Link took a defensive step back, the opposite shoulder jutting forwards as his sword made tiny circles in the air, watching this new enemy's every move. His heart was beating rapidly against his ribcage, and he barely heard the sounds of Ghirahim's purification over the blood pounding in his ears.
Those black lips curved up in a cruel smile. "You really think you can stand your ground against me, Hero? I could prove you wrong, but I need you in your right mind at the moment."
Link kept silent. During battles, he found himself clamming up and never returning the banter. He watched as the enemy laughed a bit, seemingly amused by something he did or didn't do, and asked, "You're wondering why, aren't you? Why I'm here, why I'm following you and that traitorous sword spirit…yes, I know who he is, Hero, don't be stupid! The answer is a simple this: revenge."
With that word, the hooded figure reached up their pale hands and drew the hood back. Link gaped at the face that was revealed, taking an involuntary step back. The face was angled, pale and, well, beautiful.
The once-hooded figure was a woman. That much was obvious; the arched eyebrows, feline red eyes with slits for pupils, long black hair and full black lips. Her cheekbones were high and arched, looking sharp enough to cut flesh. Her eyelashes were long and gave her an exotic look, while her pouting lips looked nearly childish. The strange part about her was the three, black tattooed spikes under each eye, looking like long prongs that jutted from her eyes. Link couldn't believe his own eyes. He hadn't, for one, ever seen such a drop-dead gorgeous woman, and two, he hadn't ever fought such a drop-dead gorgeous woman, let alone any female for that matter.
The woman across from him giggled and it sounded like tinkling bells. "Surprised? Shocked? Oh, Hero, you're simply primeval, thinking women have no place fighting for their cause. Too chivalrous to fight me? Too bad, I have no such concerns. But I'm getting ahead of myself, and I'm being quite impolite." She plucked her cloak on both sides and lifted it up, giving a deep curtsey. Link could make out tight black pants and slivers of pale skin under the dark cloak and a few hints of red before the cloak hid it again.
"My name is Mihra." She uncrossed her ankles and stood straight again, looking both expecting and…flirtatious.
Link worked his jaw for a moment and tried to unclog his throat before he spoke. His hands were getting sweaty and his mind was hazing over, so he took another step back and furrowed his brow, trying to think. He spoke hoarsely, "My name is Link."
"Oh, I know! You think someone like me wouldn't know your name?" She giggled and Link felt his cheeks go hot. "But we haven't much time to talk before your friend there crashes this little party. I have a simple proposition for you. Come away with me, right now, and I'll make sure you're taken care of and that nasty sword spirit won't bother you anymore. No more of these lies and hidden secrets, Link. I'll tell you the truth…what do you say?"
To his dismay, Link actually found himself taking a few steps towards this Mihra before he realized what he was doing and managed to stop his rebellious limbs. He ground his teeth and shook his head, like he was trying to ward away an irksome fly. He hissed in his breath through his teeth, wondering what was happening to him, before he raised a defiant and ice-filled glare to the woman across from him.
"No," he said, his voice catching in his throat, but he forced it out. "I won't go with you. Ghirahim is my friend."
Mihra's smile faded. She looked sad and disappointed. "Are you sure, Link? One hundred percent positive?"
"Yes!" The percent remark only reminded him of Fi, and that cut away at the haze that had taken over his mind. Her clear and calculating voice seemed to ring through his mind and he could stand straighter.
Her expression turned from disappointed to angry. "Very well," she hissed, suddenly turning from a harmless looking creature to a furious viper. "You've made your choice. I would have spared you, Hero, but it seems you never know when to give up! I promise to make you suffer, and that traitor too! Both of you will feel my wrath!"
She turned on her toes and her cloak seemed to grow and wind around her for an instant, and with a snapping sound, she disappeared. Link felt the haze lift from his mind and he staggered back, holding his head. What in the Goddess's name happened?
He groggily turned around, noticing that the tell-tale hum of Ghirahim's purification was not ringing throughout the spring. What he saw was a red mass that straightened out and turned to him. For the second time in a span of five minutes, Link gaped at what he saw.
Ghirahim was smirk-smiling with vivid red lips, and his eyes were softer and wiser, despite the black irises that hid his pupils and gave him a rather scary look. His marks were standing out against his skin, tracing down his body to his toes. He wasn't wearing his baggy pants or shirt, but it seemed he was in his true form, because there were no signs of any genitalia or scars that his mortal form had. The only clothing he wore was a sweeping red cape that curled around him and hung from his shoulders, fastened at his throat with a white Triforce brooch.
