Muzu had been standing beneath Mipha's statue when Sidon passed him by, staring up at it with an expression that seemed unmoored in time. It was rare to see him so distraught that he would come out and look at her that way; only conflict with the king seemed to affect him so badly, now. In the decades Sidon had spent under Muzu's tutelage he had learned the ins and outs of his instructor's expressions, inscrutable as they might be to anyone else, and in that moment he knew it best to leave him alone.

Muzu was still standing there when Sidon returned in the morning. The sun was newly risen, completely obscured by the dark of the rain clouds above them, the only light on the statue coming from the place where the stone depiction of the Lightscale Trident pierced the surface of carefully sculpted water. He took his place next to Muzu, looking up at his sister's face. She was so serene, rendered in unliving stone, so apart and above from the cares of the living world, infinitely patient, infinitely kind. The statue of Hylia still stood at the foot of the staircase that lead to the throne room, but in many ways his sister had become the patron god of his people, their hope and their grief.

"I am sorry," Muzu said, and Sidon looked down at his teacher, who stared at Mipha rather than at him, "for raising my voice to you and your father." He did not apologize for raising his voice to his king and crown prince; to apologize for impropriety was not in him. He had been ancient when Sidon was born, had taught King Dorephan in the days before he had ascended to the throne, and nobody was sure of his age anymore but estimates placed him at about five hundred summers; he had seen so many royals don the crown that they were all familiar to him, family to him. That he was allowed to behave that way spoke to how much the royal family loved him, in return.

"My father would never begrudge you your honesty," Sidon said, looking up at the statue to match Muzu. "Nor would I. You have been essential to the health and balance of the realm for longer than any living Zora. Your loyalty is beyond reproach."

"But not my fealty," Muzu said. It could have been angry, even accusatory, but it was not; Sidon imagined that some extreme of exhaustion had allowed Muzu to look at himself in a way that the prince did not have the experience or the perspective to understand.

"If I ordered you to assist me, Muzu, I know that you would. Instantly, and without fail, you would! But I do not wish that for you, or for us, or for the Zora people. If I could, I would have each of us work together, single parts of a greater whole, and not because some of us have powers over the others. So, I want you to know this: you are wrong about Hylians. You are wrong about a very great deal. I fear the harm that may befall us if I cannot convince you of the righteousness of my plan and the people who seek to aid us." He looked down at his teacher, and now his teacher looked up at him. "But convince you I will, because I believe in you as surely as I believe in myself. To order you, to insist that you are less than I am… it would wound me, and it would wound what we have between us. I would sooner die."

Muzu blinked up at him, then cut his eyes away. He lowered his head; who could say what he was feeling, then? Shame? Affection? Sidon hoped for affection; if it were shame, then he had hurt his beloved teacher without meaning to.

"You are a good man," Muzu said, as if to answer him. Good! Even with the criticism in that statement, even knowing what was coming after, Sidon was glad. "You are your sister's brother, in every way. If kindness and goodness were the only things a kingdom required of its leader, then you would already be peerless." Now he looked up again, his eyes sharp. "But they are not, and you are not. Not yet."

He nodded, because he could think of nothing else to say to that. Who would imagine themselves an ideal king? Sidon knew of his father's insecurities better than anyone, save only perhaps Muzu. To be a good king required constant self-doubt, self-examination…a measure by which to understand oneself. One needed an idol whose example one might always pursue. He had one.

"I wonder what she would have done, in my place," Sidon said, and the statue loomed above them and Mipha's expression was serene. "I wonder it all the time. Would she have concocted a more elegant solution to the problem of Vah Ruta? Would it have been within her power to tame the beast, even if she were not its Champion? I see you out here, and I think of my father who avoids this plaza because looking at her breaks his heart, and I think of the person he thinks she would be if she were with us, now. I wish that I could ask her what to do."

It felt good to say. It was freeing, to make himself so vulnerable.

"Mipha…" Muzu considered his words, struggling with them. Speaking of her was hard for him, had gotten harder in the intervening century. "She was a wise child, had a wisdom that was more pronounced than experience. You have the charisma of a leader, and people will follow you and love you, but Mipha…" He shrugged. "She always saw clearly what her people needed, even when she was very small. Almost as soon as she could talk, she spoke truth to the crown. And to me."

"She loved him, you know." Muzu looked up at him, baffled, and Sidon realized that, a century on, his teacher had never allowed himself to think of Mipha as she really was. His heart broke for the royal tutor, but he pressed on. "The Hylian Champion. Link."

