The Legend of Zelda: Advent of Darkness

By The Mauve Lantern

Prologue: The Eastern Tower

High atop the regal tower in the ancient palace, Zelda, the princess of the land of Hyrule, gazed out at all that lay in her dominion. From her window she could see the very top of Death Mountain, the crystal-clear water of Zora River, and the mighty trees that grew in Kokiri Forest. Her chamber stood at the highest point in the tower and it overlooked the courtyard in the palace. If she were to look below, she could find the garden that she played in years ago, when she was but a child.

She turned to look around the room, as she had done many times in the past months. Her hands traced along the ivory desk that was near the window, across the piles of papers that were filled with knowledge and wisdom. The painting of her family solemnly watched her as she watched it. Her bed was in the corner, white and pristine, the sheets folded neat and proper. Aged stones formed the walls, which were lined with candles that flickered softly in the darkness.

A drop of rain shook Zelda from her viewing, and she turned and closed the ornate windows before the storm came. The shut windows seemed to make the scene even more fitting.

A prison is a prison, the princess thought to herself.

The sound of knocking came from the door. "Princess Zelda," said the guard outside, "I have your dinner with me!"

"Leave it outside," she replied. "I am not hungry."

"Suit yourself." The guard left the metal tray outside the large wooden doors and then resumed his position outside the room.

Zelda sighed. "It does not matter, I suppose," she mumbled as she moved to the large mirror near her bed. The crystal displayed her reflection, and Zelda was dismayed at what she saw. Her tan skin had grown pale, her corn-colored hair had turned a dark amber color, her eyes had dark bags under them, and her body was frailer than it had ever been. Even her dress reflected the abysmal mood of the princess, the colors having been dulled and grayed with time. Her pristine white gown had been smudged with dust and dirt, the regal violet smeared with the blood of her slain guardsmen, and her gloves turned dingy. This was not who she was. She was the princess of Hyrule, who, according to prophecy, was the Seventh Sage. Now she was but a prisoner in her own palace.

The rain was now falling much harder outside. It bombarded the windows, drumming against them like a madman. Along with the rain came the dark clouds that blotted out the sun, creating a darkness akin to midnight. This was what Zelda was waiting for. She crossed the room and stopped at her bed, then got down to the ground and crawled underneath it. There, in the mattress, she found a slight hole. The princess tugged on the sides of the hole and opened it wider and wider until the opening was twice as large. She began to withdraw several items from the mattress, including an indigo tunic, a white cowl, and blue leggings. Her items in hand, Zelda crawled out from the bed and placed the garments onto the mattress.

"Perfect," she mumbled as she fingered the silk-like cloth in her hands. She grabbed the white cowl first and examined it: the thing was dingy, not unlike her own dress, though the cowl was ragged around the edges. It was like a vest of some kind and it included a hood that would cover her head. On the front was a violet background that displayed a familiar crest. This crest was red in color, and it was shaped like an eye with a teardrop underneath it; three triangles over the eye completed the design.

"Tonight," the princess said softly, "the Sheikah will fight again…"

***

Outside the princess's chamber, two guards in glistening silver armor stood at attention, ready to keep people from entering the room and from leaving the room. The guards were bored, and questioned why they had been made to guard a defenseless woman such as the princess.

"I have to wonder," said one guard to the other, "what his Majesty is thinking."

"What do you mean?" asked his companion.

"I find it incredibly hard to believe that someone like Princess Zelda, known for her infinite wisdom and clarity, could possibly have gone mad!" The first guard shook his head. "It's just--"

Before he could finish, a faint melody reached his and the other guard's ears. It was a soothing melody, like a lullaby that would be used to put a child to sleep. From the sound of it, the tune came from a harp behind the doors. The first guard yawned and his friend did the same.

"Heh," the second guard chuckled as his eyelids began to droop, "I haven't heard this song in a long time…"

"That's right, it's that lullaby Miss Impa used to…used…to…siiiiiiiing…"

Both guards fell against the wall, their bodies succumbing to the effects of the lullaby. Neither of them noticed the bedroom chamber doors open, nor did they see the figure that stepped out.

