had no idea what she was searching for exactly. Perhaps in regard to the castle’s history? Its creation? Something that at least might hint at as to why these tunnels had been created beneath the castle.
Zelda paused as she reached the third bookcase.
…or was the castle built over these tunnels? Built to hide these tunnels?
She took a step back in shock. Was that a possibility?
Nothing Zelda ever learnt about during her history lessons was to do with the castle’s founding or creation. Only the previous Queens and Kings and those who made history, good or bad.
“Could that be it?” she asked herself.
“Could what be it?” a voice questioned as a shadow blocked the sunlight from the doorway.
Zelda jumped, heart leaping to her throat. But it was just Rook, and he was almost swallowed up by his father’s scarf looped around his shoulders. It brought a smile to her face.
“Oh, you!” she flustered, storming over to swat at him.
He chuckled softly, letting her hit his arm because jokes on her, it was his prosthetic. She yelped, clutching her hand close.
Rook gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it better. There was a smile on his tired face. The bags under his eyes looked worse by the day, as if no amount of sleep was helping.
The worry came back full force, something her distracted mind had managed to put aside.
“What are you doing here, Pumpkin?” she questioned, linking her fingers with his.
“Restless again,” he answered, casting his eyes across the room. “Sheik said you came here in search of possible reasons for the tunnel.”
“And Purah let you?”
Rook chuckled. “What makes you think anyone knows?”
Zelda rolled her eyes, glad for the mask to hide her smile because, really, she should not be encouraging him since Rook needed to be resting.
“Well?” he nudged her to continue.
Zelda nodded. “I did come hoping to find something, perhaps even a hint or ancient text being all mysterious about it.”
Rook gave a small snicker before tilting his head. “What had caught your attention then? Before my arrival?”
Biting her lip, Zelda clasped both his hands in hers. “What if the castle was built to hide these tunnels?”
He stared at her, those beautiful aqua blue eyes staring deep into hers. It made the hint of gold around his pupils almost swim. Rook’s eyes had always been mesmerising, but there was something… more after his resurrection. Something entirely Other, something beyond mortal depths.
Zelda did not need full access to her birthright to feel it. The moment Rook had awoken from the Shrine, it was like he was a luminous star.
“You think wherever these tunnels lead, it was made to be forgotten?”
Zelda nodded, sharp and determined. “Why else would that warning be passed down through the royal family? Knowledge of its existence, but the warning to never step foot in them?”
He took a breath, squeezing her hands. “We always were ones to go against expectations, huh?”
Despite the tension, Zelda let a grin tug at her mouth. “We were.”
The moment was broken when Rook turned away, coughing into his elbow. It was wet, and like he was hacking up a lung. Zelda fret, unable to do anything but rub his back as Rook was forced to endure the episode.
It trailed off, leaving him panting, each breath shallow, wet and raspy. Her stomach sank low.
In her excitement at the idea of possibly finding a clue, she had entirely forgotten the state Rook was in. “Sheik and I will go–”
“No,” Rook interrupted.
“You’re in no state–”
“I’m the one who wields the Sword of Evil’s Bane,” Rook said sharply. “Fi needs to go down there if this is serious.”
“It will just be exploration–”
“I can feel my body eroding.”
Silence.
Rook turned away from her, not meeting Zelda’s wide eyes. “I don’t… I don’t know how much time I have. We can’t take the risk.”
Her lips quivered, eyes burning. He almost outright stated he was dying.
“Rook.” Her voice trembled, instincts lurching to deny the obvious but the words were lodged in her throat.
What could she possibly say to that?
“I know,” he sighed. Slowly, he turned back to her, just barely meeting her eyes, more so just beneath them in a way he hadn’t done in a long time. “That’s why I'm going down there with you. No ifs, and, or buts about it.”
“Okay,” she whispered, each breath felt like it would turn into a sob, and it took everything within her not to cry.
Her hand slid down his arm until it slipped into his. The prosthetic could not tremble, so it could only mean that it was Zelda who was.
“Together,” she nodded. “We’ll fix this together.”
He squeezed her hand. “We faced one apocalypse before, what’s a second? It’ll be easy as pie with our experience.”
Zelda let the giggle at his words escape.
︵‿༻☆༺‿︵
The next morning, they descended into the tunnel as prepared as they could possibly be for what might await them below. The stairway was steep, enveloped in total darkness, broken only by the flickering glow of the lantern that Zelda held high, casting long shadows that danced ominously around them.
