Drip, drip, drip.
From deep within the shadows of the damp cave, the demon stirred, letting out a soft groan as he moved muscles that hadn't been moved in thousands of years. Bits of rock and debris littered his skin, but he quickly brushed it off.
Stumbling, dizzy, he got to his feet. He was lucky he didn't need to breathe; any human in that cave would have suffocated in all of the dust. He held his breath as he stumbled through the darkness.
Hardly aware of where he was going, Ghirahim moved through the darkness, guided by some knowledge he was hardly aware of. Twice he kicked an ancient, unseen vase across the floor and heard it shatter in the darkness. He nearly fell when his feet found a flight of steps, but soon he was moving up them with ease.
He wasn't used to this body yet; his mind was clouded, and his limbs were heavy. He knew where he was, why he was there, and other things, as he'd been created with that knowledge, but at the moment he had trouble recollecting it. The only true memory he had was the last thing he saw before he entered his several-millennia-long sleep; his master, King Demise, grinning down at him. But even that was blurry.
He yawned casually, his pearly white eyes closing momentarily as he did so.
Once he reached the top, he stepped out into the scorching hot, vast Lanayru Desert. The sun made it feel like he'd stepped into an oven, and it's harsh light forced him to squint. Anyone there would have been blinded by the light reflected by his dark, diamond-patterned skin. Once he adjusted to the light, he focused on the unfamiliar object before him. Really, though, everything seemed unfamiliar. With time he would learn what everything was, though.
The slingshot lay a few feet away from him, broken and half submerged in sand. Faded red paint ran along the sides and around the wood, faintly reminding Ghirahim of the markings and diamond patterns running along his own dark skin.
Gingerly, he picked it up, his attention caught by the presence lingering on it. The presence, or aura, struck him as daring and mischievous. It brought on the image of a demon laughing in the face of danger. The aura wasn't a demon, of course. It was a human, but he'd never seen one of those before.
He dropped the slingshot, dismissing the aura as nothing, although he would pick it up and carry it inside when he returned later that day. Instead he focused on the field of magic that tingled in the tips of his fingers. For a moment, it seemed, he could feel every atom in his body and could control it.
Within moments, his entire body broke apart into a burst of diamonds that soon faded into nothing. The only thing left to prove that he had ever been there was a set of large footprints.
A couple of years passed. Ghirahim had already established his place in the chaotic and disorganized demonic society that still remained on the Surface as a superior. It seemed almost natural; until his master, Demise, was resurrected, he was convinced that it was up to him to keep the blin and other monsters somewhat organized and orderly.
Along with this, he also developed an interest in humans.
He kept this interest private, knowing he would be mocked in languages he didn't even know, and that would ruin his image as a superior demon lord. Image was important; who would want a leader that appeared weak and repulsive, especially a leader that had a harmless interest in the enemy? That was why Ghirahim made his own clothes and put up a mask to shield his true form. Even if he was taller, even if his pearly white eyes appeared demonic, even if he stood a couple of feet above other demons, even if he was made of pure metal, it didn't seem to him as if it was intimidating enough. And, really, he looked almost barbaric. He wanted to look civilized. This new form seemed to unnerve the blin more, so that was a plus.
He often spent his time looking for the reborn goddess Hylia, and he had other demons assist him. He didn't know what she looked like, only what she felt like, so he was certain he would know it was her if he ever found her. He tried to tell the blin this, but he wasn't sure that they understood, for they were separated by a wide language barrier, and Ghirahim had yet to develop some way to communicate other than through quick drawings (which, by the way, he was getting quite good at).
So he took part in the search for the spirit maiden, as he called her. It hadn't yet occurred to him that she would more than likely be in the sky with the people she had sent there.
The day was quiet and peaceful; since Ghirahim and his army was around, many of the forest animals, including the Kikwi, were in hiding. He'd actually passed several Kikwi as he looked, but he didn't bother them. They were stupid, useless creatures. He didn't believe that they could do anything except hide and run away (even then, they were terrible at that).