This mysterious figure was a tall, lean male of roughly twenty years of age, who had most of his face covered by a white scarf that wrapped around the lower half of his face. A white bandana was tied upon his head of amber-colored hair, most of which was tied back behind the man's head save for a small amount that covered half of his face. He was wearing an indigo tunic that clung to his figure, and dark blue pants that shared the same properties. Small pieces of leather armor covered his leg and arm muscles, and white cloth was wrapped around his hands to protect them from injury. A white vest bearing the mark of the Sheika rested upon his figure, and a hood was pulled over his head.

"Forgive me, my friends," he whispered to the slumbering guards, "but I must relieve you of your weapons." The young man removed a small sword from the first guard and a broadsword from the second. When both these items were tied to his person, the young man crept down the hallway, his shoes making nary a sound. He snuck down the stone steps until he came to a window that was high above his head; with an incredible leap, the man made it to the windowsill.

The rain immediately pelted the man as he opened the window, and before long, he was soaked from head to toe. He stole upon the blue rooftops of the palace, his footsteps drowned out by the heavy rain. Occasionally, he would be forced to wipe away his blonde hair that matted against his face, but he never slowed down; he had to reach the eastern tower before the end of the storm, no matter what.

There was no impediment, until the giant vultures in the sky took notice of the wandering human. One such bird of prey decided to swoop in and attack the man, but he was quicker than the dreadful creature. He swiftly tore the broadsword from its scabbard and slashed the bird from beak to belly before it could move in for an attack. The other vultures made a move to attack, and they were likewise disposed by dreadful sword swipes that rent the birds apart, leaving the man coated in sticky blood that clung to his clothes in spite of the rain.

As he moved along the slippery roof, the spry young man came upon a small group of guards that were gathered atop the stone ramparts. These men had cloaks wrapped around their bodies to keep the rain off, but did little good against the gusty winds. Unfortunately, the sound of a harp would be drowned out in this kind of storm, so it was impossible for the man to knock out the guards with music; he would have to resort to violence again. With great stealth, he ran to the guards and snuck up on them as they conversed with each other.

One shouted to the others, "I tells ya, it's been awful weather lately!"

"I know!" replied the one in the middle. "What do you think is causing this?"

"Don't know," grumbled the third. "Could be those blasted Rito coming in and changing things with their aero magic or whatever…"

"Are you still going on about that?" asked the second. "What's your problem with them?"

The third guard grunted, "As things stand right now, we Hyruleans are at peace with the other tribes. I hate the idea that, when ambassadors come, I've got to take orders from fish, from children, and now, birds! It's enough to make me sick!"

All three guards struck up an argument with each other, not noticing the man who had snuck up behind them. With great speed, the young man punched the first guard in the back and struck the ribcage of the second guard with the sword scabbard, leaving only the last guard, who had realized that his companions were defeated.

"Y-You monster!" he cried. "Wh-Wh-What do you w-w-w-want?!"

The young man did not respond, and instead, he dropped low to the floor and kicked the guard's legs out from under him. His balance lost, the guard fell to the ground and hit his head against the stone floor; his helmet did little to cushion the impact of the fall. A pool of blood seeped out from the helmet. The young man sighed and opened a bottle that was hanging from his waist. In the glass container was a thick red liquid that was made from the finest mushrooms in Hyrule. He tipped the bottle to the fallen guard's lips and the red potion vanished into his body in a moment. The blood flow stopped and the man began to breathe again; his life was saved.

With the guard safe again, the young man continued his trek along the rooftop. Once, he had to stop another guard from spotting him, and he also had to deal with the vultures that had come out to feed. At last, he reached the wooden bridge that led from the ramparts to the eastern tower, where the man's destiny lay. He ran for the bridge and found that it was swinging wildly in the breeze. Suddenly, at the end of the bridge appeared a large, bulky creature that had the body of a man, but the head of a brutish dog. It chuckled grimly and revealed it held an axe in its hands. The man's eyes shot open. He knew he did not have much time, so he ran as fast as he could across the bridge, but he only made it halfway before the monster used his massive axe to tear apart the end of the bridge, making it collapse. If he did not do something, the man would end up dead.

