Chapter Text
Do you know?
Do you truly know?
Even if you defeated my master, I am still here.
Still watching.
Still standing.
You grew strong.
You took the shapes of the creatures of the night.
You thought that made you untouchable.
But power always leaves a scar.
You are no longer eight.
You are incomplete.
The last member will be the key to my return,
the final lock that will break you from within.
So tell me, dear heroes,
when the darkness wears a familiar face,
who will win this fight this time?
- D.L.
This was an important moment for Link, even if he did not want to admit it to himself. On his little island of Outset, traditions were not things one questioned or avoided. Every boy, on the day of his fourteenth birthday, was expected to wear the green clothes modeled after the Hero of Time, a custom passed down through generations and spoken of with a reverence that made it feel older than the island itself. It was meant to bring good luck, or perhaps courage, or maybe simply to remind the island that heroes could come from humble places.
Link never said out loud that he did not care much for the tradition. He saw the way his grandmother’s eyes lit up whenever she spoke about it, how she carefully folded the clothes days in advance as if they were something sacred.
He saw how his sister could barely contain her excitement, already planning the celebration and talking about how grown up he would look. Knowing all that, he swallowed any protest before it could even form. Disappointing them felt far worse than wearing clothes he felt no attachment to.
To him, the day itself was just another step forward, another marker of time passing. What truly mattered was what the birthday meant beyond the island’s expectations. Fourteen was the age when he could finally begin training as a sailor, when the sea would no longer be something he admired from the shore but something he belonged to.
Ever since he was small enough to trip over his own feet, he had dreamed of ships and distant horizons, of becoming a son of the sea and letting the wind carry him wherever it pleased.
That restlessness was what brought him to the beach that night. He sat on the sand with his knees drawn up, the quiet sound of the waves filling the spaces between his thoughts as he waited for midnight to arrive. He knew he should have been sleeping so he would be ready for the next day, but his mind refused to settle.
The stars stretched endlessly above him, cold and bright, and as he watched them he felt the familiar pull of something greater than Outset Island. With the ocean before him and the sky overhead, sleep felt impossible, and staying still felt even worse.
That restlessness was made worse by the strange feeling twisting low in his gut. Since the day he was born, Link had carried a peculiar triangle-shaped symbol on the back of his right hand, something no one on Outset ever seemed quite comfortable talking about.
Whenever he asked his grandmother about it, she would smile softly and tell him it was nothing to worry about, her voice gentle but final. The other islanders reacted differently, offering only silence or hurried looks away, as if acknowledging the mark at all might invite something unpleasant.
It had never truly bothered him before. The symbol had always simply been there, a familiar part of him like the freckles on his skin or the salt in the air. Tonight, though, it felt different.
All day it had itched beneath his skin, not painfully, but insistently, as though it were trying to get his attention. It felt like a question without words, demanding an answer he did not know how to give or even where to begin looking for.
Still, when he glanced down at it, he could not bring himself to resent it. The soft lines of the symbol caught the faint light like something precious, reminding him of the stars scattered across the sky. He loved the stars dearly, almost as much as he loved his family, because they had always been there for him, steady and bright whenever he needed company.
As if responding to the thought, the symbol flared to life when he shifted slightly to his right. A faint glow spread across his hand, warm and steady, and Link frowned at it in confusion. He pushed himself up and turned back toward the path that led home, but the instant he did, the light faded away as if it had never been there.
That only made him pause. Slowly, he turned back again, and the glow returned, stronger this time, pulsing faintly beneath his skin.
“Huh” he murmured under his breath as he lifted his hand toward the sky, aligning the glowing mark with the distant stars above. The sight sent a strange shiver through him, curiosity blooming where uncertainty had been moments before. “Should I follow you?”
Testing the feeling, he turned slowly in a full circle, watching his hand the entire time. The symbol dimmed and brightened as he moved, until it became clear that it responded to only one direction, glowing steadily whenever he faced it.
Link let out a quiet breath, equal parts amused and intrigued. It was not as though he had anything else to do, and the pull in his chest felt far too deliberate to ignore.
The pull of the symbol guided him all the way to the island’s port, stopping only when he reached a thick bush near the edge of the docks. Confused but unwilling to ignore the insistence in his hand, Link crouched and carefully crawled behind it, peering through the leaves as he tried to understand what he was meant to find there.
Before he could make sense of it, the feeling in his gut intensified sharply, twisting into something urgent and unmistakable. The need to hide crashed over him so suddenly that he froze in place, every instinct screaming at him to stay exactly where he was.
He strained to look around, his heart pounding as he searched for any sign of danger, and that was when the night was split apart by a violent explosion from the center of the island.