She tried not to allow her nerves to get the better of her, to quell the flutter of anxiety in her chest, but it was just so dark down here, and they were entering unknown territory.
Zelda had tossed and turned the night before, trying desperately not to wake Rook, who needed the rest more than anyone. For what felt like hours as the moon crossed the sky, Zelda had lain in bed, silently watching Rook sleep, every wispy breath he took serving as a reminder of what was at stake.
It wasn’t that she was terrified of what they might find that kept her awake; no, it was the fear for Rook. They hope finding the cause and eliminating it will right the wrongs happening, but what if…?
Sleep had eventually found her, but it was restless and unsatisfying.
The darkness did not help her imagination. Could there be new, unknown Monsters down here? Could there be unexpected traps for any soul who might find themselves here?
But they must proceed. Stick together, observe, record any findings and report back to Purah. That was the main objective.
So they walk. And walk. And walk. Down and down and down into the bowels of the earth.
But it was more than that; the further they descended, the more noticeable the gloom was becoming. It had been a mist, barely there if anything, when entering but it had only ever grown since their descent had begun.
“The gloom keeps getting thicker…” Zelda voiced aloud quietly, frowning deeply.
Now, it seemed to cling to the walls, almost oily in appearance. It vaguely reminded her of Malice, but Malice had been viscous and prone to burning.
“Which nothing good can come from,” Rook murmured.
Zelda sighed, squinting into the darkness ahead of them. “We’ve been descending for hours now. These tunnels are so much deeper than we could have ever anticipated. What could be down here?”
The only upside Zelda saw to this was the ever-growing clusters of luminous stones embedded into the wall, as though sconces to guide their way. Zelda hadn’t noticed it at first in fact, but… were the walls changing?
Rook hurried down a few steps in front of Zelda just as she had made that observation, and she spotted what Rook evidently had—a line of three partly destroyed, roughly nine-foot-tall pillars on the left-hand side of a small open, flat area of the tunnel with odd lotus-looking buds on top. The small pond of water glinted in the lantern and luminous stone light, bringing out the odd carvings on the pillars.
“It’s so strange. The gloom isn’t concentrated enough to harm us here but on the surface? It clearly originates from somewhere down here,” she continued. Their theory was proving right then. These tunnels were built and forgotten for a reason.
“Perhaps whatever is creating the miasma wants to spread it further,” Rook theorised, approaching the closest pillar “It’s obviously working.”
Zelda paused, watching as Rook inspected the strange, faded imagery that was circular in nature, fingers lightly dragging across the surface. She looked closer, it was far from clear but… were those dragons?
“Zonai,” Rook whispered.
“Zonai?” Zelda echoed, excitement leaking into her voice.
Rook whipped his head around, and although his grin was hidden, the crinkle of his eyes was not. “This is Zonai!” he laughed giddily.
Their voices echoed softly but neither paid it much mind—not at this discovery.
Zelda moved closer as Rook unhooked the Purahpad, snapping a few close-up photos of it. Zelda, while curious about the extinct race, had nothing in the face of Rook’s quest to understand them. He had been working with Tauro to translate and explore the Zonai ruins all across Hyrule in the last four years, his fascination sparked during his travels to defeat the Divine Beasts.
“This might all be related to the Zonai somehow,” Rook said, voice dropping to an awed whisper, casting his gaze forward. “We know so little about them. What they looked like, why they came to Hyrule, why they went extinct…”
“Then we could know nothing of what we’re getting involved in,” Zelda noted, worried about such a prospect.
The Zonai were a mystery, and so were their skills and magic and ways of life—they could have been peaceful, vengeful, seekers of knowledge, so many possibilities.
Rook nodded.
“I could have never imagined this was all deep below Hyrule Castle,” Rook said softly, snapping more photos of the other pillars. “I’m sure Tauro would love to investigate this all…” he trailed off, eyes widening as he twisted to meet Zelda’s own worried gaze.
Because Fi burned hot against Rook’s back, her light spilling out around her sheath. Fi said nothing, but Zelda knew better than to dismiss such a warning. The Mastersword so rarely spoke, and if she did, it was to Rook. Zelda had only heard her speak once, and it was to inform Zelda about the Shrine of Resurrection.
“Let us carry on,” Zelda said tightly, earning a cautious nod from Rook, who placed the Purahpad into its designated pouch on his hip.
Rook tucked his chin into his hand thoughtfully. “According to what we know, the Zonai were a race of people with godlike powers and arrived in this realm from elsewhere,” Rook began. “But I’m unsure how much of this is true due to our very spotty records, even from before the Calamity.”
