(edited~)
Hey guys,
So I realize now that I kinda lied unintentionally when I said I'd keep this updated and I'm sorry for that. I just sort of lost the muse I had for a while. But I just replayed Skyward Sword again and once more... I'm hooked. Who knows what'll happen later on, when school starts back again? I'm going to try and update when I can, and hopefully that turns out to be, you know. More than like once a year :$
Tell me what you think~ I love reviews and constructive feedback (almost as much as favourites and followers ;D)
-Midna
Rivulets of sweat ran down Link's face as he gasped a heavy breath. He had just barely evaded an impossibly fast slash of the demon's sword- so close that he could hear it slice through the air. He'd already been cut by that blade tonight, and he wasn't eager to fall victim to it again. The dark metal- what was that thing even made of?- was bone-chillingly cold and seemed to not only draw blood, but draw the very life from his limbs. Already the hero's own sword and shield felt heavy, his eyesight growing dim at the edges. The sheer ease and fluidity of his demon opponent's movements didn't help Link's mindset, either; this Ghirahim character seemed to not be all that bothered by the Skyloftian's retaliation. Worse so, he looked almost... amused, like this was all some sort of twisted game in which he would play with the hero until he grew bored of his new toy and decided to discard it. But the Skyloftian pressed on in his blood-spattered tunic, the glow of the Goddess Sword lending a little strength to his exhausted frame. Skill alone hadn't kept him alive this long- the blade's energy, desperate adrenaline, and the fact that Link's enemy simply didn't seem interested in killing him quickly, were what ensured his survival thus far.
A glowing red diamond slashed across the boy's cheek and he recoiled, warmth quickly pulsing at the gash. The wound stung, not only from the cut itself but from the sweat that dripped into it- but it was a minor sore in comparison to how serious it could have been. Like a dagger to the eye, maybe, Link thought darkly, slicing the Goddess Sword in a heavy swing to deflect another oncoming assault of diamond projectiles. They refracted and hit the floor, impaling themselves in the shadow-coated stone and leaving snaking cracks in its wake. Black smoke seemed to seep from where the dagger-like diamonds were embedded in the ground, cloaking the already unlit room with more darkness than before.
Where was the light in here? The candles that were spread intermittently along the circular walls had no fires to light them, but that didn't seem to be the cause of the cold blue-black shroud to the room. It was as if shadows were bleeding down from the ceiling so high above it could not be seen- as if they had come alive and were knowingly draping the room in darkness. The only reason Link was even able to see in here was because of the self-titled Demon Lord's awful white-green pallor; he was so sickeningly pale that he all but glowed in the black. Even then, sight alone wasn't enough to keep Link safe and keep his guard up; in flashes of diamond lights, his foe would disappear, only to reappear elsewhere and strike from-
"Gah!" As he heard the sound of Ghirahim's appearance, the tell-tale sliding sound of steel against scabbard, the Skyloftian turned. But he turned too late, still disoriented by the shadows, and felt a burning sensation as the demon's blade ripped through the tough fabric of Link's pants and sliced into his thigh. Blindly, he lashed out, but his adversary nimbly jumped back and started circling him around. Link, limping, eyed him warily, never daring to take his eyes off that shock of gleaming white hair.
Suddenly, though, there was a glow at his side- or, maybe not a glow so much as a warmth. The hero felt it rather than saw it- in truth, there was nothing visible to be seen, but Fi's presence became noticeable in his mind's eye. "I have detected a change in fighting style from the beginning of the battle," she stated, and for once the monotony seemed to be a comfort to the hero. Facts- she was stating facts, observations. Something he could work with. Something he could use. "I theorize that this change happened because of the small amount of damage he sustained."
So Link had been causing some harm, then, as futile as his attacks had felt at the time. Rejuvenated, he became more eager to fight now that he knew he was able to deal damage, and that the demon actually could be hurt. He urged Fi on: Tell me more!
"Analysis indicates that the daggers Ghirahim shoots will align on a single plane in one of three orientations: horizontal, vertical, or diagonal," the spirit of the blade continued, her voice heard only in his mind. "With good timing, you might be able to repel them with a single swing of your sword, but my judgement shows that this maneuver will be difficult."
He could have been mistaken, but Link thought he may have heard a touch of concern colour her words- an observation she'd taken of human behaviours, perhaps, and learned to use? Or maybe just a figment of his imagination? Whatever the case, he felt grateful; and once more, he was able to convince himself that he hadn't been left alone on his quest, that he wasn't the only human being down here...
