Chapter I: Legacy

"Take it easy!" Impa demanded of the guards.

"Our apologies, Madam," the guards said in unison. The three did the best they could to gather the Hero up in their arms. Bones were broken in more places than she could count, and he was losing far too much blood.

"Hurry!" Impa commanded. The guards nodded. As they hurried toward the castle, Impa surveyed her surroundings. The battle had left much of the hillside in ruin, Blackfire still smoldering in the trees. Their battle had even managed to wrench a fissure into the plains just outside the castle... if she hadn't been watching, she would have been hard-pressed to imagine he could have survived such a conflict. She wasn't very sure he would.

They climbed the final stairs and hurried across the bridge to the castle. The clerics had gathered at the gates, most likely to assume care for their patient as soon as possible. As the three drew nearer, the four healers rushed forward to receive their parcel. "Give him to us," one demanded. Before Impa could retort, the cleric snapped, "Goddesses, Impa, there isn't time!"

One of the other clerics added, "He will be safe in our care, Madam Nurse. Please return to the Princess and let us do our job." Impa sighed and conceded to the clerics demands. The four clerics gathered the young man and hurried off.

Impa knew there was little she could have done for the boy. Still, she felt obligated to see him well. Over the past years she had seen him grow from an orphan fisher boy into the kingdom's greatest hero. "Hero," they called him, promised by prophecy to deliver them from the Beast. Impa snorted, aggravated. They had expected a savior, but had thrusted their expectations on the shoulders of a child.

"Madam?"

Impa had forgotten about the guards. "Dismissed, Corporal." Impa turned, patting each on the shoulder. "Go, and see to your families. This is a day for celebration." The two men smiled, and were off. All of Hyrule would be in an uproar for days, no, weeks to come. The people could now live and prosper peacefully, with the threat of Gannon removed. She should have been happy, she had expected to be. But even she had not considered the cost of their deliverance, the price that would be paid. After all, Link was only a man.

"Hoo boy..." Impa sighed. "Zelda's not going to like this."


"Get out of my way!" Zelda demanded, struggling with the guards.

"Apologies, Highness," said one of the guards, "but the healers have requested the utmost solitude to do their work. I must ask you to wait here."

"Come, Princess," Impa suggested. "Sit. The healers will soon be done." The frustrated young woman sighed, returning to her chair beside her nurse. Two hours had passed since the healers had begun their work on Link's wounds. When Zelda had been informed of Link's condition, she had torn off her heeled shoes and sprinted across the castle, tripping over her dress here and there. Fight as she might, the guards would not grant her passage to the Hero's bedside. Nor could they, Impa sadly noted. She had seen Link for herself, and knew very well how fragile the thread he held onto was. Still, with each passing minute she grew more concerned. She said nothing to Zelda, but the hour was growing late, and with each passing minute, Impa could feel the dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

Unable to be still, Zelda stood and began to pace before her chair. Worry lined her face, and her patience was visibly wearing thin. Zelda had only modest knowledge of the cleric's trade, but even she had to know enough to understand that time meant everything. The more time passed, the more the ability of the clerics to help the man would diminish. Impa stifled her worry as best she could, but she feared that she had known when she looked on him…

The doors suddenly opened, then closed again. Marcus, Chief of the Royal Infirmary, made his way towards the princess and her nurse. His face was a mask of stone, and revealed little of what he might say. The Princess had ceased her pacing and watched as the Doctor made his way towards her. Impa stood and met the Doctor with Zelda, bracing the young woman by the shoulder. "How is he?" Zelda asked.

Marcus glanced to Impa, as if to request her permission to respond. Impa held her breath, and nodded. The healer turned back to his Princess, drawing in a deep breath that lifted his white clerics robes as his shoulders rose. His eyes seemed to focus, and he began, "Link suffered a series of major and minor wounds. The bones in his left arm and in his right leg seem to have… disintegrated. We've done our best to seal the minor wounds—nearly a dozen very deep gashes—and so his bleeding has been… halted… for now."

