Chapter Two
I want to go home.
The walls of the Palace of Twilight gleamed an eerie dull silver, made not quite of metal and not quite of stone, but crafted instead out of something in-between. Veins of blue-green light worked their ways up and down the walls in strange, twisted patterns. Their glow was reflected in the gray tiles that lined the floors and ceilings.
Midna, the Princess of Twilight, sat despondently on her throne on the dais that jutted from the far wall. The throne, like the walls behind it, was gray, huge and bulky and carved with strange symbols similar to those painted across the walls in radiant light. It felt strangely oily against her skin, like she was wearing someone else's discarded clothes. Which was a stupid thought. It was her throne.
A courtier stood at the foot of the dais, just before the stairs that led up to her seat, and fiddled nervously with his fingers beneath his long heavy black robe. His red and yellow eyes flickered in her direction and quickly looked away again; he was afraid to speak.
That's right, she thought smugly. You're afraid of your princess, aren't you. After Zant died and I returned to power, you all thought life would be wonderful. Now you know you've just traded one kind of insanity for another.
She could remember when she had been a decent ruler; not a great ruler, but better than most. The people had liked her, and she had liked being their princess and making decisions for them. And then Zant had gone mad and overthrown her.
When she came back, she wasn't the same person anymore.
She could remember the first few moments after stepping at last through the portal between worlds and feeling it shatter behind her. She had stood there regally, in her royal robes and her elaborate headdress, her orange hair gleaming against the pale blue of her skin, looking every inch a princess. Her first thought should have been, I've come home. Instead it was, I want to go home. It had made no sense to her at the time. She was home: this was where she lived, where she was born and raised, and she couldn't understand why it felt so horribly alien. She'd done the sensible thing, and pushed the thought out of her head.
Now, months later, the feeling still swam through her mind. It crept up on her at inopportune moments; so that often she would have to excuse herself from whatever it was she was doing and go hide in an empty room somewhere in the palace so that she could be alone to not cry. Any idiot could shed tears, but Midna had turned dry-eyed misery into an art form. The horrible sensation of being where she didn't belong haunted her even in dreams.
I want to go home, came the thought, but Midna ignored it and focused instead on the courtier at her feet. He was swaying fretfully back and forth now, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as if rehearsing his message, and Midna finally lost patience and snapped, "You wanted something?"
"I have a… a message for her majesty the Twilight Princess," he began, and pure terror laced his voice. Midna gave him a wry grin. Everyone in the Twilight Realm knew the princess's temper had been uncertain lately, and there were rumors circulating that she had already killed several messengers for bringing her unwelcome news. These were false of course. She had only broken a few of their bones. The Twilight Princess found herself wondering if this was how Zant's madness had begun: with anger that never seemed to die, and with that horribly calm voice at the back of her head that told her she didn't belong here…
I want to go home.
The courtier had dwindled into anxious silence again, and Midna impatiently made a grasp at her Twili magic. A jet of orange sparks shot from one idly pointed finger and prodded the courtier in the chest, and he yelped and continued hurriedly, "It's the sickness, your majesty. Twelve more were taken ill this morning. In addition, three were found dead, and nine have died in the sickhouses."
"Fire of Din!" Midna cursed, and the tranquil voice of her newly-discovered conscience added, Fire of Din? That's a light-dweller's curse. She sat back and stared up at the ceiling, which was just as dark and gray as the rest of her world. And to think she used to believe it was beautiful here.
I want to go home.
The sickness, that's what the courier was saying. The people called it Tremoring Fever, though where the name had originated from none could guess. Where the disease itself came from, however, everyone knew. The Light World, they whispered. A horrible plague of the Light World, and Midna brought it back with her. No one would say it aloud, at least not where she could hear, but she knew it was what the Twili believed. And the worst part of all was that they were probably right.
"Your highness?" the courtier mumbled. Midna turned her gaze on him again. "The Healers sent me to tell you that they have finished their testing. They say there is nothing they can do."
