It starts.

I open my eyes, and know more than I should.

I know that I am not real, that I am an illusion formed by the magic of the water temple. I know that I am nothing but the false mirror of the Hero of Time before me.

But I am alive.

I feel the Master Sword in my Other's hand, and react the only way I know how. The blades' arcs intercept each other, and we both leap back, separating from the resounding clash in parallel to one another.

I know my life means nothing. I know that these images flashing through my mind of a boy fighting for his guardian, then his love, a boy trapped in a temple becoming a man in body only, a mind whirling with fear facing a skeletal swordsman more proficient than himself, and sheer annoyance at the befuddling complexity of the temple that spawned me, all these are just memories of the Hero that I share. There is nothing real in what I am, or what I have.

But I am alive.

And I have a purpose.

I must teach this wonderful hero, this saviour of Hyrule that his greatest enemy will be himself, and that his limitations must be overcome to proceed. I must teach this boy to not only find the patterns in his enemies, and this overcome them, but also to find the patterns in himself, and to adjust himself to become unpredictab-

Ah.

A sword through my gullet.

I have taught him well.