Zelda. Link glanced sideways at the door across the circular room, still sealed shut by the crest of Hylia. With a pang of guilt, the chosen hero realized that he had, for just a moment, forgotten about her presence right behind that door. She was just beyond the seal, probably feeling exactly the way Link did right then and there, if not more terrified. She had fallen down here alone, ripped from her home and defenceless. Unarmed. She had no idea where to go or how long she had, with this demon in pursuit. Zelda was lost in an unknown realm with no way home and barely any direction. Without even a monotone spirit to guide her way... Link cast his eyes down to his sword and realized how unappreciative he had been. Yes, his circumstances were hard and terrifying and just not fair. But he was much better off than his best friend; he should have been with her. Protecting her.
When he looked back at the Demon Lord, Link observed that he, too, was watching the gate, a hunger in his eyes. The hero felt his blood burn under his skin in protective anger. There was no way in hell he was letting that creep get past him.
Driven now to stall his foe long enough to give his childhood companion enough time to escape, Link fixed his grip on the Goddess Sword's hilt. By the time he saw the glow of Ghirahim's red diamond daggers, floating in a perfectly straight line like soldiers at attention, the hero was ready. They flew towards him suddenly and with deadly intent, but Link bared his teeth and attacked. He was no longer fighting for survival but fighting for a purpose, and new strength flowed into his limbs. The point of the Goddess Sword slit a perfectly horizontal line in the shadows before him just as the daggers came into range. They ricocheted off of the blade and flew back in the direction of their master.
There was a beat of silence, and Link cautiously crept forward in order to be able to see the demon in the gloom. Had he been hit? Had he teleported, or was the slightly hunched figure in the shadows...? Dark blue eyes zeroed in on Ghirahim, who he could now see more clearly. Had the room brightened a little, or was he just seeing things?
A short grunt interrupted Link's questioning mind. With a curled lip, the demon ripped a diamond from his abdomen and tossed it aside with a snarl of distaste. Nothing seeped from his wound- nothing at all, making his hard body- clad in pristine, skin-tight white- look like a cracked porcelain vase. Then the mark closed itself up all on its own, which made Link internally flinch at just how unnatural and horrible Ghirahim really was. With his hellish sword and his eyes as black as pitch, and his seemingly unending capacity for black magic, he truly was a demon in all ways. A demon whose own eyes flashed ever so quickly toward Hylia's safe-keeping crest across the room with malicious intent, spurring the Goddess's chosen hero to feel a rare flash of rage. He'd be damned if he let that moster lay a single finger on Zelda.
Sense of purpose renewed, Link took advantage of Ghirahim's momentary distraction to charge forward and challenge him again. Monstrous as he was, the demon was not unbeatable, and Link was determined to do whatever it took to end this. As he slashed, his adversary disappeared in a flash of diamonds, but the boy from Skyloft knew what was coming. As the fight continued, patterns in his movements became more noticeable- something Fi had helped Link discover.
"I can now confirm that Ghirahim has the ability to teleport," her disembodied voice had echoed in his brain the third time the demon had disappeared from view. Link had been about to tell her off for stating the obvious as the cold sword had slashed into his back from behind- one of the nastier lacerations he'd received- when she'd continued. "Further study reveals that he may be vulnerable immediately after teleportation. This is your chance to attack." And with this new-found revelation, Link had started carefully taking note of his foe and started adapting, getting in a few strikes of his own and slowly- hopefully- wearing down his opponent.
That familiar sound echoed behind him, like a blade unsheathed, and the Skyloftian swung the Goddess Sword around, feeling it sink into hard muscle with surprising force and hearing the man's sharp hiss of pain. Gritting his teeth, Link struck his foe again and again, as many times as he could before Ghirahim could regain his senses. A final strike hit the man just a fraction to the left of the center of his chest- where his heart must have been. The blade hit the spot and clanged as if it were made of solid stone and the demon was sent skidding backward.
With contempt and seething, Ghirahim wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, as if he had spit up blood. Coal black eyes as cold as the sword he possessed locked onto Link with an unreadable expression, and slowly the man lifted his thin iron blade and pointed it at the boy.
"Well."
"Well."
Ghirahim had never needed to be guarded before. He hadn't prepared for that need to arise now, of all times. He'd been having a such delightful old time; what fun it was to prod the poor child, to watch him tire and bleed as he desperately moved back and forth in pathetic attempts to disarm him. Foolish boy. How dare he believe himself significant enough to even try to match up to one so vastly superior, a Demon Lord such as Ghirahim himself?
And yet as the two progressed in their deadly dance, the weakling sky child proved to have a certain resilience to him, a fortitude that allowed him not to... well, not thrive, but at least survive much longer than expected. As time went on, that fragile desperation the boy held in his face had hardened, his pretty, child-like eyes becoming sharper and more watchful as if he grew stronger the longer he endured. So much so that the demon's toy had dared to fight back. An interesting development; perhaps the boy would not be broken so easily. His spirit was not quite as fragile as his tender body, if this new-found stamina of his was any indication. It was a quality Ghirahim looked forward to destroying all the more now that some sense of challenge had been introduced to his game.
