Author's Note: Hi, fellow readers and writers! I know that I haven't posted anything in a long while, and that's because I was seriously busy with my school's musical, Cats. (It was awesome!) However, now that the musical is over, I've written something for your entertainment. I was playing Twilight Princess and had just gotten to the Twilight Realm, and I realized how truly, crazily artistic and beautiful the place is. I wrote the first couple of sentences of this one-shot, and the words just kept coming! This entire thing took... hmm, I think it was four hours overall. It's a little bit crazy; please inform me in a review if you couldn't understand something.

Well, I'll stop talking. I hope you enjoy this. :D

When I first entered, my airway clogged and tugged, as if someone had shoved strings into it and twisted them into a cat's cradle. My lung muscles became limp; labor was required to move air in and out. My entire being shivered and shook. An appalled artistic appreciation, that, and an ecstatic sense of wonder, had me floating. What I existed in, what I was blessed to be in the presence of, was outstanding, breathtaking, like I had just woken from unconsciousness and stepped into a fascinating new world of unconsciousness, bending the reality of my dreams, straining them, stretching them, and letting the remaining follicles collide together into this Twilight.

However, my admiration was short-lived, and my onslaught of fear was sudden.

The shock of the world's newness quickly shrank into pure and exact terror; this new feeling stabbed. My weak, sensitive heart palpitated. I heard and saw all of Twilight too acutely; I was momentarily overwhelmed by the fact that my eyes had any vision at all, or that they were unkindly sentenced to witness this state of living. Despair and melancholy were not strangers to this land. It was as though all of Light's faults had been rudely dumped in this world, its sins that the Light world could not live with and decided to unfairly inflict upon the Twili. Vociferous, amorphous denizens writhed, scraping their throats and limbs with their palms, the wicked delight of a climax combining with a sad ache of depression. Emotion here was a chorus of constant hums, of pain and pleasure, of the palpable atoms of desire and malice perforating the air with a tortured, melodic moan. This moan shuddered through my heart, burning my spine as it trickled through like acid. Reality as I knew it committed suicide, leaping out the nearest window to its graceful, painful death. Living in the intestines, the guts on the sidewalk of a morbid reality was what living in Twilight was.

I left that world as quickly as I had entered it, and fainted with relief when I recognized the world of Light surrounding me again. If the effects of the Mirror on Yeta and Armoghoma hadn't shown me a world of sin and pain, then the hell that I just exited had done the deed. Ignorance, my naive perspective of humanity, no matter their race, had not included the perpetual whip of miserable subsistence the Twili were victim of. In my restless sleep, I'd made up my mind that the blissfulness I had pleasantly strolled alongside for all of my life, even if it was childish, was never leaving my sight again.

I awoke gasping when I realized I had just been unconscious. This was now a state of being that I feared, for it connected me to that surreal, irrational place.

I was terrified of Twilight, and sat at the top of the sandy path that led to the Mirror. I'd fidget and trace my left hand occasionally, the hand that held my Triforce, and triumphantly swivel around, only to snap back to my original, cowardly position and inch my body one step down. When I finally reached the bottom stair, I considered warping away from the Chamber forever, letting a replacement hero go in instead, but noticed a quiver in my shadow, a quiver made by the one obstacle between me and my liberation from the Mirror's constant silver gaze.

"You're leaving Twilight because of me, aren't you?" she whispered.

My quiet meditation reached its peak of silence as my eyelashes pointed to the horizon. I exhaled slowly and became pensive. Being informed of the conditions that Midna had lived in her entire life, the stark antitheses of my positive ones, made me unsurprised that she would choose the most disheartening reason for me to abandon her request. This feeling was soon followed by thoughtful sympathy.

Did she really think I was that mad at her for not telling me her true identity? Did she think I was that coldhearted? Had she lived in such a pessimistic realm long enough to convince herself that humanity thought so lowly of her… that I thought so lowly of her? I shriveled when I thought of how I had gotten her hopes up, how she had finally seen her long-lost subjects and palace, and how she had been harshly dragged by the ankles from that setting, courtesy of an absolutely hideous and cruel monster. By me.

As the silhouette of her Fused Shadows steadily rose from the shadowed grey sand, I sighed. Her yellow eyeball surfaced and looked at the object nearest to her, my left hand, which flickered weakly with a golden hue. This hand drummed its fingers, my signal that Midna should fully expose herself.

And my thoughts, while she drifted upwards, drifted to her vociferous subjects, and I wondered how Midna, serene, lovely, wispy Midna, had dealt with the insanity. I opened mental doors and began to realize.

The only thing Midna ever knew was that people hated each other, and that people hated her. Even if she were a fully competent ruler, which she was, she would still be ruler of an insane kingdom. And she believed the one way to stay above those unappreciative, unkind people was to match… no, exceed their faults with her very own. Now, however, that she had been exposed to the merciful, caring, even loving world of Light, revelation had overcome her. Yes, she was completely serene and lovely.

Had she once said that the people of Twilight were pure and gentle? Ludicrous. I frowned as I realized that the oblivion, the lunacy of Twilight had corrupted her soul; I had never felt sorrier for anyone.

Then I remembered her words…

"But things changed once that foul power pervaded the world…"

…and I opened my eyes. Midna, before that foul power, had always been serene and lovely. The entire realm had been the same. When she came into Light, she had not been changed with a new perspective; the harmful blanket that had suffocated her in Twilight, that had refused revolution and invited hatefulness, had been uncloaked, a blanket that had been laid down by Zant.

I snarled at an unbounded contempt for that criminal. If I could defeat him, everything in Twilight would change. Everything would be pure and gentle.

And this was when I reversed my previous decision. No matter what my fear shouted at me, I would go into Twilight for Midna's sake.

I slowly elevated, my breath uneven and my back hunched in a barbaric fashion. My vision became tinted with a rich gold, and I knew my eyes were turning the same color. I felt like a warrior. I felt like a god that had the strength to change the world.

I turned to look at my upright shadow.

Midna's stance was resistant, halting, like a shy animal, like I would lunge at any moment and she would be forced to flee. I smiled at her. Not because I reveled in my sudden dominion over her actions, and not because of a villainous pleasure at my newly acquired golden eyes. I smiled because I wanted her to be happy, and because I knew I would be able to do so.

My legs ran me to the portal, and, for the second time, I entered Twilight.