The uncertain world flowed about in waves, sinking and slipping into various shades of unconscious color and shape. The whole of this existence was a sick mirage, but Link could not spare even a moment for that strange truth. He could not turn his head away to see the limitless expanse, or waste precious thoughts to wonder why the spiritual realm seemed tainted like a dark, drifting dream. He could not stoop to touch its surface, because his hands were already occupied with the cold, blue hilt, and because the enemy stood before him. That great, groaning monstrosity had a whole horizon to itself. It loomed like fate but, as he had always done, Link stared that down with his teeth bared.
Malon lay on the ground at his feet, collapsed just behind him. Though he did not look around at that moment, Link could still see her face and feel her skin despite the sweat and tremors which truly coursed across the skin of his hands. Here it was, a showdown if there ever could be one: the adversary before him, and the love of his life behind. How could he back down? How could he ever run from this? No, he could not. That was an impossibility. Maybe Link could take her up over his shoulder and run, but what would that accomplish? What hope was there to outrun that plaguing monolith?
No, he stood here to fight that which must be fought. There could be no running from this. Maybe he could have before. Maybe there was once an option of that, but not now. Escape would be to sacrifice Malon to this destruction, and that would be a whole other suicide to undertake. He could not survive that, even if the body lived on. This was the time. Though Link's whole body shook, just as the world shook beneath that grand terror's approaching march, he held his ground. Link clung to his sword and watched the dark god approach.
And then it was upon him. As before, as always, it moved from the distance to the present area with what seemed only a step. There were only vague suggestions of movement, and then it stood over Link. Hadn't it done that in the desert, and before as well? It had watched from a hill, years ago, and Link had passively observed its watching, only half believing in those distant eyes. He had turned away then but, before he knew it, the darkness appeared at his doorstep. From the distance to the present, just as the consciousness did fade.
But now there was no time for contemplation, only for the battle. Link pushed himself and his blade forward into the darkness's space. The towering hatred hardly seemed to react to this assault, but did recoil from the damage Link planted. There was fierce delight in seeing a solid wound set into the flesh of his aggressor. There was no smoke, not here. In this place, the darkness had flesh, and Link was spurred to fight by this realization. The darkness took a step back at the same moment, but it mattered not. Link swung and caught its high ankle in the center.
The flesh there bent and faded beneath his white blade. Link grinned a terrible grin as he watched it burn away. In drops and splotches the darkness floated off into empty space, as if it were bleeding underwater and drifting off in pieces. All that mattered to Link now was that injury, and whatever he could do to tear the darkness apart. Through Link's mind flew every ounce of pain that had been brought on by this demon, and he drove the blade in once more. The darkness roared: a massive and guttural thing which sank through Link's bones.
That was pain in his enemy, and Link held such thin victory close, but something else terrible came of it. Link could not understand where the blow came from, only that in one instant a crushing ache rushed through his whole body. Like lightning it flashed in his eyes and stabbed into his heart, and Link was on the ground then. The world was empty, momentarily, and then filled with an endless, glaring presence. The darkness was over him, inside and beneath and around him. Link searched but could not see his sword, could not see Malon either.
Link's heart squirmed in the pressing night, and a faraway hand of his closed around something hard. The glare stood over a wide, cut-out sneer. A face of fire leaned out from the all-inclusive shadow. It was about to swallow, Link knew that, but not just him. Those awful lips stretched far enough to take in the whole world. Teeth lay within, carved from mental disease and children's fears. They hung and protruded, sharp and sinister so that Link could hardly bear to look at them. This was the mouth that included all the world right on its tongue. He watched the whole thing open wide and prepare to fall, but he could wait no longer.
That thing in his hand must be the sword, it must be. It could be nothing else, and Link brought it up in a high, wavering arch. When had his body become so weak as to struggle with the lifting of his own sword? No, that was not the right question. Link could only wonder when his body had not been weak, when he had not battled against exhaustion and terror. When had there not been weights upon his chest and shoulders, to break and bow? The darkness's lips curled in mock and demanded an answer which threatened to elude him.
