She gave of her divinity to seal the evil away.

Chapter 4: Scars and Guards

He looked up from sharpening the edge of his blade as a man and woman walked out from between the husks of two cottages. He couldn't bring their names to mind, but they looked familiar. The man was holding a long, sturdy pole, which appeared to have had something ripped off the end. Recognition fell into place; he'd seen the man fighting off monsters during the attack. He nodded towards Link, and walked up.

"Damn if it isn't good to see you awake again. Mighty fine shooting you did that night, I reckon we wouldn't be here without you. Saw you come past and knew I had to say something." The man spoke in a quiet, but firm tone, pointedly looking around, as if to avoid staring down at Link. He seemed to respect him a lot.

"We've been helping others gather their things, and search for anything worth keeping. I'd like to do that for you, if you'll allow." Link was about to reply that there was nothing left in the rubble, when the lady, who he assumed to be the man's wife, spoke up;

"I know it hurts thinking about how much you've lost. We can spare you the pain of sifting through the ashes, at least. Who knows, maybe we'll discover that you've not lost everything after all." Her tone seemed almost pleading. Link nodded his assent, knowing that rejecting their offer might cause insult, and that they would want to try and repay him in some other way after if he refused. They walked over to the ruin, hand in hand, and began quietly discussing, pointing to various areas and surveying what remained.


He returned to his work on the sword.

Whisk, whisk. Hone the steel, return the edge. Whisk, Whisk, whisk. He'd need it sharp again soon enough. Whisk, whisk. Get lost in the rhythm.

It was easier to not think, right now. He had to keep moving forwards. If he faltered, or stopped, he might never start again.

Whisk, wh-

"W-would you like some soup?" He reflexively tensed at the unexpected sound, a question he hadn't been expecting. Over-taught muscles barely avoided skimming the stone off the surface of the blade and ruining the work he'd begun. After the arrival of the other two people, he'd forgotten completely about the shadow he'd picked up after leaving the church.

A young woman stepped around the corner and, sure enough, she was holding rough-cut wooden bowl of something vaguely steaming as he glanced up. He returned his focus back on the sword as she spoke again. "It's still quite warm. I couldn't- I mean- we don't have many supplies so it's nothing special...you really do need to eat though."

Whisk, whisk.

"I'm not in the mood to eat right now." The lie fell hollow to his ears. He was almost completely drained from just the walk over, though he would not admit it. He just wasn't sure he needed any more villagers fawning over him, or asking after him. He would rather concentrate on leaving as soon as he rested, so they could pay for what they did.

"I'll leave it with you then. But...please, eat." She stepped forwards, and knelt down. Her skirt settled softly into a thin layer of ash as her arms extended slightly, offering the bowl to him. He rested the blade over his thighs, and looked towards her fully for the first time. He did not, however, sheathe the blade.

She had long blonde hair, tied near the nape of her neck, and pulled over her right shoulder. He did recognise her; Anya, he thought. She had worked in the bakery, between looking after her younger sisters. What were their names again? He really shouldn't have isolated himself so much recently. He had saved them, too.

So, she was just another person trying to repay him. They didn't understand. He didn't want thanks, and didn't expect them. He hadn't been trying to save anyone, really.

He was just defending his village.

"You don't have to do this, you know? I don't need thanks."

"I'm not doing it 'cause I feel any sort of debt. I'm doing it because, well...you deserve it."

"Anyone else would have done the same."

"Except I saw plenty who didn't, so that makes you special, to me."

He looked intently at her, and saw a fierce sincerity in her grey-tinged blue eyes. She hadn't been broken by that night. If only he could say the same for many others.

He held out a hand, and accepted the bowl from her, noting her relieved smile as he did. He brought it up to his face, savouring the heat and enjoying the fragrances. It did smell good, he conceded, somewhat more reluctantly than he really should have. His hands were shaking on the bowl, he noticed. He blew on the soup, hoping she hadn't seen his unsteadiness.

"How are the girls?"