Thinking quickly, the man summoned all the strength in his legs and shot up into the sky, propelling himself up and out, so that he not only flew to the other side, he also flew overhead of the monster. When he had a clear shot at the beast's head, the man threw the short sword through the air. It embedded itself in the monster's face, causing the hideous beast to scream in agony as it feebly tried to pull the blade from its head. The monster stumbled in its pain until it reached the edge of the tower's top. A kick from the young man sent the beast to its death at the bottom.

"Who allowed these Moblins to become guards in the palace?" the man asked aloud even though he knew no one could hear him. "The situation has become even worse than I imagined…"

Now standing atop the eastern tower, the masked man walked around the top until he came upon a wooden door that led inside. He pushed the door open and slowly crept inside, only to be assaulted by the keese that haunted the tower. The man growled and sliced one of the bats with his sword, then another and another, until they all were slain, vanishing in a cloud of black smoke. This time, he did not sheathe his sword, as the possibility of running into more monsters became a reality.

He walked through the circular room until he came to a set of stairs that went down below, and then he crept quietly down into the next room, which was a circular room with a metal floor. It was sparsely decorated save for a few boxes here and there, though there were a few weapons that had been left unattended. The room, and in fact, the whole tower, reeked of mildew, decay, and even some foul water that seeped in from the sewers, which the tower was connected to. To block out the foul smells, the man pulled the cloth around his face tighter.

As he crept down the stairwell, the man came across another set of flying keese, though these were dispatched just as easily as the ones in the room above. Further down the steps, a more difficult obstacle presented itself in the form of a small green beast, roughly half the size of the man, slowing pacing around and acting like a guard. The creature, a bokoblin, was carrying a large wooden club that would do considerable damage if the man could not avoid it. What made the situation worse was the fact that the steps were becoming slicker, so if the man moved too fast, he would slip and fall to his death. This had to be carefully plotted and timed just right.

The enigmatic man quietly withdrew a slingshot from the confines of his vest and aimed it for the bokoblin's head. He whispered, "Goddesses, please let this one be as dumb as its cousins," and he fired the deku seed from its sling. The nut flew straight and true, striking the monster in the head. It growled and looked for the source; when its head swiveled around, the man was discovered. The bokoblin hissed and ran up the stairs, forgetting how slick the stairs were, so before it could even reach the man, it fell off the side and plummeted down into the dark depths of the tower. It landed in the sewer water with a sickening splash that did little to drown out the sound of every bone breaking in the monster's body. His enemy vanquished, the man continued down the stairs at a much slower pace, never stopping in his trek.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man reached a section of the steps that were broken. There was no way he could make the leap down to the other steps below, even if he used the jump from earlier. He cursed under his breath and pulled another item from his cowl. This time, it was a metal machine that was no bigger than the man's hand. It was shaped like a large egg, round all over except for the end, which was a pointed blue tip. The man held the item up before him and aimed for a section of wall that was down below. When he tightened his grip on the handle of the machine, the tip shot out and rocketed through the air on its blue chain. The tip connected with the far wall and so the man loosened his grip on the handle, allowing the chain to recoil and to pull him across the chasm. He reached the other side and landed on the ground with ease, then pulled the tip from the wall and placed the machine back inside his cowl. The man made a mental note to thank the boy who had given it to him all those years ago.

By now, the odor in the stairwell had become a thousand times stronger, and reeked worse than a herd of wild pigs in a storm. The man almost gagged in repulsion, but he pulled himself together and continued down into the dark depths of the tower. Once or twice, he passed by a black rat that scampered around on the slimy stairs, but he paid no mind to the vermin until the creature bit his ankle. He stabbed downward with his sword and skewered the pest before the rat dissolved into black dust. This happened more than once, although the man was quicker each time in order to avoid being bitten again.

After the long trek, the man finally reached the base of the stairs. At the bottom, the tower looked a lot different: there was grime that clung to the walls like putrid cobwebs, and the floors were caught in the shallows of the sewer water, making the man stand in black water that covered his feet completely. The water gave off a vile odor and the sight of the dead bokoblin floating in the sewage did not help matters. And without any source of light, the sewers were nearly pitch-black. The mysterious man held his hands before him and chanted softly, "Kyram Din, seffar!" Instantly, a small ball of fire sparked within in his palms. Now that there was light, the man entered the tunnel that led into the sewers.

