It was dark. It was always dark, here, why wouldn't it be.
It had spent millennia here, watching them arrive, watching them dash at life, straight into the arms of death, fate guiding them along different paths but the ending was always the same.
It was dark. Why wouldn't it be, here in the underworld?
The creature kept its eyes closed. It liked watching them, looking through the small window that appeared whenever a soul passed, staring out at the light, at the dark, at the life, life it could never see up close. But it could not bear the sight of them. Three souls, forever intertwined. Many of them had passed, and many more were to come, and the end, those last three, it did not like to think about.
Personally, it hated the idea of reincarnation, of a single soul being reborn again and again. If it is only one soul within the entire line, would not the identity of the original take over the identity of those that came after? Were they not all the same person?
It hated it. None of them would truly have an identity, a mind, of their own. It liked to think that instead of the entire soul being passed on, only the core elements of the original would go down in the line or whatever it was, the bare remnants and knowledge given to the next, with the reincarnation not bearing the weight of their ancestors' experiences, left to create their own identity. To back it up, the original souls of those three had never left the underworld, even while their 'reincarnations' were yet again saving the world of the living. Yes, it was better that way.
Sometimes it could not help but open its eyes, when one of them passed by. The golden light from their hands would blind it, and all it could think about was that ugly void in the centre of the symbol, the void where its own piece should have lain. It should have been there, at the creation of the world, but its sisters had ripped it from the fabric of the world, leaving a gaping wound in its destiny. It deserved a place in the world.
All it wanted was not to lay claim to a piece of its own, no. It did not want a hero to watch over. It did not want that power. All it wanted was to walk in those green fields, the dusty cliffs, the various lakes and swamps and forests of that central world.
It was hard, seeing the goddesses golden, in the minds of the deceased. It was hard, knowing that not a single one knew of it, of its place in the worlds that it could never take, the role it couldn't play. It had watched the creation of this world from beneath, a mere spectator, unable to do anything but watch as they left behind the golden relic that would later become a symbol of all that the land stood for, a yawning space where its own piece should have rested. And then its wretched sisters had trusted the power to that naïve, inferior goddess, that worthless Hylia. She, of all 'people', had obtained Wisdom. Or her reincarnations did.
It shifted a little.
One of them was on their way.
Which one would it be?
The tragic villain, corrupt by Power? The hero, cursed by Courage? The royal, burdened with Wisdom? Heroes the lot of them, but from down here the quarrel that lasted for millennia seemed petty. It had shaped the world's history, in all timelines that had appeared.
All souls, from all worlds, and all timelines, ended up in the same resting place. The inhabitants of Hyrule, Lorule, Termina, the Twilight Realm, they all came here. It would watch them all arrive, some mourning their own deaths, others fully accepting of their demise – Demise, of all things, ha! Some were even welcoming of it, but tired quickly once they realised this world was just like the previous, only that one could not leave.
A tear in the fabric of 'reality' appeared, offering it a quick glimpse of Hyrule – a forest, marching on and on, a vast lake stretching from horizon to horizon, field and desert side by side. The grass was stained with red.
Then a shadowy figure was hurled through the gap, their outline becoming clear, the golden glow on their left hand blazing and illuminating the grey expanse they had entered.
The hero. He was unique among the others, that he was also of the Royal Family. He had set out to save his sister, of Hylia's spirit, and had succeeded, but years later another conflict had torn him down.
It closed its eyes. The others would arrive soon, to greet the newcomer, tell them of what they knew. All green clad, all with wide blue eyes that spoke more than their mouths, all with hair ranging from blond to brown, all with the same golden symbol on their hands.
"Look!"
"Link! Link!"
"I'm short, slow down!"
For some reason, once they arrived here their urge to speak increased greatly, as if all the words they hadn't used while alive came pouring out after death.
It sat there and listened as they explained to him, as they told him what they had learned of death.
"A sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage."
"You've said that so many times it's become useless. Besides, you're a kid."
"I was the one who taught you how to use that sword. And I'm only a kid now because I choose to be."
