fleets: You know, I didn't update this story in a while sooo I'm making up for it by updating quickly! (haha well, it was more like my own impatience got to me but hey!)
Thank you so much for your support! It really, really means a lot when I see people are still reading this, and a special shoutout to those who leave me reviews or comment about the story on pm, etc. They give me life - thank you so much.

Chapter 10: Fork in the Road

I… understand the fake Sheikah well. To wait and watch, wondering if there is anything that could be done. To do nothing but observe while the world is reduced to dust. To sand.

Paralysis from knowing that there is nothing you can do against powers greater than you.

Paralysis from knowing that I will not be heard. I am a god, but I am not powerful, and I care too much about lives that are but brief flames. My purpose is to record the world's history - nothing more. I'd resigned myself to this assignment even after my earlier... breakdown. But the Arbiter -

I finally learned what it is they plan to do with my pages, and I am unsure how I feel about it. I had heard nothing from them for one planetary cycle after disappearing with a copy of one of my books, and then they had returned with an inspired glow in their aurulent eyes. They informed me that they had read the book.

No god had ever taken the time to read my records, and while I was initially overjoyed that my words finally had an audience, the joy was short-lived, for I realized that my words had changed them. I saw a curiosity the likes of which I'd never seen in the calculating, almost cruel mask the Arbiter used to wear.

I had gotten the Arbiter of the Wastes, the Shepherd of the Sands,

Thuban

to care about the affairs of mortals.

From what I understand, only a rare few ever make it to the end of the Arbiter's trials. They are supposed to be difficult, if not impossible, and the outcome is almost always that the wanderers fall to void. However… Thuban wants my words to alter the course of some souls. Or rather, a certain pair of souls. It's still unlikely that my pages will do anything, that they'll save them, but there's a chance.

A small chance…

- Grand Scribe Phact

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The two never exchanged many words during their trek across the desert. In Vaati's case, he didn't find it necessary to take part in small talk, and he already knew that any questions directed at prying into Sheik's past was useless as neither remembered anything that had happened to them before waking in this wasteland. He assumed that the same was true for Sheik, and this mutual understanding that they had nothing to talk about developed a silence between them during their journey that, while enduring, was not at all awkward.

Now, however, Vaati found the silence awkward.

He glanced at Sheik who was leading the way deeper into the ruins of the Palace of Winds, his back straight and confident unlike Vaati's own. He was still surprised that Sheik had known all along about the black knife, and still had the audacity to believe that they were both…

Vaati blinked, remembering what, exactly, Sheik had said in the morning.

No matter what happens, I swear to you, you're going to get out of this desert alive.

Not a promise that they were both going to make it. Just Vaati. Just him. All while knowing that he'd been thinking about killing him.

A cynical voice in his head posed the question, Well, perhaps he was lying to lower your guard, to make you doubt yourself a little? However, this question was quickly snuffed, for he knew without a doubt that Sheik had not been lying. Not even the best actor could recreate the passion, the conviction, behind those unflinching words.

The chains between their ankles that rattled across the sand drifted halls of the palace grated at his nerves. Vaati glowered at Sheik from time to time, wishing that the other would say something to break the silence between them, to fill the quiet air with something other than the rhythmic clanking of metal against marble. However, Sheik remained as quiet as ever, turning his head only to contemplate the hauntingly beautiful surroundings. It was only when Sheik finally made some inane comment about the architecture that Vaati decided to say something.

"Hey," he said, perhaps more sharply than he'd intended.

Sheik looked slowly over his shoulder, but though he slowed down enough to allow Vaati to walk next to him, rather than behind him, he turned his head back away. It was obvious from the lack of surprise that he already knew what it was that his companion wanted to talk about.

Catching up, Vaati kept his eyes pointedly on the other's face, and he went straight to the point, "You knew about the dagger."

Without any hesitation, Sheik replied, "I suspected it."

"You have one too."

"And I'm not using it. You heard what I said." Sheik continued to walk onward, not acknowledging Vaati's burning gaze. "That's not what you really wanted to say, is it? Having heard Thuban's deal yourself, I know it would have crossed your mind already that I was offered the same. The fact that I have the black dagger shouldn't be a surprise to you." He spoke sternly, but not unkindly. "So, what is it you really want to say to me?"