The old Zora's expression went flat, as if he'd just been slapped. Sidon could see the strength of the old man's convictions easily bouncing this idea away from him, protecting a heart that could not bear the implications. "You can't possibly know that, even if it were true."

Sidon nodded. "Perhaps you are right. I remember a swordsman who spent a great deal of time with my sister, and I remember being angry at him, thinking he would take her away. I would be a fool to trust my memory of so long ago." He let that sink in a moment, a concession to bring Muzu's guard down as far as it would go. "It is not my memory you must trust: it is the king's, and the work of Mipha's own hand." He turned away from the statue, toward Muzu, and set his hands on his waist. "You know the Zora Armor that she made, in which she embedded her own white scale. You never knew who it was for, but my father did; King Dorephan was very happy for her, and dearly wished to bring Link into our family. He wished for himself a son, and for me a brother, and most of all for my sister a husband. That armor was made to fit Link, and no one else, and my father has kept it all of these years on both of their behalves. When you speak to him again, I bid you ask him about it. He will tell you."

Muzu's expression was very much that of someone who was lost and did not know how they had come to be where they were. "But… she never…"

"She never told you," Sidon said, and his voice was gentle even though he knew that no tone would cushion this blow, "because of this. Your prejudices were pronounced even before the Calamity, Muzu, and nobody was more familiar with them than my sister. She thought to marry Link after Ganon was defeated and show all of us how worthy he was to stand at her side. Seggin knew. Dento knew, and taught her to make the armor. My father knew. You did not, because she feared that if you did then you would love her less."

The sound of the rain was loud, then, a background of noise that filled up the whole world as great sheets of water fell on the domain. Muzu could not seem to keep his eyes in one place; he looked at his hands, at his feet, at Sidon, at his hands again, and then lastly up at Mipha, who did not judge him at all. Water ran down Muzu's face, though it was not only water, and it took all of Sidon's strength not to reassure his teacher.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Muzu's voice was barely a croak. "If you seek to wound me with the time and confidence that I lost, then you are succeeding. But if you are trying to convince me that I am wrong about the Hylians because your sister loved one man…"

"I am trying to tell you that you should have faith, Muzu. If not in my ability to judge the character of people, if not in the heart of my sister or in the trust of my father or in the strength of the royal family you helped to raise, then have faith that we seek what is best. Even if you do not agree with us, I am asking you to set that aside and have faith that we will win, in the end."

"Faith is not enough!" Sidon did not flinch; it took a very great deal to make him flinch. That did not make him less surprised at Muzu's outburst, at the anger and pain in those wide-set eyes. "Faith does not protect people, Sidon! You and your father, and even Mipha now, none of you have ever understood that! Faith makes us vulnerable by causing us to set aside our experiences and our common sense. Faith kills us! Faith—"

The steps of two people wearing shoes were just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain. Sidon and Muzu both fell silent as Zelda approached, wearing a bright blue tunic over a white blouse and a dark-colored hood to protect her head from the rain. Her friend, Paya, followed behind her, watching Muzu warily. Zelda's eyes were only for Mipha's statue.

"…fails us." Muzu nearly spit these last words upon the ground, and for one terrible moment Sidon feared that he would heap some new abuse upon Zelda. If that happened, he would have to intervene.

The royal advisor was blessedly silent as the princess of a ruined kingdom walked up to the statue, stepping between the two Zora. How much had she heard? Hopefully very little, or nothing. Nothing would probably be better; as much as Sidon liked Zelda, as much as he had instantly trusted her from the very second they had locked eyes, she was still an outsider and that conversation had been deeply personal for so many reasons. He wished that he were better at reading Hylian expressions.

"I am walking through a world of ghosts," Zelda said, looking up at the statue. "I woke up to a world that I've forgotten, but everywhere I go I find echoes of the people and places that I used to know and the expectations they had of me, the ways I knew them and have forgotten. I failed her, and all of you, as I had apparently been failing my entire life, and every memory that returns to me is a new chapter in my failures, an illustration of the ways in which I wounded the world by not being strong enough, or pious enough, or…" She swallowed. "I remember thinking she was so strong."

"She was," Sidon said, his eyes telling Muzu that to speak now would be cruel without reason, and it was with thanks to the old gods that Sidon saw his teacher take the hint. He wanted to say more to Zelda, but what was there to say? To tell her that he was there for her, though she did not know him at all? How egotistical, to assume that his own magnanimity would be enough to put balm on the wounds of a heart he did not understand! Surely no one in the world could be that proud.

But then, what had he but pride, really?

