Zelda felt something stir to the south as she reined in the sudden influx of power that coursed through her, clamoring to bring light to the dismal, grainy world of Twilight. Around her, the group of Interlopers shuddered, and fell back, tightening into a circle around Zelda, all facing south, weapons raised. It appeared she had found more allies.

"What comes?" Zelda asked. She expected the group to answer in unison, as before, but it was the woman that turned to address her, "I don't know, milady… but it's hurt, and very angry."

I don't know. Zelda noticed the woman's unthinking usage of singular pronoun.

"Is it coming this way, to attack us?" Zelda asked, tapping an Interloper in ragged guard armor on the back. The "man" jerked, startled by the unexpected touch, despite the fact that the woman was still watching Zelda.

Apparently these Interlopers were no longer a gestalt of singular mind. Interesting, but there were more pressing concerns.

"Don't know, milady. Could be. Come'n this way, but may be we're just ina way?" the Interloper shrugged helplessly.

"Regardless, withdrawal seems a sound choice," Zelda said wryly.

"As you say," the woman bowed, "Come on, you lot," she barked.

Zelda led the small group of monsters in flight away from a more dangerous monster, in a land of monsters.

((()))

Sana looked up as the Princess, as well as her clansmen, and a group of refugees approached at a dead run. She could feel something coming, sending little bow-waves of shadow before it, like ripples before a flood. She frowned, wondering why they had approached on foot, instead of jumping through shadows.

"Milady, it will sense the location of our teleport, but not our destination," Impaz was saying, as the group arrived.

"Veran, you will take the hero of courage—" the sage of shadows began, before looking closer at the fallen man.

"Impaz?" Princess Zelda asked.

The sage turned on the Interloper named Midna angrily, weaves of death in her hands, "What have you done?" she hissed angrily.

"We played a game," the Interloper said, nonplussed, though it began to grow blades and spikes from its body, in preparation for violence.

"Can he jump?" Veran asked, incredulous, peering closely at the internal psychic injuries of the fallen hero.

"—without crumbling to pieces?" Veran finished.

Midna huffed impatiently, and touched the hero, its essence worming back into the boy, filling in the wounds… holding him together, although it looked like the body was trying to reject it… like inflammation around an arrow shaft.

The man screamed, arching up off the ground, before he stood, his head rolling… though he remained a man with orange eyes, and not a wolf as before.

"He's coming," Midna said, using the unconscious man's mouth.

"We have no choice. Take us to the Shadow Temple," Zelda commanded.

((()))

Rusl helped Uli with the impromptu cookfire, using the scavenged cooking implements he and Fado had salvaged from the gutted ruins of the ranch. The moblins had pilfered most of the stored foods, then set everything to the torch, before riding away. In some places the hasty fires had died before doing much damage… although Hanch's beehives were intact, except for one that had been broken open. The bees were still swarming there… and the moblins had apparently learned to steer clear of that area.

No attempts had been made to recover any of the goats that had stampeded during the attack on the forest. They could take care of themselves, and without anywhere to billet them, they would just wander off again…

Colin quietly assisted his mother, his eyes troubled as he handed bowls out to the other ranchers. Branches snapped, and twigs were broken underfoot intentionally. Rusl turned, as Fado levered himself to his feet, towering over the group, to glare at the seven creatures emerging into the tiny clearing.

Bokoblins. The one in front was the largest, and had the most elaborate dreadlocks. At his waist rested an iron knife thrust through a leather strap. The blade should have been rusted and pitted from such exposure, but appeared to have been kept well oiled…

Two of the bokoblins had weeping wounds, as if from monstrous claws, though the claws had apparently been only minor grazes. An eighth figure appeared, dropping down from the trees, between the two groups. There was something off about it, to Rusl's gaze.

"I am Ookan," the kokiri said… though its voice was odd, and the skin seemed darker somehow.

"What are they doing here?" Mayor Bo asked, rolling his shoulders like a bull in preparation for violence.

"Because my mother suffers them to do so. Just as she suffers you," the kokiri said flatly. The reminder that the kokiri were neutral, and not allied was disconcerting in the firelight, with known enemies almost close enough to touch.