Link looked up at his friend's face, and somehow picked his jaw up from the ground.
This purification was much more painful than the other two.
Ghirahim, as he was suspended in the rushing orb was water, felt like he was being burned by the sacred water as it rushed over every inch of his skin. His eyes opened and his head tipped back, hands and toes stretching out, and his lips opened in a silent scream.
The other two purifications were not this painful. The first, at Skyview, almost felt ticklish, and Eldin felt mildly uncomfortable—like sand rubbing against his skin. But this one felt like lava, burning and eating away at his fragile flesh and leaving nothing untouched.
Ghirahim wanted it to end. He felt like he was tumbling over and over, while his senses were disoriented and practically shut down; his sense of up and down tilted and skewed. The pain was everywhere, in every part of his body, inside and out. He screamed despite himself and felt the water burn his throat.
This was unlike any torture he had endured by Demise's hands. His tortures were of brute force and humiliation, leaving marks and sharp pains, but never anything like this. This was fire, eating away at him, with no sense of mercy or kindness.
Ghirahim was reminded of himself.
An eternity later, it seemed, Ghirahim felt the water lose its shape and he was carelessly dropped onto the stone. He hit it hard, on his side, and his head hit the stone, making a resounding crack reverberate through his skull. He gasped and clawed at the stone, trying to find his grounding. All his senses were in disarray, his vision was swimming, and every nerve ending was overloaded with pain, making it impossible to move without feeling pain somewhere; his nose was filled with the smell of burnt umber, while his tongue had a coating of copper blood, and his ears were ringing for some reason.
Ghirahim gasped and forced himself to move, only after the world stopped tilting and his vision stopped shaking. He pulled himself to his knees and winced at the feeling of his skin pulling uncomfortably around his knees and stretching across his white thighs. It didn't register that the baggy pants he had worn were gone, and that a heavy fabric was draped over his shoulders and down his back. He felt his head, astounded that he wasn't bleeding from the injury he sustained when he hit his head on the stone.
He groaned to himself and leaned over to the water to inspect his new face. The face that stared back at him was both familiar and alien, looking confused and weak but regal. His eyes were still as black as night, unable to be cleansed of the darkness, but his lips were bright red and the marks were more pronounced, while the red ruby in his forehead was glowing with power. He was happy to see a curtain of hair fall from the top of his head and sweep in front of his eyes.
It wasn't as long as his former hair had been, but it was long enough to drape across both of his eyes. He stuck his chin out and blew at the hair, smiling when a few strands lifted and danced before falling back into place. He reached up and tucked one side behind his good ear, then felt back for the other. He was delighted to feel, not a mangled disfigurement, but a proud and pointed ear. That ear had always been a reminder of Demise's cruelty, because during a particularly long and rough night, Demise had bit most of it off. Ghirahim had cut off the rest, to hide it under his hair, to never have to look at it.
Now that it was restored, he felt surprisingly light. But maybe that feeling was also because he felt the red ruby in his chest—also restored to its former glory—and knew he was back in his true form. Ghirahim smiled, noting the expression, when not filled with sadistic promises or cruelty, looked rather well on his face. He felt eyes on him and flexed his toes before he stood and straightened his spine; oh, how good this felt! Ghirahim turned, displaying his new body proudly. Link, who he noticed looked both spooked and worn out, dropped his jaw at the sight of him and Ghirahim felt a glow of warmth in his chest.
He smiled and spoke words that he didn't know Link would hear, in another life. "What? Say something! Am I so beautiful you've no words left?"
Link actually cracked a grin at the words, and responded, sounding tired but amused, "Yes, Ghirahim," he said dryly. "I just couldn't speak past the aura of gorgeousness you radiate."
Ghirahim laughed a bit and raised himself onto his toes on his right foot before he jumped up and spiraled in the air, settling for hovering a foot off the stone, toes down and one knee bent. He looked at Link, whose amused expression had faded to a confused one.
"What is it?" Ghirahim asked. He hovered over towards Link, seemingly more comfortable doing so than returning to the ground and walking.
"I think I just met our enemy," Link said.