"Zelda," he said, and even though she did not look away from Mipha's statue he knew that she heard him because she flinched at the sound of his voice. "Whatever happened, whatever will happen, you do not have to be defined by ghosts. Even if they inform who you are, you are not among them. You are among the living, and the living will lend you aid." Was that enough? It couldn't be! It wouldn't be, for him. So: "You are not alone."

Her brows drew low as he spoke these last words, and as he watched her eyes took on a very far-away look, her mouth hanging slightly open. Muzu scoffed next to her, finally impatient. Something was wrong, though, she looked like she was about to have some kind of seizure, in a moment's reflex he reached out to her with one hand—

Then the princess tilted her head back and her eyes shone with a golden light.

Lanayru Road was the safest path remaining in the kingdom, Zelda thought; its proximity to Kakariko Village allowed the Sheikah to monitor it closely and keep roving monsters away from it, while the holy power of the mountain itself seemed responsible for how no beasts spontaneously generated there. One could almost feel the holy energy rolling off of it on the road, exerting the pressure of the gods and keeping the darkness at bay even as Ganon heaved against its shackles.

But, no, that was not true. She could not feel anything. Would she be able to, if she were in touch with her power? Would the leylines that channeled the power of the world have been visible to her, making old mysteries into bare facts? Could Link sense it, as attuned as he was to the sword? That he heard the ancient voice inside of it… did that mean he would hear the gods, too, were they to speak? That line of thinking would break her. She shoved it away, for what she hoped would be the last time.

They six walked as a loose, shifting crowd: Zelda, Link, Daruk, Urbosa, Revali, and Mipha. The group excursion had been Daruk's idea, as so many of these things were; seeking to foster communication and comradery among his fellow champions, he saw every sunny day as a potential picnic. He found an easy ally in Urbosa, who took pleasure in the company of her peers, moving easily through conversations with each of them, knowing how to provoke or console with a word no matter to whom she was speaking. Revali would reliably insist that all of these excursions were a waste of time, but this time, for what should be the final trip and the awakening of Zelda's power, he had accompanied the rest of the group eagerly, in spite of how much of an inconvenience he professed it to be. Mipha was always happy to come; she never complained and always leaped at the chance to spend time with the other champions.

It was easy to get lost in the flow of conversation, to pretend that nothing was wrong because around the Champions she felt secure, felt safe. All of them felt safe with each other, in fact, and they were confident both in this place and in her. Of all the gathered Champions, only Link had bothered to bring a weapon, and though Daruk teased him for it and Revali scoffed at how useful he would be in a fight, Zelda knew that a great deal of their collective security revolved around the sword that would seal the darkness and the hand that could wield it. Link did not share in that security; he was only burdened by it. He had grown up with Mipha, had known Daruk almost as long, was trusted by all of them… but she watched his back as he walked, never speaking to the group, never setting down his role as Champion even among his fellows. His gaze was turned ever outward, watching for danger of any stripe, removed from the warmth of company. He would be like this until fewer eyes were on him, until he felt that he could be vulnerable again. There would be no vulnerability here, even among the dearest of his friends.

It was morose of her to draw strength from that. Cruel, even. Still, she did, and denying it would not fix the problem. Seeing that even the chosen Hero of the Master Sword could buckle under pressure without breaking, could hold the world on his shoulders even as he felt it keenly… that made her feel better. Maybe not stronger, but better.

Next to her, Revali scoffed. "Listen, Your Highness." She snapped back to attention, realizing that she had effectively been ignoring him for the past twenty seconds, and did her best to look as if she'd been listening the entire time. "Just because you're operating under assumptions regarding your own importance is no excuse to be… inattentive. There are plenty of people who would give one of their legs to listen to me—"

"—Explain the theory behind your Gale, and how the energy expenditure is much lower than trying to achieve flight through traditional means, even allowing for the greater strain on your shoulders." She smiled at him, the practiced smile that she'd used in court more than once. "Though it calls to mind, Revali, how you intend to teach people the use of the Gale if you won't take on any students."

His whole body shivered slightly as he puffed out his breast-feathers and shook his head. "Well, fine, pretend all you like, but don't come crying to me if it turns out you need someone to carry you away from danger." He moved smoothly away from her, picking up his pace to try to catch up with Link. For all his posturing, she could tell he wasn't really offended: few, if any, were the people more given to moodiness than Revali was, and he sympathized even if he refused to say so.