"Guys, stop."
"Where's Ravio?"
"Why do we need him?"
It didn't bother to distinguish between them. It didn't want to.
"Zelda?"
"Where are they?"
"Who are you?"
"She's your sister?"
"Why are you so shocked? You're right handed."
"So?"
"Where am I?"
"This is the underworld."
"Ganondorf, wherefore art thou-"
"Why the heck do you want him here?"
It considered plugging its ears. Their endless babble was exhausting.
"We all look the same..."
"We're the Hero. Singular, kinda. Did you pay any attention to those old legends?"
"Are you calling me old?"
"Shut up, pipsqueak. So, there's some sort of cycle right, where we have to save Hyrule, or some other world from impending doom, which may be Ganondorf, who is also trapped in this cycle. Zelda is the reincarnation of the goddess Hylia. We're all the spirit of Hylia's Chosen Hero, who we've never actually seen… Then there's Ganondorf, who is the reincarnation of some sort of demon, and he repeatedly wants to take over Hyrule, or destroy us, or whatever his evil plans may be, because why the heck not."
"I believe Ganondorf always has good intentions, but then the Triforce – you know what that is – messes him up-"
"It messed us all up."
"So…So how many of us are there?"
"Uh, well, I'm the first – not Hylia's Chosen, I believe he wears a red cape or something similar – I'm not the original, but you get the idea. I'm Link, I play the harp, used to live in the sky before fate decided to call. Then there's this Link, who… and this Link….and this….."
It ceased to listen. It knew everything, anyway, better than they did. Heroes the lot of them, cowards the lot of them, courage and bravery and recklessness…was it worth it? Was the fight so important?
"Who's that?"
It chuckled. "No thing of your concern, Link. May I say, you are a handsome lot."
"Uh…"
It opened its eyes. They were all standing in a circle around it, the light from their hands shining. Everywhere it looked blue eyes were staring at it in puzzlement, wondering why its ashen skin was coated in Hylian script, why upon its chest the mark of the Triforce was etched.
"This has been here since…"
"Since before I died."
"It taught me a bit about Hylia's Chosen Hero, among other things…"
"It?"
"Do you mean she?
It laughed, a grim, mirthless sound. "I'm not worthy of being anything other than an object. A worthless object."
"But…"
"Leave me be, heroes," it sneered. "Go await another death. Frolic with Zelda and Ganondorf and your worthless companions. Navi, Midna, Daphnes, Ravio, your Six Sages, worthless mortals…"
It trailed off, leaving the heroes standing.
"Come on. Everyone's waiting."
"Are the originals there?"
"We haven't met the first one of us – and Hylia's a goddess, so I'm not sure what happens to her…Demise I have no idea about… Did I mention the Master Sword is called Fi?"
"Fi?"
"Oh, one thing. I died a man, but I look like a boy. We can take on whatever age we wish here, but it's only for our physical appearance."
"Oh…"
"I liked being a Kokiri…"
xxx
It was hard, sitting in the dark, watching them go by, watching the world fade. It was hard, seeing its sisters residing in the heavens, seeing the golden relic being broken and assembled and broken again and again, watching the souls being born, watching them die. The suffering was great. No one remembered it because no one knew of it in the first place, it had been cast down before it could play its part.
It wasn't human enough to cry. Since it was in the underworld, it might as well be dead. It wasn't close to anyone here, it had no connection with the ghosts of the past, not that it wanted to be close to mere mortals, mere puppets pulled by strings of fate.
It was hard. It was so hard, being the outcast, being powerless, being the forgotten Fourth Goddess, with no piece of the Triforce to her name.
I got distracted and this happened. Now, I know bugger-all about the Zelda series, I've only played a few games, so I've definitely mucked up some things. Feel free to let me know if you find a mistake. I was also going to cut out some of the dialogue but I'm lazy.
Also has anyone already used the idea of the negative space formed by the three pieces is the place where the fourth piece should be? I don't want to unintentionally use someone else's idea.
Right, I have three other fanfics and schoolwork to do. Thanks for reading!