The brown, barren land lay before me, begging for restitute. The iced wind of the highlands bit at my exposed skin as I was still dressed for the heat of the lower elevation. In the isolation offered by the mountain tops, I found meditation was simple to achieve. Recently, with King Zora joining the civil war of Hyrule, distractions were becoming too common an occurrence.
I only escaped to the snow covered mountains to practice sorcery. The energy flowed into my hands and through my fingertips, collecting into a dense orb in front of my concentrated eyes. The obstacle I planned to overcome was the stabilization of my energy in the most difficult form to maintain, a sphere. The edges were perfectly smooth, barely any spikes in magic sparking off as arcs of lightning. The center was so dense I became lost in the void if I stared too long. Near the rim, the magic was less dense and nearly translucent. My work was acceptable, but I was dissatisfied.
The energy exploded suddenly, nearly scalding my face, but the accompanying boom came from somewhere else in the world. In the distance, a cloud of smoke billowed into the sky originating near the towns of Hyrule. I burst to my feet from the rock I sat on, eyes glaring with pure hatred. My orb was close to perfection and then sound effects of the war that was nothing but a burden to my people interrupted me.
The gates to my Gerudo Desert were permanently closed after the war started. For as long as even the ancient sorceress twins could recall, we had been shunned by the rest of Hyrule because of another war also caused by the Hyrule royal family. Only a fool would involve himself in a war between people who never offered a scrap of food or a sip of water to their neighbor. All of our pleas for aid were denied, even when new kings and queens were crowned in the different kingdoms. Our only option was to steal, and soon our proud legacy was forgotten until we were known as the Gerudo Thieves. This was a shameful kingdom to inherit. Known as the Prince of Thieves, the duty fell on my shoulders to ensure my people survived from one day to the next. In the beginning, if we all lived through the bitter night we considered ourselves blessed. That way of life was beneath my people though. We deserved to do more than live in shadows and fight amongst ourselves for a morsel. I swore to liberate them and my plan was well underway.
In the land of Hyrule an ancient relic sleeps, hidden away in a Sacred Realm that was locked by many keys that were unattainable. Any building has a back door, all I needed was to dig deeper into Hyrule's history. I confirmed one existed, but its location eluded me. This relic, called the Triforce, granted the wish in the heart of its holder. My wish was unquestionable, to be given supreme power that would make me the uncontested ruler of all the kingdoms in Hyrule. With that accomplished, my people would never suffer again.
I was truly furious and pained to see the destruction those heathens caused the land that rightfully belonged to me. No one else possessed the power and wisdom to rule such a divine kingdom. Their war of greed was proof enough of that.
A new distraction interrupted my wandering thoughts, this one welcomed. One of my warriors returned with their prize to complete a contract. I refused to serve any one side in their petty war, but I never refused to make a profit. We stole armor and weapons, only to sell to the highest bidder. Any deed that would dirty the hands of the righteous fell to us for a price. More and more were looking to escape the war and benefit from the chaos, and I rarely turned anyone away. They came to me, I gave them work, and they received partial payment. I accepted the freelance work since my thieves native to the desert were spread thin.
I maneuvered my way down the mountain, swiftly falling from one narrow ledge to the next. I allowed my sorcery to guide me, cushioning each landing that was a great enough distance to break my leg. As I descended, the cold air gradually faded, replaced by intense heat that labored my breathing pattern. The last step was into the coarse sand, and then I marched toward the grouping of tents where the desert sand sprinkled the dead valley. Several of the tents were smaller, set up only as places of refuge for guards watching the borders. One tent was grander than the rest, taller and wider with a flap decorated with the Gerudo insignia. This was the one in which I resided during most of the day. I entered and waited for the victim to be brought before me.