He crept along the corridor, his feet splashing through the foul liquid beneath him. There were no beasts down here: no rats, no keese, and no bokoblins. The man was thankful for this, as he knew that, should he engage in combat before he reached his destination, the ball of fire would go out and he would have to use more of his magical energy to get it started again. Where he was going, he needed to conserve his power as much as he could.

A turn around the left corner and the man saw that he had, at last, reached his destination. There, at the end of the hall, was a wooden door, built above the water line that was made of a black wood that blended in with the dank sewer walls. It had plain black hinges and a brass handle; it seemed to be an ordinary door. When the man hurled his ball of fire at the door, the wooden structure exploded and dissolved into black dust. It was a fake, a monster merely pretending to be a door. Behind it was the real thing, and, though it looked the same as the fake, there was a lack of a shine to it.

The man crept up to the wooden door, braced himself before turning the handle, and then pulled the door open slowly, with all the grace and finesse of a doctor. Inside was inky blackness, not unlike the sewers outside. The man lit another ball of fire in his hands and used the light to look around. From what he could see, there were torches lining the walls of the room. If they were lit, they would provide a better light than the sickly ember in the man's hands.

Treading lightly, the man walked to the torch closest to him and placed the ball of fire into the kindling. Instantly, the wood lit up in flames and illuminated a small portion of the room. With the torch lit, the man chanted, "Kyram nu Din, seffor," and the ember in his hands vanished. He looked to the ground and found the wooden shaft of a spear lying on the black stones, discarded, so he picked it up and held it close to the torch. When the end of the stick was set aflame, the man walked over to the next unlit torch and held the shaft against the kindling, adding another light to the room. This continued for a moment as the man walked around the room, setting each torch ablaze, until the room was filled with a soft, orange glow.

The room was cold and nightmarish to behold. There were suits of armor, still occupied, lying upon the floor, their owners nothing more than skeletons. The floor was coated in a dark substance that the man could only assume to be the spilled blood of the soldiers. Their weapons were discarded about the room, broken into pieces for the most part. A large wooden door was on the other side of the room, past the field of bodies and mangled weapons. It would only be a short walk to the door, but when the man got halfway through the room, the door he came through was slammed shut. He spun around quickly and was met by the flat side of an axe. The man fell to the ground a good distance from his attacker.

Standing there, towering over everything in the room was something that looked like a man, but was actually a demon of great power. It was composed of various pieces of armor from all corners of Hyrule: brass gloves, boots and leg coverings, iron armor covering the torso, and a chain mail battle kilt that fell to where its knees would be. An iron mask with holes in the front covered the monster's face, and there were two horns that were planted atop the crimson helm it wore. The enormous axe in its hands was like a toy to the beast. It was said to have strength unrivaled by even the mightiest Gorons. There was a name given to this beast: the Iron Knuckle.

"Damnation," the man whispered. He pulled the broadsword from its scabbard and steadied himself. Fighting a Moblin was one thing; fighting an Iron Knuckle was completely different. An Iron Knuckle was basically a living suit of armor, lacking in any muscle or flesh; to defeat it, one had to have the power to survive against it. Had the slain guards at the man's feet fallen victim to the monster's blade? He did not have long to ponder this, for the Iron Knuckle had begun to advance towards the man.

The man leaped away from the beast's axe, and he tucked and rolled along the ground, then leaped up and struck at the Iron Knuckle in its unprotected back. It grunted in frustration and then turned around and stomped towards the man. He had learned, through training with his master, that the Iron Knuckle, while very powerful, was also very slow, so one could take advantage of this if they were fast enough to dodge its blade. To protect himself from much harm, the man held his hands before him and began to chant softly.