The sound echoed across the shore, followed by a distant flash of light that painted the sky in harsh colors. Link’s breath caught in his throat, and he instinctively tried to stand, desperate to see what was happening and to run toward the village.
His body refused to respond. No matter how hard he pushed or how fiercely he willed himself to move, he remained trapped behind the bush. The symbol on his hand burned now, no longer glowing but searing, as though it were anchoring him to the ground by force.
If he focused hard enough, he could hear the screams carrying on the wind, fractured and panicked, threading their way through the crash of the waves. His gaze stayed locked on the beach, his chest tight with dread as he searched for the source of the chaos.
A lone figure dressed in dark colors emerged from the shadows, walking along the shoreline with unhurried steps. Link held his breath, sweat prickling across his skin as fear curled in his stomach. He prayed silently that whoever it was would not be something cruel, not something that meant to hurt his home.
When the figure moved closer, his heart twisted painfully as he recognized her. It was his sister, stumbling along the sand with a fresh cut on her arm, dark against her skin and clearly in need of immediate care.
Panic surged through him, raw and overwhelming. He tried to scream her name, to force his legs to move, to do anything that would let him reach her and pull her to safety. The symbol did not relent. It held him in place as surely as chains, leaving him helpless as he watched the person he loved most walk through danger alone.
‘Please, let me go. I need to help my sister’ The plea echoed uselessly in his mind, unanswered and ignored, as the invisible force holding him in place refused to loosen its grip. His chest ached with the effort of fighting it, every breath shallow and uneven as panic clawed its way up his throat.
His breath hitched when another figure stepped onto the beach, emerging from the darkness with an air that made the night itself seem to recoil. This one was older, dressed in black from head to toe, a strange hat casting shadows across his face.
When he lifted his head, red eyes gleamed in the starlight, sharp and unnatural, and Link flinched instinctively, a low, silent growl building in his chest as the man drew closer to Aryll.
He forced himself to focus, straining to catch fragments of the conversation as the man lowered himself to one knee in front of his sister. Aryll looked small standing there, fear plain on her face despite her attempt to appear brave, and the warning in Link’s gut roared back to life, screaming danger with every frantic beat of his heart.
The man’s voice carried easily across the sand, deep and rough, threaded with something that reminded Link uncomfortably of a predator circling its prey.
“Alone? It’s not safe for som—”
The words were cut short, but the tone alone was enough to make Link’s skin crawl. Nothing about the man felt safe, and yet Aryll, too trusting and far too kind for a world like this, simply nodded in response. She said something softly, her voice lost to the wind and the pounding of Link’s own pulse, and the man’s smile widened in a way that made his stomach twist.
The man rose to his feet and reached out, his hand closing around Aryll’s with terrifying ease. He turned, guiding her away from the shoreline and farther from where Link was hidden, farther from where Link could do anything to help her. Panic surged violently through him, flooding his senses until it was all he could feel.
‘No, no, no. Don’t go. Aryll, please’ His mouth opened in a silent scream, his throat burning with words that refused to come out. His gaze snapped back to the man, and for one awful moment their eyes met.
The red gleam there held a cruel amusement, paired with a sharp grin that spoke of confidence and certainty. Link wanted nothing more than to tear that expression away, but all he could do was watch as his sister was led into the darkness, while the symbol on his hand burned like a brand sealing his failure into his skin.
He was only a defenseless boy, rooted in place and forced to watch as silent tears slid down his face and soaked into the sand beneath him. There was nothing he could do as his sister was taken from him, nothing he could offer her but a helpless stare.
If he had possessed the strength for it, he would have cursed the symbol carved into his hand, blamed it for every second of his inaction, but even that felt beyond him. All he could manage was to look on blankly as his home burned in the distance and Aryll vanished from sight, swallowed by the darkness.
He remained there on the unforgiving ground for what felt like an entire lifetime, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the empty stretch of beach where she had last stood. Time lost its meaning as the night dragged on, the shock numbing him until even his own thoughts felt distant.
He did not remember when exhaustion finally overtook him, only that at some point his body gave in, pulling him into a restless and fractured sleep filled with half-formed fears and flickers of firelight.
When he finally woke, it was to the sensation of someone shaking him, insistently but not unkindly. He blinked blearily up at a woman standing over him, worry written plainly across her face.
She wore a blue uniform unlike anything he had seen before, the fabric strange and unfamiliar against the backdrop of the ruined shore. Her voice cut through the haze in his head as she spoke, sharp with concern. “Kid, what are ya doing here?”
He groaned softly and lifted a hand to rub at his eyes, trying to clear the fog of sleep, before the memories crashed back into him all at once. Panic seized him, and he bolted upright with a gasp. “Aryll” he choked out, scrambling to his feet despite the way his limbs trembled beneath him. “She needs my help”
He turned instinctively toward the direction she had been taken, ready to run no matter the cost, but the moment he stood fully upright the world lurched violently around him. Dizziness washed over him in a crushing wave, his vision darkening at the edges, and if the woman had not reached out to steady him, he would have pitched forward and collapsed onto the ground once more.