"Cremia's a little shaken up, but otherwise fine. Romani...I worry she's too young to understand. She knows everyone's sad, and there are less people, but I don't really know how to explain. I hope Ma copes better..." She trailed off, seeming uncertain for a moment.

He took a sip of the soup. It should have seemed bland, but it tasted wondrous to him in that moment. He felt a brief pain at his middle, which was clearly not reacting well to receiving food after a period of fasting. He had to fight the urge to bolt back the entire contents of the bowl at once. Instead, he took several more small sips, savouring the taste, and pacing himself. She was still sat, kneeling next to him, he noticed somewhat uncomfortably. Her hands were resting near her knees, holding a small bunch of her skirts in them, clenched into a fist.

"How many did you get?" She finally spoke. It hadn't been a line of questioning he had anticipated. He hesitated briefly before his response.

"Why, you here to lecture me like Laverna?"

"No, I want to lecture the cowards who didn't fight." Her voice and face held the same intensity as before. He felt a strong sense of respect for the young woman. She felt the same way as he did.

"It's...somewhat blurry. Dozens, probably. Not enough. Not even close"

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine how it must feel, to be so strong and brave, and still not be able to save everyone, to find something you couldn't handle." Again, she surprised him with a response he could never have expected.

He remained silent for a while, unsure exactly how to respond. She seemed to take his lack of response for something more than pondering, though, as she continued on.

"I-I'm not saying you didn't do enough, though! You did everything you could, and probably more! I saw the state you were in when you were brought in on that cart by those two, my heart nearly burst." He looked at her questioningly at the last. "I just...I hated to see you suffering, knowing that you'd already fought so hard, no-one deserves that, you least of all."

"Those two? The women who Laverna mentioned...do you know anything about them?" She seemed irritated and embarrassed all at once, though he wasn't sure what had evoked that reaction. Her response was somewhat terse, and clipped.

"Very little. They didn't deem me worth talking to. Wouldn't even let me in to see you while they were there. Smug and superior, acted like they were better than us simple folk. Called it a 'Terrible travesty.' Like they could understand."

"Do you know who they were, or where they came from?"

"The old woman called the other 'My Lady'. They said the King's men would be along to assist us with whatever we need. Fat lot of good they'll be now it's all done and the danger's passed. I asked if they'd help us like they did the Eastern province. I mean, we weren't born back then, but everyone knows what went down. The young one stopped pretending to be nice and friendly to me after that. I stopped trying then. You know what they say about nobles. They left the very next day. I'm glad they left. Something about them rubbed me up wrong." She looked away, seemingly finished talking about them.

"Yeah, better off that way. Last thing you want is a bunch of strangers snooping around, telling you what to do." She nodded before reluctantly responding, much more softly.

"At least they managed to save you...Link, no-one really knows much of what happened, beyond that you were out there fighting for all of us, before you fell. I'm not saying you have to talk about any of this, if you don't want to, but...if you were outside, how did you get burnt so badly?" She asked nervously, her voice laced with hesitation.

"They found me on the roof." He replied, between mouthfuls of soup. "Threw bottles of pitch or something and tossed a torch, it caught my side before I was able to dive off."

"Oh, I'm sorry, if not for saving me..."

"No, this was after that. I did plenty to attract their attention on my own, after helping you. I should have moved on sooner." He scolded himself internally for his stubbornness. A true hunter would have relocated to mask his presence, and pick new targets. Yet, something else troubled him, something he couldn't quite place. "Wait, I thought you said you weren't allowed to see me. How did you hear about me being burnt?"

"Oh, Link...Oh you poor thing. You don't know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She seemed so sincere, almost hurt, in her apology. He couldn't understand why, his mind seemed to move in slow motion. Was she crying? Why would she be crying?

She pulled something out of a pocket in her skirts, and offered it towards him, her eyes cast down towards the ground. It was a small pocket mirror, slightly dirty, and bearing a long crack down the middle. His hand shook faintly in trepidation as he reached out to take it, setting the nearly empty soup bowl aside. What was she trying to show him, it couldn't be...

His stomach seemed to drop out from within him as he turned it over and stared into his reflection.

