A/N: As of January 26, 2009, I have done a major overhaul of chapters 1 - 8! The basic plot has not changed, but nearly every conversation between Link and Zanna has been reworked or completely rewritten, and the scene with Fanadi has changed drastically. I feel like Link and Zanna have a lot more chemistry now, and the story as a whole moves more smoothly (I did a LOT of editing.) So, if you have already read and like the story, I would recommend skimming through the chapters and checking out the new Link / Zanna conversations, as well as the Fanadi scene in Chapter 4. Hope you like it!
Triforce of the Gods
Chapter One: The Prophecy
Far in Northern Hyrule, on the brinks of Peak Province and nestled secretly amongst the snowy mountaintops, there was a village. Though small and humble, it housed the last of a mighty tribe of warriors, whose influence had once been felt in the farthest regions of the country. The tribe had all but died out, and those that remained were held together only by empty traditions and a refusal to abandon their way of life. They were known as the Sheikah... the Shadow Folk.
In this sleepy villa lived a passionate, angry young woman. Her heart bled for her forgotten people, and for the corruption and injustice of Hyrule– for the senseless misery the Goddesses had set upon the land. She mourned mortal vulnerability and the fruitlessness of Hylian toil.
The woman's name was Zanna, and she dared to hate the Goddesses. She had spent her life studying the lore of her tribe harder than any other pupil, scouring it in hopes of finding something that contradicted her suspicion that the Goddesses were cruel and sadistic. Instead, she discovered only that evil had invaded the land of Hyrule hundreds of times since its creation. In every incident, the Goddesses intervened with a hero. But the evil always rose again. Why? The question haunted her, blanketing even her happiest moments with doubt. Finally, Zanna's research led her to conclude that the great Triforce which was created by the Goddesses at the dawn of Time had spawned not only legendary strength and virtue... but legendary evil as well.
The Goddesses were not all-loving, or all-wise. It struck a note that resonated in the lowest chamber of Zanna's soul, rattling her very core. She couldn't understand why the Goddesses would create the earth and then use their power to torment its defenseless inhabitants– endlessly flinging their world back and forth between turmoil and fleeting peace. Zanna's eyes were sharp– all around her she recognized injustices desperately in need of righting. But she was cursed by Heaven: a mediocre sorceress in a forgotten tribe that no one desired, with a body barely strong enough to survive her frigid mountain homeland, let alone lead an army. She had no means to change the world. The Goddesses had shown her a need for action, then condemned Zanna to a life of uselessness. And for that, she loathed them with all of her bitter, broken heart.
But the atrocity had only begun to unfold.
While dreaming in her small, stone house one night, Zanna received a prophecy. She saw Hyrule field. A thick, black shadow began sweeping across it like water soaking into fabric– racing over the fertile ground. All things it touched began to swim and detach, blood spilling from the mountains like rivers as ancient trees crumpled to black husks. She saw people becoming sickly and growing mad. They wandered the streets like beggars as their skin rotted on their flesh, yellow eyes rolling. Zanna was struck by the magnitude of their pain– a physical pain that was aching hot, and an emotional pain so blinding that it made them clamber over one another in desperate terror. Their minds seemed to swim with fever; they frantically clawed at their hair and faces as they cried out for help. No one answered.
Hyrule was dying.
Then, suddenly, light erupted from a mountaintop far in the distance. Zanna's heart leapt with hope, and she shot toward the peak with an unearthly speed. Her spirit roared across the jagged cliffs until– halting in surprise– she reached the top. At once, her insides twisted and she gave a furious, inhuman cry.
"Why have you abandoned us?" she screamed at the floating white orbs, her body clenching against the scathing winds.
The three divine lights brightened softly, sending out a wave of warmth.
"Forgotten child," they whispered, the words caressing her. "Beloved seer, restore balance to our land."
"You gave me nothing," Zanna cried softly, dropping to her knees. "I have nothing to give these people."
"Restore peace," they replied faintly as they began to ascend through the dark fog. "Restore balance."
Zanna reached after them, but they ignored her silent plea. "Don't leave me," she wept. "Don't leave me with nothing!" The orbs continued to disappear, and Zanna lurched against the void with self-righteous fury. "Don't leave me as I am! If I am to fix this land, then give me a way to do so!" she demanded.
