Almost everything around him was like a page torn straight from the old tome his grandmother would read to him at night- the designs adorning the wall murals, the fountains of the gardens, the paintings on the walls
Even the monsters parading the halls were picture-perfect.
This land is frozen in time, the King of Red Lions had told him, but beneath the placid surface a great power is sleeping.
Regardless of its storybook innocence, his mentors words were true- whatever spell or charm had been cast on this place had stolen its identity, but it had not completely blanketed the evidence of some greater presence lurking beneath the lifeless colors of this undersea world. He felt it calling to him, a soundless message so powerful that he could feel it in his core. Sloughing the nagging feeling off, he stepped through the entranceway and began to explore his surroundings.
Cautiously, he stared down each of the grotesque guards as he passed by, waiting for one to suddenly spring to life and attack him. As he passed each one, he fought the urge to laugh. He had never seen one up close and only now realized how comically these monsters were shaped: This one had a ridiculously small head for its enormous body; another was overbalanced by its outrageously sagging lower lip. With a suppressed grin, he wondered if someone had molded these monsters in these forms as some sort of a joke.
Taking the steps two at a time, he was overtaken by the sudden feeling of burning anticipation. The silent presence was hard to ignore for long, and he knew that it was watching him. He kept his eyes forward, doing everything he could to not acknowledge his discomfort.
By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, his anxiety had turned to fear and his fear quickly progressed to terror with each step he took. Soon, he was running as fast as he could to the other archway, desperate to get away from the awful power behind him.
He reached out his hand to the doorway- his escape- and was met with the electric sensation of pain. Flying backwards, he felt a cold sense of doom engulf his heart as he realized that the spell that froze time also ensnared everything that came into its clutches. He was trapped.
Breathing heavily, he steeled himself and turned to face the oppressive source of this frightening silence.
The Hero of Time stood triumphantly above him, legendary sword in hand. His stance was strong, deceivingly acting as if all that mattered was the artifact in his clutches, but the boy below him had seen through the illusion and straight into the tricksters blank eyes.
They stared each other down. The boy had no idea as to what the great silence was trying to tell him-or if it was trying to tell him anything at all- but he knew that he could not hide from those passive bronze eyes. Shame faced for reasons he didnt quite understand, he broke contact and focused on the mechanism to open the castles secret passage that was lying at the statues feet.
He tugged at the Master Sword-the Blade of Evils Bane, the Heros weapon- with all of his might. He was small and he was exhausted, but he knew that he had to succeed. He willed it to help him stop the King of Darkness, begged it to aid him in his rescue of his sister, pleaded for it to help him get out of this forsaken castle. He felt his hope and confidence wither as he pulled and pulled beneath the suffocating silence that weighed down above him.
Finally, finally the sword gave in to his prayers and slid out of the stone pedestal.
A great noise cut through the suffocating solitude and resounded through the walls of the sunken Hyrule Castle. As the giant suits of armor tipped their swords to him, he could not help but feel that he had shattered much more than the curse of frozen time.
He slew the monsters in the main hall with a surprising ease and confidence, returning them to the puffs of dark smoke they were formed from. The storybook images were now erased forever, the paper they were printed on shredded by his blade and were replaced by what he had done.
Looking up at the Heros statue one last time, he couldnt help but feel as though he had replaced something otherworldly, something legendary, when he had pulled the sword. The color had returned to the stone hallways and playful waters of the castle fountain, but something about them seemed distorted and hokey- they were a caricature of what this place had once been; it was nothing but a cheap imitation of the things he knew from the world above the water.
He felt as if he had broken the spell that preserved a great spirit and had pushed it out with his own.
He knew he could never be the same as that hero had been; that hero was the great silence that had pervaded everything, even through the mere memory of the people. Now, his power was bending to the will of this newcomer, this shallow reflection, erasing and reforming everything to suit him. The lack of complete silence now felt heavy on his heart.
The statue, eyes now vacant, looked out from the castle hall and onto the vast colorful nothingness that remained.
Link silently left that forsaken fortress.