“Honey…” Link turned fully toward the woman, murmuring a quiet thank you under his breath as he steadied himself. His grandmother had raised him better than to be rude, even when fear and grief threatened to overwhelm him.
He leaned against a nearby tree, the rough bark pressing into his back as he tried to ground himself, and frowned at the concern etched deeply into her expression. When he glanced down at his hand, the symbol was dull once more, showing no sign of the strange life it had held the night before, as if it had never burned or guided him at all.
“What happened?” His voice came out rougher than he expected, his throat aching with the effort of speaking after hours of crying and screaming into the silence. The woman let out a soft sigh, the sound heavy with exhaustion and regret.
She hesitated before answering, as though searching for gentler words that simply did not exist. “Outset Island was attacked. We were searching the area for survivors. I’m sorry, kiddo” she said quietly. “Ya are the only one we found.”
The words did not register at first. Link blinked several times, staring at her as he tried to piece together what she meant. When understanding finally sank in, it felt like the air had been torn from his lungs. “What?” he asked weakly, his voice trembling despite his attempt to stay steady. “And Aryll? She was taken by a strange man.”
He looked up at the older woman with a heart already splintering, clinging desperately to the certainty that his sister was still alive somewhere out there. He refused to accept any version of the world where she was not.
The woman’s brow furrowed deeper as she listened, her mouth tightening with concern. “Yer island was attacked by monsters” she replied slowly. “There weren’t any humans involved. Maybe ya hit yer head…” The last part was muttered under her breath, more to herself than to him, but Link still heard it.
He pouted at that, frustration flaring through his grief. She was treating him like a confused child, dismissing what he knew he had seen with his own eyes. It had been real, no matter how strange or frightening it sounded, and he would not let anyone tell him otherwise. The man with red eyes had existed. Aryll had been taken.
“Well” the woman said after a moment, clearly attempting to shift the conversation, “I’m Malon. I work for the Forest Care division of Hyrule Castle Town.” She offered him a small, tentative smile and extended her hand toward him. “And ya are?”
Link noticed the sudden shift in her tone and topic, and though it raised questions in his mind, he pushed them aside. This was not the moment to dwell on her discomfort when his own world had just fallen apart. What mattered was understanding what had happened to his island, to his home, and to the people he loved.
“Link. Nice to meet you” he said quietly as he shook her hand, his grip weak but polite. Malon gave his hand a gentle squeeze before guiding him toward the beach. His steps slowed as he took in the sight before him, his eyes scanning what had once been Outset Island.
The familiar shapes of houses and paths were gone, replaced by blackened ruins and drifting ash that clung to the air. He took an unconscious step forward, drawn toward the remains, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him in place.
“Let’s not go there” Malon said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made it clear she meant both the physical place and the memories tied to it. “Ya know what Forest Care is?” Link shook his head, his throat tightening as he followed her toward a large boat anchored nearby. He did not trust himself to speak again, afraid that if he did, his voice would shatter completely.
The ship loomed over him as they approached, its size impressive in a way that made his chest ache. He had seen boats before, of course, and he even had one of his own, a small vessel called the King of Red Lions that he cared for dearly, but this was something else entirely. It felt like a symbol of how far he was about to be taken from everything familiar.
“Well, Forest Care is where kids like ya go when they get orphaned” Malon explained as she led him closer, her hands moving in exaggerated gestures as she spoke, as though trying to make the words easier to understand. “My job is to find adoptive parents who can give ya a place to live again.”
Her accent was thick and oddly musical, almost funny in a way that might have made him smile under different circumstances, and Link wondered briefly if that was simply how people from the city spoke. For now, though, all he could think about was the weight of the word orphaned and how quickly his life had been reshaped by it.
They stopped at the edge of the boat, the wooden planks creaking softly underfoot, and Malon excused herself, walking off to speak with someone else. Link remained where he was, hands at his sides, watching the crew move about with practiced efficiency.
The initial thrill of seeing such a massive ship began to fade as reality crept back in, settling like a stone in his stomach. His home had been reduced to ash, his sister had been taken, and now he was being sent to the city because he wasn’t yet eighteen, handed over to strangers who probably only cared about the paycheck attached to his survival.
It felt impossible, the sense of being uprooted before he could even process the loss, and he could not see a way to find his family in this new, harsh world. Thoughts of his grandmother pressed against the edges of his mind, each one more painful than the last, and he imagined her final moments, wishing desperately that he could have been there.