Behind her Urbosa told some joke that made Daruk roar with laughter, and Zelda was about to slow her pace to try to ask what was so funny (how she hated missing a joke) when Mipha stepped in beside her. The Zora princess had her eyes locked directly ahead of her, but the fact of her presence brought Zelda up short, demanding her attention.

Mipha refused to slow down the group on any of these excursions, which meant that she walked very quickly on her proportionately shorter legs, taking three steps for every two of Zelda's. By the time she reached the end of her current growth spurt she would easily outstrip them all, but for now she put in so much effort to keeping up that Zelda did not want to insult her by slowing her own pace.

"Is something on your mind?" she asked, inviting Mipha to talk partially out of courtesy and partially out of very real, very insistent curiosity.

Mipha looked up at her, and the intensity of those golden eyes contrasted with the softness of the rest of her expression. "Actually, yes. Though the matter is… delicate." Mipha looked off to the south, across the river that ran from the snowfield and whose stream they were walking up. The promenade was across from them, the enormous waterfall there hiding a cavern in which a shrine had recently appeared. "If possible, I would like to speak with you in private." She paused, considered that. "If you do not mind, Princess."

She tried to think of anything about which Mipha could reasonably want to speak with her, starting with the ways in which Zelda could have theoretically offended her. A very different and much more personal anxiety welled up inside of her, and the urgent need to address this was suddenly more insistent than the fact of traveling up Mt. Lanayru.

The path to the promenade split off from Lanayru Road, leading up a winding stone staircase that ended in a bridge spanning the width of the river. They were drawing up to that staircase now. She indicated it with an inclination of her head, and Mipha nodded.

"Link!" At her call the Hero stopped in his tracks, turning on the spot to address her so that Revali walked several paces further before stopping himself. "Mipha and I are going to have a look at the promenade from atop the stairs. Wait for us, please. We won't be very long." Link nodded his assurance, though his posture did not relax at all, and Revali threw up his wings in disgust before going to join Daruk and Urbosa, who were politely keeping up the pretext of their conversation while not-staring at the two princesses as they ascended the stairs together.

The ceremonial dress she wore for this excursion was heavy, and she had to hold up the skirts as she took the steps. Mipha's own steps were slow and careful, so their pace matched easily. They did not speak as they climbed, not even on the wide platforms that connected the disparate flights, and Zelda could feel the tension building. How much of that was only her imagination?

The sun was high when they reached the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the bridge. The wind was blowing, a cool breeze that brought her considerable relief after the climb. The promenade spread out before them, a series of fountains and statues that lent a feeling of antiquity and holiness more pronounced because it had stood for so long without being touched. It was one of the testaments to the piety of her people, their closeness to the gods made manifest.

"Are you all right?"

The question was a shock; it would be useless to try to hide it. "Forgive me. I find my mind wandering, of late." She smiled again, hoping it did not look as strained as it felt. "But yes, I am fine, thank you for asking. My strength has been bolstered by the pilgrimage, I think, and I should have no trouble scaling the mountain." She hoped that was all this was about, and that Mipha would not see that she was dodging the question.

Mipha's expressions were not quite like a Hylian's would be: her brow did not move as theirs did and her eyes were not identically framed. Still, there was something there Zelda recognized as the Zora princess looked up at her. Concern? Sympathy? Gods, let it be anything but pity.

"You have changed very little, Princess."

"I beg your pardon?"

Mipha nodded. "You probably don't remember the first time you visited Zora's Domain with your mother. You could barely walk, but she brought you with her on all of her travels throughout the kingdoms. Even back then you were a very thoughtful child, given to pouring all of your energy into addressing whatever problem was right in front of you." She finally broke eye contact, releasing Zelda from the force of her regard and looking out toward the waterfall. "You were so very happy, then, but every worry you had was like a little storm cloud hanging over your head." She looked at Zelda out of the corner of her eye, and Zelda was reminded of their conversation atop the Veiled Falls. "The clouds have grown wider and darker. Again: are you all right?"

She could not deny being taken aback; she might have expected this out of Urbosa, but never Mipha. They had known each other for many years, but their relationship was almost totally formal; she could count the conversations they'd had in private on the fingers of one hand. They were not on intimate enough terms for her to answer Mipha honestly, so why was she being asked?

I am being a fool, she said to herself, and it was true. They were… were they friends? Did they know each other that well? They shared a kinship, at least, a shared past and a shared burden and an understanding of themselves. Mipha was also the leader of her people, or would be when she came of age; the Zora had cheered for her as a body when it was announced that she would be Champion. She carried all of their expectations on her back and bore them with a smile meant to reassure them not only of her infinite strength but also of the kindness that lay under and over that strength, that she was worthy not just of their adoration but of their trust.