Nothing new about that. If a cure hadn't been found after all these months, then there wasn't one. She realized rather ironically that the Twili had brought it upon themselves. We pack ourselves together in our little Twilight world. We abandon the light, and any help it can give. And then we wonder why we're dying.
I want to go home.
"There is one other thing…" The courtier's voice was barely a whisper. He seemed to be hoping that if he delivered his message quietly enough, she wouldn't be able to hear it and would thus not get angry with him. "Healer Rhent is waiting outside the throne room. He says he'd like to examine you again, your majesty…"
Midna very deliberately did not scream with rage and rip the unfortunate messenger limb from limb. That was something Zant would have done, and she was not Zant. Rhent! May he be pecked to death by wild cuccos! Months ago she had made the mistake of leaving Rhent in charge of the sickhouses. It had seemed like a good decision at the time; Rhent was by far the best Healer in the Twilight Realm, but his new position seemed to have sparked a hitherto overlooked interest in the princess herself. Not a romantic interest, by any means, but something more akin to a scientist studying some strange new specimen. Midna was the only Twili ever to have visited the Light World and survived, and Rhent seemed intent on monitoring the physical and psychological effects of prolonged exposure to the Realm of Light.
"Bring him in," she ordered. The courtier hurriedly scuttled over to the great doors of the throne room and called out to someone in the corridor beyond.
Moments later, Rhent was striding through the door. Unlike the portly little courtier, the Healer was tall, and his robe billowed behind him as he took several long strides to stand below the dais. Beneath his hood his short red hair was flecked with streaks of gray and white, but his face was smooth and betrayed no signs of aging. In the Light World, Midna thought traitorously, Rhent would be a bent old man.
"Your highness." The Twili Healer bowed respectfully and clasped his hands behind his back. "I did inform you that I would be coming again this week."
"You did," she snapped, and then to the courtier trying to sneak out of the room, "You stay. I'm not done with you yet."
"Still having problems controlling that temper, I see," Rhent remarked, and produced from his robe a paper thin sheet of glass which glowed with blue runes. He ran a finger across its surface, and the runes rearranged themselves to his liking. It was the Twili version of what light-dwellers called a "book," although theirs were made of many sheets of paper pressed together, and were read by turning the pages instead of tapping the surface. Midna decided she preferred the Light World's way. The Healer tapped the glass again, and new rune was added as he made a note. "I have some questions to ask you if you can spare the time."
"Can you?" was her sharp reply. "Don't you have work to do down at the sickhouses?"
Rhent's calm expression didn't change. "I, unlike some I might mention, am very good at delegating."
He was calling her controlling, and she knew it. Did he dare think he could rule the Twilight Realm any better than she did? Of course, said the small voice of her conscience. Things that live on the bottom of rocks could do a better job at this than me. Was it because she no longer loved her people? Or was it because they weren't truly hers anymore?
I want to go home.
"Your night vision remains unaffected?" the Healer asked, his right hand hovering above the glass book and ready to take down her answer.
"Rhent, it's been months. If the light was going to blind me, it would have happened by now."
He nodded and made a note of it. "And does your lack of appetite persist?"
"Only as far as the tasteless food they serve around here." The Twilight Realm had no sunlight, and therefore none of the delicious plant and animal life found in the Light World. After eating fare from the Light World day after day, Twili food seemed bland and flavorless. How she longed for the taste of fish, or of chocolate, or… strawberries. She would give up a hundred years of her life just to savor the tang of one more light-grown strawberry.
I want to go home.
"Your… your highness?" The courtier had spoken. Midna glared silently at him until he took it as leave to go on. "I can come back later but… You see, my daughter's in the sickhouse, and I promised her I'd visit today." He looked miserably at the floor, and his fingers continued their nervous twitching. "It's her birthday."
There was really no need for the poor man to stay. Midna had only kept him in the room to avoid being alone with Rhent, which never ended well. "In a few minutes, then," she answered, knowing she was being selfish.