He wondered if he would ever see her body, if anyone would have bothered to mark a grave, or if the remains of his home would simply be left to vanish into nothingness. Not that he could find out for himself, Malon’s hand on his shoulder had prevented him from approaching the wreckage.
A sharp sting in his eyes made him blink, and he realized he had been holding back tears. His hand brushed against something familiar in his pocket, and he pulled it out slowly: Aryll’s spyglass, worn and scratched but unmistakably hers.
He sniffed, drawing in a shaky breath that steadied him more than he expected, and his eyes hardened with determination. He would not give up yet. Not while she was out there somewhere, waiting for him. She needed him, and he would find her.
“Ready to start yer new adventure?” Malon’s voice called out, bright and cheerful, carrying across the deck. Link looked up, startled, and for a moment he could only stare at her, caught between confusion and the faint spark of hope her smile had sparked. “Wha—?”
Malon laughed, and for a moment the sound was enough to soften the crushing weight that had been pressing down on Link’s chest since the night before. “Ya never been to the city, no?” she said easily, her eyes bright. “It’s a whole new world. Come on, ya will like it” There was such confidence in her voice that it almost made him believe her.
She took his hand and guided him onto the boat, pressing a canteen into his hands once they were aboard. The cool water helped chase away the lingering dizziness, and he drank greedily before handing it back with a quiet thank you.
Malon gestured toward one of the nearby cabins and then headed inside, leaving him with a clear, unspoken invitation to explore. Who wouldn’t take that golden opportunity.
He took off across the deck, curiosity briefly overpowering grief as he looked at everything around him. This wasn’t anything like his small boat, or even like the vessels he had imagined in his daydreams.
It felt solid and purposeful, a real ship built to endure long journeys rather than a simple fishing run. Crates were stacked neatly along the sides, filled with who knew what, and he found himself a little disappointed that it didn’t resemble the pirate ships from his stories. Pirates were cool, after all.
With no real destination in mind, he wandered from one end of the deck to the other, humming softly to himself as he peeked into corners and examined ropes, pulleys, and unfamiliar equipment.
He caught himself wondering if they might have some rum hidden away somewhere, like in the tales he loved, even if it was always technically borrowed. Laws and rules had always felt like boring obstacles meant to be worked around rather than obeyed.
He came to an abrupt stop when he noticed a tiny mouse perched delicately on the railing, its nose twitching as it surveyed the open water. His face lit up instantly, and he sprinted toward it just as the boat began to move out to sea.
The sudden lurch sent the mouse squeaking in alarm, its tiny body slipping dangerously close to the edge, but Link lunged forward and caught it just in time, cradling it carefully in his hands before it could tumble into the waves.
“That was close, phew” he sighed, looking down at it as his heart slowly settled back into his chest. The small animal stared up at him with wide, beady eyes, its whiskers twitching as though it were just as startled as he was.
“You… can see me, child?” the creature asked suddenly. This time it was Link’s turn to squeak, the sound slipping out of him before he could stop it as his hands jerked in surprise. He nearly dropped the tiny body, only managing to steady himself at the last second.
“Since when do mice talk?” he blurted out, lifting his hands closer to his face as he tilted his head in open confusion. The little creature huffed and planted its paws firmly on its hips, striking a pose that looked far too expressive for an ordinary mouse. “I am a Mimish” it corrected him sharply. “Not a mouse. Only those pure of heart can see me.”
Link hummed softly in response, nodding as if that explanation made perfect sense, even though it very clearly did not. The creature was undeniably cute, but it was also the last thing he had expected to encounter on this strange day.
A small part of him wondered if Malon might have been right, if he had hit his head harder than he realized, because this was somehow even stranger than the man with red eyes.
“Oookay” he said slowly, drawing the word out as he studied the Mimish for a moment longer. With a quiet sigh, he let it climb up and settle on his shoulder, where it perched comfortably. “Then why are you here?” he asked as the tiny creature reached for his right hand, gripping it with surprising firmness before pressing its paws gently against the triangle symbol on his skin.
“I’m here to help Malon” the Mimish replied, giving the mark one last reassuring pat before letting go. It scampered up and climbed onto Link’s head, disappearing briefly into his hair as it made itself comfortable.
Link lifted a hand to give a quick wave to one of the crew members passing by, then turned his attention back to the small presence perched above him, his curiosity burning brighter than his lingering fear.
“Helping with wha—WOAH” Link blurted out, the rest of his question vanishing as he leaned forward against the railing. The vast stretch of land rising in the distance stole his breath away, sprawling far beyond anything he had ever imagined.
His eyes sparkled as he took it all in, the sheer size of it making his chest feel light and tight all at once. He had never seen anything so big, so full of possibility.
