Lightning split the sky, throwing the combatants into white-hot relief, but the thunder was drowned out by the sound of hooves pounding stone, by steel ringing on steel. The hero's back slammed into a stone edifice, an obsidian remnant of the collapsed tower. The beast surged with a bellow, and the young man dove out of the way of a blade as large as his own body. The blade struck the stone, and though it should have been sundered in the blow it was the stone that exploded, sending white-hot shrapnel spinning through the air. The lightning crashed again, and the beast screamed its fury, and she watched from behind a wall of flame fueled by its power.

She had a sense of things, echoes of the prophecies that had done so little to help her as a child. This was the fulcrum on which history would be lifted or sent crashing down. She was helpless in this moment, as the boy she had dragged into this fought against the greatest evil in the world, but it would not be that way for long. She gathered her strength into herself, waiting for the blow to be struck, the barrier to drop. Link was ducking and weaving, keep inside of Ganon's reach, going over and over for the beast's tail. Soon, a blow more, maybe two—

The hero ducked, rolling beneath the monster's swing, going once more for the tail. But the beast turned its head, watching him, and Zelda felt something seize in her chest.

The hero came up, and Ganon's massive swords flashed a second time. It roared as it swung, and Link turned, sword raised.

She screamed as the blade smashed into the boy's chest, sending him flying. The Master Sword spun in the air away from him as he slammed into another stone, and the beast was already charging as he collapsed to the floor. Link was on his feet in a heartbeat, his strength was unbelievable, and he dashed for his sword as Ganon bore down on him. He made to dodge out of the way of a blow—but the blow came late, at the end of his motion, and smashed him into the ground three feet away from where the sacred weapon lay. The ground shook from the impact, and the hero let out a strangled cry, and the world was lit by a flash of white.

Ganon roared again, a triumphant sound, and Link did not rise fast enough—the left blade came down directly on his back, crushing him deeper into the floor. Then the right fell like a meteor, and Link made no sound at all.

"Stop!" She couldn't even hear herself over the sound of Ganon's victorious screech, and the fire winked out because it no longer mattered, and she could feel the lever of history broken. The beast looked down at the boy who had hounded it for so long, who had let it taste defeat, and there was a grunt of recognition or respect or contempt. It raised its right sword up, up, as if to scratch at the heavens, and she unleashed all of her power at once.

"STOP!" Light exploded from inside of her, smashed into Ganon's back as a physical blow, and the beast squealed in surprise and pain, turning its head to stare at her with eyes the color of suns. She heaved with all the strength she had, felt something inside of her head shiver on the verge of breaking, and Ganon was sent careening, sliding across the arena on its back. Stunned, nothing more than stunned, but she couldn't think past that, couldn't think at all as she ran toward the collapsed form in green who now, even now was hauling himself with his arms toward his sword. "Link! Link! "

She knelt next to him, saw he didn't know she was there, felt at his back—no obvious break, his legs were moving—and grabbed hold of his shoulders, rolling him over. He struggled against her, trying to shove her away—then his eyes focused on her face, and he was still, and calm.

"It's OK. It's OK now. Don't worry. You did well." He looked up at her, blinked, looked like he might form some word… and then looked to his sword. "No. No. We're past that. Please, be still. I'll—"

The earth shook. She lay Link down, gently, praying he would not try to rise, got to her feet, turned to face the king.

Ganon stalked toward her, but as it walked it burned , its outline engulfed in flames black and purple, shrinking and wilting until a man stood there, enormous and broad-shouldered and completely unharmed. He's indefatigable , she thought. Unstoppable. I was a fool to think we had killed him. She looked back, adjusted her stance so that she stood directly between the two men.

Ganondorf stopped, looking at her, and his eyes blazed still. He did not smile, the jovial cruelty fallen away, and what remained was somehow worse.

"Move, girl."

"I won't let you kill him."

He held no blade in his hand, but he motioned with it and she felt herself flinch. "You cannot stop me. Move or I will go through you."

"You've already won!" She backed up, unthinking, closer to Link, in case she needed to shield him with her body. "He's defeated. We can't fight you anymore—no one can! Why kill him now?"

