Orsa Minore
by Capella A. Morningside
Summary: Pre-Windwaker. A noblewoman in the King's court believes she has heard the calling of the Gods to save Hyrule from the dark fate soon to befall it. Is she what she seems?
Author's Note: Not to worry. This is not a Mary-Sue. I don't do those. It's just my take on something that might have taken place just before the Great Sea was born. I don't want to spoil the real intent I have in store for this story, so just read...
-Prologue-
Power that gave the world form...
Wisdom that gave the world law...
Courage that gave the world life...
Slender, aged hands rose into the air, and the golden triangles above the sealed Door of Time immediately illuminated, filling the pitch-dark Temple with holy light.
To thee I do raise my prayers.
So many decades of practice and refinement went into the movements of her hands, so much skill in the focus of her prayer that she no longer had to utter the words aloud. Concentrating her thoughts alone would open the celestial channels, her mind becoming one with the collective minds of the goddesses themselves.
Santhegia, the Priestess of the Seal as she was called, had lived in the Temple of Time since she was a mere four years old. She was chosen because she had been born on the same day the old priest before her gave his final breath, down to merely hours between the events. One could not call it anything but destiny.
Clasping her hands together, the Priestess began to utter a chant in a strange but delicate tongue that none in Hyrule but she and the ancient Sages could speak. It was the language of the Sacred Realm, the language of all beings that dwelt in that divine land. Yet in the midst of her prayer, Santhegia felt her line of communication with the goddesses suddenly break, and the topmost glowing triangle over the Door of Time dimmed into nothingness.
She let her old eyes, almost clouded with blindness open, just as she felt the ground jolt beneath her feet. Coming out of her trance completely, the old woman lost her balance, her delicate form falling forward on the stone floor harshly. Santhegia's forehead began to burn, she winced as a golden symbol flared to life upon it for a fleeting second, covering it with her fingers instinctively until it faded once more.
"This cannot be."