So it was as she had feared. The Cleric seemed to struggle with his words, and glanced once more in Impa's direction. There was no getting around the truth of things now. Not anymore. "Go on," Impa urged.

Marcus nodded, running a hand through his graying hair. "The Sorcerer's Magic is… destroying Link's insides, and they continue to do so despite our best efforts. We've managed to stabilize and revive him, but…"

Zelda turned from the man and moved ten paces away, clenching her fists before her. Marcus started toward her but Impa gestured for him to wait, taking his place. Impa approached the Princess, grasping her left arm and turning her gently around. "Zelda," she whispered, calling the young ladies eyes to hers. There were not words, only a silent plea in her eyes. Impa could only shake her head, and her heart broke as Zelda's chin began to tremble as tears ran from her eyes.

It hurt her to see Zelda in this much pain. She had cared for Zelda from birth. She had watched her grow from a playful (albeit, scheming and occasionally devilish) child into a proud, strong woman. So much of her father in her, dignity and honor. Zelda had had to be strong: the crown had bore down on her family for countless generations, each ruler succumbing to its weight. Zelda carried the weight of her kingdom with the strength of her father, and the grace of her mother. She was a princess, by birth and not choice. But, for the moment, this was not a Princess. For the moment, this was just a woman, frightened beyond her own wit.

Marcus, now at their side, spoke. "He is awake, Zelda."

Zelda turned, her eyes searching the clerics.

"He has asked to see you. He knew before we did what his fate was, and he seems at peace with it. Still, I cannot imagine what..." he trailed off, likely at a loss for what to say. "He needs you, my Lady. Be strong. Let the last that he sees of this world be your bright face."

Zelda nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. Impa mouthed a silent "Thank you" to Marcus, tears of her own gently running from her eyes. Marcus smiled wearily, nodding. Zelda stood, taking a few moments to slow her breathing and calm herself. She turned to the door and, mustering what confidence she could, entered the infirmary, shutting the door behind her. Impa watched as the young woman left, and wept tears of her own.


Link tried once more to sit up, swatting at the hands of the doctors who tried to restrain him. "I ain't dead yet," he reminded them. Giving up, one gave him a pillow for his back and made his way out of the room. He let it support his weight as he used the wall to keep himself up. His legs were now entirely useless, and he had little to no feeling in his left arm. Magic was all but lost to humanity now, but Dark Magic hadn't been seen in over a thousand years. Blackfire was one of the few Dark magic's they still knew of, though only through fanciful storybooks or family tales. None would have expected to see it wielded.

It sustained itself as any ordinary fire would, feeding on the air and burning anything it touched. However, upon contact with the human body, it became an acid, and behaved as a parasite. It would dig into the skin of the victim and worm its way towards the innermost organs. There, it would do what acid does best: consume everything it touched. Link sighed. He had already sustained a handful of fairly deep cuts. The Blackfire had used his wounds to seep into his body, like water poured through the teeth of a pitcher.

He had been too bold, perhaps even reckless, in trying to complete that last strike. But in that last moment, when he had taken advantage of an opening that should not have been there, he had known... this was where it had always been headed.

A deep cough racked his pain soaked body, blood erupting from his slowly numbing face and sputtering out onto his chin. He felt tears gather in his eyes, and despite what little strength he had left, he could not fight them. Suddenly a cloth caressed his chin, collecting the blood there gathered. A hand took his right, interlocking fingers clasping tightly as soft lips pressed gently against his temple. He breathed in floral of perfume and the salt of tears, both his and the others.
Her makeup was smeared, and despite what seemed to be an attempt to conceal them, her tears fell.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning away.

Zelda squeezed his hand. "What for?"

Link gestured at his body, much of the flesh beneath his upper torso now having gone gray. "Everythin'. Nothing seems to have gone as we planned."

She could only smile, and despite his suffering, he could only smile in return. She was more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen, and the light of her soul was brilliant even through tears and sorrow. Defiant of the necrosis that was taking him he raised his right arm, gently cradling her cheek in his hand; and for a few moments they let only silence pass between them.