He held his fingers up, crooked like claws, and light gathered in his hand. "Because he fought against me, you foolish child. Because he wounded me, when that was not supposed to be possible anymore. Because you sent him against me, and now you want to protect him." The light became hard, and hot, and lightning danced around his fingers. "Each of those is enough."

He meant it. She could feel it happening again, history coming to a head, the single moment in which all things would matter. Link was behind her, but she dared not look, dared not think what might happen if she took her eyes off the man in front of her.

"All of this is my fault, not his. It was all my planning—he, he is just the blade that I wielded against you. You cannot fault the blade before the hand."

"And yet," he said, and his smile was back, and she had been wrong to think him worse without it.

How long had she waited for him? Seven years had been a lifetime, a hundred lifetimes, spent pinning her hopes on a boy whose shoulders were supposed to support a destiny wider than the world. She had heaped all of it on him. He had borne all of it so gladly, had been so ready to fight and die, to be a hero. So much blood on her hands, and if his were to join it then the world would be stained forever.

"Please."

Ganondorf said nothing.

Pride fell away, the last illusion dispelled, and she was on her knees. Ganondorf's eyes were wide as he looked at her. "Please. Please , Ganondorf, do not do this. Spare him. Take the Triforce of Courage as your spoils, but let him live."

She could see that he was shaken to see her that way—how many people had begged him for their lives, in these years? Was seeing her grovel really so new to him? But his voice was hard, and clear. "You will send him against me. In time he will regain his strength, and that sword will remain. He will not forget the purpose you gave him."

"No! I'll send him away!" And she would. She could see the reality of it now, as clearly as a painting taken from life, the future folding out in front of her as surely as if she were its arbiter. "I will send him away from here, across worlds, across time itself. I'll… I'll make him forget all of this. He won't remember you, or his quest, or… or me." She saw that he was unmoved, and then she clasped her hands. "Please, Ganondorf, please . I beg of you, spare him, and you will be troubled by him no more in this life. My… my king, all of this is my doing, my responsibility. He is the last of my subjects. You have to understand, as a leader, as a sovereign, he is the last of my people—let me save him from this!"

Ganondorf said nothing, and his expression did not change, and she knew that she was lost, that here it would end.

The wind blew from behind her, off of Hyrule Field, cool and sweet, carrying the scent of grass and new flowers.

His hand opened. The light faded. He said nothing, but waited.

The world seemed distant to her as she turned back to Link, whose fingers were nearly brushing against the Master Sword's hilt. "No," she said, and she was beside him again, picking him up, cradling him in her arms. He had seemed so great when he had been fighting Ganondorf, so large , but she felt him now and she knew he was not, that he was nearly as slight as she was. She knelt on the ground next to him. "You have to let go. You can be at rest now."

He looked at her, and blood covered his face but he was so calm, so sure. He would not let go of this, of the quest, of her.

"It's over. We've lost. There's nothing more for us to do. You heard me, just now. I—"

By an effort of will she did not understand he reached over, grabbed hold of the Master Sword. She reached over with her free hand, grasped his fingers in hers. His grip was so weak, but her hand shook and she could not pry him loose. "Please let go. Please. If you don't let go, if you don't stop, he will kill you." He was so determined, his gaze like steel. "I don't know what will happen after that, Link. In the end I think he will kill me, too."

She felt her heart twist in on itself as he let go, and the Master Sword passed into her hand.

She lay it gently on the ground. "This won't end without you giving up the Triforce of Courage. It… it's a simple thing." She called up her power, placed her right hand over his left. "You hold onto it now, with the strength of your will. All you have to do is let go, to will it gone."

There was a flash of golden light, a rush of power unbelievable, an echo of the True Force that governed reality. Then an invisible hand, swift and sure and hungry, reached between them and snatched it away, and the Triforce of Courage was gone. Zelda could hear Ganondorf sighing in long-delayed satisfaction behind her. She never looked away from her charge.

He anticipated her need, and the Ocarina of Time was in her hands. She looked down at it, and then at him, and he was smiling. She had not intended to tell him more, to burden him with her secrets and her pains, but he welcomed it. He had shouldered so much for her; what was one more moment, one he would forget?