“What we do know is that they arrived in Hyrule after the convergence and while the kingdom was in a state of ruin,” Zelda bounded back.
He hummed. “There must be some truth in this all. But where? I’ve always believed they were not in any way Hylian-like in appearance. There are so many races that call our world home, it only makes sense.”
Zelda smiled softly. Seeing Rook deep in his passions was dangerously alluring, and now wasn’t the time, but Zelda couldn’t help but admire him when like this.
Rook carried on, leading the way as they approached an old, abandoned hallway. Finally, something with proper form.
On each side were rows of arches. Odd sconce-looking things shaped like lotus flower buds were on the walls. Old brightblooms, perhaps? But brightblooms wilted and rotted away over the course of a week once illuminated. These had remained untouched for thousands of years. That meant they couldn’t possibly be brightblooms. Perhaps created to mirror them?
Between the archways were columns with inscriptions. Rook approached the fallen column that had toppled due to a small cave-in.
Remarkably, it sustained very little damage, aside from some cracks where it had hit the floor. Rook knelt as Zelda drew close to offer more light, and he reached out, brushing a hand across the writing. “These are Ancient Hylian scripts. I recognise a few words, but none that make sense without context. Perhaps a story? Or a monument to the dead? Or… what these tunnels are about?”
“I suppose coming back once the gloom is dealt with is being bumped up a few,” Rook continued in a mutter, and Zelda, unable to help it, laughed.
Rook stood once more, brushing dust from his trousers, and they eagerly pushed on with an excitement they hadn’t felt since the Gloom had first appeared. Through the darkness of the tunnel, two strange statues appeared. They flanked the next doorway, and as the torch illuminated them, they finally saw them in their full glory.
The statues, mirrors of one another, were carved in stone and impossibly tall, perhaps reaching eight feet. They had elongated snouts unlike any animal Zelda could compare to, and had intricate robes and long ears dripping with luminous stones that cast a calming glow.
Rook gasped, whipping out the Purahpad again. His hands were trembling in excited as he snapped photo after photo from as many angles as he could.
“So this is what a Zonai looked like?!” Rook beamed. “Oh, this is incredible! Artistic liberties have no doubt been used, but this is quite possibly the only remaining depiction of what a Zonai looked like! By Farore’s green earth—this is—oh, this is amazing!” Rook hopped around, almost squealing with happiness. “Tauro’s gonna be so excited!”
Zelda laughed at Rook’s enthusiasm, pressing a hand to her cheek as she watched him practically vibrate.
“C’mon, let’s see what else there is!” Rook exclaimed, his eyes sparkling as he dashed ahead, his laughter echoing softly through the dimly lit corridor. With a warmth in her chest, Zelda hurried after him.
But Zelda quickly noticed that Rook had halted just shy of the next chamber. Odd. She stepped up beside him and realised why he had stopped.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Before them lay a vast room, its ancient walls adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to dance in the flickering lantern’s light.
From the floor to the ceiling, the entire room was covered in intricate, stunning murals. Embedded within were precious gems and luminous stones that brightened the room enough to render the lantern unnecessary. Their shine danced across the room like a thing of beauty.
Shaking from his stupor, Rook marched right up to the first mural, eyes gleaming as Zelda drank in the rich, glowing murals.
“From what I remember, the written history of the royal family includes stories of a great war during the era of re-establishment. It was a conflict between allied tribes and someone only ever referred to as the Demon King,” Rook murmured.
“That’s right,” Zelda confirmed, crossing the room to stand beside Rook.
The first mural was of a Zonai. He looked male by his flat chest and minor masculine appearance, as much as the murals allowed anyhow. A leader, perhaps? He was standing on what seemed to be a floating island, and surrounding him were seven floating tear-shaped stones. On the surface below him were Hylians, Gorons, Zora and Rito. Notably, the Gerudo were absent from the mural.
“So detailed,” Rook breathed.
“Do you think these murals are depicting the Imprisoning War?" Zelda asked, turning her eyes to the next. Rook followed, snapping photo after photo.
“These carvings certainly suggest that Zonai ‘descended’ and… Didn’t you say that the royal family of the new kingdom after the Convergence was from a union between Hylian and a supposed being descended from the heavens?
“These murals certainly seem to say that,” Zelda agreed, hardly able to believe it. It had always felt like a fairy tale in truth, some supposed birthright to ensure the royal family stayed, more than just the women being of Hylia’s blood.