"Why are they here?" Mayor Bo asked, biting down on his first instinct, and choosing diplomacy instead.

"The sun has set. Though the Twilight cannot trespass further, its creatures may apparently venture forth beneath light of the stars and moon," Ookan stated.

"How do you know this?" Rusl asked.

"Because they have done so. The Lost Woods are safe, however only children and those of the forest may enter there. These woods are protected, but not immune to trespass," Ookan growled.

"There are monsters about?" Sera asked fearfully, inching closer to Hanch.

"Yes, and they must be hunted, lest they find places of succor from daylight," Ookan said.

Rusl was the first to understand.

"Caves," he said, looking at the injured bokoblins with new eyes. He had long suspected that the nocturnal bokoblins did not tolerate sunlight gladly, and it stood to reason they might live where no light shown.

"Aye. Caves," Ookan sighed.

Mayor Bo rubbed his chin, staring at the group of monsters and then the forest demon.

This was… not unprecedented, but there had never been an alliance between bokoblins and hylians… only a wary understanding, a respect of borders that weren't crossed… for if they were, retribution was swift and brutal from both sides.

"You want us to hunt monsters in the dark. Who will protect our people if we do?" Rusl demanded.

"You misunderstand. This is not a request. You consume life from our forest. If you have no use, then you are parasites, to be uprooted and tossed aside. The bokoblins understand this," Ookan said quietly, the scowling, screaming face of his mask lending credence to his softly spoken threat.

It was not a threat, anymore than one might warn another that fire was hot.

"I will not leave my people defenseless," Mayor Bo replied calmly. He would not be bullied.

"Fire creates light. As long as this remains true, any that remain here will be safe," Ookan said impatiently.

"You are mighty in these lands, what need have you of us?" Pergie asked, curious, ignoring the posturing of the males.

"Torches, like the ones you brought in your hunt for the child would be very useful. We lack the materials to make such things here, and we cannot leave the forest," Ookan explained quickly, looking at Rusl.

"Those used rags soaked with fat. The fat takes days to prepare if none is on hand," Jaggle said.

"And the moblins burned what they could not take with them from the ranch," Rusl added.

"We need portable fire, in the caves," the kokiri hissed, frustrated.

"Well…" Hanch said softly, before losing his voice, when everyone turned to look at him. Even the bokoblins.

"Yes, Hanch?" Mayor Bo asked, not unkindly, for he knew how shy the poor man was.

"There… there are torches I make, to smoke my bees…" the man whispered, staring at his toes.

"I've seen those torches. It's all smoke," Jaggle said dismissively. As if the torches were substandard.

"Because I use green tinder!" Hanch snapped. Bee keeping was the one thing he did well. He was the lord of bee keepers.

"How bright would the torches be with dried tinder?" Rusl asked.

"Pretty bright… and they could burn for a long time. Longer than an hour… but keep them out of the wind," Hanch said, mollified.

"What do you need for these torches?" Mayor Bo asked.

"String, bark, a stick, and dry tinder," Hanch said.

Ookan began to laugh.

"All things in great abundance here," the kokiri said, "show us how, man of bees, and we will make them as well, for there is little time."

Respect for skill was a heady thing.

((()))

Ilia crouched by the young man's side in the room he had been deposited within by the tall, beautiful sheikah whose gaze chilled Ilia's soul. There was cruelty in those beautiful eyes… another of the garbed ones stood nearby, one arm tied to her chest. Those eyes did not frighten Ilia.

The one called Midna by the princess had also departed, following the princess to some other location within these strange halls that whispered things in her ears.

Ilia was afraid the young man was dying. He had risked much to save her, to protect her. It seemed terribly wrong that he might die, without any knowing his name. His forehead was hot to her touch; his body frequently jerked and spasmed in sleep. He jerked less when she touched him though. Her body felt such deep terror at the thought of this stranger's death that she yearned to know who he was to her. But she did know some things; his fever was dangerous.

Ilia looked up at the garbed one. "Is there water here?"

The garbed one nodded.

"I would like a bucket of water, and two clean rags, please," she said.