Color flushed to Vaati's cheeks, embarrassed at having been read so easily. He whipped his head away, absentmindedly tugging at the scarf around his neck. With a grumbled sigh, he eventually muttered, "You knew all that and yet -"

"And you heard what I said," Sheik repeated.

With gritted teeth, Vaati fell quiet again, somewhat at a loss on how to verbalize his frustrations. He didn't even know why Sheik's calm acceptance bothered him so much, just like back when Sheik had insisted he take the provisions so the two wouldn't have to fight for it. He didn't know why he cared that Sheik didn't fight back just so he could uphold some kind of idiotic concept of… honor? Was that it? Should he just stab him right here, right now, because Sheik seemed okay with that outcome? That's what he should do, right? He wasn't wrong, right?

"Just so we're perfectly clear," Vaati eventually huffed, "I might actually kill you."

"I understand that."

"… Good."

At this, a small, amused smile appeared on Sheik's face. "You might kill me, like you say," he chuckled to himself, "You never said you will."

"You place too much importance on trivial details," Vaati growled exasperatedly.

"Then will you kill me?"

Vaati said nothing, instead letting his faded hood fall further over his face to hide his frustrated scowl. His silence was all Sheik needed to prove a point.

"You said before that you think we were enemies once. Maybe that's true," Sheik said, smiling behind the scarf around his neck. "But that doesn't mean we're enemies now. Or that we have to be when all of this is over. You know what I think?"

Vaati's eyes narrowed, but still he said nothing. He didn't have his usual biting remarks or tired eye-rolls.

"You're not a bad person, Vaati. A little difficult sometimes, but I'm glad for your company."

His nose was wrinkled into a silent snarl, anger at something he could not define. He didn't dare say that he'd been touched by his words, no, and the moment such a thought passed he drowned it down in the familiar comfort of anger. But not even anger could help, for it soon became directed towards himself and his own perceived weakness, because he finally recognized what it was that made Sheik so… so frustrating.

Sheik was stronger than he was, but not in the sense that he was physically stronger. Sheik had an unwavering strength of character, an ability to uphold what he believed in without a single moment of doubt. Sheik believed in something so strongly that he didn't hesitate or question his own actions. On the other hand -

He, Vaati, didn't have anything he believed in. No concept that guided his actions. Self-preservation? Survival? If he was so sure of those ideas, then why did it take just one stupid blonde to make him pause on drawing his blade?

Sheik was stronger than he was. And the envy he felt from this realization embittered him.

"I don't understand you," Vaati muttered under his breath.

They made their way deeper into the palace. This section, unlike where they'd walked before meeting the woman at the altar, stood erect almost untouched by the sand. Some of the gold grains blew across the white marble floor, but the further in they pressed, the more it seemed like the wind itself prevented the desert from touching it. Before long, they were walking in an arched corridor with grandeur enough to trick them into thinking that the Palace had never fallen. Not a single pillar was cracked, and the stone was polished with a pearly gleam that cast the moonlight seeping through the windows with a soft white glow.

This was the first time they'd decided to follow the compass at night, for this was the first time that the compass etched into their hand directed them along inside a massive ruin such as the Palace of Winds. There was something about this night, too, that Vaati suspected was unnatural (or, just more unnatural than it usually was). Just as night had suddenly fallen as soon as they had reached the woman at the altar (much earlier than reasonable, given that the sun had seemingly set from noon in under three hours), the night seemed to grow darker the farther in they walked. Or, no, 'dark' wasn't a good word for it. It was more like everything became more… black. Like walking into a void. It wasn't that things became more difficult to see, it was just that things seemed to lose definition. Lose color.

It was unsettlingly quiet the further they walked into the Palace, and it took a moment for Vaati to realize that this was the first time they could no longer hear Ammit slithering in the sands outside. Vaati never imagined that he would miss the sound of the snake, until he found himself walking along an eerie corridor with an emptiness so pervasive that it was almost stifling, giving the illusion that it was difficult to breathe.

An emptiness. A void. The void. The Void.

The void that lasted for an incomprehensible length of time. Nothing to see. To do. To hear. To touch.

Alone with his thoughts. They were fine, at first. An hour. A day. A week. A month.

But thoughts grow old. Grow stale. They break. A year. A decade. A century. A millennium.

The void is timeless. Stifling. Choking.

Focus. Just give me something to FOCUS.

Sheik.