Malon stepped up beside him and rested her arms on the railing as well, letting out a soft, almost fond sigh. “Welcome to land, sailor boy” she said warmly, reaching out to pat his head in an easy, affectionate gesture before turning to head off the boat. The nickname made his ears warm, but he didn’t protest, too caught up in the moment to care.
Before following her, he tilted his head slightly and addressed the Mimish still perched in his hair. “You want me to take you somewhere?” he asked quietly. He felt a small shift, and the Mimish hopped down until it was right in front of his nose, its tiny face serious now.
“Don’t worry” it said confidently. “From here, I know where to go. Good luck, sailor.” With a soft huff of amusement, Link wondered why everyone seemed so determined to call him that. He carefully lifted the Mimish and set it down on the deck before jogging off to catch up with Malon, who had already begun speaking with someone near the gangplank.
She turned toward him as he reached her side, her expression gentler now that they were off the ship. “Just follow me” she said softly. “We’ll get ya settled in the orphanage before a friend of mine comes to see ya” She took his hand again and led him into the heart of the city, where the streets were alive with movement and noise.
Link stayed close, his grip on her hand tightening slightly as he took in the bustling world around him. The towering buildings, the crowded streets, and the constant hum of voices were so different from the quiet familiarity of his island that it made his head spin. He felt Malon’s fingers brushing gentle patterns across his hand as they walked, a small, grounding gesture that drew a faint smile from him.
They stopped in front of a large building that towered over the street, its stone walls worn smooth by time. Even before they went inside, Link could hear the sound of children shouting and laughing nearby, the noise crashing over him all at once and making his shoulders tense. It was so much louder than anything he was used to, and the sudden chaos left him feeling small and unsteady.
Malon guided him through the doors and over to a desk near the entrance, where she began speaking with a woman who looked up at him with polite but assessing eyes. Link knew he probably should have been listening, but his attention drifted almost immediately when raised voices caught his ear from outside.
He turned slightly and spotted what looked like a fight unfolding near the entrance, a short boy with bright pink hair shouting animatedly at someone out of view while a taller, brown haired boy stood just behind him, watching silently.
When the brown haired boy turned, their eyes met for just a brief moment, and something about the look made Link’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Malon called his name then, snapping him out of his distraction. He turned back to her and followed without hesitation, leaving the strange scene behind as though it had never mattered in the first place. “Let’s go” she said gently. “I’m taking ya to yer room so ya can rest” She nudged him toward the stairs, her hand firm but kind at his back.
As they climbed, Link couldn’t help but notice the look the woman at the desk had given him before they left. It was the same look he had caught from some of the crew on the boat, and from the brown haired boy outside, a look that lingered just a second too long to be meaningless. He wondered what it meant, and why it made him feel uneasy in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.
They stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the hall, and Malon pushed it open. The room beyond was small and plainly furnished, holding only a bed, a desk, and a narrow window that let in a sliver of light.
It wasn’t much bigger than his room back home, and the realization struck harder than he expected. His old home. Outset Island. He stood there quietly, wondering if he would ever see it again.
Link turned back toward Malon, finding her watching him with a soft, thoughtful expression. She reached out and ruffled his hair in an affectionate gesture before offering him a reassuring smile. “Rest up until my friend comes” she said lightly, as if this were all perfectly ordinary.
Curiosity stirred despite his exhaustion. He wondered who this friend was, this mysterious person she kept mentioning, and why meeting him seemed so important. “Why do I need to meet him, though?” Link asked as he sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly to test it. The mattress was firm and plain, nothing special, but at least it was comfortable enough.
Malon laughed, the sound bright and full, filling the small room so completely that it almost felt tangible. “He’s always wanted to meet a sailor, so this is a good chance” she said, her grin widening.
Something about the way she smiled made Link pause, and he studied her face more closely. She tilted her head before continuing, her tone softening. “He’s a friend of the family too, almost like a son to me, so he’s safe”
Link hummed quietly at that, leaning back and letting his gaze drift up to the ceiling as he tried to push his lingering worry aside. After a moment, he smiled back at her, careful to keep his doubts hidden. “But I’m not a sailor yet” he pointed out gently.
Everyone kept calling him that, even though he had never crossed the Great Sea or gone on a true adventure. Everything he knew had been learned on his own or during short trips close to home, usually with Aryll by his side.
“Oh, for sure” Malon replied easily, waving a hand as she turned toward the door. “Ya know these things better than anyone else.” She paused just long enough to give him another look over her shoulder before leaving. “I’ve got to go. If anyone knocks three times, it’ll be my friend.”
She was gone before Link could even think to say goodbye. The door clicked shut softly behind her, leaving the room suddenly quiet in a way that felt too heavy. He sighed and lay back on the bed, folding his hands over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling once more, counting the faint cracks that ran through it.