"Only, it's getting very hot in here…" mumbled the courtier, anxious to get away before Rhent's questioning awoke the Twilight Princess's notorious temper.
Rhent flicked a finger across the surface of his glass plate a few times, in an act similar to turning the pages of a book, and the glowing runes blurred as they rushed by. "I will send a note to the palace's kitchen staff to prepare more flavorful meals. In the meantime, I recommend you eat what they give you; you're becoming far too thin."
"Maybe everyone else around here is just far too fat," Midna grumbled. "Eating well on that ridiculous salary we pay you, Rhent?"
The Healer ignored her insult. "If I may perform your routine physical checkup?"
"Go ahead."
He ascended the steps of the dais and stood next to her throne. Midna tried to disregard the sense of embarrassment that accompanied being so intimately examined. Twili weren't normally concerned about personal space; that was something she had picked up in the Light World as well.
Rhent held a hand up in front of her face and his palm began to glow brightly with a magical light. He shone it in both eyes to see the pupils dilate, and then let the radiance fade as he grasped her chin and turned her head to the side to examine the color of her skin. "Still showing no symptoms of sun-damage, I see," she heard him mutter, and was pleased to perceive the slightest confusion in his voice. A normal Twili's skin would have eventually begun to show dark spots or blistering, but Midna had a secret. She was immune to light.
Slightly disconcerted by the prolonged physical contact, Midna jerked her head away and said, "I hope you washed those hands before touching me. I'd hate to get the Fever just because you have no regard for personal hygiene."
"I assure you, my princess, my hands are clean."
Then why did they feel so oily, just like her throne, just like her clothing? Just like everything in the Twilight Realm? Even the air was stale and oily. She wanted fresh air, open-sky air. She wanted wind. She wanted…
I want to go home.
"I have been informed," Rhent added as he tested her reflexes, "That you have turned down three potential suitors in the last month. Care to tell me why?"
Ah, yes, he wanted her to talk about her life. Rhent always tried this tactic eventually. It was his way of testing her mind while he tested her body; probing to see whether she was going mad and turning into another Zant. Midna had the feeling that she was possessed by a different kind of madness entirely.
"They weren't my type."
"And what would your type be, your majesty?"
Midna pretended to consider. "Well, let's see… Tall, going gray around the temples, preferably a Healer…"
"I don't find that funny," Rhent said calmly.
"No sense of humor," she added to the list. "What do you expect, Rhent? Maybe I just don't want to get married yet."
"That's your decision, I suppose," the Healer sighed. He tucked the glass book under one arm. "And seeing as you're perfectly healthy, the Twilight Realm isn't in urgent need of an heir."
Midna watched him descend from the dais and retreat across the floor. The great doors of the throne room slammed shut behind him. The conversation hadn't been as bad as she had anticipated. Last time, Rhent had touched on her fondness for the Light World, and there had been a heated argument. Perhaps the Healer had learned from his previous mistake. It seemed as though there had been no need for the courtier after all… The courtier! She had forgotten all about him, standing forlornly by the door and wringing his hands. "You can leave," she called.
The little Twili nodded groggily. "Yes, your highness… hot in here… fresh air…" He took two steps and fell to the ground, his whole body shaking violently.
The Twilight Princess wasn't even aware of deciding to scream, but the shout ripped out of her throat before she could stop it. "Oh goddesses, Rhent!"
Rhent burst through the door the second she screamed. His eyes scanned the room wildly and found the courtier thrashing on the floor. "Tremoring Fever," he hissed, and Midna could feel him reaching for his magic and weaving tendrils of it through the air, forming invisible bonds that would keep the man still.
Too late! The courtier's body shuddered horribly, and his head whipped back and struck the hard gray tiles of the palace floor. Once, twice, and at the third strike there echoed a horrible crack of splintering bone. Flecks of black Twili blood spattered the walls and floor.
The courtier was dead.
