It was wet
That was the only sensation Ganondorf had experienced for years now. Though he had almost forgotten what it was like to see; surrounded by the inky blackness, or to hear in the uncaring silence, he could still feel the cold water cling around is skin, shifting ever so slightly around him. Even the splitting agony in his forehead; one that he'd spent the first few months of his imprisonment cursing had faded. What remained was little more than a dull, familiar pressure in his head; a cold wedge easily within arm's length. But there wasn't anything he could do anything about it, though: despite all of his efforts, the blade's seal was absolute. He was trapped; and powerless statue; tortured by the inability to lift a single finger in the place where he nearly held unlimited power.
It was the kind of isolation and disappointment that would have driven any other being mad. He'd plotted everything perfectly... three times, no less. The endless hours, the sleepless nights he'd schemed, pushing the meager resources of he people to their limit. Fighting with such intensity that even with what little he had to work with and the united forces of the Hylian tyrants arrayed against him, he had triumphed over all adversity. Then, after clawing his way to the top of the world , finally having a chance to escape from the sterile, salty wastes... to be thrice dethroned by the intervention of the accursed Goddesses. Nayru and Farore; their angelic princess, and that silly boy in green! It was an injustice! A divine comedy! AN OUTRAGE!
All that suffering and pain, the anger that bubbled up as the memories of his rises and falls cycled through Ganondorf's mind, was all that was fueling the iron grip he held on his sanity. It troubled him to no end, yes, but the only alternative was to was to fade away into the darkness. That he would never allow to happen the burning desire ingrained deep in his soul forbidding it. I shall not be denied my destiny he affirmed once again, as if issuing a challenge to ocean surrounding him. I shall escape, even if it takes a hundred years. And when I do, the Goddesses shall not stand in my way again.
Then he noticed it; the displacement of water over his face. It wasn't much, but it was enough to provide a momentary distraction from his raging memories, back to the present world and the sudden change to the emptiness. It was just as black, just as still as it had been every other time... perhaps I'm hallucinating? a weak corner of his mind worried. Perhaps I'm starting to lose... no. You are power incarnate. I do not crack so easily. Ganondorf was greeted with the first sound he'd heard since his imprisonment; the soft click of hard leather on stone... wait, leather? If he could have shifted his face, it would have shown an expression of deep thought; what was leather doing so deep beneath the sea? The source of the sound gave off no light, but even the disembodied consciousness could tell something was there. Something warm, as the slight change in the water temperature could attest to. But that made even less sense; nothing could remain warm after sinking for so long. Whatever it was, it was moving closer. Slowly, intently. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this intruder, but he wished more then anything else in the world that he could see it, feel it, know how to defeated it.
As if an answer to his wish, the object was bathed in what appeared to be a spotlight, revealing a stooped, slight man with a unnaturally white grin plastered on his face and hands folded over his stomach."Pardon me, good sir. I trust I'm not interrupting anything?" The purple-robed intruder asked with practiced politeness, looking straight into his lifeless stone eyes. Even through his rage, the Gerudo king had to admit there was something... lulling about that expression, almost as unchanging as his own. It may have been enough to keep him striking down the stranger for his casual mockery... had that still been within his power
"No complaints? Very good... it'd be such a shame if I had to leave without making you aware of my special offers. " A great bundle was shifted off the man's back, the outside covered in dozens of mask each expressing a different emotion on vaguely humanoid faces, before he stepped forward and ran a palm down the statue's cheek. "Pain, anger, broken dreams; its etched so perfectly and durably. Its the work of a master not easily surpassed." His hand came down, rubbing thoughtfully against the other before sweeping out, emphasizing his possessions. "Luckily for you, changing faces is my stock and trade. You've familer with my business, yes? " Ganondorf felt puzzled, straining to focus his attention on the masks. One painted so well he could have mistaken it for stretched skin, forced into a wide howl of terror. Another was a garish red, depicting simple slit eyes and topped with a leaf plume, flanked by a partner that looked pieced together from stray tiles from a mosaic. This... Din, I truly have gone mad. he mentally sighed.