Everything about his situation felt unreal, as if he had stepped into someone else’s life without warning. As his breathing slowly evened out, a memory surged forward without permission, vivid and warm and painfully distant.
“Grandma! Grandma!” five year old Link shouted as he ran as fast as his short legs would carry him toward the house. Earlier that day, she had sent him off to play on the beach while his parents went to look for her, though she never explained what that meant.
He had never met them, and even now he did not know who they were supposed to be, but that had never bothered him much. His grandmother had always been enough. S
he was standing in the doorway when he reached the house, and he barreled straight into her arms, laughing as she wrapped him in a tight hug. He nuzzled against her without thinking, comforted by her familiar scent and the steady warmth she always carried.
“Dear, what’s with all this energy?” she asked, her voice raspier than usual. He frowned up at her for just a second, a flicker of worry passing through him, but it was quickly forgotten when he remembered what he had been so excited to show her. He pulled back just enough to hold up his hand proudly.
“Look!” he said eagerly. “When I was playing in the waves, my hand burned a little, and this appeared” A strange triangle-shaped symbol marked his skin, fresh and unfamiliar, and he had thought it was something amazing, something special.
His excitement faltered when his grandmother froze, her face draining of color as she stared at the mark. Before he could ask what was wrong, she pulled him into a tight embrace, far tighter than before, her hands trembling.
“Oh no…” she whispered, and Link blinked in confusion as he felt her shoulders shake. She was crying. He hesitated, then awkwardly patted her back the way he had seen adults do when someone was upset. “Grandma?” he asked softly, but she did not answer him. She only held him tighter, as if she were afraid to let go.
After that day, he asked less and less about the strange mark on his hand. Each time the memory surfaced, it carried with it the image of her fear, her tears, and the way she had clung to him. Eventually, he convinced himself that maybe it wasn’t important after all, just another thing he was better off not understanding.
A knock on the door snapped Link out of his thoughts, the sound sharp against the quiet room. His heart jumped, and he sat up, listening carefully. One knock. Then another. He waited, just as Malon had told him to, until the third knock echoed through the hallway before he finally stood and crossed the room, his hand hovering briefly over the handle as he wondered what, or who, might be waiting on the other side.
When he opened the door, he was met with a sight he had not expected in the slightest. A tall man stood in the hallway, dressed in what looked unmistakably like knight’s armor, polished and elaborate in a way that felt wildly out of place in an orphanage.
It wasn’t that it wasn’t cool, because it definitely was, but it was still surprising. If Link looked closely, he could even spot what seemed to be a touch of makeup around the man’s eyes, subtle but deliberate. Huh.
“Hi” the man said cheerfully. “You must be Link. He extended his hand with a bright, friendly smile, and for just a fraction of a second, Link thought he saw something sharp flash behind it, teeth that looked a little too pointed to be normal.
The moment passed so quickly that he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, and staring would have been rude, so he shook the man’s hand instead. “And you are…?” he asked politely.
“Link,” the man replied without hesitation. Link smiled automatically, then froze as the word registered. He stared at him in open shock. “What.”
For his entire life, he had never met anyone else with the same name, and now here was this strange knight saying it so casually. Maybe it was a joke. It had to be a joke. The man laughed at his expression, clearly amused. “Yeah, funny, isn’t it? But I go by Warriors. I know other Links”
Link wasn’t sure what to comment on first, the nickname or the casual mention that there were apparently more people named Link out there. Way too many Links, honestly. His brow furrowed as he processed it, then his expression shifted into something more stubborn.
“Now I want a nickname too” he declared, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms with an exaggerated pout. It was only then that he realized Warriors was still standing in the hallway, and embarrassment rushed up his neck as his ears turned red. He hurriedly stepped aside and gestured toward the room. “Uh… you can come in”
Warriors laughed easily as he stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him before dropping onto the bed and patting the space beside him in invitation. Link followed, sitting down with care and leaving what felt like a respectable amount of space between them, his legs crossing as he settled in.
There was only one thing on his mind, and it felt important enough to say immediately. “Help me choose a nickname” he said, his tone earnest and a little demanding, even if it wasn’t meant as an order.
Thankfully, Warriors only chuckled in response, clearly entertained. As Link studied him, he caught a brief red glint in the other man’s eye, gone almost as soon as it appeared. I
t made his thoughts drift to the mystery books he liked to read, the ones filled with secrets hiding in plain sight, and for a fleeting moment he wondered if he had somehow become a detective himself, trying to piece together clues in a very strange case.
“Well” Warriors said after a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “I know you came from an island, so maybe something sea-related?” Link hummed at the suggestion, his brow furrowing as he thought it over. “Ocean” he offered after a second, testing the word aloud.