Beside him, over the side of the cliff, he could see Lake Floria, its water sparkling in the sunlight. It resembled some brilliant, detailed painting, especially with the flower-and-leaf patterned guardrails. However, this didn't catch his attention.
No, what caught his attention was a blue gem that lay a few yards away, nearly blinding the poor demon with the light it reflected. On it he could sense a familiar aura-it took him a few moments, but he recognized it as the aura he had sensed on the slingshot in the desert. The aura had long disappeared, but he still kept it, for it came from a species that he'd never seen except for in the drawings and paintings that were scattered about the Surface.
The main reason why he picked the gem up was because it was pretty. But also, he'd almost missed the aura. He could sense the human's anger on it, but he still seemed like someone that got into trouble a lot. He wondered if they had thrown the gem off the side of the rock they lived on in the sky on purpose.
But he also sensed another presence...the one of the goddess. He didn't know how he knew it was her. He just...did. So she's in the sky with the rest of them? Of course. It would be too dangerous to stay down here with the other demons.
He grinned, deciding to keep the small gem on her to memorize her presence while he still had it. For a moment, he wondered how he would do that, considering he had no pockets of any sort. But the gem was small enough...
He carefully placed it against his ear, the pointy one, and channeled a small amount of magic into it. Almost like an earring, it swung when he let go of it, the gem now attached to his ear. It felt almost weightless. He smiled.
It was a pretty gem, too. Perhaps he would keep it for more than Hylia's aura.
It was only a few months before Ghirahim found something else from the mischievous aura that he had, finally, decided to call Devil.
Despite needing to find the goddess, Devil had caught his attention. They were like none of the other people he'd sensed on various objects (all of which he had kept; that had become a hobby of his. No one ever came down into his little cavern anyway, so no one knew).
This new object was a bunch of shattered glass that had scattered over Lanayru Desert, part of some glass container that had broken upon impact. Ghirahim had encountered one of the larger shards, what appeared to be part of a glass bottle. It still had the faint, repulsive scent of alcohol, so it must have fallen recently.
Ghirahim picked it up. Almost immediately, the sadness and anger that Devil had probably felt just before dropping the bottle washed over him, nearly making him drop it with surprise. Questions ran through his head at the speed of light.
Who was Devil? Why did they have this? Did it belong to someone else? Did they drink it? Did they throw it off on purpose, or did they drop it because they were too drunk to think clearly?
Thinking back to how dizzy he'd seen the bokoblins become when they drank in their free time, he even wondered if Devil had gone down with this shard, and if he would wind up finding their body—
His grip on the shard tightened at the thought.
Who were they? What was their life like up there?
He looked up at the sky, at the cloud barrier separating Ghirahim from humankind. He could sense nothing beyond that barrier; it barred all creatures of the Surface from the life above. He was certain that, perhaps someday, he could pierce it and maybe some of his questions would be answered. And maybe he would find the goddess.
—
Ghirahim cried out in pure anger as the door glowed and reappeared, effectively separating the demon lord from the spirit maiden. Snarling, he struck the door with his rapier several times, hoping against all hope that the bright flash that lit up the entire room meant that the door was breaking and he would be able to get the spirit maiden and resurrect his master.
Oh, how preposterous it was to think that someone managed to get to her before him in the first place! He should have never decided to follow the boy! He should have never followed Devil! Even if he would have lead Ghirahim to her! He was slow! He was weak! He was stupid! Oh, damn his curiosity! No wonder it killed the fucking cat!
The doors behind him screeched as they slid open, bringing Ghirahim to a startled pause. Almost like the strong scent of shit, the boy's presence washed over him, and he stopped completely. He was still tempted to strike the door once more, but the boy's footsteps echoed throughout the room, becoming louder and louder as he got closer and closer to Ghirahim.
The footsteps stopped. Ghirahim's rapier disappeared in a string of diamonds.
"Look who it is," Ghirahim said, his voice cool and calm compared to his angered yells before.
He heard the boy shift uncomfortably behind him. Metal clinked softly against metal. Though he wasn't looking at him, he could almost see the sword's sheath swaying slightly with his movements.