Vaati blinked, breaking out of his thoughts as his eyes focused on the one thing that was not part of the creeping void. He kept his focus on Sheik for several minutes, watching the wrinkles of his rough tunic, the calloused fingers, and the sun touched strands. Then, he shook his head and unclenched his whitening knuckles to instead cradle his rattled head with one hand. He pushed back on the faint word, Wrath, that had howled at him in answer to find something to focus.

Something…

He noticed something, then. He turned his head when he realized that it wasn't just Sheik who was outside of the darkness. His eyes caught an object that protruded from the smooth walls of the corridor (though, he was no longer sure if this was still part of the Palace of Winds). It was a statue. A stone statue. Vaati stared at it, grateful to find something with contour, something that reminded him that this wasn't the void.

The statue was that of a robed figure, wearing the same fox mask like the woman they had met at the altar. And then there was another, and then another. By the fifth one, Vaati was no longer shaken by his brief episode of panic (which he hoped had gone unnoticed by Sheik), and instead was intrigued and somewhat disturbed by the nature of these statues. At first there was only one or two of them spaced out every few feet, but eventually they increased in number until statues lined the walls completely. No two statues were the same and each one stood with its own personality, a tilt of a head there or a clasped hand here, and Vaati couldn't shake the feeling that they represented real people who'd been here before.

Or worse, that they had actually been people, once.

"Look there."

Vaati looked up from where he'd been studying the Keaton-mask statues towards a light source straight ahead. It was a small pocket of color in an otherwise black corridor lined wall to wall with statues. A small candle flickered its flame at what appeared to be a fork in the path in front of a statue of a three-tailed fox: a Keaton in its monster form. The wax had barely dripped, suggesting that the candle had been lit not too long ago, and beside it was another torn page from the Grand Scribe's book. The two exchanged glances with each other, and then they cautiously approached the candle and the page, half-expecting the fox statue to come to life and bite them.

There was a sigh of relief when the statue didn't spring to life even as Sheik picked the page from between its paws. They huddled around the light as they read the ink that spread onto the page when it was placed between the Scribe's book:

The Palace of Winds once floated in the heavens. Mortals built it to approach the gods, a mortal claimed it to call themselves one. The false god was consumed by Wrath and rained lightning from the skies, burning the world to ashes. Now the Palace has fallen, and with it fell the false god, struck down from the skies.

Upon reading the passage, Vaati glanced back over his shoulder from where they'd walked. He didn't know why, but something about the rise and fall of this false god made him feel… disappointed? Was that the right word? It was a heavy feeling, like a twist in his gut. The rustle of paper from Sheik turning the page over made him turn back to read the text that the Scribe had left to guide them:

Let not darkness take you when the roads diverge. Know your own truth, have faith in what you know.

"Well, diverging roads is pretty obvious here, isn't it," Sheik said, nodding his head towards the fork in the path. "The rest of it is rather vague and not very helpful yet."

Without warning, there was a flash of light as the Keaton statue's eyes glowed gold, and the two shouted and scrambled back in surprise. However, nothing happened beyond that, and when they were absolutely sure that nothing was going to attack them, Vaati stormed over and stomped his foot against the statue angrily, cursing something obscene for having startled him.

To their surprise, as soon as Vaati did so, the chain around his ankle gave a brief flicker of golden runes before it disintegrated into sand. Sheik's, too, also disappeared in the same manner.

"Er…"

Vaati stared awkwardly at the spot around his ankle where there had once been a chain. He'd gotten so used to it being there, forcing him to stick with Sheik, that it felt a little weird now that it was gone. He wanted to say that he felt like he'd been freed, but right now he felt like how a rat might feel if they were released from a trap only to be placed into a snake pen. There had to be a reason for why the chain had broken, and he quickly found the answer in the compass on their hand. "Damn it," he hissed.

From Sheik's expression, he could tell that he, too, wasn't thrilled about what had just happened.

The compass etched on Sheik's hand pointed at the path to the right.

The compass on Vaati's pointed to the left.

"So, now what?" Vaati demanded. It wasn't like he couldn't do this on his own. No, he was perfectly fine doing this on his own. He was fine being alone. It wasn't like he needed Sheik, he was just with him because he'd had no choice. It wasn't like the void disturbed him… it wasn't like the void…

There was a sudden rustle of paper and a small exclamation from Sheik as the book in his hands seemed to jump to life, its pages flipping one after the other, front to back. And then, just as suddenly, it stopped open on a blank page, and words began to write itself on the paper.