Silence reigned as the Goddesses disappeared. Zanna awoke, screaming and tangled on her floor as she tore at her bed sheets.
oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo
"Morning, Zanna," Zanna's younger sister, Helyn, acknowledged before Zanna was even in the kitchen.
Zanna came up behind her, ruffling Helyn's curly red hair almost absent-mindedly. "Morning," she responded.
"I was just getting breakfast ready," Helyn said lightly as her hands guided her slowly around the room. Wide and unseeing, her pale blue eyes were fixed permanently into space. Helyn had been born blind, and not even the village's wisest healer had been able to do anything about it. Making breakfast was Helyn's small contribution to the family and a way for her to establish some semblance of independence. It was not a challenging task, seeing as how there were only three of them: Zanna, Helyn, and their grandmother Cedra. Zanna and Helyn's parents had perished long ago, when Zanna was seven and Helyn was too young to speak. The couple had disappeared on a supply trip and the exact circumstances of their deaths were unknown, even to Cedra. Zanna was certain, however, that their wagon was raided on the way back from Kakariko.
She knew it because Zanna was the most gifted empath the village had witnessed in decades. All Sheikah sorceresses-in-training were required to practice the art of sensing other people's emotions, but Zanna had taken it to another level entirely. She could sense trouble in a village miles away, just by picking up feelings of terror or anger. Sometimes she could influence people's emotions with her own, making them feel content or ill at ease. In extreme cases Zanna could even feel the physical pain of others, although she tried vigorously to contain that aspect of her abilities. The night Zanna's parents did not return on schedule, Zanna complained of a sharp pain in her shoulder, an ache in her head, and then– as the red sun sank behind the horizon– her lower-left abdomen began to bleed profusely. Cedra barely saved her from bleeding to death, but in the morning there was no scar to be seen. Zanna's clothing was caked with blood from an injury that had not existed.
The village elders generally agreed that it was dark witchcraft, but Zanna knew the truth. Her mother had been shot in the shoulder and tumbled out of the wagon, and her father had been run through. Bandits, most likely.
It was the first of many offenses the Goddesses would commit against Zanna.
"What's the matter– are the eggs undercooked?"
Zanna suddenly realized that while she'd been staring into space, her sister had put breakfast on the table. "Oh... No, they look great. Sorry." To avoid further questioning, she immediately dug in and occupied herself with the food.
"You had another nightmare last night," Helyn observed. Zanna looked warily up at her from across the simple wooden table. There was a vase of dried flowers in the center. Helyn always collected flowers, although though she couldn't see them. She liked the smell, she said.
"Yeah... I guess I did. Why?" Zanna replied cautiously. She didn't want to snap at her sister, but the topic of her dreams was usually off-limits.
"I heard you screaming."
"Yeah, well. It was a nightmare, after all. It wouldn't be a nightmare if it wasn't worth screaming about," Zanna muttered. She ignored her sister's expression of unabashed pity. Just looking at it made Zanna feel embarrassed, and sad. Somehow Helyn– blind as a bat and six years younger– had become wiser and more mature than Zanna. When it had happened, it was impossible to say.
"Grandmother said she wanted to see you when you're done," Helyn said brightly, as if she had just remembered. "She's in the herb garden, waiting for you."
"Thanks, Hel," Zanna said, jumping at the chance to escape further dialogue. She grabbed her furry coat from the wall and immediately headed out the back door.
oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo
In the garden, Cedra was stooped over the frozen ground as she hummed an old folksong. It was almost time for the ground to thaw, at which point Cedra's hearty, resilient herbs would come back in full force. She was preparing the way by singing to the garden-- "nourishing it with love," as she called it.
Seeing her there made Zanna smile. "Morning, Grandma," she said, kneeling beside the old woman.
"Good morning, Little Dragon," Cedra chuckled as she used Zanna's pet name. "I was just expecting you." She slowly brushed the snow off of her gnarled white hands and studied her granddaughter critically. "I see you're not covering your head."
It was true, Zanna was bare. The large purple tattoo of the Sheikah symbol was plainly visible over her right eye, and her thick raven hair billowed in the wind like long, dancing shadows. She sighed heavily. "Please, Grandma. You know I hate covering it. It's ridiculous anyway; we never have visitors. No one's going to see me."
"We do not cover our heads because of visitors," Cedra said sharply. "We cover our heads because concealing our identities is the way of our ancestors."