For a moment, Ghirahim was almost afraid to turn around. He knew that this boy was to be his enemy. After all, wasn't the spirit maiden he was going after his friend? Ghirahim hadn't seen his face yet, only his back, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to gaze into his eyes or see him talk. However, to remain facing the door would have been foolish, so he forced himself to turn and meet his eyes.
Blue eyes stared back at him, wide and full of fear. His lips were parted slightly, as if he were about to speak, but no words left them.
Up close, Ghirahim thought he looked strange; he was too pale to be a bokoblin, but not pale enough to be even comparable to some other demon. He was also short, very short, shorter than a bokoblin. And not to mention his clothes covered way more than the average demon's. But, of course, all of this was to be expected; Ghirahim was a demon, and this boy was a human.
"Hm," Ghirahim said, struggling to break the awkward silence that had formed. "I would have thought that tornado I stirred up would have tossed and torn you apart, yet here you are...not in pieces."
Gritting his teeth, Ghirahim broke eye contact once more, and turned his head back towards the door. Seemingly indifferent to Ghirahim's words, the boy listened passively, though Ghirahim could feel a bit of fear radiating from him.
"Not like your life or death has any consequence." Still, the boy did not take a defensive stance. He didn't seem to care that he was being belittled by a stranger, especially a stranger that had just admitted to trying to kill him. "It's just the girl that matters now, and I can sense her here...just beyond this door."
Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the sharp, high-pitched ring reverberated through the thick, musty air as the boy pulled out his sword.
He must care a lot for the girl, Ghirahim noted, and pursed his lips. They're probably friends or something.
He'd been anxious to meet this devil, and now that he finally had, he found out not only what he looked like, sounded like, and acted like, but that they were destined to be enemies.
His hands curled into fists as the anger rose in his chest again. "Did you just draw your sword?" he said, his voice seething, though that wasn't what he was angry about. Not at all. "Foolish boy..."
—
The difference in temperature outside and inside the room was evident. Link almost felt like he was stepping out of a hot furnace and inside an ice cold freezer.
Familiar, demonic laughter echoed through the room, causing Link to tense up. So many times that laugh had come just before some oversized monster appeared and tried to kill him.
After a few moments, however, no monster appeared. Still, Link pulled out what was once the Goddess Sword before continuing forward.
Just a few feet away, his back facing Link, was Ghirahim. He seemed to be looking up at something...
Link followed his gaze until he found ancient, faded drawings depicting two Gates of Time. On one side, the drawing was brown and rough and sketchy and cactuses littered the area around it. On the other side, the drawing was green and what were clearly trees surrounded the Gate of Time.
"Fancy seeing you here, Link," Ghirahim said as he turned to face him. "I see you're still among the living."
Link glued his mouth shut, biting back an angered response. He just knew that Ghirahim was going to ask about the drawings, and he would make damn sure that he gave him no answer.
"Since you're here," Ghirahim said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Look at these drawings!" He threw his arms out, indeed motioning towards the drawings above him. Link didn't bother to look.
"You know what these could mean, Link?" Ghirahim asked, although he never expected an answer. Since that first encounter, where he only asked who Ghirahim was, the boy had not spoken. Not one single word. In fact, he'd seemed almost nonchalant until a few seconds ago, when his eyes widened. I'll bet that he knows where the Gate is! He's just afraid I'll find out. I can see it in his eyes, Ghirahim thought, and grinned. "They could be hinting that there are two Gates of Time, Link! The prospect of another Gate of Time has made me positively giggly!"
Link stiffened. Of course he would know about another Gate of Time.
"I'll admit a got a little sulky after that stunt that stick pulled at the Temple of Time," Ghirahim continued, acting as if Link actually cared. Nonetheless, Link stayed silent, knowing that the more Ghirahim talked the longer they had until the inevitable fight began. "The idea of not being able to get my hands on your adorable friend was...well, more than I could bear.
"Ah, but that's not important now, is it?" Ghirahim said. "No...there's still the outstanding subject of your punishment, Link. Remember when I said that I was going to make your ears bleed from the sound of your own screams?"
