Welcome, friends, readers and stumblers. Welcome to my first Zelda publication. I hope your search has been fruitful.
Thanks to my lovely Beta-reader, and Jamie who went to the awesome effort of the front cover. Both of you are invaluable, even if said Beta-reader wishes to go anonymous. Anyways, without further ado...
Whenever there is a meeting, a parting shall follow. But that parting needs not last forever.
Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short while... that is up to you.
Happy Mask Salesman, Majora's Mask
O
The window imploded, and the spell-riddled Hero in the centre of the glass spider web was sent flying, glass fragments sticking into his body, where the magic did not course. The Master Sword landed first, landing point down into the carved slabs of the courtyard below. The infernal energies ceased their crackling, sinking into the stone.
"I can offer you a choice, Hero." said a voice from the darkness, the shadows and his cloak one and the same, perched on the sill above. Seconds later, he magically reappeared over Link, hauling the Hero up by the front of his green tunic. "It is over. You have lost. The Princess has lost. Hyrule has lost. All of you now beyond that which you called life." This new foe paused, a soft laugh resonating from under his cowl, his face lost into darkness. "Do you continue your fight, or do you embrace your fate, for none shall stand before my strength?"
Link gritted his teeth, a trickle of blood coming from between his lips. "N-no. I fight for Zelda. I w-won't let her down."
"Fool." The cloaked evil released the Hero, letting him fall with a thump. With a foot clad in crimson wraps, the sorcerer flipped Link onto his front, letting him crawl for a few seconds. Then, he placed his foot on his back, pushing down. A groan of deepest pain trickled from between the Hero's clenched teeth, causing the sorcerer to unleash a triumphant cackle.
"Imagine. I overpowered the King of Thieves to claim Power for my own. I used Ganondorf for my own plots, weakening the kingdom, and in night, I took the Princess' life, and her Triforce part. And," He came close to Link's ear, revealing his blood-tattooed chin. "I have the power, the wisdom and the courage to do it again. To think I, a humble wizard, would be blessed by a great evil, and It would give Its gifts to me so I could cleanse Hyrule, to protect it from the bridling mass of evil that awaits."
"N-no; it isn't true. You can't be serious. Hy-Hyrule will not fall to those as black-hearted as you." The Hero stammered, his eyes dulling, hope flickering for the last time, for they flicked into transparency.
"Oh, it has. Zelda's corrupt tyranny is at an end."
Then all faded to pure black, trickles of blood blurring the Hero's vision. Never-ending pain was predominant. It needed to stop.
"Majora granted me this power. I intend to use it." Was what Link heard last, before Oblivion, Lady of the Dead, swept him into her cool, ordered embrace.
O
"Imagine, Hero, that everything you owned was destroyed. Everything... but your memories. You hate them still, those who practically killed me. You want revenge. Where would you be?"
The bandage swathed mass made no move.
"No, my champion, you wouldn't like it: neither did I. I was banished, like some common criminal, to the Dark World."
The preacher looked both ways down the infirmary. The only doctor was well out of hearing range.
"I escaped, sure, but not before I spent torturous years in a treasury, stuck again in that infernal mask. No Skull Kid to save me; only idiots who likened me to myself, albeit all-powerful. Ask yourself this, my champion. Where do your loyalties lie: To the omniscient, omnipotent? Or those who fight for good, but bear the colours of evil?"
Once again, the preacher looked up and down the infirmary. Nothing stirred.
"What did Majora do to wrong you?"
There was silence as the preacher paused for a third time, this instance looking directly at the gibbous moon. The serene light fractured into a rainbow. The preacher took its eyes away from the stained window, and back to the Hero.
"Link, you are reborn. Isn't death the most painful thing? Wouldn't you want to avoid it again?
"I gave you one gift in exchange for another, but you can earn Courage. Prove to me that Natu was right, that you can change."
The preacher padded off, each window now a mural of a once-known visage.
O
Warmth, breath, existence... they had all returned like old, hostile friends. Then substance, memory and the beat of the Hero's heart rejoiced and lent their abilities. His eyelids opened, the sight of Hyrule Castle's twilit Infirmary new, uncomfortable, but welcomed, for new friends must be made.
"My champion awakens, from the grasps of Death." said an all too familiar voice, gently, without malice for once; the sorcerer from the bedside, fingers leaving an ink sodden leaf of vellum. In his voice, maybe a hint of care, tenderness, around his words, smothered in adoration. Link sat up, his hand grasping for a weapon that was not there. The sorcerer allowed this behaviour with a grin, his tattoos separated by pearly white.
"W-why though? Why do you need me? S-surely I am more use to you dead than alive." The Hero stuttered, finding his voice.
The sorcerer closed his tome, emblazoned with a face painted in red, with horrible eyes and lined with harsh spikes. In the silence, the noise of leather and paper clashing was colossal, threatening to awaken the other patients.
"Yes. And, I suppose, no. Everyone should get a second chance. Do you not agree?" The sorcerer smiled, his eyes flashing in the rays of dying sunlight. "It took me a lot of effort to convince Majora that your life was one worth preserving. Or do you not agree, Link? Should I not have gone to the effort?"
The Hero shook his head, freeing his arms from under the covers. They were tenderly wrapped in crimson bandages. His skin was grey, devoid of life, underneath. "W-what... what have I become?" He asked aloud, his newly regained voice naught but a whisper. Faint purple veins flowed about his appendages. Golden specks, like grains of stardust traversed as well, weakly flowing with the tide.
"I'm afraid I could not restore you to the heresy you once were." The Sorcerer answered wistfully. Almost as if he wanted opposition. "The doctors were concerned that I was 'wasting my time', that you would never return to us, 'Necromancy is a fool's game', they told me. Do I waste my time, Link?"
The Hero looked up from his pale, comatose arms, feeling nothing he once had in previous life. No pulse: Was this nothing but sorcery laid upon him? He looked up. "What have you done to me? Why would you bring me back? It's defying the Goddesses to take from the ranks of the dead!"
The Sorcerer barked like a Terminian Jackal, the concerns of deities below him. "Perhaps, I had need of you, Champion." He pushed his chair back, rising slightly from his chair.
"You must rest, Hero of Majora. A storm is brewing and we must repel it."
The Sorcerer whisked around, sweeping down the aisle of beds, deflecting dust motes as he went.
Sleep reclaimed the newly christened 'Hero of Majora', pulling him back into its inky depths.
O
Like it? I did have a very good professional read through it. Maybe you should read theirs.
If you could, please critique, though I am quite open to any form of feedback