Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda series, or any of its content.

Dark clouds hung over Hyrule. A heavy rain had been pouring for several days now. The bullets of water pounded relentlessly upon the windows of all the residences the city; a screaming wind tore several windows open as it seeped through the bones of the city's inhabitants. It was so incredibly dark in the soaking streets. Day could hardly be told from night.

All but one dismissed the storm as being just a rare occurrence. They were convinced that it would blow over in a few days, and then they could continue happily about their daily business.

But one knew better.

She knew, but all she could do was sit and stare at the streams of water trickling down the stained glass window in her quarters, waiting. She knew that even though the rain may stop, there was a storm coming that was far worse than any force of rain and water could amount to.

The storm had come several days before, nearly a week ago. At first she had thought nothing of it, not even when the back of her hand began to throb. But the throbbing grew worse . . .

On the third day, she had noticed a significant change. The throbbing was almost unbearable, but there was a new appearance on her hand. The peculiar mark on her hand that symbolized the power she and her ancestors had been blessed with had appeared. It glowed with a blinding, sickly light, and every time the light pulsated an abrupt pain lashed across the back of her hand.

The six other guardian Sages had been called upon immediately and sent to the sacred chambers, but it was too late. The door was locked. For days more they had tried to unlock the door, but it was of no use. No matter how they tried, there was a force inside far greater than any of them could possibly imagine. But the Sages and everyone else would have worked themselves to death to pry the door open. That wouldn't have done anyone any good. So she had, a few days ago, called off all attempts to break into the chamber. Instead, it would be checked regularly to see if whatever evil was inside had left.

The girl smiled bitterly to herself as she massaged her aching hand, transferring her gaze from the window to the glowing mark. If this mark was to bless her with such wisdom, then why couldn't she have been able to see this coming?

She sighed. She knew that wisdom was very different from being able to foresee the future, being all-knowing. But it was just so awful, to sit here, waiting . . .

The light dimmed. She gasped as the throbbing stopped, and brought her hand to her face just as the last light faded.

Now . . . what could that mean? she mused, though she thought she already knew.

Her suspicions were confirmed when there was a knock at her door and, without waiting for her reply, it was swung excitedly open. One of the Sages stepped into the room. "Princess Zelda—"

Zelda stood. "It seems this awful waiting is finally over."

The stone door to the sacred chamber had crumbled to the ground. The once great door was now piles of rubble scattered about the entrance, made up of grains finer than specks of sand.

Zelda and the six other Sages could do nothing more than stare in dismay at the destruction before them. One of the Sages began to explain that she had been watching the temple for signs of change, when all of a sudden the door disintegrated.

A final bolt of lightning streaked through the air, followed by a clap of thunder; but, the storm was already breaking up. The rain had receded to no more than a heavy drizzle. Zelda took that as a sign was a sign that the city was safe for the moment.

Using the term "safe" loosely, of course. Very loosely.

Zelda was the first to move. She carefully climbed the few stairs there were to the temple and entered the gaping doorway. The Sages followed some distance behind. Zelda found she could hardly breathe for fear of what might be found inside.

At first they could see nothing; it was too dark, until one of the Sages allowed the torches that lined the walls of the great chamber to light. Several Sages gasped as the room lit up; some cried out, and even Zelda brought her hand to her mouth.

The room looked largely untouched. The stained glass of all the windows in the room was intact; so were the stone walls. The statue of the three goddesses: Din, Nayru, and Farore, however, was destroyed. Bits of the statue were littered all over the floor. Din was the one most intact; however, her statue was missing a leg and both arms. A large part of her face had been blown off as well. Nayru's head lay at Zelda's feet, having rolled to near the entrance, were Zelda was now standing. What was left of Farore—the most disfigured statue of the three—was scattered around the pedestal in the center of the room.

However, even the horrible sight of the statues was nothing compared to the pedestal. A single sword of legend had always stuck out of the pedestal. It was true that when the chosen hero touched it, both it and the hero would split into four. But whenever in the pedestal, both it and the hero would become one again. But this time . . .

There were four swords stuck in the pedestal, each protruding at a different angle. Not one.

The Four Sword had already been split.

One of the Sages muffled a quiet sob at the sight. "Who has done such a thing?" she whispered.

"The Four Sword—"

"It's split!"

"But how?—"

"A curse," Zelda said gravely. She could sense it even while standing across the room. "Evil magic has been done here these past few days. I'm certain that whoever was here meant to destroy the blade. They must have underestimated its power, and so could only curse it instead."