She was standing up, Midna realized, although she couldn't remember doing so, and so shakily she sank back into the seat of her throne. The deadly crack echoed again and again inside her head…
I want to go home.
Someone was touching her face… Rhent was kneeling in front of her, wiping the courtier's blood from her cheeks with the corner of his robe. He was speaking, but the words made no sense. Nothing made any sense anymore, and the longing to be where she belonged welled up inside Midna like bile.
"I want to go home…" she whispered.
"You're home, princess, you're right here in the Palace of Twilight," Rhent was saying, in the calm, soothing voice that might be employed when talking to someone on the brink of psychosis.
"No…" Midna heard herself say, and she vaguely registered that Rhent's magic was siphoning the black bloodstains from her royal robes. "I want to go home. I want to see the sun and feel the wind and eat strawberries until I explode…"
I want Link.
"I want Link…" she echoed hollowly. "I want my wolf with the blue eyes…"
"Midna," Rhent murmured gently, and she found herself blinking away the horrible longing and focusing on him for the first time.
"Healer Rhent?"
"I'm right here," he answered.
Oh, no… She'd just had one of her breakdowns in front of Rhent. Now he'd know she was mentally unstable. What would he do? Would he talk to the palace nobles; have her watched every minute of the day for signs of madness? Could he have her overthrown?!
"I'm not crazy," she pleaded. She hadn't meant it to sound like pleading, but it was too late to take the words back. "I'm not Zant."
Rhent shook his head. "Your highness, no one could be expected to think rationally after what you just saw. I would be more concerned about your mental state if you hadn't been shocked."
Midna managed to regain some of her composure and glared at him. "You seem perfectly fine."
"I've seen deaths like this before. Tremoring Fever has claimed a great many from the sickhouses. When you work as a Healer, death tends to lose its horror."
"Should I add 'hopelessly jaded' to my perfect man list, then?"
"Glad to see you're feeling better," he responded flatly.
Within a few minutes, the palace cleaning staff had been summoned to take away the courtier's body and magically scrub the walls clean. Several palace guards stood in a corner talking to Rhent. Slumped dejectedly as she was on her throne, Midna could make out a few words of their conversation, mainly a lecture from the Healer about how to tell if someone was carrying the Fever and why said people should not be allowed inside to speak with the princess.
She was thinking about the things she had let slip to Rhent after the courtier's death. They were all true, though she had never before admitted them to anyone; she wanted the light, needed it. And she also missed the warmth of the sun and the chill of the wind and the taste of strawberries. But never before, even to herself, had she confessed to missing Link.
I want Link. I want my wolf with the blue eyes.
It seemed like she was allowed to miss the Light World, because who wouldn't? There were too many wonderful memories there; it was impossible not to fall in love with it. But to say she missed Link would be like saying she preferred the light-dwellers over her own people, and that was a treacherous thought. It would be like saying she didn't want to be the Twilight Princess anymore.
But what did she want?
I want Link. I want to go home.
There was no way back to the Light World. The Mirror of Twilight, the portal between their dimensions, had been destroyed. Destroyed by her, to prevent another maniac like Zant from stepping through and wreaking havoc on both worlds again.
I want to go home.
She wanted to go home, wanted it so much that it hurt. A split second later, she realized that she hurt a whole lot more than mere emotional pain could ever account for.
Midna gasped and a stab of white-hot pain ripped through her body, making her grasp the arms of the throne until her knuckles went pale. A second wave of pain followed, and this time she located its source. Magic. Someone was attacking her with magic, targeting her, the Twilight Princess! Desperately she lashed out at the unseen enemy with a pulse of Twili magic and felt the pain recede, only to return a moment later with doubled force.
