3.) Ghirahim
Cold. It was bitter cold. Ghirahim's shoes had long been lost, his feet numb with a pinching frostbite. The harsh wind of a winter snowstorm reached its icy fingers through his threadbare shawl, raising goose bumps all over his arms and shoulders. Wolves howled around him eerily and the wind whistled past his bare ears. The trees shivered and shook, whispering their secrets to his deaf ears. The howls of the beasts morphed into the dying screams of his dead neighbors, and the trees' seductive whispers became Fi's voice in the dark of night telling him she loved him with her entire heart. They taunted him, driving him to insanity as he walked aimlessly through the blinding white Faron Woods. The nights he slept were completely restless. He spent them tossing and turning inside the makeshift snow bank beds he dug, haunted by voices and images. Purple-black bruises blossomed under his dead eyes, and his skin grew pale and tight, stretching over his skeleton, giving him the appearance of the very monsters that invaded the land a few nights before. Though the days that passed had been few, he found himself already losing both his will to live and his sanity. He would see his mother step out from behind a tree to ask what he wanted for supper…the cawing ravens would swoop down from their perch in the bare trees and peck at his flesh, causing him to thrash and scream, wildly throwing his arms around until they disappeared into the swirls of snow billowing about. More often though, he would see his darling Fi dancing in front of him, giggling and twirling as he'd try to catch her. She'd skip ahead of him, laughing in spite of his desperate pleas and she would twirl like the most graceful ballerina, taunting him, and then spin so fast she'd disappear into thin air, leaving him in worse condition than before. Other times she would wake him up in the middle of another cold night, tugging on him, begging him to help her, to save her. Before he could figure out what to do, she would be yanked off of him by some nameless creature then slaughtered again before his very eyes, her agonized screams mixing with his own until it was just his voice echoing off the trees, his tears freezing on his face. He had dreams, memories of past days in the summer, and the day he and Fi were married played over and over again; They were alone in the woods on a warm day in June, secretly promising their vows and slipping rings over each other's fingers as Fi giggled uncontrollably. Ghirahim brushed her warm hair out of her face softly as she leaned forward, whispering teasingly, You may now kiss the bride… he would close his eyes and lean into her kiss, then open them and the woods would be dark and it would be winter. In front of him, Fi's skin turned blue in the bitter cold, her lips purple and frozen, although they were just warm, full and pink a moment ago. She would be crying, sobbing even, and he would try to comfort her, though he knew not why she cried so hard. Then, she would stop suddenly and fall dead onto his lap, blood flowing from an unexplained wound in her back until she was pale as the snow around them. It was the same nightmare over and over. The days seemed to grow longer and longer, more lonely and bitter by the minute. He got lost both physically and mentally, and at last after what seemed like forever in those woods, he broke. He had stopped walking abruptly, the voices of his friends and his lover morphing together and growing louder in his ears. They spoke in loud, frantic voices, calling his name in fear, all coming together in s blend of chaos. He threw his head back and screamed. The lonely sound echoed off the bare trees, vibrating through the air. It faded to nothing as he lost all the breath he had in his lungs to the world outside, and then his eyes fluttered closed as he slumped to the ground, unconscious in the snow.
Two fat, ugly red beasts sauntered through the snowy woods in search of firewood, followed by their master. They chatted in their odd dialect, their clubs hanging from belts at their waists, swinging as they walked. A pile of something in the distance caught their attention and one of the bloodthirsty bokoblins rushed ahead. It was a body…a pale, sick looking man lying in the snow. His chest slowly rose and fell as he unconsciously took in shaky breaths. "One survived, Master." He grunted in a disdainful tone. The other bokoblin rushed to his side and examined the man in the snow, then smiled, bloodlust glittering in his eyes. "I'll take care of him" he said, then raised his club into the air. He was about to bring it down when a loud, booming voice yelled out from behind, "STOP". Shocked, the beasts turned around to face their master. He towered over them, at least twelve feet tall, with scaly black skin, blazing hair of fire, and menacing red eyes that stared at the man lying in the snow. He looked down at the man sensing a great power somewhere inside him, and he knew there was something about him that he needed….he just couldn't figure it out….
"Take him back to the camp." He barked, turning on his heel and walking away. Then predicting the intentions of his minions, he turned around and growled, "Alive.", then swished away deep in thought. The bokoblins grumbled, then belted their weapons, grabbed onto the man's wrists and ankles, then dragged him to their camp.
