The nest was here, he felt sure of it.
It had to be nestled between the loose boulders. Just the type of place he had always been warned never to go. His mother told him to forget it, that the creatures that walked upon the earth held no malice and no purpose outside of food and shelter. That he should take his troubles to the Sand Goddess. But she had also said that the Sand Goddess could not bring people back, she could only grant a few of them the power to hear the dead speak from the other side.
Ganondorf doubted that even if he could hear the spirits speak, he would be able to hear his baby sister. She had not even learned how to talk before his mother found the scorpion in the baby's crib.
Callouses on his bare feet protected them from the hot stone, heated by the blazing sun. He held himself steady with the makeshift spear he had whittled to a sharp point. He had already tested it against the carapace of a scarab. He held it over the small opening between the stones, red hair matted with sweat and dust in the heat of the midday sun. A night-scorpion would be asleep this time of day. The perfect time for hunting.
The perfect time for vengeance. His baby sister had been so small, her little fists still curled together, amber eyes watching him when he dangled a feather over her face. Everyone had fussed over her, giving her the name of an aunt that had died at the Hylians' gallows. She had been born the same day as his aunt's death, and the priestess at the Spirit Temple said that she had returned for vengeance. Ganondorf was still too young to ride with his sisters against the knights, but he could return the favor to the creature that had stolen her again.
He raised his spear, then paused as he heard his name traveling lightly on the wind. Nabooru's voice. He scowled; his elder sister would lock him indoors for a week if she saw what he was doing. Better finish it quickly, he thought to himself.
He thrust the whittled stick down into the hole with all his strength. Again and again, like the old grandmothers beating bone against their calabashes to get to the soft marrow inside. Every few thrusts, he inspected the point for any sign of blue-black night-scorpion blood.
Suddenly a dark shape skittered out of the hole. Curved pincers, a pointed sting nodding over its head. But even before he realized what he was looking at, his eye fell upon the ghost-white scorplings on their mother's back. The child-killer had its own children to protect. He had enough time for that one thought, before the sting lashed out and bit into his ankle.
He could not help crying out; the pain was too great. He stumbled back, the scorpion skittering off. He threw the spear away, scrambling over the rocks, trying to get to the Fortress as quickly as he could. With each heartbeat he could feel the poison stabbing further and further up his leg, into his side, closer to his heart.
He heard Nabooru's panicked voice, saw her silhouetted against the blazing sun, the whole world growing brighter as he began to falter. He felt her strong hands on his shoulders, saw her wide, shocked eyes and followed her mouth moving without hearing anything at all. He struggled to speak, unsure he still could.
I'm sorry, Elder Sister.
Steady chanting reached his ears in the darkness. Was he dead? If so, why did he feel so cold?
The cold came from his back. He was lying down, on something hard. Without thinking about it he managed to open his eyes, and he saw the underside of the Sand Goddess's head framed by flaming braziers. A face, a hideous wrinkled gray face framed in fire popped into his vision and he swallowed a scream.
"He lives!" the ugly face announced with a wide smile, showing a mouth with few teeth.
Commotion, excited voices echoed in the chamber and the chanting ceased. Ganondorf could see the temple priestess, his mother, Nabooru and several others. In addition to them were two wrinkled old hags, one with hair of flame and one with hair of ice.
He sat up. The two old women bowed low. "Welcome back, young Prince. It is our honor to bring you to the world of the living once more."
Nabooru pressed past them, up to the altar where he sat. "Are you all right? How do you feel?"
"I feel fine." He took a moment to reflect upon that. He had almost been killed by a night-scorpion. Shouldn't he at least feel sick? He shifted his weight so that he could see the injured foot. But he felt no pain, saw no bruising, no sign that he had been struck at all.
"See, now, there is usefulness in dark magic after all!" The ice-hair hag and her twin now bowed toward the rest of the tribe, their long noses nearly sweeping the floor. "The Prince had crossed over into the darkness, but with the tools at our disposal we were able to follow after and bring him back."
The priestess frowned but said nothing. Ganondorf's mother nodded to them in acknowledgement, and the rest of the tribe followed suit, except for Nabooru. "Are you sure you're okay?" She touched his forehead.
He felt a jolt of blazing anger, completely foreign and yet definitely coming from within. He shoved her hand away so hard that she stumbled slightly, her mouth open in surprise.
Before he could apologize, the fire-hair hag scuttled to his side. "A side-effect of the poison," she told Nabooru with an ingratiating smile. "Give him a few days and he will be back to normal."
"You are feeling better, yes?" the ice-hair hag asked him, holding out a hand for him to steady himself as he moved to climb off the altar. He ignored it and let himself down, glancing up to see Nabooru staring at him in uncertainty.
He gave her a little smile to assure her. "I'm fine. Thank you for helping me, Elder Sister."
The two old women jostled in between him and Nabooru. "Begging your pardon, young Prince, but it is we who brought you back to life. My name is Koume, and this is my sister, Kotake."
He shivered inwardly ever so slightly. He had heard stories of the evil Twinrova, the twin sorceresses that plagued the world with their dark magic. But it had saved his life? And his tribe had brought him here, so…
"It was the only way," Nabooru said softly, as if she could read his thoughts. He could see regret in her face, not in saving her little brother, but in tainting him with something he could still feel dormant inside him.
"I'm sorry, Elder Sister. It is my fault for…" As soon as the apology left his lips, the flash of anger returned, as if indignant that he would apologize at all. He grimaced and pressed his hand to his forehead.
"You must bring him home!" Kotake scurried over, followed closely by her sister. "Let him rest, give him plenty of water. In a few days he'll be completely recovered."
"Of course." His mother edged away from them, gesturing for him to follow. "Our thanks to you again, Koume and Kotake."
"May we meet again, young Prince," Koume said as she bowed again. Ganondorf could not be sure, but he thought he caught a glint of triumph in her eyes as his tribe pulled him out of the dark chamber and back into the sunlight.