This is the part where the going gets tough.

ELDIN

Dark peered outside the window for the eighteenth time. Link knew because he'd counted. The late summer in Eldin was stifling, which made sleep almost impossible. So when they'd both realized Aryll was nowhere to be found, anxiety had set in.

"She said she'd be back by now," Dark said. "She was only going to the library."

They were looking for the Goddess Harp, perhaps one of the oldest artifacts on the list. It had the reputation of channeling the power of the goddesses, which was a ridiculous claim at best.

It had been in Eldin, in a museum to the first civilizations, but, just as they'd arrived in Kakariko City, the news had trickled in that the artifact's owner had recalled it. It was under heavy guard. Far more than they could tackle. Which meant they were stumped.

Aryll, ever proactive, had decided to at least begin to research the next artifact, so she had let her two older brothers pass out in their rented room. They had driven all night, taking turns, to arrive in Kakariko before either Zelda, or Midna, or their hired constables, could hear about their movement.

Except, apparently, Zelda had anticipated their efforts and had simply begun to recall every single item her father owned.

Which made the entire effort fruitless.

Too tired to think, they'd decided to sleep on the matter.

Only now, Aryll wasn't back. It was late day, and the sun was low on the horizon, casting the sky in a mess of reds and oranges that matched the colour of the dirt in Eldin. The library had to have been closed at this hour. She ought to have been back.

Link was just about to suggest that they go in search of her when there was a knock at the door.

Dread sank into Link's gut. There were two reasons for this: the first, because Aryll wouldn't knock, and no one knew they were there. The second, because he had heard that knock before.

In Ordon. Last winter.

Dark was frowning, about to head to the door, when Link held him back.

"Hide," he whispered, barely audible.

Dark furrowed his brow further. "Wh―" Only to be silenced by Link's hand.

With a single movement, Link pushed Dark into one of the narrower closets. The knock sounded again. Dark was about to protest, but Link shot him a quelling, urgent look.

He whispered, "If anything happens, stay hidden until you're sure it's over and safe. I need you to look for Aryll."

Dark's argument broke off mid-inhalation. With a glare, he nodded curtly. Link shut the closet door.

Then, making his way to the only exit, Link took a deep breath.

And he swung the door open, coming face to face with Ganondorf Dragmire. Again. It was two times too many.

"Hello," Ganondorf Dragmire said, filling out the entire doorjamb. Over his shoulder, Link saw Byrne Claw, but Onox was nowhere to be found.

Rather than reply, Link asked, "How did you find us?"

Dragmire laughed. "I found you once when you were hiding. Finding you when you're not is the easiest thing in the world."

He was still finely dressed, though Link was only in shirtsleeves, his hem untucked, his hair a mess.

"Then," Link said, smiling coolly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ganondorf Dragmire pushed through the door, past him, and looked around at their modest accommodations. Byrne Claw did the same, but he posted himself in front of the door, shutting it behind him. Apparently, running away was not an option.

Dragmire looked pleasant. Link hated when he looked pleasant. It only made his mood swings more violent, less predictable.

"Is your brother not here?" Ganondorf Dragmire asked. "I could have sworn we saw him enter, but not leave."

Link clenched his teeth to keep from setting him off. "He left out the window. For practice."

"Practice," Dragmire echoed, smiling. "Of course."

Then, casually, with the same affable expression, Ganondorf Dragmire removed his hat, placed it on a nearby table, lifted his cane, and, with one, smooth movement and barely a whisper, withdrew its hidden blade.

Leveling it against Link's throat, the smiling politician said, "I gave you a simple job."

The metal felt cool against Link's neck, and when he responded he could feel the tip bobbing against his apple. "None of it was simple."

"You had the skills, the resources and the money to do as I asked, but here we are." Ganondorf Dragmire shook his head, feigning exasperation. "No, this is not my fault. I gave you everything you needed to succeed. I raised you and your siblings out of the gutter, not once, but twice, and taught you everything you needed to know."

Now the blade pressed harder against Link's throat. Link could have backed away, but displaying fear would be worse. He knew it was only a matter of time before the metal cut him. In silence, he made his peace with it.

"And what's more," Ganondorf continued, his voice still even, though his smile was becoming fixed, like a pantomime, "I paid you when many others would have told you that you were lucky just to eat the scraps off my table. I raised you and that brother of yours. And how do you repay me?"

Now Link could feel the hot tickle of a single drop of blood trickling down his neck. Still, he didn't move.

"You steal from me," Dragmire said. "You vanish for years. After all I did. And when I return, with forgiveness and an opportunity to redeem yourselves," the golden eyes had gone manic now, "you manage to alert your mark's daughter, and now she is closing up her legs to us like some prim damsel, the little whore!"

He gave a push with the blade, and now Link did move, to avoid the actual attack.

Ganondorf Dragmire didn't lunge again. Instead, he watched Link with the same insanity he always displayed. "You had a simple task. Eight artifacts, I assigned to you. None of them beyond the skills you displayed when you were still under my employ. But you've gone soft," he said, narrowing his eyes. "And now I see you have no intention to do as I asked in Waker."