Her vision was fading, and she could hear shouts echoing through the throne room as the other Twili sensed the massive volume of alien magic discharging through the air. Somewhere seemingly far away she could sense Rhent grasp hold of his own magic and pair it with hers, pushing back the unknown force. For an instant it seemed they would win, but then a new energy joined the first and leant its strength to the battle. It was hot and sharp and burned golden against the inside of her eyelids. She knew that power, recognized it from somewhere, but before she had time to think another throb of pain consumed her, and all thought drained away…
-o{}o-
The early morning sun was just beginning to glimmer palely on the horizon by the time Link reached the shores of Laky Hylia, but the tall, unscaleable cliffs on every side left the water in deep bluish shadow. Only a few months ago Link could have easily warped here using the other one's magic, but now he had resorted to riding Epona, and then proceeding on foot when the cliffside proved too treacherous for the mare to scale. The warp point was still there; he could see the dull metallic black of twilight particles hanging in the air high above the lake, visible only to those with senses fine-tuned to Twili magic.
A short platform of gray stone tiles jutted out into the water from the entrance of a cave in the rock face. Statues loomed overhead, carved in the shape of snakes to represent the form taken by Lanayru. It was said that the Snake Spirit received its knowledge directly from the goddess Nayru herself, and that the cryptic answers it gave were always true. Link stood at the mouth of the cave and pondered. What if he asked Lanayru and it told him there was no cure? It would be like losing Ilia to the Fever all over again. The triforce grew warm on his left hand. Courage.
He would have to ask, even if it meant being told his quest was in vain. And Link had a feeling that Lanayru would know the cure, otherwise Renado never would have sent him to the Spirit in the first place.
Taking a deep breath, Link stepped inside. The walls of the cave closed over his head, and for a few moments he walked through a low stone passageway. Then ahead his eyes caught a glimmer of light, and the corridor widened into a huge cavern above a mirror still lake of shimmering springwater. Twisting rock formations rose from floor to faraway ceiling, and the strange spiraling symbols carved into them shone with the light Spirit's power. As he stepped out onto the narrow platform that overlooked the spring, the water began to glow a bright white, and an echoing voice sounded, rumbling around the cave and yet at the same time whispering inside Link's head.
"Link of Ordon. You come seeking an answer." Out of the water rose a form of pure light, the figure of a gigantic snake clutching a sphere of swirling sunlight between its fangs.
Link nodded, and voiced his question. "This disease called Tremoring Fever… Is there a cure for it?"
"Yes."
It seemed as though a great weight had been lifted from Link's chest. He asked, with growing relief, "What is it?"
The answer seemed a long time in coming, but when Lanayru spoke again it sent a torrent of ice through Link's body. "I do not know."
Link remained calm, while inside of him something wild and animal in nature began howling in fury. That was just the wolf, and he knew how to control the wolf. In its glass prison at his belt, the orange crystal gave a crackle of magic. "I was told you knew everything."
"All the knowledge in Hyrule is mine to impart, but the answer you request does not dwell in Hyrule."
"Where can I find it, then?" Link asked.
"Travel west, beyond the Great Desert. Below the painted sun and moon lives a man with one hundred faces. He holds the remedy you seek."
"Is that all you can tell me?" Link asked, puzzled by the enigmatic nature of Lanayru's answer.
"That is all I can see," the Spirit of Wisdom answered, "But there is one more thing you must know. Without the Twilight Princess, your quest will fail."
"Midna?" There, that was the name he had so forcibly been trying to forget. The sound of it triggered repressed memories, scenes of a cursed imp with a sarcastic grin, and later a beautiful princess with a smile no less cynical. He forced the emotions down; he could deal with them later. "But she broke the Mirror of Twilight. She can't come back to the Light World."
"Not permanently, no. But there is a way to bend the rules so that she may stay for a short time in the World of Light." From high above, where the cavern's ceiling was shrouded in shadow, the sound of breaking rock echoed, and a moment later a tiny fragment of one of the cave's twisting pillars floated down to Link's eye level, borne on currents of Lanayru's magic. It was about the size of Link's fist, and smooth on one side where it had once been part of the cavern wall. The spirals carved into its surface glowed faintly. Lanayru guided it with streams of magic toward the Hero, and Link reached out and caught it in the palm of his left hand. Instantly his triforce flared with heat.