"Who was it?" Ghirahim was starting to get annoyed at having to ask so many questions to get the Hero to give him a straight answer.
"She said her name was Mihra. She appeared just after—"
Ghirahim stopped dead and actually fell to the second stone platform beneath him, landing on his feet but looking shocked and horrified. "Did you say Mihra?" At Link's nod, he continued, "What did she look like? Tell me!"
Link stuttered for a moment before he could formulate a sentence. "Ah, she was tall, black hair, red eyes, and these weird marks under her eyes—they kind of looked like prongs. Do you know her?"
The sword spirit closed his lips and they thinned to a dangerous line. "Oh, I know her," he said shortly. "I was under the impression she had died a long time ago. Seeing that she's alive raises many concerns and a lot of bad blood. She's a demon, a Temptation Demon to be exact. She can use a power called temptation in her voice to lure mortals and enter anyone's mind. With the right person, she can practically possess them. She was Demise's most faithful follower…she must have somehow gotten back to the Demon Realm before it was sealed off."
"What do you mean bad blood?" Link questioned, almost hysterically. "And Temptation Demon?"
"I already went over this, Hero," Ghirahim said shortly, jumping the rest of the platforms to stand in front of him. His cloak settled neatly behind him when he stopped. "She can control anyone's mind if she talks enough. Her looks help, too—beautiful, to entice men to listen to her. She wanted nothing more than to be Demise's consort."
Link was perplexed. Who wouldn't have wanted such a woman to be their consort, or mistress? He asked, "Who was, then? I mean, who was her competition?"
Ghirahim looked at him like he couldn't quite believe him, or like Link was the stupidest person in the world. "I was, Hero," he said, curtly, like it was a still fresh wound. Link's eyes widened at the revelation. In Ghirahim's explanation of his past, he had glossed over the torture, but never mentioned anything like...that.
"I-uh—"
"Oh, stop stuttering," Ghirahim snapped. "Long story short, Mihra and I had several confrontations and much blood spilt over the issue. The wounds are still raw for her, I suppose. She wants to destroy me for betraying her object of obsessive affection, and probably for the fact that I survived while he did not. You did not aid her in her mission, so now you're her enemy, too."
Link gulped. He realized he had nearly betrayed himself and Ghirahim by stepping towards her because the demon had a hold over his mind—with this so called Temptation. He must have thrown it off somehow. But he wasn't sure if he could do it again.
"Can you resist her voice, Ghirahim?" Link blurted, and then blushed at how vulgar it sounded. He was about to reword his question when Ghirahim responded.
"Of course not," he said. "No one can. All you can do to resist it is focus on a certain ideal or thing and hope for the best that you can make her shut up. Come on, we need to leave this place…I feel her energy lingering. It's giving me the chills."
Phew. How 'bout that? I'd like some feedback on Mihra, I feel like I'm taking a huge risk here creating her. Anyways, she'll be back. *knowing grin*
I liked writing this chapter, just saying. I had fun, perhaps a bit too much…and I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist throwing a Midna quote in there—and somehow I feel Mihra's name resembles hers, but I didn't mean it like that and I can't actually think of another one that fits.
Anywho, the norm: sorry for types, thanks for reviewing and reading, and reviews are appreciated! To my lovely reviewers:
gwendolydark—Oh, you got it! Woman indeed! Sorry, I can't take hints that well, they usually have to be spelled out to me before I set my sights on a certain path. *sheepish grin* Hope you like it anyways, dearie. Thanks!
vsama—Unfortunately not. I was, after reading your review, thinking about switching Mihra to a Twili, but it didn't seem to fit…this isn't when the Twili are strong, and I don't think they would have followed a tyrant like Demise, but that's just me. Hope you enjoy!
Royal9000—Oh, thank you! Why, maybe so! I won't spoil but your deductions are rather close but a bit misled in a few places (such as being revived, Mihra wasn't hanging around as dust there) , but I'm impressed! I suppose that's a good thing, I don't want to fall behind. *smiles* Thanks for your review, dear, and I'll try to keep the chapters a coming.
petite-neko—Thank you! I hope I reached your expectations, I enjoyed writing Mihra, and I hope you like her, too. Thanks for reviewing!
Again, thanks for the reviews, guys, and I hope you like what I have in store. Until next time, watch your back.
-Spirit-