Warriors snorted and shook his head, clearly unconvinced. “That sounds more like a big, strong man” he said, gesturing up and down at Link with a teasing grin, “not…” He trailed off pointedly.
Link growled playfully at that, his lips curling into a grin. “Oh yeah? Like this?” he challenged, suddenly lunging forward. He tackled Warriors onto the bed, and they both burst into laughter as Link ended up straddling the older man, victorious despite himself.
It was only then that he noticed how cold Warriors felt beneath him, the chill seeping through his clothes in a way that didn’t feel normal at all. Another thing to add to the growing mental list, he decided. Still laughing, he sat more firmly on Warriors’ chest and smirked down at him. “Maybe Rock” he suggested smugly. “The weight’s the same.”
Warriors gasped in exaggerated offense, clutching at his chest as if wounded. Link didn’t miss the chance. “For that, you need to be punished” he declared dramatically, grabbing a nearby pillow and hurling it straight at Warriors’ head.
The impact sent them both into another fit of laughter, Link laughing so hard it almost hurt, the sound filling the room with something that felt dangerously close to joy.
Warriors placed his hands on Link’s hips and gently pushed him back, making Link giggle as he was nudged away and forced to sit upright again. He looked up just in time to see Warriors stroke at an invisible beard in mock contemplation before smirking, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “What about Wind?” he suggested. “You’re sneaky like one”
Link laughed at first, the sound light and automatic, but it faded as the word settled in his mind. He rolled it around silently, testing how it felt, how it sounded when it belonged to him. His nose scrunched as he thought it through, then he glanced back up at Warriors with a crooked smile.
“You’re shit with names,” he said honestly, though there was no real bite behind it. His grin widened a second later. “But I like it. I will be the great sailor Wind” He puffed out his chest dramatically, striking a proud pose that made Warriors’ smile soften in response.
That strange glint returned to Warriors’ eyes, lingering just long enough to make Wind notice it again. The urge to ask about it tugged at him insistently, curiosity burning at the edges of his thoughts, but something deeper warned him to stay quiet.
He had the distinct feeling that asking the wrong question right now might open a door he wasn’t ready to walk through. So he swallowed it down and said nothing.
Warriors let out a quiet sigh, still smiling, as he stood and gave Wind’s head a gentle pat. “I’ll take you around the city tomorrow” he said calmly. “Rest up. Someone will bring you lunch here” Wind nodded and waved back as Warriors left the room, the door clicking shut behind him and leaving the space suddenly still.
“Well… shit” Wind muttered to himself under his breath. He pushed himself off the bed and rummaged through the desk until he found a small notepad and a pencil tucked away in one of the drawers.
Taking them with him, he sat back down and began to write, his hand moving quickly across the page as he recorded everything that had happened, from the burning symbol to the island, the man with red eyes, the city, and the knight who wasn’t quite normal.
He wrote before the grief could fully catch up to him, before the weight of it all could crush his chest, because deep down he knew he still hadn’t truly processed any of it. For now, putting the words down felt like the only way to keep himself together.
outset is attacked by something and gets burned??
Aryll gets kidnapped by some evil man → was dressed in a strange way
i get taken away by some strange people and moved to a city (wow)
everyone looks at me in a strange way
warriors is weird and doesn’t know how to give nicknames
i need to find a way to escape. where do i go?
i need to save aryll.
He let out a long, shaky sigh and lay back on the bed, staring up at the piece of paper clutched loosely in his hand, his thoughts spiraling as he wondered how his life had unraveled so quickly.
Just yesterday, his biggest frustration had been the idea of dressing up like the Hero of Time for a tradition he barely cared about. Now he didn’t even know if he would ever see his grandmother again, or if his sister was still somewhere out there waiting for him. The contrast felt cruel, almost unreal.
His nose stung as he pulled Aryll’s spyglass from his pocket, clutching it tightly along with the notepad as though they were anchors keeping him grounded. He closed his eyes, and the tears he had been holding back finally spilled over, silent and relentless.
He hugged himself as he curled inward, drawing his knees close to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible, as if shrinking might somehow make the pain easier to bear.
He had never wanted any of this. Not the loss, not the city, not the strange mark on his hand or the weight of expectations suddenly pressing down on him. And yet, beneath the grief, something stubborn and unyielding refused to let him give up. He pushed himself off the bed abruptly, sucking in a deep breath as his vision went dark for a moment, the room tilting before slowly righting itself again.
When the dizziness passed, he crossed the room and went to the window, peering down at the distance below. The height made his stomach flip, but it also stirred something determined in him. He glanced back at the room one last time, aware that someone would come soon to bring him lunch, and that if he stayed, he might never leave at all.