"You don't remember? Well, that's quite alright. I'm certainly familer with you, Mr. Dragmire" For a moment, Ganondorf was glad he couldn't blink since he might have missed the momentary shift in the salesman's eyes to a demonic sharpness if he had, returning instantaneously to his professional guise. The comment caused his pride to swell up for a moment, hope flickering. My deeds are still remembered, it seems. "Yes, I never did get that payment for your seizure of my storefront... but what's a few hundred rupees between business partners, right?" He waved his hand dismissively. "What's important is I spread a little joy to you today. " Kneeling, the man's legs sunk partially into the sand as he rummaged through his possessions, never breaking his smile no matter how somberly he spoke nor stiff his movements. "Now let's see, what would put a smile on that face..."
Freedom... the spirit thought immediately, stiring restlessly as the mask-peddler's movements seemed to slow to a crawl, keeping his promise always just a bit further into the future. To fight, to fly, to speak and assert my existence once more. For that, I'd give anything. Barely was that thought finished that it was overtaken by the unchanging face a mere inch from its own, either having moved in a split second or while they were deep in thought... everything too vague to distinguish between the two.
"Yes... such a fate to be sealed for years, never growing, cast across time from the ones you love into a strange new world. I wonder... do the people you left behind feel sad that they couldn't help you, or are they mad you couldn't help them?" The chuckle echoing across the endless see floor was haunting, Ganondorf's guest turning his face to the ground so his locked gaze could only see the top of his head. "But there is a solution to all of it. A melody which soothes all pains, and draws the inner hope from even the darkest of circumstances. I can play it... it would help. Shall I?" He made no further movements, only his breathing and the shimmering spotlight still disturbing the void. At the offer, Ganondorf felt like every fiber of his being was battering itself against the walls of his prison, the ghost of a laugh in his hollow throat. If this man is trying to play me for a fool, let him: I've nothing more to lose! He thought up the following challange. Free me if you can, peddler. I will not fade meekly into the night.
The salesman nodded, as though he'd felt the wordless plea. "Very well. I shall bring peace to the troubled soul." For a moment, the man leaned in, that disturbing face filling up his entire vision, before pulling away. Then, right where he had previously been standing, he was sitting at the foot of a massive organ, bathed in pool of silver light which had appeared as if from nowhere. The mysterious man brought his fingers down on the ivorys, pausing for a moment before beginning to play his instrument. The sound which came out was slow and mournful... no, not really mournful. More nostalgic... like the lullaby his mother's used to sign to him, all that time ago. Or the soft background of a honorable celebration; the quiet battlefield after a great victory. As he listened, the water started to fade around him, as he could feel himself groing less and less stiff, the comforting solidness of his limbs returning to him. The spotlight rippled through the now-moving water, creating shapes that looked almost... no, exactly like his people. A raiding party in blue and white... a group of warriors he could remember from days gone by, when he'd made his first kill. Then, he wa standing high atop the adobe walls of Gerudo Fortress, HIS women raising glaives in HIS name, as he reached up, the familiar tingle of magic in his fingers once again. Then, from seemingly nowhere came his horse, slipping into his soft saddle leather as he leaped off the walls, flying through the air before charging into the sands of the desert, ready to face his next challenge...
And, just as quickly as it appeared, the great pipes were gone; fading away with the echo of the last cord. Settling back onto his feet, the Happy Mask Salesman turned to where the statue had once been, only to find it had disappeared as well. In its place, one object slowly sank as another began rocketing to the surface. With almost inhuman grace the Happy Mask Man grabbed onto both objects at once, closing his hand around the hilt of one while hooked around the rim of the other as they ascended up the pillar of light.
When he finally reached the surface, the mask continued to float just a bit higher on the air before droppings itself and its passenger back into the boat. The sun was just rising over the pillars surrounding the tower as the Salesman settled himself back in, carefully placing his newest acquisitions in with the rest of his inventory. The oars cast long ripples across the water with each stroke as he propelled himself south "We've quite a journey ahead of us... shall I pass our time with a story?" He asked the ginger-trimmed, blackish-brown face looking back at him, its features locked in the stern stare and faint, arrogant smile of a regal and dedicated leader.
Some say that, long ago and across the uncharted sea, there existed a place at the crossroads of many worlds. Wetlands teaming with life and color, mountains which nearly touched the sky, an ocean far more peaceful and bountiful then our own, and a fertile river valley from which grew a great Kingdom who's power could match that of the Goddesses. Each of these lands had been created by one of four gods: Giants who shook the earth with each step and had the strength to mold the earth like potter's clay, formed to exist in harmony with the works of his friends. And where their four lands came together as one, upon a great hill in a grassy field, their children erected a great city where they could honor their creators' examples. The walls of the city were closed to no tribe or people, and within all strived to form something greater than they could ever become apart, eagerly seeking new and greater experiences. For centuries the Giants lived among them, caring for and guiding their followers and marveling at the feats they achieved in their brief lives, and all were content.