"I will send for them," the garbed one said, but made no move to leave.

"Please, bring them now," Ilia asked.

The garbed one tilted her head, studying Ilia with curiosity, but not malice.

"He can't hurt anyone like this, he's not a threat," Ilia whispered.

"I am not his jailor, girl," the garbed one said gently, "The shadow temple is not a safe place for those as damaged as he. Something may be tempted to seize so vulnerable a body."

"Like Midna," Ilia asked, her lips twisting with distaste.

"No. Things far weaker, but no less desperate. Things that yearn to touch the physical world, if only for a moment, one last time," the garbed one said sadly.

A knock came at the door to the small chamber, and an old man in flowing robes entered, carrying two buckets of water, and several strips of cloth thrown across his shoulder.

"Hello, child," he smiled. His eyes were gentle, though touched with pity when he looked at the young man.

"My name is Charlo. One of the shiekah said there was need of these things."

Ilia took a rag, and wetted it, before laying the folded cloth across the young man's forehead.

"Thank you, priest. You may return to your prayers," the garbed one said.

"I have prayed enough, I think, for today," Charlo said, tying his voluminous sleeves back.

((()))

Impaz adjusted the shadow map, at Zelda's direction.

"According to Power, Eldin has been imprisoned within Death Mountain," the princess said.

"Imprisoned, or sought refuge?" Veran asked idly.

"What do you mean?" Zelda asked.

"It seems to me, that a place of primal fire might not fall so easily to darkness… if so, where better to make one last stand?" Veran mused.

"If it has not fallen into the twilight, we will not be able to enter," Impaz said.

"I can," Midna giggled.

"Midna. If it has not fallen, it is full of light. Like my candle, even at night" Zelda pointed out.

Midna's face turned ugly. She hated candles.

"What of the strange Interlopers we brought? They appear to only have fragments of the Twilight within them, and are mostly the creatures they appear to be…" Impaz wondered.

"Even if they can pass the barrier, to what end? They will be safe, but we cannot join them in the light, nor can we completely deem them loyal," Veran pointed out.

"No, but perhaps if Eldin could be reached, we could coordinate with it? Perhaps we need not bring back all of this land, just the part where we are standing…" Zelda replied.

((()))

The war party moved through the dark trees. Fado, Mayor Bo, Jaggle, and Rusl followed the party of bokoblins, and Ookan. None of the torches had been lit, only twelve had been made. Others were being made back at the camp, but would not be ready in time… so the men trusted to the night vision of their reluctant allies. The journey seemed to take half the night. Distant screams and birdcalls occasionally pierced the night-time noises of insects and other nocturnal forest animals… attesting to the near invisible presence of the kokiri and their allies.

They came across a few victims of the forest demons along the way.

It seemed the arrows that grew into trees remained quite effective against the monsters, though the creatures weren't actually dead… they couldn't escape either, and the sun would soon be coming for them.

One of the bokoblins, not the chief (Rusl assumed the knife wielder was the chief), stopped, and hissed, a quiet, chattering noise to "the chief."

Ookan paused as well, listening in on the whispered conversation. The chief hissed angrily, rising up tall, to peer about in anger.

"What's wrong?" Mayor Bo whispered to the Kokiri, towering over the diminutive demon despite crouching.

"They say there is a trespasser nearby, a bulblin, or that a bulbin has left a trail crossing this path," Ookan said.

"Can you tell?" Rusl asked.

"Bulblins and Bokoblins smell the same to me, though something has passed this way," Ookan shrugged.

Bokoblins didn't suffer trespass within "their" territory.

Ookan hissed and chattered back at the bokoblins, clearly something along the lines of "kill it later." The chief didn't seem happy, but the ragged group resumed their loping stride beneath the dark trees.

((()))

Ilia felt her patient's head and chest. He was not as warm, but his breathing had grown weaker, and yet, his heart beat more firmly beneath her hand. She looked at Charlo, "Do you know how to help him?"

The priest shook his head sadly, rewetting another rag to place upon the young man's bare chest.