So many years had transformed her… both of them. They had been little more than children, forced to bear the burden of prophecy. He didn't know if it had been fortune or mere chance that had kept them alive up till now— and he no longer believed in the providence of the Goddesses. But by all rights, they should have died countless times. They'd stood in places no mortal eye had seen in hundreds of years, stared down mammoth creatures and laid them low— all to track down the talisman that was supposed to be the only thing that could defeat the sorcerer. They had sacrificed their peace of mind to the overwhelming challenges of their quest and the terror of the nightmares they yielded.

Even if he were to survive... he would never be the same. Neither would she.

Link sighed. He had far too little time to allow pessimism to make him complacent now. "Zelda." Her own, private reverie broken, she gave him her attention. He gestured to the messenger bag on table in the corner of the small room. It was the Royal Infirmary, meant for the treatment of the ruler and their kin. It was equipped with Marcus' best tools and herbs, and the Master Cleric himself.

Zelda fetched the bag and returned to his bedside. "Inside," he began, his voice increasingly difficult to master, "you'll find a book, small an' leather-bound."

"Your journal?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm sorry I… didn't show it to ya—

"You refused to," she said low on her breath, eyebrows raised.

"—but its only because I still don't understand everythin' yet," he finished, his gaze hardening a little. He sighed. "I'd expected to be able to do this meself but—" his words were interrupted as another violent coughing fit brought more blood seeping forth. Pain racked his body with new zeal, and his focus was more than slipping. Zelda dropped the bag and began stood, searching with deepening anxiety for a dryer cloth. Finding one, she carefully wiped the blood from his paling face. Her image was beginning to swim before him. The sound of her breathing grew faint, and her hand in his began to feel distant. No, no, this was happening too quickly.

"Gannon," he began, trying to force himself to remain conscious.

Zelda nodded. "Take your time," she said.

Link shook his head. "He let me... he planned this."

"What do you mean?" she asked, moving closer that he might feel comfortable speaking lower. "Planned what?"

"The journal…" Link said. "Find the prophecy, I... I wrote it down." His thoughts were beginning to muddle. Why was he laying down again? He wasn't sure, but he felt like he was going to fall asleep soon. Before he did he needed to tell her something... what was it?

"Link, hold on," she urged, squeezing his fingers. "What about the prophecy?"

The prophecy, right. If Gannon had planned it, then he couldn't be... "Something else... it's not Gannon."

"What's not Gannon?" she begged. "Link, I don't understand!"

And if Gannon wasn't... then he couldn't be either. Then that meant... "Wolfbane," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "Find Wolfbane. Only one who can... can stop it."

"What?" Zelda nearly squealed. Her fingernails dug into his arm urgently. What was she trying to do? Couldn't she see how tired he was? He couldn't be mad at her, though. Through his hazy gaze he could see her lips pursed petulantly, reminding him of the pout she did when he teased her. Nope, she was much too cute for him to be mad at her.

She seemed to collect herself, and her grip on his arm eased. "I can see that you need your rest," she said, her voice warm, loving. "I'll let you get to it in a moment, but... is it all in the journal? What I need to know?"

He managed a nod. Wait, no. "Not Wolfbane... you gotta... you gotta find..."

"Ok, honey," she answered, her voice breaking with emotion. Why was she crying? "Where can I find them?"

"Home..." he managed. He didn't want to talk anymore. And he thought she could sense that, as she didn't ask any more questions. Instead, she just lay her forehead on his hand while he shut his eyes, her sobs undulating through her touch. He wanted to comfort her, he did... but he was so tired.

It would be alright. They could talk when he woke up. So, holding his exhaustion at bay no longer, he let the peace of rest take him at last.


Impa was startled to find a cup floating before her face. She looked up to discover Marcus before her. "Tea, Madam Nurse?" he said with a smile. She nodded, graciously taking it from him. She sipped at the warm liquid, letting the strong brew calm her nerves. It was actually quite good.

"Did you make this, Marcus?" she asked, turning to the healer as he sat beside her.

He nodded. "I did. The position of Chief Cleric doesn't get as much action as you might think. Brewing tea and other concoctions has always been a hobby of mine. Do you like it?" He asked.