Demise sat on a log inside his tent, staring at the sword across from him. It rested against its stand on the other side of the tent, its rusty spikes glowing faintly red. It had never done anything like this. He didn't think it had any power at all, and had been long past trying to find its Sword Spirit…if it even had one. So why was it acting so strange now? Could it perhaps have something to do with the human stranger from the woods? Demise had sensed something inside him; a power that had not yet been unlocked. Could he be the one? Could he be the spirit destined to bring this weapon to full power? There was only one way to find out. "YOU." He barked at the monster stationed at the front of the tent, waking him from a quiet nap. "Bring to me the prisoner from the woods. I want him here for execution"
The monster nodded, excited for more bloodshed, then sauntered off. And if he turns out not to be the one, Demise thought to himself, picking his sword out of its stand and twirling it in the air, then it's just another one of Hylia's pathetic, mewling humans dead. No real loss there. He smiled, wiping the tip of the rusty weapon between his thick black fingers, sprinkling rust onto the dirt floor. Moments later, two bokoblins entered with the man, who was now wide awake. Once he got a good look at him, Demise almost felt sorry for this pathetic creature. He was as skinny as the Stalfos around him, his eyes were shadowy and dark, like he hadn't slept in days, and he seemed to have no will to live; he didn't make a single move to fight the monsters dragging him to their master. Well then this should be a blessing for the kid, Demise thought to himself, smirking. "What are you called, human?" he commanded.
The man looked scornfully up into his hateful eyes and turned his head to the side defiantly. Filled with anger at this daring man, Demise reached his hand back and cracked it across his face with such force that the man doubled over on himself, clutching a broken nose. By now a small crowed of monsters had gathered, their need for bloodshed drawing them in for the show. "I asked you a question," Demise growled, sitting back down on the log. "Now answer me, what are you called?"
The man stayed on the ground and was silent for a moment before mumbling " My name, is Ghirahim."
"Ghirahim…" Demise mused, "Boy, you have a lot of nerve trying to stand up to the Demon King. Now tell me how you ended up in the woods in your…condition."
Ghirahim trembled with a painful memory, and then sat up, straightening his back to the best of his ability. "My….my wife. She was murdered when…when…" a silent tear slid down his face and he stopped, looking down at the ground.
"When my demons raided your village, I am guessing. Well that really is too bad now, isn't it?"
Ghirahim jerked his head up to look at the Demon King, hatred boiling through his veins. "You…..it was all you." He trembled as he spoke. "You killed her…"
Demise let out a booming laugh, the dry cackles and screeches of the monsters joining in. He silenced them with a wave of his hand and replied to Ghirahim's comment. "Boy, you are clearly mistaken. Think about it for a moment; who is the most powerful being in your petty little human world? Tell me, who?"
"Our all powerful creator, Hylia…."
"And, who has all the power to stop us if she truly wishes? Could she have stopped your precious wife from being brutally murdered? Of course! She let her die. She let this all happen. That goddess cares nothing for you wretched, mewling little worms! We," he gestured to the demons around him, "We are going to take her down!"
A loud, hideous chorus of screams and cheers from the monsters filled the little tent at his words. "We will rule the world in an everlasting age of darkness! DOWN WITH THE GODDESS, DOWN WITH HYLIA!" The screams grew louder, then faded when Demise held up his hand. He stretched out his hand invitingly with an evil smile on his dark, menacing face. "Join us, Ghirahim. Become an all-powerful demon, a weapon for this cause. You will be a demon lord with a reigning power over the rest, and you will be my servant for eternity."
The idea sank into Ghirahim's insane, shattered mind and grew more and more appealing by the second. Hylia would fall…would pay for Fi's death…power…riches…he would live forever…an eternity of darkness….
He frantically snapped his head up to look at Demise, a hungry, vengeful look in his tired eyes. " I'll do it, I want this so badly now that I understand." he slowly stood up on his shaky, bloody legs and faced the Demon King, bowing, " I'll do it, Master.I want to do this." He mumbled. Demise's evil smile grew more malicious as he nodded. "Good" he growled, "Now hold still so we don't make a mess." He stood up, towering over the sick man, and grabbed his face, lowering him to his knees before him. He grabbed his sword firmly in his hand and plunged it deep into Ghirahim's chest. Screams of agony erupted from his mouth, which soon turned to hysterical laughs as both he and the sword morphed into their true forms. His skin bubbled and stretched over a whole new skeleton of iron as he grew larger in size, his pale hair was bleached white ,and his skin turned black with white lines on his arms and legs in the shape of diamonds. Demise then pulled the new sword out of his chest, leaving a hard, grey diamond in the middle where it had been forced in. Ghirahim stumbled backwards and collapsed to the ground with a loud metallic clank, lying cold and motionless on his back. Demise, paying no attention to his newest servant, excitedly looked over his sword; it had grown much longer, he could feel the power coursing through it, making it softly hum in his hands. He raised it to the sky in a triumphant pose, and out of nowhere came a lightning strike. It blasted through the flimsy roof of the tent, making contact with the sword in a burst of blinding red light that reflected off Demise's greedy eyes. It left a burning hole in the roof and the Anti-Master Sword buzzed with feverish electricity in the hand of its fully recognized master.