"Even if I could use my magic here, I don't know what ails this boy. Against disease, and wounds I can assist, but this? This is dark magic," the priest sighed.

Ilia looked at the garbed one in the corner, "Can you aid him?"

Being so addressed, the sheikah approached, but remained a few paces away from Ilia.

"This is not shadow magic. Regardless, darkness cannot heal. Deceive, weaken, and kill… but never heal," the shadow whispered.

"Do you know how he is hurt?" Ilia pressed.

"I see the wounds, but do not understand them, I have seen nothing like this before," the sheikah replied.

"Could you describe them?" Charlo asked.

"Dark vines move inside him. His body is fighting the vines, but cannot destroy them," the sheikah said slowly, as if struggling to find the proper words to describe accurately what she could see.

"He's festering," Ilia realized. His body was trying to fester out the vines like it would a splinter of wood caught beneath skin…

"What does festering mean?"

Ilia spun on her knees. Midna was hovering over Ilia's shoulder, watching with poisonous eyes. Ilia jerked her gaze down. Those eyes held swirling madness. The man began to moan, his movements growing jerky again.

"It means he's sick," Ilia said harshly, though the hand she placed against his cheek was gentle. Almost immediately, the features of the young man slackened.

"He's not sick. He's breaking the rules," Midna snorted, floating upside down, now overhead.

((()))

Darkness curled and wafted, drifting in a nonexistent wind. But the man felt it against his skin, as if he wore no clothes… and yet, smoky metal armor clung to him, protecting him… entrapping him. He was immutable, a stone, a beacon to this strange place.

It was a place of darkness.

Deep within, the man could feel darkness all around him… terrible things were coming… terrible—

Come with me… son.

Link opened his eyes.

Cold wind cut through his armor, chilling him to his bones, snow half-blinded him.

"Who are you to call me son?" he demanded, disorientated by the sudden environmental change.

A wolf padded forward through the snow, but Link's vision was distorted, because at times, he thought he saw a man instead… but only flickers.

I have no right. I never saw your birth… but you are my heir, the wolf sighed, now close enough to make out against the snow. Its coat was white, with a gray under coat, and black ear tips. The eyes were a familiar blue… as if a man's eyes stared out from above the wolf's muzzle.

"This is a dream," Link decided.

Yes. And yet, also no, the wolf answered. It was not so very large, perhaps as tall as Link's waist when standing.

"Why did you bring me here?" Link shivered. As terrible as the other place was, at least it was warm.

Our kind does not belong among the darkness. Only the master may investigate the dark paths, to see what dangers lay ahead. We follow, to protect. We do not lead the hunt, the wolf rebuked sharply, as if Link had been caught stealing sweets.

"I follow no one," Link sneered.

The wolf regarded Link coldly, you do not serve the master… but you do follow another. It is what we were made for. You cannot fight your blood.

"Blood has nothing to do with it. I made a promise, that is why I protect Ilia," Link said harshly.

The wolf yawned, unimpressed, flashing his teeth.

You speak of a child's words spoken without understanding. They have no weight.

"They have as much weight as I choose to give them, wolf," Link snarled.

Curb your insolence pup! Do you KNOW what you have DONE?the wolf roared, fury blazing forth from its eyes like torches.

Link felt fear deep within him, but did not fall back. He raised the black sword in his hand, unsurprised by its sudden presence.

"Tell me then, wolf, without riddles," Link snapped, ready to fight.

Disgust radiated from the wolf, you have disgraced our blood, shamed me, and all who came before… to think one of us could become foresworn…

"I have broken no oaths," Link argued, insulted.

We were made long ago, to serve and protect Hylia. It is all that we are. The pact our ancestor made lives within our blood. It is an oath never spoken, never broken.

Until you.

"I promised to marry a girl. Hardly earth shattering… unless that is why you did not wed my mother," Link spat.

The wolf flinched back, and Link could see that his words had cut deep. Good.

The wolf was silent for several long minutes, struggling with the pain behind its eyes. Finally, he looked up again, his words measured, though filled with strong emotion;

Your mother did not want to wed me. She refused, she feared to give you up, to see you follow my path. But I do not care for legalities of paper and ink. She was my wife, and you no bastard. Despite your current attitude.