The next mural featured the same male Zonai and a female Hylian, with opals inlaid to create beautiful patterns, or perhaps tattoos. Both were reaching out their hands, palms touching. A symbolism for marriage?
Above them were two more of those tear-shaped stones, carved to look as if glowing brightly. The inlaid topaz certainly gave that feel.
“If that’s the case, then this is depicting the re-establishment of the Kingdom of Hyrule!” He spun to face her with shock, shock that Zelda was no double mirroring. Rook grabbed her shoulders and shook. Zelda giggled. “This is—there’s so much information here! This confirms that you're descended from Zonai ancestry!"
Ahh. That would be what Rook focused on.
Zelda laughed even harder at that, trying to stifle the sound. He pouted at her. “What?”
“It’s the Zonai aspect that excites you the most, huh?”
He blushed, fiddling with his scarf. “Sorry.”
“Oh, no, no, it’s adorable, Honey-bun,” Zelda winked playfully. The red darkened, and Rook hurriedly turned back to the murals, shifting to the next. Zelda grinned so widely her cheeks hurt.
The third retained the Zonai and Hylian woman, but this time there was a short Hylian figure with down-tilted ears between them. On a level below the trio were four figures, who were clearly the other races that called Hyrule home. A Zora, a Rito, a Goron, and the fourth, was it another Zonai? Below even those five figures were Hylian soldiers. Again, a Gerudo was absent from the mural.
Was this during a time when the Gerudo were divided from the rest of Hyrule?
“I wonder who that is?” Zelda hummed. “A child, perhaps?”
“Possibly,” Rook agreed, snapping another photo.
The fourth mural was of a large, imposing man and the Hylian woman, the Queen, Zelda realised belatedly. She was suspended in the air, in an arched-back position that suggested an attack. A redness crept across the image from beneath the man, curling over him and reaching for the strange, tear-shaped thing that hovered over the woman. It was haunting in its beauty.
“This man… appears to be stealing something of power from the Hylian Queen… perhaps a representation of the kingdom?” Zelda theorised. “The tear-shaped symbol has appeared several times, the first with the Zonai. So perhaps they are Zonai in origin?”
Rook made an agreeing sound. “It does look like it.” Then his eyes widened. “I think this is exactly what we think it is! I think this might really be the Imprisoning War.”
Her heart leapt to her throat. “It makes perfect sense,” she realised.
They shared an awed glance.
Zelda turned her eyes to the fifth scene, finding Monsters overpowering the Hyruleans, this time with Gerudo in the mix. But the Monsters and Hyruleans were not the main focus of it. No. It was the man from before, the one that had stolen the tear-shaped item from the Queen.
Now, he was more monster than man, with curling horns and flames for his hair.
Something about his gaze made Zelda’s stomach twist sickly. The warmth of the lantern was gone. It felt like the figure was staring straight into her soul, leering.
“A fierce battle with the being only ever named the Demon King incarnate,” Zelda murmured, recalling her own recollection. “If this really is a depiction of the Demon King incarnate and events of the Imprisoning War, this is a huge discovery! To think this has been down here all this time!”
Zelda was really matching Rook’s enthusiasm now. Such history thought lost right before their very eyes. Even depicted by those who had suffered through it!
Rook scampered onto the next panel, but Zelda remained in place, almost transfixed in place. Something about the man held her there. Why? What did this supposed Demon King incarnate get from invading Hyrule? It was certainly newly established after the Timeline Convergence rattled the world, Hyrule having been affected more than most due to its rich and complicated history.
Maybe he sought to take advantage of Hyrule’s weakened state to claim it as his own?
But… did the Zonai arrive after the Convergence? Did they perhaps exist in another timeline, just like the Rito had? The Rito had been far too removed from Zora to return to the water, and thus the species remained separated from Zelda’s understanding.
Her gaze turned to the previous mural, featuring the younger Hylian between the Hylian Queen and the Zonai King.
They were dressed in some form of blue drapery that was a mix of the Zonai and Hylian woman, with sapphires for eyes. She had suggested their child in the moment, but something about that felt… wrong, now.
Her heart leapt when Rook coughed wetly, almost retching from the intensity.
The mural forgotten, Zelda hurried her way over to Rook as he wiped at his mouth of red. Her stomach sank. How long had he been coughing up blood?
“Rook–”
“The rest of the mural is obscured,” he grumbled, tucking the mask back into place.