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She was crying, tried not to let it affect her voice. "I was a child. We both were, but I had no right to try to burden you with the destiny of a world. Everything that's happened was my doing—"

Gently his fingertips brushed her lips. He looked so peaceful. He was so peaceful, trusting in her absolutely, in her rightness, even after so much was wrong. The thought nearly tore her apart.

She leaned down, pressing her lips to his ear, and whispered something so low that Ganondorf would not hear it.

She lowered Link to the ground and he rested his arms on his stomach, looking up at her, no longer smiling but watching expectantly. She stood. Brought the ocarina to her lips.

Their relationship was written in notes that echoed from a place before memory, older than childhood, older than Hyrule. He had played those same notes a hundred times on this ocarina, as she played them now, and the world reverberated in answer to the story there told. After all she had taught him, all they had learned together, it made a kind of sense that it would come back to a lullaby. Her power flowed through the ocarina, through the music, and every note shaped it. Light enveloped him, bluer than the sky, and he never closed his eyes, never looked away from her.

The light grew brighter, blinding, and there was a deep resonating sound as the fabric of the world opened around the defeated Hero of Time.

Then he was gone.

It was a light feeling, defined by lightness, of sense and of feeling and of the passing of the self.

The wounds rolled off of him first, disappearing as if they had never been. Every pit, every nick, every scar was gone.

The years melted away next, his adultness gone from him, his body once more matching his thoughts.

Then memory slipped from him, and at this last juncture he tried to hold onto it, to grasp onto some accomplishment, some proof of himself, of her , of their journey together. She had smiled at him, in her courtyard, when he told her that he would help. He wanted to keep that smile. But he was grabbing at the ether, and it offered no purchase.

It was gone, they were all gone, and the light swallowed him up.

Zelda knelt in the place where Link had been, unmoving, unspeaking. Her head was bowed.

Ganondorf breathed out. The kid was gone, as she had promised, and that was as good as killing him. The Triforce of Courage was his, a multiplier to the power he already possessed. It was changing him in ways he did not understand just yet, but he would have time.

First, the last piece.

He walked toward her. "The kid has his reprieve, and you can rest easy that in the end you weren't responsible for his death." He stopped short, within arm's reach, as she got to her feet. She was still looking away from him. "Satisfied?"

"Yes," she said, and she had been weeping but her voice was level. Good. Better that than the begging from before. No Gerudo would have done that, ever, not to the gods themselves.

"Finally. That's taken care of." He was talking, uselessly talking, he could feel the Triforce of Wisdom pulsing underneath her skin and it was taking all of his willpower not to tear her apart to get at it. He had waited for years, for a lifetime. What was a few more seconds? "I am feeling magnanimous. You may also leave alive, if you surrender the Triforce of Wisdom to me."

"I have it here," she said, her tone almost dreamy. "I have here everything that is yours to claim."

He reached out, his hand shaking. She still did not look at him. He had meant what he said; he would let her go, because it would no longer matter. Nothing else would. The world was his. Everything was his.

"Here," she said, looking over her shoulder at him, "come and take what's YOURS! "

She pivoted on her heel and the Master Sword was in her hands and there was a flash of steel and light.

Ganondorf staggered backward, his vision a red ruin, hands closed over his face as he roared in pain and fury. No mercy now, there was none left in him, and he lashed out with the fullness of his power—

But she was already gone, and he could feel it. She had slipped away.

He howled, and the island beneath him exploded, thousands of tons of stone falling into the magma below. He raged there for a very long time.

The boy awoke in a forest that he had never seen before. He knew himself, but not where he was from, or how he had come to be there. He had a name. He was Link. That was as far as it went.

Instinct made him check himself; he was carrying no weapons, no tools at all. That he should have tools or a weapon seemed natural, though he could not have said exactly why. Perhaps that was just as well.

Memory was a distant thing, and should have been closer. He reached for it, tried to summon some part of himself. Echoes answered him, so distorted that there was no meaning there to be derived.

Someone had told him something, not long ago, with lips pressed to his ear. He reached up, touched the place where it had happened. What had they said? He stood in one place for a long time, as if the silence of the woods would carry the answer to him.

It did not.

After a time he began to walk. He would find people, and maybe they would be able to help him.