"We're going as quickly as we can," Link said, holding on to his patience.

"Not quickly enough!" The movement of the blade was so sudden that Link didn't have time to react. It nicked his cheek. The burn told him he had broken skin.

Ganondorf Dragmire looked possessed.

"I thought to myself that a few months would suffice," he said. "But you have dragged your feet. And now, I see I have no choice but to set a deadline."

Link exhaled. "A deadline," he echoed, flatly.

"Yes," Dragmire said. Suddenly, he was smiling again, apparently pleased with himself. "Quite literally. You see, I had the fortune of encountering your sister just now."

Oh, no.

"If you touch a single hair from her head," Link snarled, "I will―"

"Yes, yes, kill me." Ganondorf Dragmire rolled his eyes. "Well, you're in luck. I have not touched even a single one of her lashes. But Onox did, so she's on her way to my mansion in Gerudo as we speak."

Link barely had time to inch forward before Byrne Claw grabbed him.

"I will kill you," Link swore, struggling against Byrne's grip. "If anything happens to her, I will find you and kill you."

Ganondorf Dragmire looked bored. "Then respect my deadline," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Sands, one might think you have the attention span of a peahat."

"What's the deadline?" Link demanded.

Ganondorf Dragmire's golden eyes narrowed again. "The full moon on the Fall Equinox. A matchup of the equinox with the lunar cycle is excessively rare." He raised his gaze to the ceiling, pretending to calculate. "So, I suppose that means you have seven weeks from today to finish the job."

"Seven weeks?" Link echoed, stunned. "We'll need that just to plan out one strategy―"

Dragmire shrugged. "Yes, you can see my problem," he said. "And you didn't seem overly concerned with my problem until I made it yours. Now don't worry, your sister will be as safe as a pearl. Unless you miss your deadline. Then," he sighed, "I'm afraid she will be quite unsafe."

Link fought the rising bile in his throat.

Apparently satisfied with Link's expression, Ganondorf Dragmire nodded to Byrne, allowing him to let Link go. Then, turning on his heel, he grabbed his hat, and left.

The door closed behind him just as Dark got out of the closet, fuming.

"This is all your fault," he said, striding forward and grabbing Link by the collar. "You and your damned business with that woman. She didn't have to know about us. Now she knows we're coming. We'll never make it in seven weeks."

Link pushed him back. "He didn't mention the deadline until now. How was I to know?"

"He told you to hurry up in Waker, but no," Dark shook his head, "no, you had only one thing in mind in Waker. Zelda Harkinian." He jabbed his finger into Link's chest. "You didn't think to tell us that he had exploded, and why. We could have avoided this."

"He has never given us a hard deadline before," Link argued. "There was no way to know he meant―"

"If anything happens to Aryll," Dark said, eyes full of enraged terror, "it will be your fault."

"We're going to get her back," Link swore. "If we can't make it, I'll― I'll just kill Dragmire."

"Great," Dark said, pessimistically. "So on top of making you a thief, he can make you a murderer."

"What do you want from me?" Link raged.

"Fix it," Dark said. Then, he strode to the door.

"Where are you going?" Link asked, sharply.

"OUT."

And Dark slammed the door behind him.

Link fell back into a chair, all strength leaving his body. Numbly, he brought his hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose, then his eyes, and then he wiped the tears.

Seven weeks. Skies. It was impossible. Especially now that Zelda was working against him. She would never trust him again. How was he to retrieve the Goddess Harp now?

Foolishly, instinctively, he felt the urge to ask Zelda herself. She was bright. She was good. She would understand.

But she had been firm. No amount of convincing would change her mind now.

And still, Link found himself pushing himself to his feet, ambling to the door, walking down the stairs to the small telegraph station at the foot of the building.

What rituals are performed on full moon of fall equinox? He asked. She knew prophecies and legends. Perhaps she had an idea. Then, to soften the communication, he added, Thinking of you always. L.

Then, helplessly, he sat by the electric board and waited, hoping she would reply.

Unbidden, the memory returned. The boy fisherman. Chasing the light on the ocean. The old man drowning. The story wasn't just a tale of foolhardy hope. It was also a tale of failure. And Link was becoming all too intimately acquainted with failure.

He watched the sun's rays move across the wall, bright orange and slowly dimming.

But no reply came.

It's okay, Link, it will all be worth it.

Also, no robberies today! Don't worry, we'll be back at it tomorrow.

This chapter is shorter than usual, but I think making it longer artificially would feel weird.

I need to get on to planning the final chapters. There are a lot of tiny things I want to include before it's over, and I know it doesn't look like it, but we're already a mere five chapters away from the end (!). The final stretch is always really tough to get right, because I'm not creating new plotlines anymore. I'm trying to finish them in a satisfying way.

Friendly neighbourhood PSA: For those of you who want to savour Breath of the Wild, don't go looking for information on it anymore unless you trust the source absolutely. There are spoilers going around that could ruin your enjoyment. Also, YouTube comments are a cesspool of scum and villainy, so proceed at your own risk.