Ghirahim saw Link's eyes narrow and felt the defiant anger that he could almost predict. Yes, indeed, Devil had mellowed down some, but his mischievous nature from before Ghirahim even knew him still remained, buried. Ghirahim was proud that he'd managed to make it resurface.
"Well I've been thinking. Perhaps corporal punishment was a touch harsh. So, I'm willing to strike a deal. If you tell me where the second Gate of Time is, I'll let you walk out of here alive. Oh, and don't play coy with me. I know you know where it is, so why not let me in on the fun?"
Instead of telling him, Link held his sword ready to fight. Ghirahim chuckled; of course. That was to be expected. Link more than likely predicted that Ghirahim would bring such a thing up anyway; all he had to do was look up at the drawings to guess.
"Such mischievous behavior," Ghirahim said, his tone mocking. "A boy like you must be dealt with firmly." Indeed, he was upset that Link wouldn't tell him. He knew he was defiant, but he thought Link at least valued his life a little. Perhaps he was just arrogant; then, yes, Ghirahim would teach him a lesson.
He shed off a bit of the magic required to maintain his appearance so that he use a little more of that for the fight. Before he even held his arms up, he could see the diamonds falling off his body like snowflakes.
And then, like a curtain being pulled away, any white on Ghirahim's arms vanished, revealing shiny, black skin. Bits of black also ran up and down his body, resembling wide cracks in his otherwise pristine skin.
"Behold!" Ghirahim yelled, striking a pose. "Such beauty! Such stunning features! Such an exquisite physique!" He held an arm out, allowing Link to see the reflection of the torches in the dark skin. "You'll find the supple skin of my arms tougher than any armor. They are made of the finest, rarest steel that has never been seen on this pathetic surface world." He grinned, then took a step back as his arm fell back to his side. He fell silent for a few moments, his eyes turned to the wall as he thought.
"You know...perhaps it's only natural that we wind up in this situation, our weapons drawn, our shields up, ready to kill each other. Don't you think so, Link? Perhaps we are bound by a thread of fate...perhaps we are destined to fight until one of us dies." Ghirahim's lips stretched into a grin that chilled Link to the bone; it was a grin of a man that was nearing insanity, a grin that meant that he would be ruthless and unpredictable and unforgiving. "If that is the case, then it won't be long before that thread of fate is soaked crimson with your blood!"
Link muttered something under his breath, most likely an insult. Ghirahim didn't care.
Ghirahim sauntered towards the boy, his grin never fading. Already he could hear Link's dying screams, his begging for mercy, something the demon lord had shown for too long. "So come close, Link!" he yelled. "Meet the fate that this thread has pulled you into, you brat!"
For a moment, he could see that Link was hesitant. He couldn't blame him. Who would want to run into their own death?
But then, Link charged towards him, and as soon as he was close enough, he swung his holy sword at Ghirahim. Swiftly, the demon caught it between his fingers, a loud clang ripping through the near-silent room as, indeed, steel crashed against steel.
Link yanked his sword back and went at him again, but this time he was cut off by two daggers sinking into his back. He let out a cry as they vanished, allowing the blood to seep into his tunic.
Now, Ghirahim grinned as two more daggers appeared in front of him; should Link make a mistake, they would surely fly at him. Ghirahim had no plans of going easy on him. Last time, he'd practically babied him. Now it was a matter of whether or not the simple human could outsmart the superior demon lord.
Link rushed towards him again, teeth grit and hat flying behind him. Ghirahim stared at him in confusion, his arm raised as a shield. What is he, a dumbass? I thought he was smarter than that, in the very least.
Unlike what Ghirahim thought he would do, Link ducked and rolled to avoid the daggers. Before he even stood up, before Ghirahim even had the chance to turn to block his attack, he landed a nasty hit on the legs and, upon springing up like a Jack-in-the-box, several slashes at the shoulders and back.
Ghirahim hissed and jumped away, whipping around to meet him.
So Link was still foolish enough to try to fight him. Ghirahim really saw no point, for he was superior to this boy, even if he was much stronger than Ghirahim had anticipated. But why not have a little fun? It seemed that they would be there for a while, anyway.