"Quell'dia nu Nayru, ilruk!" When he finished, a blue diamond formed around the man's body. It was a spell that granted him the protection of Nayru, the goddess of wisdom, and it would fare him well against the Iron Knuckle. The man ran forward and immediately leapt out of the path of the monster's axe then spun around and dealt another blow to the monster's back. It growled again and spun around, trying to hit the man in the head with the flat of its axe blade, but the man was faster, and he ducked below the blade and slashed upwards with his broad sword, leaving a good slice in the monster's chest armor. A deeper growl emitted from the bowels of the monster as it brought its axe overhead to try and cleave the man apart, but this was another mistake on the Iron Knuckle's part. The man leapt to its left side and delivered another slice into the monster, making the beast howl in pain.

Black smoke began to emit from the monster, and the man thought that he had beaten the beast, but he was shocked to find that it was not beaten yet. The large, bulky armor that the Iron Knuckle was wearing fell from its body and it stood in thinner armor that allowed for greater mobility. Now ten times faster, the Iron Knuckle rushed the man and smashed the blue crystal around the man's body, lessening the pain dealt to the man, but still throwing him into the wall. The man picked himself up off the floor and just barely steadied himself before the monster attacked again, this time throwing the axe at the man. The metal weapon collided with his head and sent the man into one of the torches, knocking the structure onto the floor. He rubbed his head to try and alleviate the pain, but the monster was once again attacking him, leaving him not an instant to recover. After a powerful punch was delivered by the monster, the man began to work out a plan to stop the beast. He could see how the beast moved, when it stopped to recover from its attacks, and when it would strike. With this knowledge, the man reached for his sword and blocked a punch from the Iron Knuckle.

As the blue light around the man began to fade, he knew that he had to end the fight soon and avoid getting hit anymore, so he decided to go through with his plan. He lured the Iron Knuckle towards him, then, just as the beast was about to punch, the man ducked out of the way and rolled onto the floor. He jumped up off the ground and delivered a spinning blow to the monster's side, cutting deeply into the thin armor that protected it. This time, the monster reeled in pain before coming back to attack. It grabbed its giant axe from the floor and threw it at the man, but the man saw the weapon coming and he ducked underneath. When the Iron Knuckle closed in, he jumped up and slashed upwards with his sword, cutting into the beast's belly. Black smoke began to seep out of its wounds; it would be dead in just a few more strikes.

The man moved away from the fist flying towards him and he cut into the monster's other side, receiving a growl of frustration and agony in return. When it charged at him again, the man rolled along the ground and slashed at the monster's legs, cutting through its giant boots. The Iron Knuckle began to slow down in its movements, so the man took advantage of this and ran behind the beast. He jumped into the air and delivered a downward strike straight into the Iron Knuckle's back with enough power to pierce through the beast's armor all the way to the chest. The Iron Knuckle gave a piercing shriek of pain before crumpling to the ground, its body dissolving into black smoke.

With the monster dead, the man leaned against the black wall and plopped down onto the ground, his body too weak to move. After using three magic spells, one of which consuming twice as much as the other, the man was tired and needed to rest before continuing into the next room. He reached down into his cowl in the hopes of finding another red potion, but the man discovered that, during the fight, his last bottle had been smashed by the Iron Knuckle. Red liquid stained his tunic and his hands; it was of no use to him now. The man sighed and looked around the room, trying to find a pot or something that might contain a something helpful. He spied a pot in the corner of the room, so he used his egg-shaped device to smash through the clay creation, but all that was inside was a green rupee. There was the skull of a monster lying near the door leading into the next room. When the man shot the skull, it broke apart and let out a small, pink fairy.

"Goodness!" the tiny creature exclaimed. "How did I wind up in THERE?" It flittered around in the air for a moment, adapting to its surroundings, and then it noticed the man lying against the wall in pain.

"Mister," it asked, "were you the one who freed me?"

"Yes," the man replied, his voice raspy and wanting for air.

"Thank you ever so much! Oh my! You're injured!" The pink fairy fluttered over to the man and settled down in front of his face. "I know what you need," it said. "You need to be healed!"

The fairy flew around the man's head, shaking its gossamer wings and showering the man with soft pink light. It filled the man with warmth and rejuvenation, closing his wounds and tending to his broken bones. When the light faded away, the man pushed himself off the ground and stretched his body out, feeling fresh and renewed.