"Then what have I done?" Link asked flatly, slightly shamed by his pettiness, but still angry.

You have sworn fealty to an enemy of our master, the wolf said sadly.

"I promised to help—" Link's voice trailed off, and his heart lurched in fear.

eat her enemy, the wolf finished heavily, Although the minds of interlopers would translate the word enemy as enemies, since they were once few, who have fractured into many. Plural and singular hold little distinction for them.

"She is weak. She said as such!" Link protested.

Then all the worse for you, even were it true. The weak have so many enemies. Even the Twilight Princess, the wolf sighed.

"Who?" Link asked.

It had another name, long ago. But we do not speak of that foe. A title is far safer than uttering such names… lest they remember what was forgotten, the wolf said sharply.

Link felt as if the world was tipping. What freedom he thought he had…

Boots crunched in the snow, and Link looked up, into the sad eyes of a man little older than himself. His hair was closer to brown than blond, but Link recognized the rough shape of the face for his own.

"This is not the path I, nor your mother wanted for you. You serve the darkness now," the armored man said quietly.

Link felt something twisting within his chest.

The knight's eyes snapped up, snaring Link's with their intensity, and the armored man lunged.

Link could not move quickly enough, as he sought to raise his sword to strike.

Ser Gregory seized Link by the nape of his neck, gauntleted fingers fisting Link's hair, and tugged him close, until their foreheads pressed together, eyes only inches apart.

"We are enemies. And I will always love you, my son," the knight glared, ferocity and despair lending strength to the knight's gaze in equal measure.

Link forgot that he held a sword, that his father held one as well.

The hand loosened its painful hold, and the two warriors stepped back from each other.

"Goodbye, son. If we meet again, I will be forced to kill you," Ser Gregory whispered, walking off into the blizzard.

He didn't look back.

((()))

The cave was small, or at least the entrance was, and well concealed by brush and vines. Rusl never would have found it on his own. He pulled flint from his belt, and struck his knife several times, dropping sparks on the head of the floppy torch he held between his knees. It resembled a broom more than anything, with two pieces of bark tied around the outside to keep the straw and tinder in place. Jaggle, Bo, and Fado stood around him, acting as a windbreak. After a minute of this, the reluctant tinder lit, and everyone shrank back from the sudden light and heat, especially Ookan.

The bokoblins reluctantly approached their long standing foe, and lit their own torches from his, then immediately disappeared down into the cave, honking their war cries. The hylians lit their torches, then the torch of the kokiri, who looked to be in no particular rush.

"We've come this far," Jaggle grunted.

"Shame not to fight any monsters," Bo sighed. The cave looked cramped. Not good for a big man.

((()))

Talo wished he had his wooden sword, but he'd lost it running from bokoblins and Fado… before he met the forest girl. Maybe he could find a stick… Talo peered intently at the edge of the cook fire's light, studying a likely looking branch.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Talo looked up guiltily into his mother's eyes. Pergie glared, and Talo was led back to the fire.

"Bed time. Now," the big woman hissed.

"Yes mama," Talo muttered.

Malo smirked at his big brother, but the smile was gone when Pergie turned around. The rest of the children were already sprawled in the dirt, heads pillowed with anything soft that could be found. In Beth's case, her mother's ample belly proved sufficient. The corpulent woman was snoring loudly, perhaps limiting her use as a pillow… but not for Beth apparently.

Pergie checked the firewood. She reckoned there was another two hours, more if she let the fire die down a little… which left them about three hours short of dawn.

Naturally, Uli wasn't asleep either, her pregnancy making it difficult to find anything resembling a comfortable position.

"Need anything, Uli?" Pergie whispered, crouching next to her friend.

Uli grimaced, "A proper mattress. Pity we didn't think to bring one," she said, smiling slightly.

"Aye, but we couldn't squeeze it in next to all the cheese and milk," Pergie snorted softly.

A shape rose up from the cart, "Shh," it hissed.

The sick demon.

Pergie bristled at the monster that had almost stolen her son. Its movements were still clumsy, and it trembled as it moved, but Pergie bit down on any sympathy the child-like creature elicited.