"I do," Impa replied. She continued to sip at it. It tasted of cherry and licorice, laced with a jolt of lemon. The combination which was at first somewhat odd was actually an ingenious flavor. Impa sighed, the knowledge of where she was suddenly returning to her.

"They really care for each other, don't they?" said Marcus, glancing at the door.

Impa nodded. "She's royalty... from childhood her social life has been crowded by petty and disingenuous nobles. And then Link came along, not a pretentious bone in his body. His honest, sometimes blunt, nature wasn't always easy for her to swallow... but he was a breath of fresh air in a fart-soaked swamp." Marcus chuckled, her jibe at the nobles apparently finding sympathy. "You see," she began to explain, "Link isn't from Hyrule. He had no concept for social hierarchy. Over the years he pissed off more than a few nobles who had expected him to grovel like everyone else."

Marcus blinked, confused. "Where is he from?"

"Outset Isle. Don't feel bad that you've never heard of it," she added. "It's almost a month south by ship. A handful of islands with a hodgepodge of cottages and wayward villages— many of which don't even get along with each other. The closest thing they have to a form of government is a quasi-compulsory naval militia. It's a rough place, fraught with piracy and crime. From a young age, folks down there are forced to learn that they'll only survive if they're willing to fight for it. And Link? He was an orphan from the age of ten, raised by his grandmother. Had to work as a fisherman from then on in order to provide for his household."

"That's incredible," Marcus breathed. Then he shook his head, "I guess that explains why his presence here caused such a ruckus."

"Hm?" Impa pried.

"Well, when you live and work in the palace, you overhear the grumblings of the nobles..." Marcus explained. "Well, they didn't like him," he said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, neither did Zelda," Impa returned, grinning. "Girls and boys can be like cats and dogs already, but those two?" She laughed. "Oh oh!" she squealed excitedly, snapping her fingers. "Maybe eight years ago or so, we were in Kakariko and some kids stole Zelda's handbag— you remember the one, she used to carry it with her everywhere." Marcus nodded. "Well, she just begged him to go and get it back from them. So he spent all day and night trying to find the little gang of thugs that stole it."

"So he found it, then?" Marcus asked.

"Oh, yeah, he found it," she chuckled. "He beat up nearly every street thug in the village until they told him where to find the little gang. And when he found them he beat all of them up just for making trouble for him. Oh, boy, he was so mad. But not nearly as mad as when he found out there was nothing in the bag."

"There was nothing in the bag?" Marcus repeated, torn between incredulity and amusement.

"Impa rolled her eyes, "Oh, Marcus, don't be such a man." She grinned. "Anyway, he brought it back to her and asked what was so important about the contents of such a small bag, and she told him there was nothing in it and..." she couldn't keep going, just remembering how red his face got. "Oh, he was so mad. He wouldn't talk to her for a week. The way they used to bicker, it was like they were siblings."

"What changed?" Marcus asked.

"You mean... how did they...?" she let the question finish itself. Marcus nodded.

"Daphnes passed away." Impa sighed. "She was only twenty-two years old, she wasn't ready for the responsibility of ruling a kingdom. But things with that sorcerer were getting worse by the day— the villages under attack by zombie creatures, regular assaults on the walls by the sorcerer himself. The nobles voted her emergency powers so fast we didn't even have time to bury the King. None of them could see how hard it all was on her. But Link did."

Impa sipped at her tea. "He didn't necessarily like her at the time, but he respected her. He couldn't stand the nobles— so pompous, so conniving. Like her father, she waded through their manure with poise and grace. So, when they fell on her like a bunch of vultures, he'd had enough. He barged into the council chambers they'd bullied her into, threw them all out— by hand— and then dragged her back to her chambers."

"Whoa," Marcus wondered. "How'd she take that?"

"Well, naturally, she started to argue," Impa offered. "But he told her, 'Losing my Pa was the hardest thing that ever happened to me— and I'd only had him for ten years.'" Impa shook herself, doing her best to drive off the tears that threatened. "His Nana's not a... normal lady, so he basically had no one to protect him when his parents..." She had to shake herself off again. "Well, he wasn't going to let it be that way for her."

