A young Ghirahim rushed through the palace of Hylia in fear. A war was raging outside the walls of Her Grace's kingdom and fire burned, filling the air with ash. Searching frantically the, young sword spirit was in full panic, with tears streaming down his face.
Hearing the soft tones of a lyre, he followed the sound knowing it'd lead him to his creator. Coming to a halt outside Her Grace's door, he watched as she strummed on the cords softly then without another though, he ran and threw himself around Hylia's leg, sobbing quietly. Hylia halted her fingers and looked down, placing a gentle and warm hand on her creation.
"Ghirahim…what are you doing?" She asked so softly. Her voice was angelic.
"I don't like it." He sobbed quietly in her dress. "I don't like it. Make it stop!" He whimpered as his creator then started to softly caress him soothingly.
Hylia's thoughts have been tangled up recently and though she knew her army were strong, it'd be a matter of time before the dark forces found their way in…and stole a great power.
The mistress cooed soft words to the young sword spirit and she stood. "Come, Ghirahim. It's time to sleep." Pulling the child up to his feet, she led the way to his room. A very simplistic room with plain white walls, lavender curtains and a sword holder. Crossing the room, she kneeled down to the young sword spirit's height. "I need you to transform, my child. It's time to rest." She said softly, brushing back the spirit's bangs, though they stubbornly fell back over his left eye. Ghirahim's eyes were puffy and red as he rubbed them to try and stop his stubborn tears.
"Please…don't leave me…" He whispered with a sniff. Hylia took Ghirahim into her arms and hugged him, patting his back. "P-please…don't go…" He sniffed in her dress, his voice muffled by the fabric of the mistress's dress.
"I will never let you go…" She gently cooed, relaxing the sword spirit. Ghirahim turned into his sword form as he fell asleep. She sighed sadly as she held the sword lovingly in her hands…but tonight, her creation would be leaving her. "You'll always be in my heart, my child. I love you." She whispered with a heavy heart as she wrapped the sword in an ancient fabric, casting a sealing spell over the sword and locking it completely as she placed a special diamond wound tightly within the fabric. And the next thing sent the sword, her creation…her son, to an unknown location, far away from her people.
Tears now streaming down her own face, her heart feeling the loss as she looked down at her empty hands, knowing she was alone now. Looking outside, she could tell the dark forces were already starting to leave, sensing the sword's magic no longer in the vicinity. "What have I done?" She whispered to herself looking down at the floor, tears flowing.
It was for my people…his presence here only attracted the darkness causing pain and despair!
"But he's only a child!" She chastised herself as sobs racked though her body. "I'm sorry, Ghirahim…I'm so, so sorry." She whispered almost inaudibly, regretting her decision at casting out her creation. Wrapping her hands around herself as if the room was suddenly colder, she sung quietly to herself...a song she once sang to Ghirahim.
Just close your eyes.
The sun is going down.
You'll be alright.
No one can hurt you now.
Come morning light.
You and I'll be safe and sound.
Farther away and years later, Ghirahim had matured quickly within his sword. "Why did she betray me?" He always questioned to himself, anger and malice replacing the warmth that was once within his heart. "She lied and casted me out like yesterday's garbage!" He hissed to himself.
He had been trying for a while now to escape his prison but the seal his creator had placed on him, held true, keeping him locked inside. As the sword spirit grew angrier at Her Grace, he felt something…lift and the next thing he knew his eyes were open to the world once more. His eyes widened as he looked around for his creator but only found a large demon staring evilly down at him.
"You finally awake, sword!" He growled menacingly towards Ghirahim and grinned. "No need to speak for this is what will happen. I have awaken you from your slumber and shall claim your blade as my own. I will be your master!"
Ghirahim blinked for a moment and thought, eyeing the demon and smirked feeling confidence rise within him. "And what do I get in exchange, demon? If I accept you as my master?" He questioned with arms crossed over his chest. Yes…he truly had grown so quickly and was no longer that sniveling child he once was.
The large demon's eyes burned with anger but kept himself from lashing out as he decided he'd make a deal. "For your services, I offer you power!" This offer gained Ghirahim's fully attention as he raised a brow, intrigued.
"Power, you say? Please…do go on. Elaborate!" The spirit locked eyes with the demon's, challengingly. He was sure if he was not a sword, he'd be killed for such attitude.
"I will name you Demon Lord and once I take over the Goddess, Hylia's kingdom-" The second the demon spoke of Her name, Ghirahim's anger boiled.
That wench!
The demon didn't need to speak much more. The spirit had already made up his mind and what he thought of his so called "creator."
"I accept your offer as long as you use me to strike down the Goddess and bathe me in her blood" Ghirahim hissed, eyes burning as he suddenly felt the urge for bloodshed, clenching his fists and grinning devilishly.
Getting down on one knee, the spirit bowed. "Your wish is my command…Master." And with that, the demon and the sword formed their bond.