Soul of Malice
He had been asleep for so long. How many ages had gone by? How many times had the kingdom risen and fallen in his absence?
It mattered not. He would remain here, in this state of limbo, watching his corpse rot in the depths of this old temple, purposefully hidden in a place none would venture. He now found his soul confined to the dusty tunnels where his corpse laid. So he stalked the dirt and stone walls. He knew every brick of this place, and had watched it decay over the past years. It was a lonely place, dark and damp. His only companions were the rats that scurried the halls.
What was his name? He couldn't seem to recall. All he remembered were faces - a boy in green and a girl with the power of the goddess. The ones who had struck him down, and the ones for which his fury burned.
So time crawled by slowly. Minutes turned to hours. Hours turned to years. Years turned to decades, decades to centuries. He knew that, by now, the centuries had become millennia.
It seemed that there was no hope for him. It was not as if the hero and the one with the blood of the goddess still breathed to this day. By this age, they had become mere dust, their corpses reduced to ashes in the wind.
But he had this feeling in his metaphorical gut. He had a feeling that he would have a chance to exact his revenge. He could wait. After all, he was very patient. He knew that one day he would have his revenge, lest his soul remain here forever.
Forever, he thought. He would wait forever if he must.
Time continued to flow. He watched as the diagrams on the walls, drawn up with paint meant to last ages, began to fade. He watched as ivy crept up stone, soon engulfing it. As much as his spirit longed for rest, for peace to come to his weary soul, he knew that there would be no peace, and there would be no rest, until the day came when the goddess' chosen drowned in their own blood.
One day, he felt a shudder through his tired, broken essence. Two people had entered his domain - two very familiar souls, as ancient as his own, but with flesh renewed.
They've come⦠he would have chuckled, but he was a mere apparition, barely clinging to the realm of the mortals. However, none of that mattered. His ages spent waiting had not been in vain. They had come, and he would have his revenge.
He felt his soul slipping from his grip. It was being drawn back to his body, rotten though it was. He cared not. He would draw breath again, and he would drink their blood.
He felt energy flow through him, rejuvenating his tired soul. Yes, he thought giddily. It is time!
A painful moment passed, one where everything shook and his spirit burned from the agony. But it passed, as all things do. A second later, he felt flesh. He was in his body once more.
He opened his eyes.
The time has come, he thought gleefully. I will slay them, and my spirit will finally rest.
HOLY CRAP, THEY'RE MAKING A BOTW SEQUEL! I'm so hyped! This is my sort of tribute, I guess. For those reading after the sequel is released/more is revealed, please note that I am working with very limited information, here. Though... I guess the sequel probably won't be released for five or so years. But whatever! I can be patient, just like the Demise/Ganondorf corpse.
I think this is the shortest fanfic I've ever published. But whatever! I don't care. It's FINE. I can only do so much with this, soooo...
Leave a review! I hope you enjoyed this very short story I spewed out in twenty minutes!
Sincerely (probably),
Ari~
P.S. This story is tagged to contain both Ganondorf and Demise, because I'm still not sure which one the corpse is, and I don't want to be attacked.