"By the way, you know that time you dropped a bunch of alcohol on the Surface?" Ghirahim said.
Link's eyes widened. Ghirahim could see his hands tremble as he clutched his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. A voice echoed through the room, speaking some language that Ghirahim couldn't understand, but it was ignored.
"H...how do you know that?" Link asked, his brow creasing. Ghirahim could tell he'd brought up a sensitive subject. The only question was, why was it that way? If the boy was drinking, was he ashamed? Or was it something else?
"Well, I found a shattered bottle of it with your aura on it a little while ago... I was wondering...why have such a thing?"
Link stared at him as if he were Demise himself. He had his mouth open, as if trying to talk, but no words came out.
Ghirahim tilted his head. "I asked you a question. Why did you have alcohol?"
For a moment, Ghirahim thought that Link would gape at him like a fish again, but no. He answered, and though he tried to sound cold as ice, his voice shook horribly and he stumbled over his words. "No, I... You...you don't need to know!"
Ghirahim hadn't imagined that such a thing would have shaken him so much. He would think that he wouldn't have been afraid to admit that he was, at one time, an alcoholic. Then again, perhaps it brought up things the boy had been trying to forget.
"And why not?"
Link took another step back, holding his weapons ready. Now he was terrified; he'd been prepared for a fight, of course. But he hadn't considered that Ghirahim would bring up something like that. Then again, who would? It was an aspect of Link's personal life that hardly anyone knew about, and to think some guy that he'd only met a few months before would bring up something that happened years before they even met... Just how much did Ghirahim know about him?
"Because you don't," Link said, his voice wavering terribly. He hated it. He hated himself. He hated everything in this room; it was as if the universe itself was turning against him.
"Fine then," Ghirahim said, dropping the subject. Although Link suspected that he would bring it up later. Snapping his fingers, Ghirahim summoned two swords and clutched them tightly.
Then the fight that Link had prepared himself for began.
The leaves rustled with a gentle breeze that disturbed Link's nightmare of a head of hair. Overhead, the sun slowly sank against the horizon. But he didn't care. Even if he didn't make it back to Skyloft, he was used to nights on the Surface.
Only two days after he killed Demise. It felt strange being in casual clothing, with next to no responsibility. He sat on a log, staring blankly at the ground, his mind lost in thought. He knew he couldn't go on forever simply staring at the ground all day; he had to find a way to go back to the life of someone who'd never even seen Demise. But he didn't think that there was any way he could.
Out of the corner of his eye, Link saw movement. He snapped his head towards a tall tree whose limbs were covered in green leaves despite the approaching fall. However, by the time he looked over, all he could see was the glint of something shiny.
Gingerly, he stood up and headed towards the tree, glancing around nervously. His hands twitched, tempted to rip the training sword he now carried out of its sheath, but he didn't allow them to. Not yet.
Upon nearing the shiny object, he found that it was a piece of glass. Once he knelt down, staring down over it, he recognized the brand of beer that his dad used to drink. The piece of glass was jagged and dirty, but he could see the logo through the dirt, dust, and sand, and he winced.
"Dad, you have to stop drinking this stuff so much. It's gonna kill you." Link held up a glass bottle that had been drunk in one go. Across the room from him was his father, an older man who drank like his life depended on it. Link hadn't known what his father became until recently, when he made his first visit home in years.
"Leave it be! It ain't bothering you, is it?"
"The entire house reeks of this shit."
"Then go somewhere else! Thought ya had a girlfriend." Link's father wobbled away from him, grunting. He could hardly walk through his drunk haze.
Link pulled himself away from the piece of glass, trying to push the memory away. His father was gone, dead. He'd ignored Link's warnings and died from alcohol poisoning. None of that mattered. He didn't need to remember it. But still, the memories came.
"Dad, I'm worried. Listen-"
"WELL YA WA'N'T WORRIED WHEN YOU WERE BEIN A PAIN IN THE ASS, WERE YA, YA BRAT!?" his father suddenly bellowed. "YOU'RE THE REASON YOUR MOM GOT ALL HER SHIT AND LEFT!" Link winced at his voice, reminding himself that he was simply drunk that that he was bound to have outbursts like that. Still, his words burrowed deep. He was right, he was fucking right. But now he cared and the only parent he knew how to find was being hostile towards him.