"Something is close," the demon croaked, struggling to string its bow.

Pergie picked up a long stick from the fire, brandishing the impromptu weapon.

Ferns were pushed aside, and a shape ambled into the weak light, blinking stupidly.

Pergie relaxed, "It's only a goat," she said, laughing at the stupid dem—

Something hit her, knocking her almost into the fire.

"Mama!" Talo screamed, as the goat backed up clumsily, to charge again. He picked up the stick, and smacked the burning end against the goat's head. It screamed, and Talo saw really long teeth in its mouth.

"Bad goat!" he screamed, his voice rising several octaves. People scrambled to their feet, fighting to get the fire between them and the monster goat. Beth started screaming…

Everyone was screaming.

The goat kicked Talo, knocking the boy away. He kept hold of the burning stick though. It seemed important, even though his head was all woozy…

"Move!" someone screamed, stepping on Talo in the process. They had another burning stick, and were thrusting it at the goat.

It didn't like that. Instead of running away, it attacked, running right into the burning stick, and the two shapes disappeared into the darkness.

The goat's scream cut off with a choked squeal.

The silence continued for a long time, but it was probably only a minute, maybe.

Pergie staggered out into the dark, favoring her right leg. She needed to make sure the goat was dead. She had a sharp knife on her belt, and another burning branch.

She found the goat ten feet beyond the firelight, dead at the base of a tree. She also found the demon, pinned to the tree by the stick it had rammed down the goat's throat. The stick had been punched through her belly, below the ribs on the right side.

Her mask was gone. In the flickering light, skin color was impossible to tell… and all Pergie saw was a child in agony. Things rustled in the darkness. Monsters were coming. The big woman didn't hesitate. She dropped her burning branch, seized the stick that impaled the child, and snapped it off from the goat, carrying the whimpering child back to the cook fire at a dead sprint. Something snarled in irritation, but did not pursue into the ring of light when Hanch threw a burning stick at something behind Pergie.

"It came into the light. How did it do that?" Uli whispered.

"Inside goat," the wounded girl coughed.

((()))

Rusl entered the cave first, forced to move in an awkward half-crouch. Jaggle was behind him, followed by Bo, and Fado. The last two were practically on hand and knees.

"Mayor, perhaps you and Fado should stay here, prevent anything from escaping," Rusl suggested.

"That's a good idea," Bo said, relieved. His knees were already aching from the awkward position.

Something screamed from deeper within the cave, too high pitched to be a bokoblin. A moment later a bokoblin did scream, before it cut off wetly. More bokoblins screamed, but in anger and violence, not death.

Jaggle swallowed nervously, very glad that Rusl was in the lead.

"Shall we?" the smith sighed, and Jaggle reluctantly nodded.

The tunnel soon opened up into a larger bubble of rock, with roots that hung like the legs of spiders from the ceiling. They found the first corpse there. It was small, slightly larger than a dog, and may have once been a bokoblin, before something began eating it. What was left was difficult to identify, beyond the blood, and splintered ends of bones. Jaggle politely turned away, and emptied his stomach at his feet.

Rusl had seen far worse, and leaned closer, studying the diameter of the bites in the rib cage. He didn't like what he found.

"The jaws of whatever did this are at least an arm-span across," Rusl whispered. Another scream echoed, this time much closer.

Jaggle raised his torch defensively, as if to hide behind it, eyeing the tunnel mouth that led deeper into the darkness.

Rusl considered the cramped conditions likely ahead, and drew his knife, not his sword, in his free hand, before advancing into the dark throat of the tunnel.

((()))

"Do you understand what I ask of you?" Zelda said softly, studying the hybrid closely. The woman nodded slowly, although the faint otherness that flickered in her eyes was probably only perceptible to Zelda, and those with shadow sight.

"Yes, milady. Travel to the Mountain of Fire, home of the gorons. Find entry, and the spirit of light that dwells within."

Zelda nodded slowly, and the hybrid smiled slightly.

"We will not fail, milady," the woman whispered.

"I know," Zelda replied.