Nearly half of his face stood out, the skin angry and red. Scarred forever, and ruined in the fires that had destroyed Kohlin. He stared silently for several long moments. Almost unbidden, his free hand came and touched traced the damaged flesh. It felt almost alien under his fingertips, the texture so unexpected that he could scarcely believe it belonged to him. In places, his skin seemed folded up into sharp ridges, and in others, it was pulled taut, as if it struggled to stretch to his face. The outside edges faded to a more pink tone, closer to his skin colour, as if it had started to heal then stopped. Perhaps that was the work of whatever had helped his leg's recovery. However, the scar on his thigh looked years old. Judging by this, he'd carry the scarring for the rest of his life.

His head spun, and the mess of emotions writhing within threatened to boil over. Both his head, and the arm holding the mirror slumped down, as he took several deep breaths.

"Link, I don't...I mean, I don't know what to say."

"It's just...unexpected. Laverna said something about scars, but my arm doesn't look bad at all. I didn't even think about other burns." Focus. Resolve. Breathe. Can't fail here. The words repeated over in his head. "I don't need a pretty face to get revenge, anyway."

"There's nothing wrong with your face!" She blurted out hurriedly. "Well, I mean...I'm not trying to lie or save your feelings, but...the way I see it, you're still you. There's the handsome boy who I knew growing up." She pointed to the untouched side of is face. "and then there's the man, who gave up everything when he dove into the flames, and when he came out the other side, it'd made him a hero." She looked down, overcome with awkwardness again. "Any man left here should be proud of the scars they got that night. Any one without should be ashamed at their lack." He lifted his head, looking off into the distance at her words.

"Yes. The sword remembers the forge, but is seldom fond of it." She looked up at his unanticipated utterance, as if she had thought he would take much longer to recover from his shock.

"What was that?"

"Something I heard once a long time ago, I think. It's just one more cruelty I'll make him answer for, when I find him." He looked in the mirror again, seeing his face split in two by the crack in the surface, neatly reflecting the scar, almost made it less painful somehow, as if he were two different people.

If I look at it like this, it's almost like I'm wearing a mask. That helped. It's just a mask I can take off, whenever I want to. Whether I'm a Hero, or a Hunter. Whether I'm after answers, justice, or vengeance. It's just another Mask.

He handed the cracked mirror back to her, and set back to finishing his food, no longer caring to pretend his body didn't desperately need it.

"What actually happened, Link?"

"What do you mean?"

"No-one's ever said anything about any man before, not in all the stories I've heard folk tell. No-one really knows what went on, except you. I just thought, maybe I can help, share your pain...if you talk to me."

He placed the empty bowl to the floor, feeling oddly guilty for the answer he was about to give;

"I...I don't think I'm ready to relive that. Not yet. I think it might break me." He hung his head in shame at the confession.

"I think I get it, but Link, whenever you're ready...I'll listen." She rested a hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him. She picked up the bowl from the floor. "I guess even bland stuff's good if you've not eaten for a few days. I'll get you some more. We'll want you good and strong for what's to come." She stood, and began to walk away.

"Thank you, really." He looked up as she turned to glance over her shoulder as she walked back towards the church.

As she rounded the corner, he turned his attention back to the blade in front of him, repeatedly drawing his whetstone down the edges, again, and again.

Swish, swish.

He was feeling surprisingly more settled, now.

Swish, swish

The couple working in his house seemed to have found the pot he stored his spare rupees in, and had begun scrubbing them clean to reveal their value in a tub of water.

And still his whetstone danced along his blade.

Shush, shush.

The change in response made him look down. The edge was finally returning. He raised the blade in front of his face, noting his reflection; The scarred face, echoing in the strange discoloured metal. He smiled as he slid the sword back into its sheathe, and allowed himself to rest.

[Apologies with the slower and shorter update, very busy with work this week, and have gone past all my original notes which sped up the earlier process. Would love to have more reviews telling me if there's things you particularly enjoy or would like me to work on improving. Also, would you prefer shorter, separated sections as in the prologue, or whole chunks as in chapters 1-3? Thanks for reading. S-T.]