"Dad, please, calm down, this isn't you," Link said, his brows furrowed, his fists clenched. No, this wasn't him at all. In the past, he'd tried to be nice to Link, he'd tried. But the dumbass he'd been had responded terribly, always acting out and getting in trouble.
"Why should I? Huh!?" his dad snarled. "Yer nothin but shit."
"Well fuck you too, then," Link said, his stomach churning. That couldn't be his dad, not at all. It was just the alcohol speaking for him. Maybe if he got it out, his overly-kind father would come through and maybe he could apologize and maybe they could have gone to look for his mom, then maybe everything would be better and they would love him again.
"The fuck you doin?" Link's dad asked, watching him from the doorway. "Put that down!"
"No," Link said, glaring up at him. He clutched the few bottles his dad had left in his left hand, his right hand balled into a fist.
His father threw a punch, which Link easily dodged. His dad tottered, not at all expecting to miss, now leaning dangerously over, nearly falling before he managed to right himself.
Now running, Link sprinted out the door, his legs carrying him far and fast. Despite his short legs, he was the fastest runner in Skyloft then, and he would be for many more years until age took his speed away. He sprinted toward the edge of the floating islands, no longer checking to see if his dad was following, and hurled the still-full bottles off the side of the island.
He was crying, but he didn't care. He only fixed the problem for about five minutes, but he didn't care. His dad would probably be murderous when he got back, but he didn't-
Link shook himself out of his thoughts, hardly aware that he was crying.
That had been the last time he'd seen his dad before he was placed in a casket to be buried. Cancer, they said. Alcohol poisoning, Link said.
He wondered for a few moments if Ghirahim had something to do with the glass, but decided it was unlikely. Probably someone dropped it. But then where were the other pieces?
Link stood up, looking around uneasily until he spotted a broken slingshot a foot or so away from him. Next to it was Ghirahim's earring, which lay on a piece of paper.
Link picked up the piece of paper, furrowing his brows at the small writing. It was neat and flowery, though.
Just returning your stuff. Would be nice if you answered that question I asked in the Fire Sanctuary, it read, and below it was a name. Ghirahim.
Link gazed down at the slingshot and earring, items from his childhood that he'd long forgotten. For a moment, Link considered the fact that Ghirahim was still alive, probably well, and watching him now, and that this was definite proof. But now he wondered if the demon had changed now that Demise was gone. After all, with Demise gone, what reason did they have for fighting? Link wondered if Ghirahim would be hostile if they ever saw each other again.
Then again, would they? Link knew he'd injured the demon pretty badly. What if he was dying?
Pursing his lips, Link picked up the slingshot and earring. He looked around again, hoping he would see the demon and get an answer to his question.
But he saw nothing. Link was certain he was there, watching from perhaps behind a tree, but he didn't show himself.
Link looked down at the items in his hand.
He couldn't remember what the jewel had to do with him, but he did remember having a slingshot when he was younger so he could shoot targets at the Knight Academy. However his mom had taken it away and he never saw it again.
Link stood in silence for a few moments, staring down at the jewel and slingshot, before he set them back down.
"I know you're there," Link said, though he received no response. Of course, Ghirahim knew he knew. He shifted uncomfortably; surely, Ghirahim was noting Link's every move, if he was even there to listen. "Just so you know, even if Zelda-or the spirit maiden, if that's what you know her as-asked, I wouldn't answer. It's personal." He felt incredibly stupid. He could just imagine someone catching him talking seemingly to himself. Eager to leave, he said, "Honestly, if you really want this shit, I don't. I don't need it and I don't want it."
With a small spur of fear, Link left the area, ignoring the footsteps that could be heard behind him. As he walked, they faded away.
Maybe one day they would meet again, and maybe they wouldn't be enemies. Or maybe Link was wrong, and if they met they would be just as hostile toward each other as they were when they fought on Demise's seal. Either way, he doubted that he would ever see him again.
But perhaps he was wrong about that too.