Part I: Nothing

Cold… quite cold. Certainly, this was the day of death. Certainly for me. The cold, nostalgic, desert wind upon my face—

— Dead, lost, gone. There was nothing left. My people were dead and the wind that moment confirmed this to me.

They watched me—watched my moves—watched my limited, insignificant moves. I stared back, and if ever a glare could destroy, none would look me in the eyes, especially these six. The cold restraints….

…Restraints. I can't help but laugh at the utter irony. Chained to a boulder, prepared for execution: this sounds oddly familiar; a prisoner, bound by chains, and a captor, prepared and unmoved. Perhaps I would have tried harder to escape if I had any energy at all. In result of the torturous days to precede, I had been drained of all energy beside that to hold up my head.

The Sage of Water held the white sword that was to be the bane of my existence. "By the power of the goddesses themselves, we find you guilty of crimes against humanity. Your sentence: death."

I could only scowl. How could the gods betray me? How could Din ignore me in my greatest time of need? How could the Sage of Spirit, Nabooru, watch as the only link to her own blood was lost? How could this be happening to me, the Great King of the Gerudo? For all of my hard work, I was to be slain, like that?

"Though you deserve otherwise, your death will be swift. This sword is created with a magic spell you know nothing of. It will kill you swiftly, and my your soul—if you have one left—be freed from his foul body of evil." The Sage of Light said, less than honorably. "For the light you have darkened…"

"…for the deaths of innocent people…"

"…for the forests you have poisoned…"

"…for the spirits you have corrupted…"

"…for the flames of despair, sorrow, and destruction which you wrought to this land…"

"…and for the flows you have disturbed."

And with those wonderful words of inspiration, the thrust the sword though my chest.

Wondrous, ye wondrous day that was. Cold, bitter cold, a race completely submerged from memory. My people, all that I had—what I fought for—what I defended—were killed or had otherwise disappeared in my century-long absence. Yes, 'lights I had darkened,' 'spirits I have corrupted,' of course. The desert sun burns relentlessly, and the moon chills to the very bone. Clouds served as a protective shield against the immense heat—a defense to my people. Even after their light had only slightly faded, the Hylians still had plenty for themselves and others. Yet, as my people continue to struggle, they complain.

I could only agree with she who killed me; "The flows I have disturbed…."

I defied fate.

And I did it again, before their very eyes.

Briefly, so briefly it seemed that I could not remain with my body. I held only my left hand, somehow the only thing I could stay in contact with. Cold, in the dark of the night, so cold.

'Why have you forsaken me?' I could not speak, yet as a spirit, my words were heard by the ears of Din herself.

I felt something. Warm, yes warmth had returned. A feeling—that great feeling—of power was returning to me. I felt it in my hand: The warm glow! The Triforce of Power itself! Even after the Sages relieved it of my grasp, Din graciously returned it to me. Praise Din, Goddess of Power, Mother to all Gerudo!

I regained control of my body quickly and my energy was fully replenished in little more than an instant. What a felling! How exhilarating! Wondrous! I couldn't withstand a chuckle—even now I could do so at the mere memory. I opened my eyes and, with stronger, instantly vivid senses, saw my surroundings. They had no idea that I had returned so soon; they were about to leave when I clenched my fists and, with new-found strength, began pulling at the chains on my wrists. I groaned at the stress of the goron-forged metal, but I could feel it giving way.

My strength was undefeatable.

My right hand gave way first—the hand in which the Triforce of Power dwells. The sages were surprised—no, stunned in the utter fear—and for good reason; but when they took in the sight—the undeniable proof—that I had been blessed by the Goddess herself… such fear, unbelief: there are no words to describe them, and equally as many to accurately describe myself. I suppose some would call me a monster, some a demon, and many, the King of Evil. But what is a King of Evil to a race of evil? Wouldn't a god seem demonic to a demon? These words—monster, demon, or evil—are subject to opinion, and their meanings are no more than that.

The chain began to give way; bolts were stretching at the strain I gave them. I felt my body grow warm in place of the cold that I had been submerged in for so long. A fire was being kindled within me, and I grew stronger and stronger. I could not waste any energy; I regained it far too quickly to have that capability.

The chain finally gave way, and I was set free. My first target—an old ruler in the line of Zora Royalty—was Ruto, the Sage of Water that stood before me; the Sage that had briefly ended my life. I sprinted forward, probably faster than the six of them ever though possible, and ripped the mask—the only thing holding the Sages' spirit in tact—from her "face" and threw it to the ground. The body once controlled by the sage disintegrated the instant the mask left her "face."

The others, so old, so frail, shuddered and cowered away in fear. Their moans, in this case somewhat similar to a human's scram of fear, echoed through the grounds of the arbiter.

I laughed. I laughed as I felt my strength return to me, as I felt my strength flood my body. How could I survive without this? Even now I cannot fathom such a cold, dead prospect. In my vigor, I ripped the white sword—the Sword of the Sages—from my chest without so much as an instant of pain. Already, I was as strong and powerful as an immortal. The blood that leaked from my chest had turned to the color of liquid pearls. I laughed with more strength than before; there was, after all, no sword to impair my breath.

So cold, so dismal, should have been the wind's turn to them. They knew that there was no way to destroy me themselves: only one had the ability to face me, and even he needs something greater: The Master Sword.

But the sages would never let Hyrule fall into danger—they would rather destroy another world than expose this one to danger. As I stood, watching them with power in my eyes, they all turned simultaneously to their only savior: the Twilight Mirror. It was an object I had only read about in old studies and heard of though rumor in the prison. It was a bright thing, but none could truly call it a mirror. I eyed it suspiciously as the backside carved from stone flipped to reveal an engraved, light surface. As soon as it had stopped moving, a bright yellow and white light shone forth from it, creating a portal to the Twilight Realm on the boulder behind me.

I could feel it pull.

It was pulling me, picking me up and carrying me away. I fought it, for I knew the consequences of letting it take me. My immortality cannot hide my history; I am but a human. I did not have the ability to live in the Twilight Realm, for the world was half in light and half in dark. The darkness would strengthen me to that of a God. The light, however, would destroy me as it attacked the dark magic in my veins like a virus. If I was wielder of the white arts, I would simply become a beast parallel to my nature. Others would, eventually, become the same as the Twili citizens: pale and dark-skinned creatures, ignorant to feelings of revenge, hate, wonder, even excitement.

What the light and dark would do to me is much more distasteful; it would tear me apart, the light taking my body and destroying it as the dark fueled my spirit. I would be a spirit without a body, unable to leave the Twilight Realm personally, for one need a physical body to move back and forth between worlds.

I struggled to hold myself in place. The white Sword of the Sages was ripped from my tight grasp, and I could feel myself failing to hold myself to my desert sands. I let loose one last roar before being pulled apart and into the hell that the few who knew about it called the Twilight Realm.