Slipping the spyglass and the notebook securely into his pockets, he carefully opened the window and climbed out onto the emergency stairs just beyond it, the cool air brushing against his face as he began his quiet escape.
He slipped through a narrow alley, pausing briefly to glance around and make sure the streets were empty, before launching himself into the shadows. His feet pounded against the cobblestones as he sprinted, heart hammering not just from exertion, but from the surge of purpose that had taken root inside him. Turning a sharp corner, he skidded to a stop, and his breath caught in his throat.
A massive castle loomed before him, its spires stretching toward the sky like jagged teeth, the walls etched with intricate patterns and symbols he could not hope to read. Statues flanked the path leading to the entrance, each carved with careful precision, and each covered in the same strange writing.
The language was completely foreign, yet he felt a pull toward it, an instinct that urged him to wander among the figures despite understanding nothing of their meaning.
He paused in front of one statue in particular. It was impossibly detailed, right down to the folds of its scarf, and somehow, impossibly, it looked a lot like Warriors. Wind’s heart skipped a beat, his mind spinning as he thought back to the strange red glint in Warriors’ eyes, to his warmth and coldness all at once.
Carefully, he pulled out his notepad and pencil, sketching the statue quickly, each stroke capturing the sharp lines and familiar stance. As he worked, memories of the day’s chaos and laughter, of the naming and the ship and the city, tumbled through his mind, each one pushing him forward even as fear and grief lingered at the edges.
He turned away from the statue and noticed a small forest tucked just beyond it, a clear river winding lazily through the trees. Curiosity tugged at him, light and insistent, and he decided to follow it, wondering where the water might lead.
The cool splash of the river lapped against his shoes as he walked along its edge, the rhythmic sound of flowing water settling something inside him that had been frayed all day.
He hummed softly as he moved, glancing up at the sky and the pale warmth of the sun filtering through the trees. Part of him wondered if anyone had noticed he was missing from the orphanage but he pushed the thought aside. For now, he let himself be present, each step over the uneven ground grounding him in the moment. Nature had always been calming, a quiet friend in a world that often felt too loud.
“Hey!” The shout broke the gentle murmur of the river. Wind froze, scanning the forest carefully. A high squeak followed, and then something tiny bumped against his leg. His chest lifted in delight when he realized it was the Mimish from that morning, its small body shaking slightly as if excited to see him again.
“Hi! You’re back” Wind said softly, sinking to the ground to be closer to his little companion. He studied the Mimish, hoping the twitch of its whiskers and the tilt of its head was a smile. He had already grown fond of the creature, even if a small part of him wondered if it was some trick of his imagination.
The Mimish waved at him before nimbly climbing onto his knee, balancing with surprising confidence. “Why are you here?” Wind asked, cooing unconsciously at the tiny creature. It was almost too cute to be real, the little head tilt making his chest warm despite everything he had endured that day. For a brief, fleeting moment, the world felt quiet, safe, and full of possibility.
Wind huffed softly, letting the question settle before answering, a small pout forming on his lips. “Dunno. Everything feels too strange, and it’s all happening too fast” His words were honest, tinged with the exhaustion that had been building inside him all day.
The Mimish reached up and gently tapped his nose with one tiny paw, and Wind’s chest lifted with a warm, unexpected feeling. That was definitely a smile, he was certain of it. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here” the little creature said softly.
Wind giggled, the sound bubbling out of him despite the tension in his shoulders. It was oddly funny, being comforted by something so small and delicate, and the absurdity made the moment lighter. He hummed quietly to himself before tapping his knee twice, patting the ground beside Four. “Your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘small creature.’”
He paused, then laughed again, the sound soft and bright in the quiet forest. “Also, I’m Link. Or newly named Wind.” He smiled at the words, savoring the feel of the name, letting it settle over him like a cloak he could finally wrap around himself.
The Mimish seemed to catch his laughter, responding with a soft, happy trill of its own. “You can call me Four” it said. Wind blinked at the unusual name, then nodded. Strange as it was, it suited the creature perfectly. After all, Four itself was strange, and Wind liked that about it.
A gentle melody drifted through the forest then, soft and sweet, laced with something almost magical. Wind blinked slowly as the song wrapped around him, the notes tugging at his eyelids until they felt impossibly heavy. He hummed along unconsciously, curling up on the ground without even realizing it, letting sleep pull him under like a quiet tide.
He didn’t notice the soft padding of four sets of feet stopping nearby, the rustle of the forest brushing against him. He didn’t even notice the eyes watching him as his consciousness began to slip away.
But before he finally drifted completely under, a single image cut through the haze: the brown haired boy from earlier, standing silently just beyond the trees, watching with a look he couldn’t yet understand. And then the world went dark, gentle and quiet, carrying him away into sleep.