Zelda spared the area a quick glance and he was right. At some point, a rockslide had occurred, covering the entire far right of it. She turned back to him.
“Rook—”
Rook interrupted her again, frowning deeply. “I suppose we’ll have to continue exploring this aspect later. Ready to keep moving?”
She sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to win this battle, staring intently after Rook as he turned and walked away. There would be no getting him to talk, nor rest, at this point. Zelda was more than aware of this. Rook was much too stubborn.
Stubborn as a mule, as Ms Atari used to like to call her son.
With another sigh, Zelda spared the murals one final glance before following after Rook, where he waited for her at the continuing hallway. The stairs ended, lost beneath rubble and ruin, but they descended still, mindful of where they placed their feet.
“I can’t help but wonder why these hallways were forbidden and forgotten,” Zelda questioned aloud.
“And I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something here,” Rook grumbled. “Why would anyone want to keep this whole area a secret? It can’t be because of what’s shown in those murals. Let’s hope we get some answers further below, especially if it involves this Gloom.”
Soon, the path had grown a little too narrow for them to walk side by side, and Rook took the lead, using the lantern to guide his way.
The further they went, however, the thicker the Gloom became. It wasn’t notable at first. Not until they reached another set of stairs, one slightly more put-together. The Gloom seemed to waft up through the earth itself, similar but much denser than the first time they had seen it in the cave.
“Perhaps we should turn back,” Rook said nervously, pausing where he stood a few steps ahead to watch the Gloom.
Zelda could understand why he was apprehensive about continuing after his up-close-and-personal experience with it. Her own nerves were beginning to run wild. The Gloom was making her dizzy. Each breath made her throat twinge with an ache as if an oncoming bout of illness, but they had come so far.
“Perhaps another twenty minutes,” she suggested. “We have come this far. If these stairs don’t end soon, then we shall turn back, regroup and try another day.”
Rook’s brows pinched in a clear desire to protest, glancing down into the descending darkness. “Okay. Twenty minutes. Next time we can prepare better.”
Zelda nodded, and they walked on, descending further and further until they finally reached some form of bottom. As they did, there was a noise drifting in the air—soft and musical yet haunting at the same time. It wasn’t actually music, Zelda realised after a moment of feeling it. It was magic. A tingling sensation of waning Light magic, the remnants of the magic were fading, but the song was going strong.
Zelda was enraptured by the enchanting voices carried on the magic. Unfamiliar, foreign voices sang in a way that she couldn't distinguish if they were speaking words or not. The intensity of the situation they were beginning to find themselves in only made the unease in her stomach worse.
Lingering at the bottom of the stairway, they shared a long glance where several things went unspoken; they acknowledged that there must be a connection between the Light magic and song, that the Gloom must also be coming from beyond here, and whatever they were about to find was the reason they had come all this way.
Rook nodded, indicating his readiness, and despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, Zelda returned the nod. They would face whatever was ahead of them together, as one.
In tandem, Rook and Zelda walked on in search of the origin of the Light magic and Gloom. After hours of descent, standing on a ledge of a chasm, they get their answer.
Beyond the reach of their lantern's feeble glow, the chamber lay cloaked in darkness. But through the darkness of the cavern rose a slow swirling green. It was what was creating the hymn, which resonated with even greater intensity than ever before, echoing through the air. It was bone-chilling, and gooseflesh prickled along her arms.
“What is…” Rook stumbled over his words. “Have we found it?”
Zelda peered across the chasm that separated them from the strange green glow. She had no idea how deep it was when it was instantly swallowed up by darkness.
“I… suppose so. Let us proceed with caution,” she warned.
Rook moved first, using the dubious-looking stairs to approach the strange magic. As they drew closer, the swirling magic's light illuminated the area enough to realise that there was a mummy, suspended in a haunting sight that suggested a moment forever trapped in time.
Its form was arched back, as if caught mid-stagger, frozen in an eternal scream. The remnants of its clothing, though tattered and covered in a fine layer of dust, betrayed hints of former elegance with intricate patterns and rich textures that had somehow survived however long it had been down here. The mummy's long, dull red hair cascaded from its desiccated skull, flowing like a river toward the ground.
Resting heavily upon the mummy's chest was an unnerving sight—a hand, seemingly disembodied, its fingers grabbing possessively at the lifeless form’s chest. This hand was the origin of the eerie green luminescence, casting an otherworldly glow that illuminated the surrounding darkness. Its surface was adorned with ornate jewellery, a striking ensemble that flowed seamlessly from the slender fingers up to the elbow—if the elbow had still been intact, that is.