"You put up more of a fight than I would have thought possible out of such a... soft boy," the demon purred to Link, openly examining the little hero's form at the end of his blade, silently delighting in the way it so easily unnerved the mortal boy. Ghirahim watched as he, cloaked in green and stained a deep red, cringed away from the Demon Lord's chilling and creeping stare. "But don't clap for yourself quite yet," Ghirahim chided, as if lecturing a naughty child. The tall man was focused on openly depicting his taunting amusement, his superiority, how he tired of this merriment; how that, and that alone, was the reason for the cease of their little game. He bared it all- in order to hide his deeper thoughts, the fiery heat that chilled his stony body... a feeling that emanated from the point at which the pesky little elf had last struck him, just above where a human would have had a heart.
"That sword is the only reason you still live." Yes, that sword, that accursed Goddess Sword that had the power to crack his impenetrable skin, that dared protect something as lowly as a human child. How it had chosen this sorry excuse for a warrior to be its master was beyond the great Ghirahim- but then again, how often had he himself loathed the imperfect judgement of the humans' glorious, all-powerful Hylia? He thought the name with venom and loathing immeasurable. Oh, the glory he would take, the sheer pleasure in shattering her special blade. Perhaps even skewering the scrawny boy before him and corrupting that Goddess Sword with hero's blood. Maybe he should have done that, Ghirahim noted to himself as he lowered his cherished black weapon ever so slightly and examined its every curve. White hair shrouded his face. It would be so easy.
The spot over his solid heart grew painfully hot and cold once more, and it was all the man could do to hold back a grimace and hold his character. It was hard to manage, but of course he did it. The flames and frost he felt inside was just that- an internal pain. But it would pass. The cause of his injury was familiar to him, recognizable, both the hot and the cold.
The first flaming heat was from the burn of the Goddess's touch, the fire of purity that scorched all that embodied the anathema to Her Grace's utter, complete goodness; naturally, her blade would find contact with the heart- the black soul- of the Demon Lord... repellent, to say the least. But there was that chill underlying Hylia's fire, one whose coldness pulled at the poison of his veins and tempered the rage and hatred he held so dear. For an instant so brief it was barely there, Ghirahim felt a flash of shock. For when that fiery Goddess sword struck him, weapon on weapon, he felt the presence of something in that sword.
Something... alive.
But that was impossible. Dead, the Demon Lord growled to himself in his mind. There was nothing left alive in that blade but a thoughtless servant, no opinions, no feelings, nothing. A machine to be used and nothing more. Ghirahim's eyes darkened. His knuckles clenched and whitened as he unconsciously tightened the grip on his hilt. What lives in that blessed blade is but a puppet. Hylia's wretched marionette. Dead, he thought disdainfully. She is dead.
At the thought of Hylia's interventions, and thus the Goddess herself, Ghirahim became alert to the absence of her presence. Her taint on the sky-child's sword had masked her vacancy, but he noticed it now. The girl who had fled to the spring at the end of this temple, the girl he had been so close to capturing for his own diabolical plans... she was now gone. No otherworldly aura glimmered beyond the sealed entranceway to the spring just above, not any more. The Goddess-touched girl had wriggled right out of his fingertips, leaving these woods empty of any prize for the taking. The demon cursed himself for having allowed himself such petty distractions. His playing must cease, his games done- he had more pressing matters to attend to now that he'd been evaded, and this little hero doll would have to be left behind. "I fear I spent far too long teasing and toying with you." The man sighed as he lamented to... what was the scrawny boy's name again? Leonard? Lincoln, was it? Something like that. "Her presence has all but faded, which means there's no reason to linger here."
The so-called hero's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Ghirahim held back a sneer of disbelief; as if the boy had been the reason his precious human girl had escaped? As if he had protected her? It was so laughable to the demon that the child could even appear to think such things. The little green pest had done nothing to earn any relief or satisfaction, and yet he had the audacity to make it seem so in the Demon Lord's presence? But alas... the arrogant boy would have to learn his place later. Ghirahim chuckled once."Good-bye, sky child. Run and play this time."
His amused smile curved into the ghost of a sneer. "Get in my way again, though, and you're dead." And with the extravagant flair that was so characteristic of the Lord of Demons, Ghirahim arced his sword in a theatrical wave and vanished in a shower of diamonds.
So what did you think of the latest chapter? Don't forget to review/comment and all that jazz, perhaps even follow or favorite if you really enjoyed it?
-Midna