It feeds

It grows

It clouds all that you will know

Deceit

Deceive

Decide just what you believe…

I see faith in your eyes

Never you hear the discouraging lies

I hear faith in your cries

Broken is the promise, betrayal,

The healing hand held back by the deepened nail

~Metallica, The God That Failed

Eleven-year-old Naroh Amerghin gazed at the sky. Dark clouds were beginning to converge in the sky. They weren't typical rain clouds; they were much more malign than that. The grey wisps curled like tendrils threatening to choke the land.

They had heard the rumors. They said that Hyrule was under attack.

"This land is protected," said Naroh's grandfather. "Evil will never endure."

Naroh's grandfather had always told stories about the legendary Hero of Time who had saved Hyrule from a terrible blight of darkness. Naroh's grandfather had been little more than a boy at the time.

"I saw him with my own eyes, you know," his grandfather had once said. "He was a tall young man, dressed in green, like those people from the forest. He wore a sword on his back—the sword of Evil's Bane—and a shining shield. I always found it peculiar, but he was followed around by a fairy."

"Will he really come, Grandfather?" Naroh asked as they gazed at the darkening horizon.

"Of course he will."

"It was a long time ago when you saw him. Won't he be too old?"

"Nonsense," his grandfather replied. "They said he had the power to travel through time. And even if he didn't… his spirit is a part of this land. When the time is right, he will come again to defend it."

A few weeks went by. The clouds continued to gather, and the sun became a rare sight. The murmurs of war grew stronger. The weeks became months, and eventually the sun seemed to be permanently obscured. Heat lightning flashed ominously from time to time, and the people of Naroh's village grew tense.

A terrible shock came three months after the clouds had begun to darken. A badly injured man stumbled into their small town. He was blinded by his wounds and was bleeding profusely. He had come from a nearby village. The local healers tended to him immediately, and he recounted what had befallen his hometown.

"There was a wailing sound," the man said. "The most inhuman screeches I've ever heard. Not even animal-like. It was like the howling of demons. The next thing any of us knew, our village was swarmed by monsters. Hideous beasts with green skin. They were humanoid, and had swords and clubs. It was… slaughter. We tried to fight back the best we could… but we were horribly outnumbered."

Despite the healers' efforts, the man died of his wounds. Disquiet spread among the people of Naroh's village. If one of the neighboring towns had been attacked, then it might be only a matter of time before theirs was attacked as well.

Some of the villagers talked of leaving. Some did.

"We can't give up hope," said Naroh's grandfather, who remained resolute.

The heat lightning became more frequent. Two weeks had passed since the news of the raid, but fortunately there seemed to be no further sign of attacks. However, this did not relieve much of the people's unease.

"Is Grandfather right about the Hero?" Naroh asked his parents.

"Your grandfather has seen much in his years," said his mother. "He probably knows more than anyone else in this village. Of course he is right."

"If he is right… and the Hero is coming… why is it that that man died? Why didn't the Hero come and save him?"

There was a pause. "These things… happen, sometimes, Naroh," said his father. "Sometimes even a hero cannot stop things from happening. But you need not worry about these things. Everything will be fine."

The heat lightning was replaced by thunder. It resonated in Naroh's gut, and it felt like the gods were beating enormous drums somewhere in the distance. A storm had to be coming soon.

"And then it will break, and the darkness will end," said his grandfather. Naroh hoped he was right.

The thunder and lightning kept increasing as the days went by, and Naroh couldn't help but doubt his grandfather's assertions. When was the storm going to break? When was the Hero going to come?

No one had noticed the horse's hoof beats at first, because the villagers had assumed it was only the thunder. Once the rider came into view, however, there was quite a stir. Every man, woman, and child had emerged from their houses to crowd around the newcomer. The reason for the excitement was the rider's dress; he was a knight from Hyrule Castle, a rare sight for a small town like theirs. His visage was careworn and weary.