"Only a Spirit of Light has the power to remove a sacred stone from its resting place in this cave. Once separated from its brethren, the object becomes a Summoning Stone, which can be used to warp items and even people from one point to another. We cannot use it to bring us the cure, because we do not know what it looks like or even where it is."
"But we know where Midna is," agreed Link, growing excited. But there was always a hidden catch, wasn't there?
He hadn't realized he had voiced the opinion, but perhaps Lanayru had simply read his mind, because it responded, "It takes very little magic to transport something within its own world, but to bring the Twilight Princess between dimensions, especially after the Mirror of Twilight has been destroyed, will be difficult even for my magic. In addition, there are rules to using a Summoning Stone. When your friend arrives here, you must give her a charge. She will be bound by magic to follow that charge, whatever it may be, and once she has completed it she will instantly return to her own world. Be careful of your wording lest you set her a task that cannot be accomplished, for then she will disappear at once, and not even I have the strength to summon her a second time."
"I understand," Link answered.
"Then prepare your charge and let us begin."
Following the instructions placed wordlessly into his head by Lanayru, the Hero closed his eyes and pictured Midna. He had been trying for so long to forget Midna's features that at first Link was worried he might not be able to recall them, but a moment later she was rising to the forefront of his mind, just as clear and detailed as if he had only seen her earlier that morning. It was her imp face that first appeared because it was how he had known her the longest, but it was simple enough to alter the picture. Long orange hair, he thought, done up in her elaborate headdress, and silky black robes. And slanted yellow eyes with pupils as red as garnets. He let the image sink in, burn itself into the forefront of his brain, and then he sent it out to Lanayru, willing the Spirit to see her as he did.
"Good," the Snake Spirit acknowledged, and ripple of power flowed through the Summoning Stone in Link's hand.
And then, just as powerfully, a hot pulse of agony seemed to throb out of the stone itself. Even through his leather gauntlet, Link could feel the skin of his palm begin to blister as if aflame. The triforce of courage blazed up at once to heal the damage, but even as the old wounds were healed new tore across his hand to replace them.
"Do not drop the stone," Lanayru warned in a tone of urgency. "No matter how painful it becomes, you must not drop the stone!"
"What's… happening?!" Link hissed, through gritted teeth.
"Midna does not wish to be summoned. Her twilight magic is fighting against mine."
"Is your magic stronger?" The pain was becoming unbearable, and Link could feel his own blood sticking tackily to the inside of his gauntlet as the skin broke and bled.
"Yes."
A new wave of pain hit, and Link collapsed to the ground, clutching at his left arm and barely able to breathe. Only the white-hot agony in his left hand told him he still held the Summoning Stone.
"Another Twili has joined his magic with hers," he heard Lanayru say. "The magic of two powerful Twili sorcerers I cannot best. I must request to borrow the power of your triforce…"
"Take it!" Link gasped. The Spirit of Wisdom reached out with its magic and began feeding on the power of the triforce of courage. A golden corona enveloped the sphere in its mouth, and a final throb of power washed over them both. A blinding flash of light and…
Link opened his eyes to find the cavern darkened once more. The glow on the water had vanished, as had the Spirit that dwelt within it, and only the feeble luminescence of the cave walls gave any light to see by. His hand stung, but already the triforce was working its healing magic. The Summoning Stone had vanished. He was sitting cross-legged on the ledge above the water, and there was a strange weight in his arms.
This proved to be a woman with pale blue skin and orange hair, wrapped in the black robes of Twili royalty. At first he thought she was unconscious, but a moment later she stirred in his arms.
"Midna?" Link questioned, and his voice sounded choked, as though he hadn't spoken in years. It couldn't really be this easy, not after all these months of missing her, could it? Suddenly remembering what he had to do, the boy bent and whispered into her delicate pointed ear. "Midna, Princess of Twilight, I charge you to help me find the cure for Tremoring Fever and use it to save all of Hyrule." He held his breath. If it couldn't be done, if they were doomed to fail, then she would disappear again.