"The parting is temporary, you will see each other again," Sheik read aloud, his voice surprised as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the last few minutes. He turned towards Vaati, who had an equally surprised look on his face, and then he turned back to the page. "That's new," he said quietly.

Vaati nodded in silent agreement. It was almost like the book was responding to them, this time, to answer their uncertainty directly. The deep lines in the paper almost made it seem like the message was much more personal than anything else they'd written before. "Wonder if the Scribe's here," he said. He moved closer to where Sheik was squatting with the book and looked over his shoulder. The writing was flowing rapidly across the pages now, like whoever was writing it was writing it in a hurry, like they were worried about getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing.

With each passing curl of the ink, the handwriting became more scrawled and erratic, until the last few sentences were running off the lines and slanting down the page in messy scribbles:

The scorpion hunts. Take to the sands if it strikes. Run where the compass points. You're almost there. You're so close to your goals, you're almost there! Have Faith.

I believe in you. You'll make it. I believe in you. I believe-

There was a loud rip as the book's pages were torn out of its spine, claw marks digging deeply into the paper. The ripped pages flew into the air as they were torn, and Vaati caught one last sight of the one inked with the message before it was whisked away by some invisible force. A small smirk played on his lips when he realized that the creature who'd left the claw marks had most likely been Thuban.

"Some gods are having a disagreement, perhaps," Sheik echoed his thoughts with a smirk of his own.

For the first time that day, Vaati laughed with genuine amusement, and the weight along Sheik's brows had also lifted. They had no idea what the message even meant (and, to be honest, the part about the scorpion was ominous at best), but the idea that there was someone else out there who was rooting for them emboldened them.

Sheik stood up and dusted himself off. Then, he held out the damaged book and offered it to Vaati. "Here. Take it." When he was returned with a quizzical gaze, Sheik explained, "This book will help us, but only one of us can take it if we have to split up."

"And we're absolutely sure we have to split up, yes?" Vaati asked. He bit his cheek when he quickly realized how anxious that sounded. Thankfully, Sheik pretended not to notice.

"I'm afraid of what might happen if we don't follow the compass," he said. Then, he continued, "I told you I'm getting you out of this place, and I'm determined to keep my word. Take the book."

Slowly, Vaati took the red-bound book from Sheik's hands, his brows furrowed from thought. He seemed to struggle with words for a few seconds, not entirely sure how to respond. Finally, he jammed the damaged book into his bag with one hand and stuck out his other forcefully.

"I'll be seeing you later," he snapped.

Sheik's smile fell for a moment in surprise, before he beamed again. He tried hard not to laugh, since he knew it would only offend his companion, but he found it funny and almost endearing that the normally standoffish Vaati was attempting to be… friendly, almost. He clasped the offered hand in a firm handshake. "Don't die."

A nod. A pause. They didn't let go immediately, like they were wondering if there was nothing more to say before they each went their separate ways. But then, finally, they pulled back, and without another word they split off into the forked path, into a deeper void.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At first, Sheik could hear the echoed footsteps of Vaati in the next hall over until eventually the sound became more distant and he could hear them no longer. The statues, too, had eventually vanished, and he was alone, completely alone in the blackened, windowless corridor.

The empty spot around his ankles where the chains had been felt cold, and he found himself missing his loud, brash travelling companion. He wondered if he was doing okay, for he'd noticed before how nervous Vaati had been by the darkness. At least he'd sent him with the Grand Scribe's book, and the Scribe's final message suggested that they wanted to help them. Maybe they'll be able to keep Vaati from harm's way.

His eyes straining through the void and his ears keen to pick up on any unnatural sound, Sheik made his way carefully but swiftly in the direction the compass pointed. He repeated the Scribe's words over and over in his head, careful not to forget it verbatim for he didn't know when they would come in use.

Let not darkness take you when the roads diverge. Know your own truth, have faith in what you know.

What was it that he knew? He knew very little, except perhaps his name. He also wasn't sure how to interpret the first advice, and he was wary for something jumping out at him from the darkness soon.

The scorpion hunts. Take to the sands if it strikes. Run where the compass points.

He hadn't seen any kind of scorpion yet, but at the very least he knew that something bad was after them. He didn't know about the second instructions, but he damned knew how to run if it told him to run.