Zelda looked to the east, where the mountain loomed. It dominated the horizon, cold and impassive, holding all the potential in the universe, for herself and for her purpose.

"I fear that I am going to fail," she said. This was the first time she had ever said those words out loud; she had never even said this to Link, fearing to burden him with the final and most horrible picture of her weakness. Mipha did not respond, so she continued, "I fear that all of this will be for nothing, and that if Ganon—when Ganon returns, we will not be able to stop it. I have nightmares of the battle being won, of the five of you triumphant over the forces of darkness, and then… nothing happening. My power lies dormant, and Ganon cannot be sealed, and all the force in the world is not enough to bury it. I am afraid that." She stopped, composed herself. She was not going to cry in front of Mipha, was not going to cry and then have to go down and face the other champions with evidence of her fear on her face, unable to even breathe properly because every time she cried her sinuses got inflamed and she would not. She held it back, and it was an entire ocean behind a door that she could only brace with her hands, but she would hold it. "I am afraid that when all is said and done, the only thing I will have done for the world is fail it, fail all of you, and because of my weakness all your courage will come to nothing."

Mipha's footsteps were very soft as she stepped beside Zelda again. "That is a terrible thing to carry by yourself."

"Yes." It was all she could manage.

"It is even worse," Mipha continued, "when the people around you tell you that it will be all right. That they believe in you anyway. That there's always another chance." Zelda could not read her face, or her tone, or the way she stared into the distance. How could she speak to that pain and still smile? How could she sound so kind? "You feel the weight of lives in your hands, and you see shades of red standing on your skin where their blood might be if you cannot perform your duties, cannot do what is expected of you. You realize that the whole world is using you as the hub on which it turns, and you are so fragile, and you know that if too much pressure is applied then you will break. You see other people broken, people you love, and you see that it is your fault that they are hurt, and they smile and tell you that they love you and that of course it will be all right. Because they believe."

She could not hold shut the door. "Yes."

Mipha turned to her, reached for her hand, took it gently in both of hers. Her palms were warm to the touch, rather than the coolness that one might expect. She was still smiling her small, sad smile.

"Perhaps you will fail," Mipha said, and there was no judgment in it. "All the people you hoped to protect will still need you when you come down the mountain. You cannot change that, and neither can anyone else. You will have to bear the burden of their belief in you, even if you fail. You will have to keep fighting, even as the world ends. We will keep fighting with you."

She closed her eyes as if that could hide her shame. "I do not doubt that you will."

"I made my oath to you with the other Champions, but oaths can be just another weight that we lay on the people we make them to." Her palm was suddenly against the open air. A soft, warm hand pressed against her cheek, and Zelda opened her eyes. Warmth and comfort radiated from Mipha's touch, a light that filled the dark places in her thoughts, and that same feeling was reflected in her expression. "So, I will make no more promises to you, but… I hope you know this. If you fail, and it seems like everything is crumbling, and the burden is so much that it threatens to crush you beneath it, and you cannot show your weakness to any of the people you love most, not even for a moment..." She let go of Zelda's hand, and now both of her palms were pressed against Zelda's temples, and the power of her healing magic took away the pressure inside of Zelda's head, made the ocean feel smaller. "If it comes to that… I am here. If you want to talk, I will listen. If you want to listen, I will talk."

The light faded, Mipha's healing magic receding as she drew her hands away, and Zelda breathed. The anxiety was still there, that sense of the future was a heavy thing lurking on the outside of her thoughts… but there was something else, too. A warmth and buoyancy, which insisted that she would not drown. Is this what everyone felt like when Mipha used her magic on them? It was no wonder so many people went to her for their hurts.

At last she was calm. Mipha was still smiling up at her. That smile was still sad, but there was something else, too. She did not know what it was, but it made her feel… safer. "Thank you, Mipha."

Mipha inclined her head. "We all carry the weights of our people, Princess. No one's burden is as heavy as yours, but if the world gets darker, I hope you will remember this: I will be here for you. You are not alone."

Who could have ever imagined such a thing? Certainly not Sidon; his imagination was not up to the task of painting the picture of a princess, wearing the colors of the Champions of a hundred years ago, engulfed in a golden light that suffused every inch of her body as if the sun was dawning beneath her skin. It was a radiance so intense that the world around it was dark, and yet so gentle that there was no need to shield his eyes—though he did not think he could have, much less would have. What he was seeing now was proof of something important, an essential piece in the puzzle that would set the world right! Oh, to be him, to be witness to these amazing things, to be present for the making of history! Ah, Mipha, if only you could see your little brother now!