Through the all-encompassing darkness, she appeared and gave a shape to goodness. In the mouth of evil, Malon was the only evidence of happiness that Link could imagine. She burned like a torch in the night and soothed like rainwater over a parched tongue. She existed forefront in his mind, and gave Link the strength to finally throw his sword forward. Fingers ran tied around the hilt and his arm struggled in finding strength, any strength at all. But finally, he was pressed on by that memory and the awful knowledge of her proximity. Throwing everything forward in a single, violent lunge, Link managed to drive the darkness away.
And just like that there was no more. Link picked himself up to find a world less dark. Malon lay a few feet off, still unaware of all that had transpired. Link walked over to her and fell down beside, driven both by weariness and a suddenly unbearable urge to be nearer. Link cupped her face in his hand but could manage nothing greater than a whisper. His voice was hoarse, worn as the surrounding muscles.
Something at the edge of Link's vision told him of the world's slow evolution. He finally looked away from Malon to discover those thousand fading shadows. All that darkness had gone to allow a wide, grey light. It burned from somewhere unknown, and from everywhere, but did not burn without end. From that fathomless glow, Link saw the beginnings of shape and color. There was a world beyond the skin of this, and that became readily apparent with each passing second. The spiritual realm was changing, fading out from all around.
Sunlight began to appear through the otherworldly luminance, and Link knew they were returning. As the spiritual realm faded, Link slid his sword back into its place. Through universal weariness, Link was somehow able to lift Malon across his arms. She dangled in his grip like a sack of flour, but Link's own body felt much the same. He could not look at her as he walked, however he wished. Link was too afraid that he might fall over something in the negligence and be unable to reach his feet once more.
His legs seemed able to hold, though, and Link carried on through the disappearing world. Far ahead, something sat on a bleary horizon. This was not darkness, though, and nothing certain, but not of the spiritual realm. All Link knew he must reach that place. His legs struggled to hold him as arms struggled to hold Malon, but somehow they both managed. Link tottered through a still-fading existence, hell-bent on something distant, all the while aware of the darkness. It resided in his mind like an itch and whispered of its own survival. This was not done, not by a thousand years done. Somewhere it waited, or else was hunting. Link could feel it there, embedded like a splinter, and never to be removed. The darkness waited. Even at this moment, Link could not let himself forget that. Maybe he had succeeded once, but that was only a single act of their battle.
Maybe Link could leave this place, but that was only for a moment. He knew this and could pretend nothing else. And the darkness knew this, and watched him leave. Soon, so soon, there would be blood. With a silent voice of dead ages, it crooned to itself, mad and terrible and joyful in all that. Death would come, would finally exist where the toy of life did now. Soon bodies would be broken, it said, and soon would come an end.
Though his ears received no noise, Link knew every word of the distant monologue. In a different language, he spoke it to himself. There was Malon in his arms, and grief for the approaching tragedy, and then a deep and awful weariness. The bones of his body wavered with each movement, but far beneath he ached a fuller ache. Despite the madness, Link felt certain that there must be some rest from this seemingly relentless turmoil. Between loss and the coming tragedy, would there be even a moment's respite?
He was forced to relent in ignorance, and to clamber across sand, vying for what safety he could. Not his own, for that was impossible, but for Malon. All that mattered in this time was to take her away from the darkness, and to destroy it before the shadow was capable of reaching her. That was the only justice possible now, and Link would tear himself apart to grant it to her.
All that I needed, I never needed more
Beyond reprieve, what could he wish for? Pain soaked to every corner of his consciousness now, but somehow Link had a wish greater than simple escape: just another moment with her, to see her eyes and hear her voice. Link wanted to say he loved her. He wished for more time, but these were wishes that could never be granted. She was too far away now, and Link lay on the edge of death.
And most of all, there was a faint noise from farther up the tunnel. A shuffle? A scratch? Maybe a hiss or a whisper of evil intent? It did not matter what vibration marked its passage, because any would mean the same. Those were all voices of the same hated end.
The darkness was here. Finally here, and headed down after him. Link tried to scowl as he had before, but the strength seemed to have gone away. All that remained was dreadful, cutting conviction. It ended here, so there could be no turning around. There never was any chance of that, but still Link recognized the final moment of imaginary possibility. The last way out was gone, and Link had been sealed in with his fate.
He had since the moment of birth.