"Well, that takes care of that!" the fairy giggled. "You be careful now!" It flew through the black walls of the room, off to places unknown, leaving the man all by his lonesome again. Now that he had been healed, the man was ready to proceed to the next room in the tower.

He opened the door into the next room and found that there were lit torches in the walls, like someone had been through here recently. The room was still black and covered in filth that had accumulated over time, and there was a wooden door on the other side, but there were not so many bodies littering the floor here, though there was still a large amount of blood. In the grimy walls were three holes, each large enough to hold a full-grown sheep. Each housed something that was giving off a whining hum, and the man had a vague idea about what the humming was coming from. To make matters worse, the room was long but quite narrow, allowing room for only five stout men to stand shoulder-to-shoulder at the most. The room was very straight-forward, but, as the man knew, not everything was at it seemed.

The enigmatic man took a step into the hall and, right away, had to step back in order to avoid being crushed by the blade that came from the hole in the wall. He watched as the blade, almost tauntingly, moved along the track in the floor, back into the hole in the wall, and waited for the man to cross the path again. This was where the blood on the floor and walls had come from. When the man looked down the narrow room, he saw that the holes in the walls were alternating, one on the left, one on the right, and one in the left at the very end. To get through the hall, the man would have to time his steps perfectly; one wrong move and he would be dead in an instant.

He twisted his neck to the left and right, cracking the joints, and then ran forward onto the first track. As the blade came out, the man jumped up into the air, leaping away from the blade and flying right to the next track. When he hit the ground, the man tucked his body into a ball and rolled along the ground, narrowly avoiding the second blade. He stood up and ran towards the final track, but stopped just before he stepped on the track and triggered the blade. The man looked at the left wall and saw the hole where the blade would come from, and then he looked at the right wall, where there was no blood stain. This seemed out of place to the man so he took his sword from its sheath and tapped the track with it.

Two blades burst from the walls and crushed the sheath, proving the man's guess correct: there was a hidden hole in the wall, where a second gear was waiting. The man ran forward and jumped into the air again, easily avoiding the twin blades. Wanting to leave the dangerous room, the man opened the wooden door and walked into the room that, hopefully, was the last.

The new room was different than the previous two: the stones in the floor were a dark blue, like the evening sky, and the walls were made of a white rock that was like a dead man's flesh. A row of torches lined the ghastly walls, illuminating the room greatly, though the man wished that there was no light at all. The room was filled with prison cells, each one holding someone who worked in the palace. Every servant, every guard loyal to the crown was kept here, and, though the man wished that he could help them all, he was here for one person: the royal princess's bodyguard, Impa.

He walked down the row of cells, passing by sleeping bodies of all kinds, before coming to a cell at the very end of the room. It was small, holding no more than a single person, and the light barely scattered the shadows that accumulated in the cell. Thick iron bars kept the prisoner from escaping, but she would not have been able to leave if she tried.

Impa was a strong woman, having been trained by the greatest Sheikah of history, so she was shackled to the ground. Iron cuffs were locked around her wrists, and the cuffs were linked to chains that were trapped in the ground. The same shackles were around her ankles, making her virtually immobile. But if the man's plan worked, she would be free.

The man clicked twice against her cell bars, and in the darkness, Impa, rapped her knuckles upon the blue floor. He tapped upon the cells four times, and then Impa whispered, "I'm glad you came, Sheik. You have done well."

"I cannot stay long," he replied. "I have come to set you free."

"Set me free?" she whispered harshly. "Don't be a fool! I can survive here; they will kill YOU if they find out what you have done."

"They will not kill me," the man said. "I am too important to their plans."

"I swear, you are just like your mother."

"What was that story you used to tell me?" asked the man. "About how she helped you to steal some milk from the ice box?"

Even in the darkness, the man could see Impa smiling fondly. "Well," she said, "I was but a child, and so was your mother, and she decided one day that she wanted to have some milk. Unfortunately, the chef would not let us near the ice box, saying that he was saving the milk for dinner that night. When he left the kitchen, we snuck in and she pried open the lock by using a sewing needle her attendant had given her. We stole the milk right out of the box and split it in the castle garden. The chef was absolutely furious, but your grandfather and my father just laughed at our ingenuity."