"What has the curse exactly done, your Highness?"

Zelda strode towards the pedestal. As she walked, she said, "The Four Sword is a blade of legend that splits both itself and its wielder into four personalities. Even if someone fitting to wield the sword were to come along now, since the sword has already split itself, that person will not be able to use it. Its power can only be used when the single sword and single wielder are split together. Otherwise, both are useless."

There was a deadly silence in the room for several long moments. "There is a dark force at work here," one of the Sages said uneasily. "Are we able to stop it?"

"There must be a way around this curse," another Sage said. "It may be split in four, but why must the wielder be also? Surely we could find four able knights to wield the swords."

"It's true!" the third cried.

"Then we shall spread the news immediately," another declared. "A contest will be issued to determine who is worthy enough to wield the swords."

"Let all the knights in Hyrule come! Let them come and prove their loyalty to their country."

"Only the most experienced, wisest noblemen shall have the swords. Call them, and bid they come quickly."

The Sages turned towards Princess Zelda, who was still standing before the pedestal. "Princess, what are your thoughts on this subject?"

Zelda did not answer at first. Instead, she knelt down beside the pedestal and clasps her hands tightly in prayer to the goddesses. "You have my permission to do as you think is best. Please leave me be for now. As a final word of parting advice, please consider that a sword chooses its master before it can be truly powerful; a master impudent enough to choose his own sword is foolish."

They knew better than to question her. Quietly, the Sages left her in peace.

Zelda closed her eyes and waited for the words to come, hoping beyond hope that the goddesses would hear her silent plea.

I know little of the prophecy, but I do know of it . . . is this the time of despair of which it speaks? Has the time truly come?

Please, goddesses . . . we need your strength.

Help us. Help us; send a sign for the heroes to set them on their way . . .

Before it's too late.

At her pleading words, she noticed that the mark on her hand began to glow ever so softly. After a few seconds, it faded. Slowly, she unclasped her hands.

There was nothing else to do now but wait. Zelda stood and turned to leave. Her mind had so many things on it that it felt as though a thick fog had settled over her thoughts. She was disturbed. Very, very disturbed.

So caught up in her thoughts was she that at first she didn't hear the tiny chirp. She was almost to the door before two, then three more chirps joined in with the first. She heard it then and, in surprise, spun around to survey the room.

Everything was in order besides the now-misshapen swords. But she knew she'd heard something. Cautiously, Zelda crept forward, back up to the pedestal. Still no sign of anything . . .

Hesitantly, she reached out her hand to touch the hilt of a sword. As her fingers grew closer to the hilt, and she couldn't help but shudder at the thought of all the evil sorcery that must have been hurled at the blade.

Her fingers brushed the pommel; but they had done no more than that when a small, reptilian head poked out from behind hilt.

Zelda drew her hand back with a sharp gasp of surprise, and the head ducked back behind the blade. Even though it had hidden itself, it did not appear to be afraid of her; rather, it seemed curious. It peered around the blade at her several times. As she stared at the four swords, she noticed three more small heads, each behind a sword, and each staring at her with mild wonderment.

"Dragonflies," Zelda said softly. She had calmed down and, the dragonflies, reassured by this, flew out from behind the swords. There were four of them: small, delicate little dragons that emanated a soft, golden glow of light from their little bodies. They flew about around her head for a few moments before halting, and hovering, at her eye level. One cried out playfully.

"What are you doing here?" Zelda asked of them, reaching out her hand. They nipped at her fingers. "Dragonflies haven't been seen in . . . . They were thought to have disappeared . . ."

Of course, Zelda had the notion that she knew exactly what they were doing here. Dragonflies possessed limited, but powerful, magical ability, and they were highly intelligent . . .

Zelda could hardly hold in her relief and gratitude. "O, great goddesses, you have heard my plea. Here." She had to give them something. Zelda carefully concentrated on her outstretched hands. It took all of her strength to send what magic she possessed to her fingertips. A ball of shining light formed, disrupting the dragonflies' play. It grew until it was fairly large in diameter.

"There," Zelda panted, letting go of the magic to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Conjuring magic was quite a job. "Take it. It should be enough to get you where you need to go."

The dragonflies seemed to know what to do. Each absorbed a part of the orb of magic Zelda had provided for their use. Then, with quick popping noises, each disappeared through a small portal of its own creation.

Please, she prayed as she watched each creature disappear. Please, let them find the heroes!