And so it came to pass that the Mirror of Twilight shattered into a thousand pieces.

With the Mirror destroyed, Ganondorf's only potential link to the Hyrule was severed. This event certainly marked a golden age in Hyrule's history, an age of joy and celebration; but it was not all so.

There remained a youth unturned by the remarkable rebirth of Hyrule. But it did not matter.

This youth, so instrumental in the saving of Hyrule, was of little consequence at this point. The danger was gone, and though the youth's quest and legacy would remain for generations, he himself grew more and more obscure in the passing weeks to the people that were so indebted to him.

But it did not matter. Not to him, anyways.

He gained so much from his journey, learned so much, but now? Completely worthless, all of it. He lost more than he gained, far more. When the world was naught but darkness, when twilight cloaked Hyrule, he had only one by his side; the Twilight Princess. Together they had done so much, fought so hard against all but insurmountable odds, only for him to be left in the dust over a precaution.

Their worlds were destined to meet again, after so many years of division! It could have been the unity of two great kingdoms, that of the Twili and of the Hylians!

But she shattered the Mirror, thinks the youth.

He sits in a dusky corner of the Mirror Room, the chamber atop the ruins of the ancient prison. The sun is drifting behind the mountains, and twilight bathes the sky in honeydew.

How ironic, thinks he, a dry smile cracking his worn face. I, Link, the mighty Hero, moping over a broken mirror. In the failing light, he scans the sandy ground for nothing in particular; he finds his mind wandering more and more lately, as if trying to escape the inevitability of stagnation. Without something to distract him, he'll just wind his way back to the Mirror.

Truly, however, it isn't the Mirror, nor the Twili, that he really cares about; interaction between the worlds is all well and good, but simply an excuse.

All he really wants to do is see Midna, the real Midna, again.

There was once a night when the rain poured unceasingly. Midna, who had lived within the tranquility of the Twilight Realm for all her life, didn't know what to make of this.

They had just cleared Lake Hylia of twilight and were preparing to revisit Zora's River when the storm struck. He was human at the time, but they were too far from civilization; they were forced to hunt down a niche to shelter in until the rain stopped. They found a rocky outcropping, and slipped in before it started to come down heavily. It was a small, dank shelter, with only the crack they slid in through as an opening. Link worked his way inside, turning himself around, sitting cross-legged, facing toward the opening. Throughout all this time, Midna sat on Link's lap, pressing close to his chest, watching the spectacle; she had come into form when Link sat down, as hiding in his shadow in a cramped place like this would be too uncomfortable.

He remembers asking her why she was so unnerved, and getting a snappy quip in response. He remembers her asking him what all this 'rainfall' was for, in her usual not-that-I-care way.

"When the clouds above us get dark, it usually means rain is coming. The darker the clouds are, the more likely it'll rain," was his response, as far as he can remember. "You're lying," she responded, her smugness quite audible. "In the Twilight Realm we have clouds far darker than this, but it never rains there."

"Ah," Link returned, "but we aren't in the Twilight Realm, now are we?"

She quieted at that, propping her head up with her tiny fists, watching the rain fall. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she finally responded, her voice tinted with nostalgia.

"What is the Twilight Realm like, anyways? Anything like what we've seen here?" He said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

A few moments passed, and Link wasn't sure if she was going to respond.

"It's... Well, it's a lot different," she said, seeming reluctant to go further. "I don't think you'd understand half of it, if I were to tell you."

Link leaned his back on the rock wall behind him, relaxing those aching muscles. "Why don't you try me?" He responded, vaguely interested.

"Well," she said, stretching herself out as well, "the first thing that hits you is the sky. Clouds darker than you could imagine always flowing across the golden sky, fracturing the light like, like..." She said, struggling for a proper metaphor.

"Like you're underwater?" Link offered.

"Yeah, like you're underwater," she continued, unabated. "The Twilight Realm doesn't have any continuous land; everything floats in perpetuity. We can levitate, so it's not a big deal. For flightless Hylians like yourself, however, it can be more of a problem," she said, giving Link a quick smirk. "Other than that, well, not much else you'd be able to grasp unless you saw it for yourself."

Link was expecting a condescending tone in her voice, but heard not a hint. Her expression was an odd mix of longing and uncertainty. "It instills a sort of calm in my people, a sort of tranquility," she said, once again looking toward the mouth of the outcropping, the massive rainfall crashing like thunder outside. "You don't sound so sure," said Link, detecting the subtle change in his friend.

"It's what we've been told for generations, that the Twilight is a land of peace and serenity. But since I've been here, in Hyrule, I really do wonder if that's the whole story. There's life everywhere, so much activity, like the world itself is ebbing and flowing with time. To this, the Twilight Realm seems almost..." She trailed off at the end, once again hunching over Link's lap.

She wanted to say lifeless, this he is now sure of. His brief time in the Twilight Realm told him enough. The people there, if they could truly be called so, seemed almost specters of what they once must have been. Perhaps it was Zant's magic; but more likely is the effect the land has on them. There was something inherently poisonous about the Twilight, something he felt pull on his spirit while he pursued Zant. It was almost as if the Twilight itself was drawing his energy from him, somehow.

Here I go, dwelling again, he thinks with repudiation. Getting up, he dusts his pants and tunic off. He grabs one of his bottles and takes a swig of water, spilling a bit on his hand as he drinks.

Ignoring this, he continues to walk toward the exit to the Mirror Chamber.

Something nicks his shoe and he stumbles, dropping the bottle onto the ground, it's contents spilling across the sand.

He curses, kneeling to the ground to pick the bottle back up.

It's there, curled in the damp sand, that he sees a glint.

The sun is almost down, only a sliver remaining above the mountain range, but the object is still glinting strongly.

Couldn't be, thinks Link, excitement rising like a tide in him.

He paws at the sand withholding the glinting object, retracting it quickly at a sharp, jagged pain. He looks to see his finger cut, bleeding. More carefully, he feels around the object.

Slightly larger than his own hand, it feels like a fragment. A shard, he thinks, almost giddy with shock.

Pulling it out of the sand, it indeed reveals itself to be a shard. For a moment Link's heart soars, the possibility of the mirror still being somehow repairable dominating his thoughts.

But it crashes into the floor as soon as he inspects it closer. It's nothing like the Mirror shards; it's design is similar, but it's shape gives it away. It's shaped like a triangle, a corner of someone's forgotten mirror, perhaps.

Dejected, he almost tosses it back into the sand. And he most certainly would have. If it didn't throb.

It begins to pulse softly in his hand, forcing him to give it another look. He feels the vibration in his hand, soothing against his tired muscles. He gives the mirror shard a hard look, scrutinizing every detail on the reflective side. At first, there is nothing but his own pale reflection, hard eyes glaring into himself.

But then, the image slowly clouds, as if he had breathed on it. His eyes are straining against the dimming light; finally he gives up, pocketing the thing and making his way out of the Mirror Chamber. He intends to get to the bottom of this; if it's some kind of Twilian relic or something, maybe it still has some sort of connection to the Realm itself. It has some kind of magic, he's sure about that much at least.

Outside, he saddles Epona, getting ready to ride back to Ordon; he'll have some explaining to do to Ilia before she'll let him off the hook for being gone so long.

Sighing audibly, he kicks Epona into action, tearing across the desert peninsula like a sandstorm.