Author's Note: Just a note on the chapter structure. Rather than going by individual chapters, this story is broken up into serials called "Worlds," each consisting anywhere from 3 to 6 chapters. This means that you don't have to start at the beginning of the story. Each World begins as its own story for newcomers, while the overarching plot continues seamlessly for those who have kept up to date. Not a fan of a particular franchise? Skip that World entirely and read about one you like. You can even suggest characters and worlds to explore in future chapters. Mushroom Kingdom is your journey too.

World 0

The Warlock and the Traveler

From across the empty stone chamber, the Triforce looked like a pyramid of golden light. The warlock had waited a thousand lifetimes to take it and now, it was within his grasp, undefended upon its pedestal.

"Lovely, isn't it?" his voice cracked with delight. He threw a huge, darkly armored arm in front of his traveling companion.

"I just want a closer look," said the traveler.

"This is as far as you go," said the warlock, "I thank you for your assistance, but it's time you returned to your own world."

"I can handle it,"

The traveler was thin in the limbs and average in height. If push came to shove, it would be a short fight indeed, especially with the state of the man's hands. The right was unremarkable, but the left never stopped twitching. Whether he was asleep or awake, the fingers were always flexing and contorting like a shackled beast, struggling to be free. He always kept his left hand behind his back or in his coat pocket, where none could see it. The warlock wondered if there was a reason why the traveler never removed his clean white gloves. Perhaps they were scarred or bore some ghastly disease, maybe they held something deeper and darker still: some twisted arcane magic. For a moment, he felt that it'd be prudent to snap the man's neck to nip any suspicions in the bud, but in the throes of triumph, he was feeling merciful. A future king must be merciful, and he who claimed the Triforce was king of everything that is, was, or will ever be.

The warlock threw back his cloak and strode for the pedestal; "I'll take my prize now. Make way, peasant."

"Your Majesty," said the traveler with a bow.

The light was warm, soothing. It shined right through the warlock's black gauntlet, into his garish green skin, into his heart and soul. He could feel its magic surging through every hair and sinew of his being. It was like his every one of his flaws was being burned away to make way for godhood. "It's mine!" he screamed and threw his head back to laugh. His vision filled with light, his ears rang with something like beautiful music, then nothing. The energy retreated from his body, leaving a sharp, cold pain. Something had torn right through his armor and into his back. He braced himself to keep standing.

"Sorry," said the traveler. A blue light flickered out in his left palm. The hand was still grotesquely snapping and twisting, "I thought that one shot would do the job."

The warlock snarled like a boar enraged. In his hands, a huge, jagged black sword appeared. He spun around and ran for the traitor, the blade sparking across the floor. The traveler did not even move to defend himself, but raised his white gloved right hand and snapped his fingers. The warlock brought the blade down like a guillotine over the traveler's head and hit only air. Strength left warlock's limbs. He fell to his hands and knees. The sword vanished in a cloud of shadow.

"No hard feelings, Ganondorf," said the traveler, making his way towards the Triforce.

The wound in Ganondorf's back became colder and more painful. It spread throughout his body like a cancer. Piece by piece, his veins, his flesh, bones, and organs turned to hard crystal.

"I'll take my prize now," said the traveler from the Triforce's pedestal, "Stand aside, peasant."

"You'll never have it," Ganondorf croaked. The spell had begun to seize his vitals, but he managed to rise to his knees. He could feel his toes chipping, the skin of his cheeks hardening and flaking.

The traveler reached his twisted hand into the light, "Too late."

"For you," with most of his remaining strength, Ganondorf pointed a palm towards the Triforce. Black magic pulsed through his arm and out of his hand. The spell sank into the golden light like water into a rag. His arm, still outstretched, turned to crystal. His fingertips cracked and clattered across the floor. Low, hateful laughter rose from his throat. This defeat was meaningless. In a short hundred years or so, he'd reincarnate and pick up where he left off.

The golden glow vanished in an instant. Without its light, the relic was only about three feet in height. It resembled a flat gold triangle of three large, identical triangles, connected at the corners. Each third was all made up of an endless network of smaller, interlocking triangles, which in turn were made of even smaller triangles, continuing in an endless pattern until the segments were too small to see. The traveler ran his hand all over it, desperately searching for a way to reactivate its magic, but he was too late. The whole room began to rumble. Black light flared out from the Triforce. Its countless pieces came loose and clacked together faster and faster, until the rattling became a shrill whistle, then an awful, dissident wail.

"What have you done?!" demanded the traveler over the noise, but before he could have an answer, the Triforce exploded. Its pieces shot out into the air and vanished. Not a single gold glimmer was left in the chamber. All was silent. The traveler had been too hasty and made a terrible mistake, "All the worlds will suffer for this."

"Let them suffer," the dying man said, "You've not won this day. I'll return again, and again, and again until you're destroyed." And then, he became still and silent. The traveler left the broken statue behind to break down into dust.

In that moment, a thousand on a thousand shooting stars cut along the skies of a thousand on a thousand worlds.

Author's Commentary: Hello and welcome to Mushroom Kingdom. I'll end each chapter with a few words on the process and events of the story.

This story was actually written circa 2005-8, but after stumbling upon it on an old flashdrive, I've decided to finally publish it as a way to appease the lingering ghost of my teenage self. I hope it still holds up.

Though this chapter comes off like the usual action opener found in so many fics, this chapter is more revealing than it lets on. There are layers here that will be peeled away as the story progresses. The idea was to follow the strange and intriguing prologues of so many action-packed 1990's fantasy novels. I hope this dip into the fountain was enough to interest you, because it's only going to get bigger from here, and you don't start much bigger than a duel with the King of Evil himself.

As a character, I wanted to approach Ganondorf a little differently than he was in Ocarina of Time. I've always thought, that since he'll just come back to life later on, he would view death as a setback. For someone who's died so many times, he always seems pretty bummed about taking a sword in the forehead. As far as I know, unlike Link and Zelda, there's only one Ganondorf, so why don't his evil plans ever carry over from one life to the next? It was an interesting way to go about him. Expect more from the big green guy later on.

Next Chapter: In the town of Journées, the cycle of day and night is dictated by a magic clock tower, but time is running out. With five days until the end of the world, four unlikely heroes are chosen to become something greater than their selves and save their home. The adventure begins in World 1-1: Chain of Memories.