However, one day a dark shadow fell over the lands of one of the Giants, as the openness of the world had allowed in a tribe who did not honor the friendship of the Giant's creation. Rather than simply co-exist, the cloaked figures sought to lead an invasion and dominate the land, and wherever they went spread the curse of secrets among the people of the land. Over time, the seeds of secrecy grew into distrust and fear, the children of the forth Giant coming to blows with their new neighbors and plunging the valley into chaos. Entranced in the festive merriment of friends and feast, which the great town was holding in honor of the harvest, the guardian deity did not notice their plight until it was too late, and the once-great Kingdom was lost to the ages.
As the festival ended, the Giants looked to the lost land and disrepair: realizing they had turned a blind eye to many people as they focused on their ideals. So, they spoke onto the people "We have chosen to guard the people while we sleep. 100 steps north, 100 steps south, 100 steps east, 100 steps west. If you have need, call us in a loud voice such as "The mountain blizzard has trapped us" or "The ocean is about to swallow us". Your cries shall carry too us, and if your need is true we shall answer. However, you of the City need not fear,as you have proven the brightest of our children, and have grown so you shall have little trouble protecting yourselves."
However, there was one who was shocked and saddened by this: a little Imp who had been a friend of the giants since before they created the world but had never born the weight of its care. As the giants left, he cried out asking why they would not stay, but as his need was not true they did not heed him. Feeling neglected, he brought down his anger on the four worlds, repeatedly wronging the people there. Overwhelmed by the misfortune, the people sang out to the Gods from all four compass directions. The Giants heard their cry and, with a roar. "Imp, oh Imp, we are the protectors of the people. You have caused the people great pain. Oh Imp, leave these worlds, or we shall be forced to tear you apart."
Frightened and saddened by the threats of his old friends, the Imp sulked back into the heavens, cursing the names of the people of the land for taking his old friends away from him. Though harmony was restored to the four worlds for a time, the heavens found themselves with a new curse and the Imp had not given up on his mischief. Skulking in the shadows, he struck out at the land's blessed residents, declaring to himself "If I must be this miserable, let everyone be miserable with me."
Now, within the heavenly realm their lived a angel of happiness, who spent his days lightening the hearts of all people. One day the imp came across him, and like all who did gained great joy from the angel's gifts... though, in his case it was not given the beings generosity, but stolen by the imp in a moment of brutality. As such, the little creature's gift was cursed, twisting his face to reflect the malice and hate within his heart, whispers in his mind about how he might bring all into his company. With this new power, the imp returned uninterrupted to his old world, unrecognizable behind his new face. His corruption slowly came down upon the land, turning hope into despair as his tricks and vengeance grew crueler and crueler. Of the future, he stole hope. Of the past, he dredged up the darkness and kept hidden the light, and of the present he created uncertainty, watching with glee as the ticking of the clock tore the spirits of the land beyond repair.
The angel, seeking to regain his lost gift, sought out a blessed light from the heavens that could save the realm from its fate. However, when he came up that light he found it sealed in a unbreakable prism and cursed with an unbreakable slumber. Without the power to save the realm, he could only watch as soul of the world finally broke apart; the land itself shattering to pieces as the demonic hunger consumed the husk of the once-great city. The imp's rage, finally given form, swept across the four worlds in great waves of fire, casting many of his old friend's creations to ash and scaring deeply what remained. The seas and swamp boiled away in an instant, leaving great expanses of salt and poisoned soil in its wake, charcoal left in heaps. Floodwaters rushed down from the mountains as the winter snows were melted, ripping away rock and ores melting, mixing with the molten earth surging up though the great cracks forming from the land, opening up the gates of the Underworld and setting the souls of the dead and the lost free. And though the people cried out with their last breaths, the Giants proved unable or unwilling to appear.
Yet... the land itself survived. Weather by the imp wishing to keep a world in torment or the silent blessing of the Giants the remains of the old races of the land have clung to the fragments of their shattered world with the tenacity of all things to live. The World as One has faded into their legends, even the Sundering; as they call the catastrophe which split their world and halted the progress of nature itself, considered a myth of origin. Perhaps the land would be doomed to be forgotten, its people forever isolated... if not for the still-interested eye of the angel of joy.