Zelda had been staring at nothing as the light welled up inside of her; all around them Zora were beginning to gather, running or swimming to see the light that now stood in the plaza, gathering in a quiet hush to see the source of the radiance that stood between their prince and his advisor. Muzu, for his part, was gawking openly, all words having failed him. Zelda's attendant stood beyond, eyes turned to the sky. The Zora watched Zelda as a body, as a people, and as Sidon threw a glance at the heart of the city he saw his father's enormous silhouette standing in the doorway of the throne room.

Tears ran down Zelda's cheeks like rivers of molten gold, and he barely had time to register it before she snapped back to herself with a gasp. She blinked rapidly, raised a finger to her eyes, felt the wetness there, and then seemed to remember where she was, whose statue she was standing under.

"She said…" Zelda swallowed, and he could see that she swallowed the very fact of her sorrows. What had happened? "I remember, now. She said that she would be there for me."

In that moment Sidon knew Zelda, knew her face and the things she was no longer trying to hide. If standing beneath Mipha's statue had restored some portion of her memory, then it had also restored some element of her self-awareness, and that was truly raw and sore. He could see her as she turned her attention inward, as if trying to restrain herself.

Every Zora knew the story of the Champions, whether they had been born in that time or not. They knew the story of the Princess of Hyrule, too, who had fought the Calamity with her hands, wielding the power of the gods, and been struck down. That she was alive and in front of him was a fact beyond doubt; that she carried scars that were more than bodily was written all over her face. To have been defeated by such terrible evil, and to have lost so much… His own sorrows seemed so small, compared to the weight of the air around her and the terrible, beautiful light that burned within her.

Then she set her jaw, and clenched her fist, and turned her eyes to him, and he felt his pulse quicken at the … he could not have said, only that he feared his heart would leap out of his chest. She looked up at him in all earnestness, as if seeing him for the first time, and said, "Now I must be there for her."

The thrill that ran through him was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He nodded.

She turned away from him, toward Muzu, and the light was still in her and Sidon saw his teacher's face as he confronted a being more radiant than the Sun. He saw his father's advisor quail—but only for a moment. Then something woke up in the old Zora, too, and he straightened his back, forcing himself to stand straight as he locked eyes with the incarnation of the goddess.

"Muzu," Zelda said, and now her voice came from everywhere, echoing off of the stone and sky and the water. "I see the pain in your heart, and the hatred that is growing out of it like a weed taking root. I am the gardener who has planted so many of your hurts, and for that I can never make amends." Muzu did not flinch, but Sidon could see the tears standing there in his eyes. This he could not comprehend; what was his teacher thinking? How could one respond to the regard of someone who could see one's soul? "Please understand this: one hundred years ago, I failed to defeat the Calamity. Ever since then, the Hero has been fighting it at the heart of Hyrule Castle, holding it at bay by an art I do not understand. But, Muzu, the Hero is losing. Inch by inch his strength is fading, and when he falters Ganon will walk this land freely, and the catastrophe of a hundred years ago will be as nothing compared to the devastation it will wreak." She held up hands filled with stars. "I do not have the strength to fight the Calamity alone. I need the Champions. I need Mipha. And I need to make right the things I let go wrong, all those years ago."

The light went out like a candle being snuffed, and the goddess was gone. In her place stood a young woman, hands folded in front of her.

"I must save Mipha. Even if she cannot help me, even if… even if it amounts to nothing else, I must help her. She was good to me, and I cannot leave her trapped in the Divine Beast. But I can't do it alone." She held up her hands again, now only the pale hands of a Hylian girl. "If I use too much of my power then the Calamity will attempt to kill me like it did a hundred years ago, and everything around me will be obliterated. I have to rely on others, because this is beyond my strength to do alone. Please help me." She bowed low in the Sheikah style, her form imperfect but her meaning clear. "Please help me save her."

The Plaza was very quiet, in the rain. Sidon watched as Muzu looked out at the gathered people of the domain, as the rain fell indifferently on the girl who was a goddess reborn.

"My Prince," Muzu said at last, "I think we had better explain to our guests what is happening."

The most obvious indicator of the shifting relationship between Zelda and the Zora Council of Elders was their presence, all standing in a ring on the floor of the king's throne room as their prince explained their battle strategy to her. Before they would have jeered her, maybe even discounted her observations simply because of who she was; after seeing her in the plaza, holding as much of the power as she could while not revealing herself to Ganon, they were quieter, more thoughtful. She could not guess at what they were thinking (though I could see, if I really wanted) but they were not trying to heap new abuses on her, and that would have to be enough for now.