The juxtaposition of the ancient, silent screaming mummy and the pulsating, vibrant hand created an atmosphere thick with the uncanny. Zelda stood frozen, grappling with the bizarre scene before her, a whirlwind of confusion and dread swirling in her stomach.
Rook cautiously moved.
“Rook,” she warned, but he gave her a reassuring look and Zelda only watched, heart in her throat as Rook stepped closer.
“What are you both?” he breathed.
Then, there was a soft crinkle as papery skin gave way, and suddenly, the glowing hand fell to the ground, limp.
Rook leapt back, and both of them tensed in fear.
Clink, clink, clink, cliiink.
The small, strange glowing stone that had been embedded in the hand’s jewellery had popped free as the hand fell and rolled its way toward Rook. Rook slowly knelt. He made a precautionary touch, and when nothing happened, he picked it up to examine it more closely. The stone shifted from a white glow to gold as Rook held it.
He rubbed his thumb across the surface. “It’s got some sort of engraving on it…” he mumbled. “…Light?”
Then, something before them crackled.
It was different from the papery rustle of the hand, and instantly, Zelda knew something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Frozen in place, the pair could only watch as the mummy began to twitch, its joints popping like snapping twigs. Dust swirled through the air as it lurched forward, then tumbled back, nearly folding in half.
The mummy’s head snapped—the sound reverberating sickeningly through the cave—as it swivelled around to face them. For a heartbeat, the air hung in eerie silence, humming with nothingness. Then, its hollow sockets flared to life—eyes burning with malice.
Impossible.
Zelda stood frozen. Rook, struck dumb with shock, fell back onto the ground—just as an ear-splitting screech tore through the air and a mass of condensed Gloom—Malice?!—hurtled toward him.
Zelda acted on instinct. She summoned every drop of strength she had left, focusing on the love she held for Rook. A burst of dazzling Light magic exploded outward—
—and did nothing.
The Gloom devoured her magic effortlessly, then began gnawing at her flesh.
She screamed, the stench of searing skin filling her nose as the Gloom ate away at her arm.
“Zelda!” Rook shouted.
And then, he was there. He threw himself in front of her, swinging the Master Sword with his left hand.
The Gloom recoiled. Zelda collapsed to her knees, sobbing, clutching her arm to her chest.
But the Gloom surged again, undeterred. Rook swung once more—Fi gleaming, the beginnings of a beam attack building—when—
—the blade s h a t t e r e d.
There was a beat of stillness, shock, as the shards scattered, one slashing across the mummy’s face—
“Rook…”
Zelda’s next sob caught in her throat. Rook staggered beside her.
The mummy stood now, towering over them on the dais.
“Rook,” it said again, condescending amusement dripping from its voice. Zelda’s heart seized in terror. “After all you did, this is how you’ve come to face me? A blade so weak cannot save you from me, child. And here I thought that Construct might have given you the advantage you needed.”
It took a staggering step forward.
“And Zelda,” it spat her name like filth. “Rauru placed his faith in you, and that was the best you could do? What a pitiful excuse of Hylia’s blood you are!”
“How… how do you know our names?” Rook stammered, his voice trembling. Zelda could only stare, horror locking her in place.
But the mummy before them remained silent, its gaze piercing through the darkness, unblinking and unfathomable. Suddenly, with a wild, unsettling laugh, it raised its mottled, ragged arms high above its head, summoning an ominous shroud of Gloom.
The cave around them came alive, violently shaking as if it were a living creature in distress. Twisted cracks spiralled across the ground beneath their feet, wide enough to swallow them whole. As the mummy's maniacal laughter echoed off the cavern walls, dread coiled tightly in her chest, amplifying her sense of impending doom.
“Run!” Rook shouted, grabbing Zelda’s arm, shoving the Master Sword into her grasp.
She staggered to her feet, clutching Fi close, as the ground began crumbling beneath their feet. Then, she was shoved forward, collapsing onto the stairs, and she shrieked as Rook began falling behind her.
Without an ounce of hesitation, Zelda dove after him, her injured right hand outstretched for his.
As the rocks rumbled and tumbled down around them, the mummy’s sickening laughter echoing, something grabbed her wrist. She cried out as Rook continued to fall and fall and—and then gold, gold, gold and he’s gone.
“No!” she wailed.
The glowing hand pulled her up and up and up—and her last thought before nothingness was Rook.