But Midna's eyes fluttered open and stared into the bottomless blue of his own. "Link?"
She would be angry, he knew. She had broken the Mirror of Twilight specifically so that no one could ever cross the barrier between worlds again. Now he had brought her here, when she had probably been trying just as hard as him to forget they had ever known each other. He expected her to be angry. In fact, he expected her to scream. But Midna seemed to be in shock, her eyes darting around the familiar Spirit Spring as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Alright, first shock. Then anger.
"I'm in the Light World," she murmured dazedly. "That's not right. I'm dreaming."
"This isn't a dream," Link explained, standing and helping her to her feet. He had forgotten how much taller than him she was. "Lanayru and I brought you here. I can explain everything…"
The Twilight Princess shook her head. There was a strange expression on her face, halfway between bewilderment and delight. "Explain later. Right now, do you know where I can find some strawberries?"
"Strawberries?"
Her old grin was fast returning, without a hint of the anger he had been expecting. "Strawberries! Bushels and bushels of strawberries! If this is a dream then I'm liable to wake at any second, and before I do, I want some strawberries!"
"I think there's a strawberry patch along the north end of the lake," Link said, baffled, and Midna giggled and grabbed his (completely mended) hand. She pulled him out of the cave and into the early morning glow that hung like an aura over the shores of the lake. The sun had finally peaked the top of the cliffs, and honey-like light spilled in shimmering waterfalls down the rock face and pooled across the water, and it was into this world of light and splendor that Link and Midna ran. At the edge of the tiled platform she released his hand and ran forward into the shallows of the water. She twirled, and liquid silver beads of wet leapt from the hem of her robes.
Over and over again she chanted the same two glorious words.
"I'm home, I'm home, I'm home!"
-o{}o-
Rhent stood in the center of the throne room and stared in disbelief at the dais, where the throne sat empty. Well, not necessarily empty. Lying forlornly in the seat where Midna had been only a moment before, a faintly glowing piece of rock gave off a pulsating light from the spiral designs carved into one of its sides. An eerie hush had filled the room. The palace guards stood and stared, the servants stood and stared, and Rhent stood and stared as well.
What kind of evil magic could do a thing like that? The Healer ascended the steps of the dais slowly, as if they might crumble beneath him, and stood in front of the throne. This close he could actually taste the metallic undertones of magic that wafted from the mysterious stone. He reached out a hand to touch it, and the pulsing light seemed to burn his fingers; magic of the Light World.
"We must have this stone examined…" he began, and felt the sudden rise of magic behind him.
The next thing he knew he was being slammed to the ground, bound hand and foot by magical cords, and the palace guards were standing over him with angry looks on their faces.
"What is the meaning of this!?" Rhent demanded, and was rewarded with a stinging blow across the face.
"Silence, traitor!" the guard commanded. "You are under arrest for the murder of the Twilight Princess!"
The Healer squirmed in his bonds, earning himself another clout. "What are you talking about?! You saw what happened…"
"I saw you attacking the princess with your magic!" snarled the second guard, to Rhent's disbelief.
"I was trying to help her! What would I stand to gain from killing the princess?! And stop hitting me!" he added, as the guard reared back for a third strike. His plea was ignored, and the resulting slap made his eyes water.
"On your feet, traitor!" One of the guards hauled him into a standing position, still completely magic-bound. "What would you gain? Revenge, maybe?!"
"The Twili nobles have been watching you, Rhent," the second confirmed. The rune-signs on the guards' arms glowed, and Rhent felt a jolt of painful magic shoot through him. His head drooped, and the Palace of Twilight faded to black in front of his eyes.
"Everyone expected something like this," the Healer blearily heard just before he blacked out, "Since you're Zant's brother…"