Zanna made a sound of defeated distaste, then raised her hood and fastened the strip of fabric that covered everything from the nose down. She tucked her hair away in frustration. "There. Are you happy?"
"Such a beautiful girl," Cedra smiled, patting Zanna's cheek affectionately. "Such lovely dark eyes. Just like your mother."
It agitated Zanna to hear of her mother– she bristled and shifted her weight impatiently. "Is there something you wanted, Grandmother?"
Cedra sighed. "Yes, there was a reason I had Helyn send you out. Your dreams have been troubled lately."
"Why is everyone so interested in my sleeping habits this morning?"
"I have felt the disturbances as well. I believe a great change is approaching, Little Dragon."
Zanna softened a little. "What do you mean?"
"I received this letter several days ago," Cedra said heavily, removing a red envelope from her large coat sleeve. Though it was opened, it was obvious who the letter was from.
"Grandmother, that's the royal seal!" Zanna gasped, eagerly taking the letter. She ran her fingers gingerly over the wax crest before removing the parchment within. There was no doubt about it– it was a royal message.
"I could not believe it myself," Cedra said. "I still have not told anyone else in the village; I don't want them to be disappointed."
Zanna scanned the letter hastily, reading important bits out loud. "'And in light of certain events I will not discuss at this time, I feel guided by the Goddesses to send a representative to your village at once in hopes of securing your cooperation.' Grandma! A royal messenger– here? It says to expect him on the seventeenth– that's today! And it's signed by the Princess herself!"
"Not so loud, Zanna," Cedra scolded softly. "No one knows. I still fear it will turn out to be a hoax, or that the diplomat will not survive the treacherous highways."
Zanna sat back on her heels, biting her lip as she reread the letter. "I don't believe it," she said as she shook her head. "Do you really think–" she laughed joyfully, eyes widening. "Grandmother, do you really think the royal family could be reenlisting us?"
"I don't know," Cedra said, taking the envelope and stuffing it away again. "But I wanted you to be aware. If a messenger makes it to our village, I didn't want you to be surprised. My spirit guide tells me that this letter has much to do with you."
"Me?" Zanna echoed. "Your guide really said the letter had to do with me?"
Cedra's eyes narrowed slightly, and she seemed to draw herself up. "Well, he did not say that exactly. But I have a strong intuition. Nevertheless," she changed the subject quickly, "you have a lesson with Shasheh. You're late already. Go on!"
Zanna rolled her eyes. "Grams, I can't just forget the letter and go to work as usual! I won't be able to focus!"
Cedra would have none of it. "Don't make excuses. Nothing can distract a sorceress from her work. Get going– and don't come back without a jug of milk from Nykko!"
oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo
"Direct hit!" Shasheh cheered, picking up the battered metal target that Zanna had just nailed with a spell. "Yikes, Zanna," she laughed, holding it so the hole was clearly visible. "I didn't mean for you to blast it to smithereens."
"Sorry," Zanna grinned sheepishly. "I'm a little high strung today."
"I can tell," Shasheh said as she reset the target. "How's Helyn these days?"
"Oh, same as ever. She's been knitting scarves, actually. She's getting really good." A gold-colored concussion spell shot out of Zanna's hand again, and the target went flying.
"Perfect shot," Shasheh whistled, catching it on the way back down. "Very impressive accuracy, but if you're not going to focus on toning it down a notch then this exercise is pointless," the middle-aged woman chastised lightly.
Zanna sighed, wincing as she wearily rubbed the back of her casting hand.
"You okay?" Shasheh asked, quickly jogging the distance between them and taking Zanna's wrist the way a blacksmith takes a horse's hoof. Shasheh's fingertips briefly took on a teal glow, and then she began massaging the energy into Zanna's hand.
"It's nothing," Zanna answered sincerely. "My spell hand always aches... The last few months, though, it's just been killing me when I cast." She rubbed her forehead, trying not to flinch as Shasheh sent out a particularly painful zap.
"Have you been practicing your healing?" the older Sheikah asked sternly.
Zanna sighed. "Kind of. I mean, somewhat regularly," she mumbled.
"Zanna..."
"I hate healing spells, Shasheh! They take way too much focus and they're so– personal. I don't like it." She toed the ground, knowing her tutor would now relentlessly drill her on healing for the next month.