The schematics laid out in front of her were very detailed while also being imprecise: the parchment was remarkably well-preserved, considering it was over a century old and kept in an environment as humid as Zora's Domain, and every inch of it was covered in careful diagrams detailing the different systems that constituted the Divine Beast Vah Ruta, with notes written in both handwriting that she recognized as her own and in a much messier, denser script that she guessed was Purah's.

"One of the powers of the Divine Beast," King Dorephan said from his throne, "is to produce an endless stream of clean water." That probably wasn't true; to introduce more water into the cycle would create unimaginable ecological imbalances in the long term. More likely it was drawing water from the environment, or possibly somewhere further away—would she be able to find documentation regarding desertification of any areas of Hyrule in the past hundred years? "This is a boon to our people, but now we are faced with a new and terrible application: East Reservoir Lake is full to bursting."

"Full to bursting?" She looked up at Dorephan, then Sidon. "Wouldn't it simply overflow?"

The king's sigh was long and loud. "I am afraid not. East Reservoir Lake is very deep, but it is not designed to be able to hold the volume of water that Ruta is pouring into it. It was built to regulate the once-a-decade floodwaters of Zora River, letting the water flow in an even stream over the course of years."

"Our engineers estimate that East Reservoir Lake is currently holding six times the flood water that falls in a given decade." Muzu grimaced from across the room; he was trying his best but talking about the weaknesses of his people to an outsider still rankled him. "We have run out of emergency reservoirs to channel the overflow into, and the river's current is already at its maximum capacity short of a full flood. If this goes on for much longer, then even if Vah Ruta stops of its own accord then the next time the flood rains fall, the reservoir will burst. The amount of water released…"

Zelda nodded. "Would be tectonically significant." Never mind the resulting flood, though that would destroy Hyrule as surely as Ganon itself; that much pressure moving across the earth all at once would cause earthquakes that would reach beyond the bounds of the kingdom. It might trigger a full eruption of Death Mountain, or worse. There was literally no way to know how bad it would get, but all life in Hyrule would effectively come to an end.

Sidon tapped one finger on a note she had made a century ago, next to the schematic for Vah Ruta's shoulder. "When studying Vah Ruta, you theorized that these orbs at the top of each of its limbs acted as regulators for the flow of water, and that they were controlled by electricity. Seggin," he nodded to the old sergeant, who inclined his head to Zelda, "who is able to resist the effects of shock arrows better than most Zora, managed to shoot one of the orbs. The flow of water did slow, though it returned to its original rate within a few hours."

"If I were a few decades younger," Seggin said, "I could have taken care of this myself." It was an apology, as near as Zelda could tell. She ignored him.

"These notes have some of the basic principles down, but they were written with an incomplete understanding of how the Divine Beasts worked." She was fairly sure that made Sidon gawk at her, but she ignored that too, instead tapping on the four orbs as the diagram laid them out. "Principally, the Divine Beasts appear to be similar to Guardians on a much larger scale. Instead of regulating the flow of water, these power conduits likely regulate all the major functions of Vah Ruta." In the distant past they had probably been armored; she was glad that they were not, now. "If we can manage to overload all of them then Vah Ruta should be forced into shutdown, at least long enough for us to board it."

"Four shock arrows," Sidon said, cupping his chin with his hand. "Well, no. Four true shots with shock arrows. None of the Zora besides Seggin and Bazz can handle even one shock arrow, and firing one would render both of them immobile afterward. No matter how you look at it, that leaves very little margin for error!"

"I estimate you will need at least twenty." Muzu stepped closer to the table, and Paya moved to stand closer to Zelda. If he noticed, he pretended not to, though he turned his eyes on the both of them. "It would be easiest if the two of you could work out a battle strategy between yourselves, since you have the sealing power of the royal family, and the Sheikah Slate, and the ability to carry shock arrows, but before we consider any of that we need the arrows themselves."

"Muzu has been searching for a source," Sidon said. "And I would bet you've known one for quite a bit."

Muzu inclined his head. "Yes, my prince. The easiest method of obtaining shock arrows would be trading with the Gerudo, but that would take time that I do not believe we have. The most accessible shock arrows…" He turned away from the table, pointed out and upward. "Directly east of here is Ploymus Mountain, whose peak hangs over the reservoir. At its summit you will find all the arrows you need."

Sidon hissed a breath in through his teeth. "Ploymus Mountain, where a lynel is reported to have established its territory." Muzu's only response was to nod.