"I bring news from the King," the knight said. "All citizens of Hyrule are ordered to evacuate to the mountains. It is their only chance for safety. You must pack up your belongings and leave, or else you will be overrun."

This announcement was followed by absolute bedlam. Flee? What did the King expect to happen? What was going on?

"An escort will be sent in the next three days," said the knight, raising his voice to be heard over the villagers' outbursts. "Be prepared to depart as soon as it arrives." He departed as a few drops of rain fell from the rumbling sky.

"I've lived here since I was a young man," said Naroh's grandfather as the family sat around the table that night. "My son was born here. My grandson was born here. My life is here."

"You heard what the knight had said," answered Naroh's mother. "It's an order from the King himself."

For the next three days Naroh's grandfather refused to make any preparations to leave. Naroh's parents tried to reason with him, but he was adamant.

"The hero will come," he told the villagers. "Have you no faith?" Some of them hesitated.

On the third day—the day the escort was due to arrive—it began raining. A strange quiet fell over Naroh's village. The people waited for the escort, getting more and more restless and anxious as the day pressed on. The hours continued to slip away, and still the escort had not arrived. Uncomfortable whispers began floating around, rumors about the delay. Maybe the escort had gotten off-track. Maybe something more important had turned up, and he had gotten a late start. Or maybe he was dead…

Night had fallen, and the escort failed to show up. The rain continued to fall, forcing the villagers to retreat inside their homes.

Five days passed, and still the escort hadn't arrived. The villagers debated—ought they go ahead on their own?

Despite the rain, the villagers gathered in the middle of town to discuss what they ought to do.

"The spirit of the Hero is bound to this land of Hyrule," announced Naroh's grandfather. "Evil will never endure here. We can weather the storm. The Hero will come, and peace will return."

A bolt of lightning crashed, striking a house. A torrent of screams broke out, not all of them in response to the resulting fire. A series of howls strove to drown out the noise of the screams. The monsters had come.

The rain was coming down in torrents now. Everyone was screaming, everyone was running. Naroh's mother seized him by the wrist, sprinting. His father attempted to do the same with his grandfather, who stood rooted to the spot in shock. Naroh watched them as he was pulled along. Once of the monsters drew a curved sword and made for Naroh's father and grandfather. Naroh's grandfather finally allowed himself to be dragged off by Naroh's father, but before they could take more than a few steps, the monster thrust the sword into Naroh's grandfather's middle.

"GRANDFATHER!" Naroh screamed. His mother turned and paused at the sight, her eyes wide with horror. Naroh's grandfather fell to the ground, still wearing an expression of confusion. Naroh's father cried out, and the creature that had slain Naroh's grandfather made a sound that could have been laughter. It dislodged the sword from the body of Naroh's grandfather and slashed at Naroh's father's head. The blow connected with his neck, beheading him. Naroh stood there, speechless, and his mother was screaming. Then his mother remembered herself, and pulled Naroh along again, running faster than she had before.

The rain was so heavy that it was hard to see anything further than five feet away. All around them they could hear the howls of the monsters and the screams of the villagers, some of the receiving the same fates as Naroh's father and grandfather.

And then Naroh's mother tripped. No, she hadn't tripped… one of the monsters had struck her with a club. Naroh could see blood pooling out from her head.

Another bolt of lighting struck the ground several yards away, briefly illuminating the horrid scene: dead and dying people scattered about, the survivors fleeing in desperation, and the beasts reveling in it all as they continued to wreak their violence.

Naroh stared at the monster standing before him. He knew what was going to happen to him. He didn't know why, but he wasn't very afraid. He couldn't put into words what he felt. Anger? Disappointment? Betrayed, perhaps.

The club fell; time seemed to slow as it did. He couldn't escape. He could only watch it fall. Naroh dimly noted that the images of both the club and its wielder were slightly distorted from the rain that continued to descend.

Sudden pain hit his skull, but before he could react in any way, darkness overtook him.

The Hero hadn't come.