"Zanna, a great empath like you? Your healing spells could be so powerful! Even more powerful than mine, if you applied yourself." She patted the girl's hand briskly and released it.
Zanna flexed, wiggling her fingers tentatively. "Wow, that really does feel better. Thanks, Shasheh."
"It's my job," she smiled. "I won't make you do anything else today, but when you come back tomorrow I expect you to be ready to focus on healing. There's no sense in wasting your potential simply because you don't like casting."
"All right," Zanna sighed resignedly.
"Oh! And you said your grandmother wanted a jug of Nykko's milk, right?" Nykko was Shasheh's spotted cow, and the only one in the village. It was too cold in Peak Province to raise anything other than mountain goats, but Shasheh put an incredible effort into keeping Nykko warm, dry, and comfortable. Both magic and elbow grease played equal part in the cow's well being.
Emerging from the nearby barn with a metal jug, Shasheh trudged across the snowy ground. "Here you are, my dear. Tell Helyn I said hello."
"Thanks, Shashe," Zanna smiled. "See you tomorrow!"
oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo
As Zanna emerged from the winding path that led to Shasheh's property, she immediately recognized more sound in the village square than usual. The village was made up of a small cluster of about eighteen stone houses with a decent sized plaza in the middle. In the very center of the plaza was a dilapidated podium raised on a triangular stage, but the regularly heavy snowfall kept it hidden most of the year. Though all the buildings in the village were extremely modest, the largest house was at the top of the square, and it was Zanna's house. This building always belonged to the reigning village Elder, and that Elder had been Cedra for over forty years.
Today, there was a rather large crowd gathered around the main door. All of the children and young people in the village were there, and even some adults clustered about the large front windows, attempting to peer inside. A light snow swirled around them, making their furry white coats glisten in the lamp light emanating from the parlor within.
"Zanna!" A tall, lithe girl with golden eyes turned around and grabbed Zanna's shoulders with a vicelike grip.
"Ouch, Resha!" Zanna teased, batting her best friend's hands away. "You'll snap my collar bone!" Resha was a Gerudo who had been abandoned on the road as an infant, where she was fortunately discovered by one of the village's supply wagons. She was at least six feet tall, and could snap firewood in two with her bare hands. Zanna frequently teased her about being freakishly strong.
"Don't kill Zanna before she hears the good news!" Rowan interrupted, pushing through the crowd to join them.
"Hey, Rowan," Zanna smiled, feeling a familiar, bittersweet twinge at the sight of the hazel-eyed boy. She had spent her entire life with Rowan and his twin brother Caell. While she adored Rowan, Caell had been her more than just a friend– he was the missing piece of Zanna's soul. They had been so alike it was spooky, and rarely went even a day without seeing one another. This spring would mark the fourth anniversary of Caell's death. They had been only sixteen at the time of his passing. It was, Zanna believed, a wound that would never completely close.
"So, aren't you going to ask us why we're huddled around your home like a pack of wolves?" Resha asked, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
"Why are you huddled around my home like a pack of wolves?" Zanna obliged.
"There's a royal messenger in your parlor at this very moment!" Resha exclaimed. "He arrived while you were training with Shasheh," Her excitement was obvious, in a moment of weakness the towering young woman broke down and began hopping up and down like a terrier.
"Don't cause an earth quake, Resha," Rowan smirked. Resha punched him in the arm, sending him reeling.
"Shut up, Rowan," the Gerudo replied. "Did you know Rowan thinks it's the Hero?"
"The Hero?" Zanna asked, brow furrowing. "The Hero who defeated Twilight a few years ago?"
Rowan nodded vigorously, watching Resha out of the corner of his eye to make sure he stayed out of range. "It is the Hero!" he defended. "I'd recognize him anywhere. Just because some people live under a rock, doesn't mean the rest of us do." He glared in the Gerudo's direction. "The chestnut mare, the green tunic, not to mention that sword. There's no mistaking it! The Hero's in your parlor."
Zanna's eyes were like saucers. "In my parlor?"
Her friends nodded.
"I'm out of here," Zanna declared, pushing people out of her way as she clambered to her front door.
"Remember everything so you can tell us about it later!" Resha called after her.
Zanna smiled wolfishly over her shoulder, giving a noncommittal shrug. And with that, she turned the doorknob and went inside.