Zelda looked to Paya. She did not remember the lynel that had attacked the two of them, but Paya did; she had a better understanding of the danger that they represented. The two of them had fought Guardians and Hinoxes, Moblins and Bokoblins and Lizalfos, and had through skill and the exploitation of weaknesses managed to triumph over each of them.

Paya had told her that a lynel was like none of those things, intelligent and skilled and brutal and powerful in a way that other monsters only aspired to. They did not really have weaknesses, were almost impossible to sneak up on, and could crush a Hylian in a single blow of their weapons. These things were all true, and she could see that truth written on Paya's face.

"We don't have many choices," Zelda said. Paya nodded, though she was desperately unhappy.

"The lynel will be fighting with the shock arrows." Paya's inflection was remarkably upbeat, considering the circumstances. Which meant it was still very grave. "It would be much too dangerous for anyone but us to try to take them away from it. And we don't have to kill it to get what we need, necessarily."

Zelda nodded. Both of them understood that it would be better if they did. How they would manage that… well.

"We will prepare for facing Vah Ruta while you retrieve the shock arrows," Sidon said through his grin. "Leave all of that to me. I will make sure that, on your return, we will be ready to support you! Dento!" He turned to one of the elder Zora, who stood at attention. "Do you have what you need?"

The eye that the old Zora turned toward Zelda and Paya was quick, analytical, and seemed to take the full measure of them at a glance. She could see him crunching numbers in his head, his expression actually not very far removed from Purah's. "Yes, my prince. I can get something out of storage for them, adjust it and restore it. It will be the work of only a few hours."

"Then it is settled." Every eye in the room returned to the king, who did not share his son's smile; he had the look of a ruler who was sending others to do work that he wished he could partake in himself. "Zelda. Paya. Once you retrieve the shock arrows, return here and we will outline the rest of the battle plan. You have our thanks for undertaking this terrible task on our behalf, and you may trust that we will be with you in every way that we can." He hesitated, clearly having intended to end his speech there but then thinking better of it. "Please be careful, both of you. All of us would see you back safely."

There was a moment where Zelda took in the room around her, all the faces of these people, a few of whom had believed and many of whom only believed because she carried the power of the goddess. Does that matter? Is it enough that they believe? The king wishes for your safety, and I think it is not just for the sake of his people. She did not know what to do with that. It made her think of Mipha.

"Thank you, Dorephan," she said, and she and Paya both bowed low before turning and walking out of the throne room together. It would be a long walk up the mountain, and it was best that they get started now.

Two hours after Zelda and Paya had left the throne room, Sidon was doing the work of coordinating the eventual attack on the Divine Beast. Attack it would have to be; Vah Ruta had grown increasingly more aggressive ever since it had initiated the rain, and by now its behavior would be almost impossible to predict. The idea that his sister's beast, which he knew she had loved very much, should be a thing that they would attack like a bokoblin… it didn't sit well with him.

But to be part of that! To be part of the force that would launch themselves against a power as old as the domain itself, to protect not just the Zora but all of Hyrule! To have the opportunity to even attempt such a thing, it… it was almost enough to make his stomach stop twisting into knots. Vah Ruta, should it turn its wrath on them, would be almost incalculably dangerous. Even the lynel would—

The lynel.

"Muzu," he said, over the sound of the retreating footsteps of the messenger he had sent to check on Dento's progress. His family's advisor turned away from a ledger and faced him, and both of them stood in the shadow of the king, who watched them in silence. "What evidence was it that suggested that the lynel had appeared on Ploymus? A hoof? Its horn?" Its fur?

"It would take more firm sighting than mere pieces or leavings before I reported it. I am confident that it is there," Muzu said. "Though they did not find evidence, exactly. Laflat traveled to Shatterback Point to survey the area and saw the lynel with her own eyes. That she managed to escape is a small miracle, I suppose."

The king stood, the water at the base of his throne rising only to his knees. "Did she notice the color of the lynel's coat and mane?" There, the question Sidon had wanted to ask for himself.

The advisor nodded. "Yes. She said its face was dark, and its pelt dark with white stripes. The mane was all white, and—"

Sidon did not hear him, paid no heed to his father calling out to him. He was running with all the strength in his body, cursing himself for not thinking of this detail. The guards practically dove out of his way as he charged past them, and people gawked as he leaped down to the main plaza. He hit the stone running, footsteps sure in the rain. He had to hurry. If he took the waterfalls, he might be able to catch them before they reached the summit.

I need my spear.