"I tried to visit her, back then," Marcus chimed in, "to offer my condolences. I knocked and then opened the door, and suddenly," he clapped his hands together once as he paused, "I was on my backside, with Link standing over me."

Impa nodded, parsing a breath through her teeth. "I got about the same welcome." Despite the bitterness of those days, she couldn't help but smile as she recalled what had blossomed blossomed between them. "He sat with her for hours on end, suffering her rage and her despair and her grief with a gruff kindness. Eventually she was willing to talk about it, and he listened to story after story about her father. And then, later... she was ready to keep going, to move forward. She never thanking him for what he had done, and he never asked her to. But after that, she was deferential with him. They weren't quite friends, but..." she trailed off.

"So, obviously there's more to it than that," Marcus prodded. Clearly she had his interest. She grinned.

"Aye, that there is," she quipped, imitating Link's gravelly cadence. "You remember the kidnapping, right?"

"Oh, man, who doesn't?" Marcus answered.

"Right, so Gannon ambushes Zelda on the way to the duchy of Lower Hyila, kidnaps her and locks her away in an old abandoned fort on a desolate island about a week northwest of the continent. Link had been away in search of the Master Sword at the time, and when he got back to find her missing..." She frowned at the memory. "Well, he was really mad then. No one had even tried to go after her— no one. The sorcerer had them all trembling in their holes. So Link took a little cruiser and went out there alone. And it took him days— sneaking around that place, taking out the thugs Gannon had hired to occupy the place one by one. He was like a ghost to them, she'd told me later. They were constantly looking over their shoulders, wondering who would be next."

"Then, out of nowhere, he stepped out of the shadows and just..." she shuddered at the thought. "Zelda told me that the last of them locked themselves in the small dungeon they'd been keeping her in. He broke in and struck them down with such fury that a few of them threw down their weapons hoping he'd spare them." She shook her head. "He didn't." It was Marcus' turn to tremble. "Anyway," she went on, "after that, he turned and practically ripped the prison bars out of the ground. And he said, 'I've come to take ye home.'"

Impa smiled, her heart flushing a little. She still couldn't get over how red Zelda's face had been when she had told her the story. Zelda didn't come right out and talk about it, but... well, she didn't have to. Link was an incredibly stoic man, almost repressed. But underneath that, there was a reservoir of passion with which he cut a fierce path through life. Over the years Zelda had somehow gotten into his heart, and when all of that happened it drew out that affection and tempered it into a fiery devotion. And she'd seen it there, in his eyes, when he'd come to rescue her. And it had taken her breath away.

They hadn't really had time to talk about all of it, their care for each other and what hopes they might have for the future. They hadn't even had a proper courtship, either. There wasn't time for that sort of stuff, not for them. That was what made all of this so hard. Zelda wasn't just losing him, she was losing the chance to even dream...

Suddenly, the infirmary doors were thrown open. Zelda marched out, determination in her stride. Impa and Marcus stood to meet their Princess. She held a small book in her hand, which Impa had never seen before. "Link?" Impa asked. Zelda turned to her nurse.

"He grew tired about an hour ago, so I told him to rest. He—" her voice quivered slightly. She shook off her grief, and continued, "Come Impa. We must leave immediately." Impa blinked, confused, doing her best to keep up with the Princesses stride. Zelda turned back and called to Marcus, "Doctor, please take Link's sword, pack what belongings you need, and meet us at the Naval Station in one hour." Marcus nodded and hurried off.

Impa panted, struggling to match Zelda's energetic pace. "Beg pardon, Highness, but just where is it we are going?"

Zelda stopped and turned to face her nurse, surprised at the question. "There is work to be done, Impa. Come," she said, continuing forward. Impa shook her head, resigning to obey.

"Should visitors inquire, Highness," Impa asked, following after, "where might their Princess have been called away to?"

Zelda did not turn, but continued her pace as she said, "Our destination is Outset Isle."