You're almost there. You're so close to your goals, you're almost there! Have Faith.

I believe in you. You'll make it. I believe in you.

The Scribe's words of encouragement filled him with renewed hope. Their words sounded much more invested, much more different than what they had written to them earlier that Sheik couldn't help but wonder if someone else had been writing them messages before, or if they'd been forced to write in a specific manner until now. Whatever the case, they had a real ally now. At least, that's what Sheik wanted to believe.

He saw something up ahead, then, a soft glow of light that brought focus to the object in the void. As he approached, he realized that the object wasn't an object, but-

A person?

The light which had illuminated the individual's silhouette vanished, but Sheik could see every detail of them clearly for they were heavily contrasted from the black of the void. It was almost like he had his eyes closed, and was imagining this individual from a dream.

Except, he was sure he wasn't dreaming. He wasn't asleep; he was awake.

Sheik's breath caught in his throat, and he slowed to a stop, unable to continue forward. This, this was impossible, wasn't it? How could this be possible unless it were a dream?

"Oh, but it isn't a dream, you see," the person answered his thoughts with a low, sinister laugh. They were lounging in midair in an invisible chair, a wide sneer on their face as they lazily rested their chin on one hand.

A rich royal purple cape was pinned around their neck by a gold brooch, and it draped over their shoulders, cascading on to the floor. It hid a light lavender tunic in what Sheik could see was crafted with high quality cloth, buckled with an equally impressive belt that was extravagantly gold. None of this, however, compared with the long trailing cap atop their head, which was adorned by a large red gem the size of a medium fruit and glowed with a malevolent light that matched the person's crimson eyes.

Eyes, which he'd seen before, not too long ago.

A face which he recognized in features only, but an expression that was much, much more hateful. Wrathful.

They smiled like they wanted to tear him apart, limb from limb, and enjoy his screams as they did so.

"Vaati," Sheik whispered. No, this… this wasn't him. It couldn't be.

Could it?

"Tch. How dare you address me so casually, worm. I am the Wind Mage Vaati. Sorcerer of Winds, or Lord Vaati would also suffice," Vaati huffed. He floated down, his sandaled feet touching lightly onto the ground. He whipped his cape away from his shoulder, and an unbalanced smile stretched across his face.

"It appears I didn't do a good job getting rid of you the first time, since you've returned to my Palace like some abhorrent pest. Hmph! I do dislike seeing my failures show up before my feet again, but at least I can correct them this way. I can't always be perfect, hmmm," Vaati hummed, tapping a thin, pale finger against his chin. "Don't worry. Since you were so good to come to me like this, I will let you dance a while before I get rid of you for good. Consider it a mercy that I allow you to beg for your life longer than I normally would have."

Sheik took a step away while Vaa-, Wind Mage Vaati, threw his head back and laughed. What in Farore's name was going on? he wondered. His fingers wandered towards his bag with the only weapon he had, though he hesitated when he thought back on his vow not to take another innocent life.

Vaati was… he was innocent, right?

But what did this Mage Vaati mean, when he spoke of meeting the 'first time?' They'd met before… they'd fought…

Sheik, I think we were enemies once.

Vaati, the other Vaati's words echoed in his head while he stared at this new monster. And then he remembered back at the well, when his companion had suddenly gained unexplainable power before defeating the Phantom Shadow Beast. Was this person before him who Vaati really was?

"Sheik, was it?"

Hearing his name from this monster's lips sent chills down his spine.

"Allow me to show you what happens when you defy a god."

fleets: Confused yet? Sheik sure is. I left a few hints about what's really going on in this chapter, so some astute ones might figure it out (though maybe they're not that obvious!). Either way, there'll be a reveal at some point so don't worry if you haven't caught the hints in the text ;)

SerpentTailedAngel: It wasn't established yet :) But ahhh yeah it was a while since I touched this story hmm (a month and a half?). (spoilers: Koume and Kotake are also LARPing)

AquilaMage: I have. A lot of things I want to say about Sheik's opinions on Vaati but that would be even more spoilers (haha not that I haven't, you know, already spoiled enough already) :')
As a witch, Koume is a seasoned, professional creeper. Though uh, I do admit that the fact that she killed her adds an additional touch of creep.
I'm actually wondering if spoiling it might make things more interesting for readers. I might start throwing some bigger, more obvious info now hmhmm