The pounding hooves of horses raced across vast fields with angry shouts of men and clashing of steel. The grand castle in the background was shrouded in an eerie glow of neither darkness nor light. This was our battlefield.
Suddenly, nothing.
My battle abruptly ended when I realized the emptiness around me. The air lay still. The mystic barrier was gone, and then the deep scream of agony reached my ears. My opponent seemed equally stunned. I dared not drop my precious scimitar in my haste. I sheathed my weapon and rushed to my husband's side. I dreaded forfeiting focus to what existed ahead of me, so I watched my feet and willed them to go faster. My mind grew numb, only functional enough to command my protesting body forward through the bruises and lacerations I earned from my battle. The tortured scream haunted me and my mind flew into a flurry of irrational thoughts. I needed to know if my imagination was more radical than reality, so I forced my eyes ahead. I regretted my decision immediately. The truth was worse than my nightmares.
My husband, my every reason for living, labored to his feet with a sword impaled through his torso and protruding out his back. That man never quit. He refused to be defeated lying down. I slowed my approach and stood directly before him. His eyes were glaring, but their glimmer of ambition and determination quickly faded. His words to our enemies were full of anger and promise. His eyes at last peered upon me, and he spoke directly to me. His guttural whisper was inhuman. I was horrified at the blood seeping from the corners of his lips. "Go to your people, my queen. I will-." His soothing, reassuring words were abruptly interrupted. Startled, I glanced up from pressing my forehead to his cheek. His eyes were blank. Life was extinguished. "Ganondorf?" My voice was thick with disbelief. I placed my hand against his face and slid my fingers along his jaw, from his ear to chin. "Ganondorf!"
No response.
"Ganondorf!" I wailed, and fell to my knees at his feet.