While Impa was going on, the man held his hands together and mumbled under his breath. He spoke so softly that he believed Impa would not hear him, but her hearing had not gone away in the past eight years.

"I can hear you just fine," the older woman said. "I know what you're doing, and I won't have any of it."

"Impa, please listen to me. I don't have a lot of time. They will surely be searching for me by now; you need to get out of here and find him. He's the only one who can help us now."

"But no one has seen him for years!" she exclaimed. "How am I to find him?!"

"Wait in Kakariko," the man told her, "If I know him like I think I do, that will be the first place he visits."

"Sheik, you can't do this!" Impa was almost on the verge of shouting now. "I won't let you-"

The man bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Impa, but I knew you wouldn't like this. That's why I cast the spell while you were talking. Forgive me."

He closed his eyes and said, "Rinta nu Farore, devlac kelfe Impa!" A soft green light sprung from the man's hands and hovered over Impa's head. With the light, he could see her eyes. She was scared, absolutely terrified. Not for herself, but for him. Impa would be safe, but the man might not survive to see the storm pass.

"Sheik, stop!" screamed Impa. "STOP-"

In a bright flash, Impa vanished, her shackles left behind in the cell. The noise disturbed the others in their cells, and they looked out and saw the masked man walking quickly out of the room, back into the room filled with blades. Even though he hid it well, the man was just as scared as Impa had been. They might just have him killed for this.

***

When the man made it through the blade room and opened the door into the room where the Iron Knuckle was defeated, he was grabbed by a pair of Moblins that had been waiting on the other side of the door. The beasts dragged him forward and threw him onto the floor in front of a very old man.

The man was ancient in every sense of the word. His skin was as dry and decrepit as a bone, his flesh the same color as the prison walls. The cloak wrapped around his aged form was something that was only seen in ancient paintings of old Hyrule. He hobbled along with a gnarly cane and he wheezed with very tiny step he took. Still, the unmistakable aura of evil oozed from the old man, and it was enough to make Sheik want to vomit.

"So," the old man said breathily, "you are the one who assaulted the guards outside of Princess Zelda's chambers, yes? That was a very, very foolish thing to do."

Sheik growled, "You will not win this war, Agahnim. You have no power!"

The old man laughed, revealing his yellowed teeth. His breath was like that of a rotting corpse. "Fool. I have ALREADY won. I already control the palace, and, with time, I shall seize the rest of Hyrule as well. And the one who could have stopped me, The Hero of Time, has been missing for years."

"He shall return," said Sheik, "I know he will."

"We shall see, then, Sheik," Agahnim hissed. "We shall see. But you will never live to see the hero return." He said to the Moblins, "Take him away and lock him in the catacombs."

The old man turned and began to hobble out of the room as he said, "And then I want a search done for Zelda! She is to be returned to me ALIVE, do you understand? I will not allow failure on this!"

When he left the room and the Moblin guards, he turned to his right and looked at a man standing next to the door. The man was wearing a regal, blue uniform that had intricate gold designs all around the chest and on the hem of the sleeves and collar. His pants were similar in appearance, with the same designs running up the sides of the pants and on the hem of the legs. A golden belt was wrapped around his waist, and an indigo scabbard was locked into the belt. He wore brown boots that were sullied by trudging through the sewer water and an azure cape that had the Hyrulian crest on the back. A long, blue hat sat atop his head, covering some of his long, crimson hair. He bowed deeply to Agahnim as the old man passed by him.

"You have my gratitude, Captain Ralph," the old man said to the man in blue. "Had you not told me about the guards atop the ramparts, we might not have caught this foolish criminal."

"My lord, it is an honor to serve you," Ralph replied as he doffed his hat to the ancient man.

"I have your next mission," Agahnim wheezed.

"What is it, sir?"

"You are to find the Hero of Time and strike him down. I do not believe that he has returned, but I shall take no chances. Find him…and kill him."

Ralph bowed once again. "Yes, sir," he said as he stood up and walked down the dark sewers once more.